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much-obliged-timothy · 3 years

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Whumptober #10

Midnighter - #10 - Hospital

I am forever mad DC wasted their chance to let Midnighter and Dick have a moment when Dick lost his memory, so have this

Apollo put the car in park but didn’t turn it off. He reached over, placing a hand on Midnighter’s arm.

“I can go in with you,” he said.

“No,” Midnighter said, shaking his head. “I appreciate you coming this far, Andrew. But I…”

“Stop,” Apollo said softly. “You don’t have to explain it. I’m right out here if you change your mind. Take your time, M.”

Midnighter could only nod in reply, his throat suddenly tight. He pushed the door open and got out, slowly making his way into the hospital.

He’d debated coming at all. It was Red Hood who contacted him to tell him the news and answer his questions. It was the only reason Midnighter even knew which room to visit.

Still, he found himself dragging his feet as he navigated the hallways, following signs to find where he needed to be. He refused to meet the eyes of anyone he passed, keeping his head down for once.

Hospitals were usually an inevitable destination for crime-fighters. But with his ability to heal, and the fight computer usually letting him get through fights with little to no injuries in the first place, hospitals were unfamiliar to Midnighter.

He didn’t like them. The sterile environment, the blank, white walls, the occasional dispassionate voice overhead calling out codes, the overworked staff bustling from room to room. No, he didn’t like hospitals.

Still, he forced himself to keep moving through the halls. Even if he was uncomfortable, at least he had the option to walk out of here any second he chose to. Some didn’t have that option. Some would never step foot out of here again.

That thought sent a shudder through him and he picked up his speed at last. He was here for a reason. Now was not the time for irrational fears to take hold. This wasn’t about him.

Finally, he found the room he was looking for. He faltered outside of it, then steeled himself and stepped to the open door, peeking in.

A young woman looked up at him from the bedside. “Midnighter?”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said, cautiously stepping into the room.

“Barbara Gordon,” she introduced, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He figured she was probably one of the many Batfam members or allies, but he didn’t really bother to puzzle out who at that moment. His eyes had locked onto the still figure on the bed.

“Has he-” He paused, his voice unsteady. He cleared his throat. “Has he regained consciousness?”

“Yes,” she said. “He was awake about two hours ago.”

There was another empty chair in the room, but Midnighter leaned against the wall, close to the door. He felt like he was intruding. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Red Hood said he doesn’t remember anything after the death of his parents,” he said.

“No,” Barbara said quietly, gaze drifting to Dick Grayson’s pale face. “No, he doesn’t remember any of us. Any of- any of it. Who he’s been all these years. The things he’s done. The people he’s loved. It’s all gone for him. We don’t know if it’s permanent.”

Midnighter stared at Dick for a long moment, his stomach twisting. Almost his whole life, gone just like that. Stolen from him in an instant.

“He’ll be okay,” Midnighter said at last.

“He-”

“Will be okay.” He said it more firmly this time, meeting Barbara’s eyes. “I’m not saying it will be easy. But he lived the life he did because of his strengths. Those won’t go away just because he doesn’t remember how he used them.”

She stared at him before giving a small, sad smile. “Some people thought he was crazy for trusting you as much as he did.” She stood up, gesturing to the chair she’d been in. “I’ve been here all day. I really should step out for a bit, get some lunch and fresh air. Keep him company while I’m gone?”

Midnighter took the chair and Barbara left the room. He glanced nervously at the door, realizing that any of Dick’s family or friends could come in here at any moment. He really didn’t like the thought of coming face-to-face with Batman. At least he’d save time by already being in the hospital.

But his anxiety faded to the background as he examined Dick. It was a miracle the shot hadn’t killed him, and a cruelty that it had taken so much from him anyway.

Hard as it was to watch Dick lie, injured and motionless, Midnighter did not leave his side. He chatted easily with any staff who came into the room, claiming he was a work friend of Dick’s. He sent a text to Apollo to keep him from worrying. He told Dick’s unconscious self what he’d been up to recently, just to fill the heavy silence.

It was a long time before Dick woke up.

Midnighter stayed quiet as Dick came to, taking a few minutes to seem lucid. When he looked at Midnighter, an exhausted expression came over his face.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Midnighter opened his mouth to crack a joke, but all that came out was, “A friend.”

Dick eyed him carefully before slowly shaking his head. “I don’t remember you.”

Midnighter could detect the helpless frustration in his voice. “That’s alright.”

Dick looked up in surprise. Midnighter didn’t need to ask to know the others must’ve all tried to remind Dick who they were- with stories that meant nothing to him, inside jokes he was no longer part of, memories the bullet had torn from his brain.

Midnighter gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Probably for the best you don’t remember me. It gives me a chance to reuse some of my best pick up lines on you.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “Uh- maybe, don’t do that?”

Midnighter’s smile grew a bit more genuine. “See? You don’t even remember me, but it’s like nothing’s changed.”

He shifted a little to get more comfortable. “Everyone else has tried to tell me who they were. What they were to me. I don’t remember any of it.”

“And it’s frustrating,” Midnighter said. “A whole life you remember nothing of. You don’t want to hurt them, but you don’t remember them, so that pain isn’t actually reciprocated.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “They care. But they’re just...strangers to me.”

Midnighter leaned forward a little. “I know what it’s like to wake up one day with no memory of who you used to be. My memory was taken from me too, Dick. I never got it back. I learned to live without it. I’m happy with who I became, even without all those memories. You’ll be okay, whatever way this goes. I promise. Trust that I know you, so I know what I’m saying is true.”

He stood up, realizing there was nothing he could do right now for his friend. When he got out of the hospital, Midnighter would check on him, help him adjust to his new reality if he could- if Dick wanted him too.

“Wait,” Dick said. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

Midnighter paused. “Midnighter.”

“What?”

“Midnighter.” He glanced at Dick, giving a ghost of his usual playful grin. “It’s all I had when I woke up without my memories. I spent years finding out who Midnighter really was. It’s not easy, Dick. But you’ll get there. Hey, when you’re out, I’ll take you for coffee sometime, if you want. Won’t even abduct you out of a hot zone this time.”

“...What?”

Midnighter laughed. “Some memories you’re better off without. I’ll check in with you when you’re out of here.” He looked around the room. “I’m not a fan of hospitals.”

“You and me both,” he said moodily. He hesitated for a moment before lifting his head a little. “Thank you. You’re the only one who hasn’t...expected anything from me.”

“I’ve been where you are,” Midnighter said. “I’ll see you around, Dick.”

“Yea, sure,” he said. “See you around, uh, Midnighter.”

Midnighter left the hospital room, making his way back through the twisting hallways of the place. He was unsurprised to find Barbara waiting at the entrance.

“Don’t expect so much from him,” he said as he passed her. “He needs time to figure everything out.”

She said nothing, just watched him go. Midnighter found Apollo waiting in the parking lot, sliding into the passenger seat of the car.

“Well?” Apollo asked.

“He’ll make it,” Midnighter said, reaching out to squeeze Apollo’s hand. “He just needs someone who loves him enough to let him go and find himself, be it the new him or the old.”

“Let’s go home,” Apollo said, but didn’t release Midnighter’s hand as he started the car.

Midnighter didn’t mind; Apollo had let him go when it mattered. He just hoped Dick’s friends and family would be willing to do the same.

#whumptober2021 #No.10 #hospital #fandom #fic #Midnighter #dc midnighter #apollo dc #dick grayson #dc comics #My writing #jtdoeswhumptober

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analviel · 3 years

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Tim's origin but with a little more SPICE:

It's been weeks since Tim started following Batman. When he began, it was with a determination to help right a wrong, to help his heroes in some way during this trying times.

Who'd have thought that seeing your city's hero repeatedly beat up petty criminals to pulps was a traumatizing experience for a thirteen year old. What courage he'd gained to do something, had been steadily chipped away and Tim is now in an impasse.

Taking pictures. Documenting the man's decent. And, if he was honest with himself.... well, it's looking more and more like evidence.

Evidence against Batman.

Oh my god.

Tim is both a stalker and a clean-up crew simultaneously, he feels like. But rather feeling good at being helpful to heroes, this feels more akin to helping cover up. Even though he isn't.

If anything, calling ambulances to report Batman's victims is the opposite. Tim feels acutely aware of how Batman's ledger is filling up. Records being taken and, therefore, evidence piling up.

It's all evidence, everything is, if you use it the right way. That's what Tim has learned following Batman's cases -not that it's ever under his name seeing as he is a vigilante and finding which ones have his style is detective work in itself.

This time though, it's different.

Oh god it's different, Tim feels himself panicking, wondering what was different that was making him even more vicious than he usually already is.

Not his parent's death anniversary. Or their anniversary. Not Harvey's turning either.

Way too soon to be Jason's death anniversary. Not his birthday either.

Tim wracked his mind trying to figure out what made this petty car jacker special. Different. Worse.

Tim press his back on the filthy rooftop, hands over his mouth, blinking tears from his eyes, listening to a stranger beg mercy from a.... hero? A criminal disguised as a hero? A villain disguised as a hero?

A grieving man.

Later, Tim will wonder what he could've done better; many things.

If he'd just moved immediately after Batman left, if his legs would've stopped shaking sooner, if he swallowed his bile, if he. Just. Moved.

If he hadn't waited seconds and then minutes after hearing the silence, then maybe...

The man is dead.

Or, he's dying.

Tim had called the ambulance, stumbled his way down the fire exit, and discovered the man fading.

Tim was too shocked to have the mind to exit the premises before the medics arrived.

He shouldn't have been.

He KNEW Batman was getting worse and worse. He didn't stop earlier, hadn't given up the mantle when his son died, he's not going to do it now. There was only one way to go now from there. Down.

Worse and worse until it's the worst.

They got the man back again.

Tim curls up in his seat in the ambulance. Watching.

Tim curls up in his seat in the hospital, barred from the operating room. Listening.

The man flatlined two more times -three all in all-, that's what he'd gathered from hushed whispers he can barely hear in the natural bustle of a hospital. 'Three times the charm' they say. Tim wonders in what way, in this case. Someone gives him a hot cocoa together with the blanket he'd been wrapped in by the first responders.

Someone's going to ask him questions, they say. They're just late a bit, they say.

Typical.

Tim would be gone before anyone arrives. If nothing else, his parents finding out about any of this, is enough to knock some sense into him. He doesn't know them that well, but at the very least, anyone even remotely sane would be Displeased with a capital D.

So he knows he shouldn't have, but he needed to go home. And he needed to see him before or he's not getting any sleep.

Tim sneaks into the room, sees the man attached to tubes and a heart monitor. He's alive. Barely. But he is.

Tim goes home and can't sleep.

The next day, he visits.

He doesn't even attempt the front desk and just walks in as if he'd just gone out for some air five minutes ago. He's sweating cold sweat the whole time.

He's not lying, he tells himself. He can't lie if no one's asking. It's fine. Everything's fine.

Except everything, you know.

Tim is shocked to find the man conscious. He almost runs back out but the man calls out a faint 'hey'.

He can't talk much, too damaged to do so. He doesn't ask Tim's name or what the hell he's doing there. Just asked him to pray for him.

Tim has never prayed a day in his life. He looks it up on Waynet.

Anxiously glancing at the door as he reads and recites as instructed.

Then the man talks about a sick brother. An overworked sister. If he can check up on them, please.

Tim has no idea why he'd ask a kid that, a stranger to boot, but he figures thirteen year olds from Crime Alley were just a different breed. It was nice watching and admiring from afar, but Tim can't imagine doing any of the death defying stunts Jason did on the regular.

Tim can't help repeating his name in his head though. His and his sister and brother.

He checks on them and returns to tell the man that they were alive and Tim also just signed them up for weekly groceries and medicine from his not inconsiderable allowance. No matter what walk of life you are, Tim at least knows that unsolicited help are usually unsolicited for a reason so he's not going to push. Much.

He was already there, you can't expect him not to do anything.

The man died.

They're trying to revive him again.

Tim can't bring himself to stay.

(To wait until the name Derek is written beside a time and date in one of those medical bracelets he'd never thought to ask the name of.)

But he makes a silent promise.

He's going to stop this.

Tim is going to do something.

Naturally, as any law-abiding thirteen year old, by 'doing something' his first thoughts are calling the authorities to sic them on Wayne manor with all the photos, and now evidence, he'd collected through the years.

Yeah, Tim chickened out.

Because reviewing all the photos, Batman is crying.

Crying while he beat up young men who are older brothers, but crying. Batman is broken.

In the past, if someone or something in Gotham is broken, you know Batman and Robin will be on it.

Robin has been shattered and Batman is broken. Who will be 'on it' this time? When the heroes need heroes, who will be there to catch them?

So. Yeah.

Plan B, is to give Batman time to recover. Preferably without Batman. Batman is justice and vengeance and the violence the police can't deal out. Violence for the greater good, but violence. That can easily go overboard, as he'd repeatedly witnessed.

There used to be less violence and more talking. When Batman had a Robin to be mindful of.

Tim needed Bruce to quit Batman.

Somehow without inadvertently burning down Gotham with supervillains let loose. Maybe a vacation. Tim can... convince him to go on a hiatus. There are times when the dark night go one JL missions and the Bats seems to have a system to prevent spikes in crime activities.

Mostly involving Batgirl, Robin, and -to a much lesser extent- Nightwing.

Batgirl is out of commission in what he suspects might be related to Barbara Gordon's injury, though he hasn't had time to confirm it.

Robin is... well.

Nightwing is MIA.

..... Tim will deal with it when the time comes.

The time doesn't come because... well, simply put, no one answered the door. Probably thinking it's more paparazzi -he'd seen the hordes and then regular pesters- so yeah, Tim understands. It's fine.

It's fine.

..... really, it is.

Tim does NOT visit the hospital.

He deactivates the program he'd spent the better part of the day before researching and copy pasting codes that would've sent a timer of five minutes from when activated that, if he didn't regularly enter the code, would automatically send all his pictures to every major news outlet in the entire country.

Clearly, Tim can't do this on his own. In fact, he's been getting a feeling that he shouldn't do this on his own.

Okay.

So if he was Dick Grayson, where would he retreat to grieve his little brother's sudden death.

......... how much is the bus fair again. Would a hundred be enough?

He'll bike it.

For the road trip pack, he's thinking a bag of lays. He'll stab it to get the air out and to be able to fit more in the bag.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tim close the door behind him, relaxing in the car seat with a sigh. Working in a company was exactly how he'd thought it'd be as a kid.

Something he'd rather not be doing. When was the last time he'd held a camera? Even just his phone camera? That doesn't involve recording evidence in the mask.

"Where to, Mr. Drake-Wayne?"

"Ermmgrgfdbcfb..."

"The penthouse then, after a short driveway. Red Robin or Burger King?"

"Yum."

"Yes sir."

Tim gathers just enough energy to lift his head to look at car mirror, "Thanks Derek. You're the only one who ever understands me."

"I'm sure Mr. Grayson would disagree."

"Disagree all he wants. He gave me the wrong donut once."

#dc #dc comics #batfam #batman #robin #tim drake #red robin #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #origin story

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princesssarcastia · 3 years

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an oldie but a goodie?

seems like y’all were actually interested in my ancient dckbabs content, so here we are! did some superficial, red-pen editing (you guys think i like em dashes NOW, ho boy) but otherwise this is a straight blast from the past.

I borrowed a line from that one scene in the good wife that lives in my head rent-free forever; title in my fic folder is “rainy saturday afternoon”

—

There wasn’t anything in particular about that day. It wasn’t a life-or-death situation, a world-ending crisis; he hadn’t been shot or beaten half to hell. He was just— sitting in his apartment. Catching up on some TV that’d been haunting his DVR for a few months and—

And suddenly he couldn’t take it for another minute.

Rain was pouring out of the sky in sheets, drowning the whole city, but it only took him three minutes to throw on his coat, hop on his bike, and be on the road to Gotham. (Because of course she was in Gotham; Gotham was in her blood, just like it was in Bruce’s— like it never would be in his. Maybe that was why they’d never worked out before: that restlessness that thrummed in his blood in place of Gotham.

By god, though, whatever this thing was, between the pair of them, it was calling him louder, stronger, faster than anything; even that.)

His mind just sort of….checked out; which was fine, his body knew the way by heart. He wasn’t nervous or scared. There was no second guessing, not this time. Just a sense of fulfillment, like coming home and being whole and flying, all at once, because that’s what she was to him: home and freedom and love and the past and the future. At least, he hoped.

Dancing around each other, flirting with the possibility of forever, had been fun. It’d been exciting, tantalizing, but— now, on a quiet rainy Saturday afternoon, it wasn’t enough.

Hopefully Barbara would see it the same way. Maybe. Ah, there was the fear. A different kind of fear from before— not fear of commitment, or messing up, but fear of rejection. He’d never really felt that with her (which, admittedly, had gotten him yelled at— the expectation that they would always be waiting for one another, regardless of where they were in their lives)

Dick realized he was tired of just brushing at the edges of her life; he wanted to be a part of it, all of it. If she’d have him.

—

When he pulled his bike up to her building, it was still raining. Kinda made him want to pull up the radar map on his phone and see how big the storm system was, but not now. Later. After.

Dick walked up to the front doors, held down the button for her apartment, and…nothing. She wasn’t home.

He laughed quietly to himself. Of course she wasn’t. Perfect timing was for movies and dramatic entrances, not love. God knows he’s always had terrible timing. He glanced at the sky, still gray and torrential, and then settled on the steps just under the awning. Cover wasn’t great, but a little rain never hurt anybody.

The concrete was a little rough against his back, even through the leather jacket he’d thrown on in his rush to get over here, but he didn’t do more than shift around. He fiddled with the edge of his phone for a moment; left it in his jacket. He was too restless, and it was too wet besides.

One or two of Barbara’s neighbors made their way past him while he was waiting, but they didn’t stop to ask what he was doing. Barely even looked at him. It was comforting to have the blanket of anonymity Gothamites provided; you got it in most big cities, but nobody did it quite like Gotham.

His knees wouldn’t stop bouncing and he drummed his fingers on the steps next to him, but his mind was still quiet. Anticipation and dread twined together in his stomach, making it impossible to sit still, though it’s not like he could’ve sat still otherwise.

Dick wasn’t sure how long it was before she showed up. He probably could have figured it out, factored in the time he left with the speed limits between Bludhaven and Gotham, checked the log on his bike, cracked the security cameras on her street and– ah. Wait. That was just the nervousness cranking all the way up at the sight of her stepping out of a cab, her arms full of bags and books, as always.

Beautiful, as always. Overworked, as always, from the tightness around her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. As always, she stopped for a moment when she saw him, and some of that tension fled. Her lips quirked in a small smile, the same one she always gave him, and it hit him straight in the gut like it always did. He couldn’t help smiling at her, he never could. Not even when she was spitting mad, which she wasn’t, so.

“Dick! I wasn’t expecting to see you.” Her hand started digging in one of the bags she was holding, probably her purse, but then everything else started slipping. Dick leapt off the steps and caught two of them, then snagged some of her books while he was at it. She flashed him a grateful look and made her way over to the doors, key in hand. “Is there something wrong, or–“

“No! No,” Dick burst out, “I just…. had to see you.”

“Well,” Barbara had a bemused laugh in her voice, “here I am. Come on, I was just about to order dinner.”

They made their way up to her apartment together in comfortable silence, and Dick couldn’t stop smiling the entire way, his fingers tapping against the bags and books.

As she dropped her purse by the door and went to the table to set her books down, she threw over her shoulder, “So why are you really here?”

Dick set the things he was carrying down, too, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just—” his voice cut out, suddenly unable to articulate everything that had driven him here today. He couldn’t hold still, reaching out to brush one of the knickknacks she had sitting in her entryway.

Barbara turned and raised an eyebrow, her smile turning wry, but said nothing.

“Aren’t you tired of this?” He said suddenly, his hands dropping to his side.

She breathed in sharply, “I don’t…” but trailed off as she looked at him. Really looked at him, in all his fidgeting glory. “Yeah,” she sighed.

Dick moved closer to her. “We’ve always had bad timing.”

Barbara raised both her eyebrows this time, but the smile was still there. “You could say that.”

“Mostly my fault, I know.”

She laughed. “It’s a team effort.” She mirrored his movements, moving towards him as slowly and surely as he was inching towards her.

“Well,” he said, reaching out to grab her hands as soon as they were within reach. “Miss Gordon. What if we suddenly…didn’t?”

Her face relaxed into a more serious expression, her eyes thoughtful and her mouth quiet. “Well, Mr. Grayson. I… That would be a sight to behold.”

He went quiet, too, and raised a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “It certainly would.” They stayed like that for a long moment: their hands entwined between their chests and one of his hovering next to her cheek. Searching each other’s faces for something, some change or shift that would justify making this leap.

“Time is what we make of it, right?” He said, giving her a soft smile, Barbara giving him one to match; neither of them able to help it, not when they were so close.

“And what do you make of it, Boy Wonder?”

Dick huffed a laugh at the old nickname, already leaning down. The bridge of his nose brushed her glasses, and her neck bent at an angle that couldn’t be comfortable for very long, but then they were kissing and all their discomfort faded. It was warm and sweet and coming home and being whole and flying, all at once. It was him and Barbara, in sync for the first time in a long, long time.

She pulled back first, her eyes opening so slowly. He wouldn’t stop smiling at her now, not for anything.

“I love you, Barbara, and I want to do this. Now. If you’re willing to give it a shot.”

“I love you too, Dick. And I am.” Barbara huffed a laugh. “Willing, that is.” She stepped out of his arms, keeping ahold of his hand to tug him further into her apartment. “Now, come help me look through these takeout menus; it’s a total mess, and I am starving.”

—

fin.

#dickbabs #dick grayson #barbara gordon #fic #batfamily #dc #my fic #my old old OLD fic #writer's commentary: this is born of my frustration #of constant will-they-won't-they narratives #with contrived drama to lengthen the trope #fuck that noise #people should just decide to be happy together

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youngjusticeslut · 4 years

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Remember

Fandom: Young Justice Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters: Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson, M’gann M’orzz, Conner Kent, Kaldur’ahm, Wyynnde, Garth, Wally West, mentions of Jade, Lian, Paula, Roy, Shalaina, Barbara, Zatanna and Raquel. Summary: In the six months after Wally's ceasing, the six members of the original team each remember him in their own way. // or, how the team copes with his death. Rating: T Word Count: 4k Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters.

The Watchtower June 23rd, 23:16 EDT

Conner puts himself in charge of Wally’s hologram before anyone else can offer.

He knows that he’s the most logical choice. Kaldur will want to do it, but will get too caught up dealing with the team that he’ll put himself on the backburner. M’gann won’t be able to look at the memorial without crying. Artemis is too much of a wreck. And Dick… Dick is gone.

Sure, someone else could have done it. They could have left it to the League. Or Bart. Bart would have readily taken it on and roped Flash into helping. It wouldn’t have felt right, though. Wally was one of them. The original six. It’s only fair that one of them handles it.

In the three days it takes them to build the hologram, Conner handles the harder things. Memorial arrangements. Consoling the team. Picking up whatever slack he can load on his shoulders. He keeps busy.

Everyone else needs time to grieve. More than he does, at least. Grief is an emotion he can easily control. It nestles inside him, content, easily ignored when more pressing matters come to play. It’s always been this way. When people get hurt, or die, he’s always the one they can count on to keep things going. It’s instinct, by now. And truth be told, it helps him feel a little bit better.

When the hologram is finished, Conner stays behind and stares up at it. None of this is fair. Artemis shouldn’t have to go through this pain. Dick shouldn’t have to live without his best friend. Wally should have continued to live, to be their friend.

But he’s gone now, and someone has to step up. Bart may have filled Wally’s shoes as the new Kid Flash, but being a hero was only a part of his legacy. After Kaldur, Wally always made sure that everyone was taken care of. He’d hang around the Cave and make sure all the new members got acquainted. If anyone needed a place to crash, Wally’s home, and then his and Artemis’, was always a safe haven. He’d organized game nights, movie nights, team outings. With him gone, there’s nobody left to take care of everyone else.

Nobody, except him. For so long, Conner fought the idea of leadership. Everyone’s role on the team was well defined. Kaldur was the leader. Artemis was the spirit. Dick was the brains. M’gann was the power. He was the strength. And Wally was the heart. Conner was comfortable in his role, and he never sought to change it. Things are different, now. It feels like the right time to step up.

Wally was his friend. His first friend. Conner needs to do right by him, to keep his memory alive.

He crouches low, touching the base of the hologram. “You don’t have to worry,” he says, barely speaking above a whisper. “I’ll take care of them for you. I promise.” He’ll make sure that Artemis gets through this. He’ll find Dick and be there for him in any way he needs. He’ll force Kaldur to take breaks and stop overworking himself. And M’gann… he’ll find a way to forgive her and work through their past.

Life’s too short to do anything else.

Happy Harbor July 1st, 13:34 EST

The snickerdoodles don’t taste right.

Wally’s memorial is in two hours, and despite spending the better part of her morning in the kitchen, M’gann has nothing to show for it. She sighs, dumping the fourth batch of cookies into the waste bin. It wouldn’t be right to show up empty handed. Wally would never forgive her.

Ignoring the pang in her chest, M’gann straightens up and rolls up the sleeves of her sweater, resolved to try again.

“Let’s see,” she mutters to herself, pulling up the recipe in her head. “Butter, eggs, flour…” A dash of cinnamon. A sprinkle of salt. The ingredients float towards the dirty mixer, ready for another attempt. Hopefully this time she won’t leave anything out.

The batter comes together easily enough. M’gann has made this recipe enough times that she moves automatically, measuring flour and cracking eggs without so much as a second thought. Keeping her hands busy is good. If she moves, she can’t think. Thinking will only make her cry, and she can’t cry. M’gann doesn’t have that right, especially not today.

Conner, Kaldur, Zatanna, Raquel and her are all in agreement that today, their attention will be on Artemis. Though the former archer puts up a brave front for the sake of the team and keeping things more or less normal, today will be different. Each of them will take turns looking out for her, ensuring that someone is with her at all times. It’s the very least they can do.

As M’gann folds the batter together, her mind turns to Dick. None of them have heard from him since he handed off the team to Kaldur and Barbara. Conner tried visiting his apartment. Artemis texted and called until his phone died. Kaldur persuaded Zatanna to try a locator spell, if only to ensure that their friend was alive. After a few weeks, Artemis informed them that he texted her back.

I’m fine.

Two words. Two words that scream how not-fine he is, but enough to keep them away for a little while longer.

M’gann tastes the batter and crinkles her nose. Something is still missing. She doesn’t have time to mess up another batch, she needs these to come out right. For Wally.

She stares down the batter, pressing her mouth to the side as she thinks. “I put in eggs, the flour, the cream of tartar… what am I missing?” M’gann dips the wooden spoon in the bowl, taking out a piece of soft dough to taste.

Then it hits her. She forgot the sugar.

“Hello, Megan,” M’gann laughs to herself, shaking her head as she grabs the sugar from a nearby cupboard. No wonder the dough doesn’t taste sweet.

“Not as sweet as you, Sugar.”

The bag of sugar drops from her hands and crashes on the floor, spilling everywhere. M’gann takes a shaky breath and grasps the counter until her knuckles go pale, trying to keep the tears from coming to her eyes. She can’t. No. Today’s not her day, she doesn’t get to do this.

Try as she might to regain composure, it’s too late. Every memory, good and bad, resurrect from the back of her mind and start playing without mercy. Wally’s shameless attempts at flirting. All the trays of cookies he’d scarfed down single handedly. The terrible jokes, and the funny ones too.

M’gann slides down until she hits the floor, fighting hard to keep from crying. They’d lost before. Tula. Artemis, even if it was brief. The loss of Wally hits differently. They studied for their exams together. Every recipe she tried, he’d always volunteer to be her taste tester. Good or bad, he’d eat it enthusiastically and ensured that she knew how much she enjoyed it. He was her friend.

Wally always seemed untouchable, like he could survive anything with a smile on his face. Even now, she expects him to just dash into the room and claim that it was all some horrible joke. They’d forgive him, just like they always had before.

Her phone beeps. M’gann sniffles and wipes her eyes before picking it out of her pocket. There’s a text from Kaldur, letting her know that he’ll pick her up in an hour. She sets the phone down and lets out a shaky breath. Maybe five minutes on the floor won’t hurt. She’ll allow herself five minutes, and then she’ll pick herself back up, put on a brave face, and finish baking the cookies.

And she does just that.

Palo Alto August 13th, 15:29 PST

“For the last time, Mom, I don’t need help.” Artemis holds her phone to her ear with her shoulder and tapes up another box. “By the time you’d get here, I’ll be done.”

When the box is taped shut, Artemis pushes it towards the door. This is the last room she has to pack up. One more room, and she’s free. She sets up another empty box and begins to pack up what remains of her closet.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home? I made up your bed for you.”

Artemis nods, clearing her throat just enough so that she can answer. “I’m sure.” She can’t go home. Paula would see through her in an instant. “What, you don’t trust Jade?” she tries to joke, but the tone comes off wrong. Halfhearted.

Retreating to her sister’s new home is barely a step up from retreating to her mother’s. At least there, her friends won’t drop by unannounced. She’ll have something to do. A toddler to distract her from the heaviness that weighs her down. When Jade suggested it, she couldn’t say yes fast enough. At this point, change is welcomed. Anything to get her out of this house.

“I have to finish packing, Mom. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Before Paula can add anything else, Artemis hangs up the phone. She knows what would have come next. Pity. Concern for her wellbeing. While she appreciates the concern and she knows everyone is only trying to look out for her, she doesn’t want to hear it anymore. What she wants is to move on.

Artemis is better than she was two months ago. Wally appeared everywhere to her. She saw him in their kitchen. She heard him, singing in the shower. Brucely would whine by the door for hours, waiting for him. Finally, she gave up and camped out at Zatanna’s, if only to keep from completely shutting down.

A month ago, she officially rejoined the team. Artemis couldn’t sit still and feel sorry for herself anymore. She had to do something. Punch something. Make someone feel even an ounce of the pain that she felt every day that Wally wasn’t with her.

The rage subsided. So did the pain. Artemis knows how to tuck it away for a few hours, bury it deep under team duties, coffee dates with M’gann and Zatanna, and babysitting her niece. She grows numb. Hollow. Anything is better than feeling that pain again.

Artemis makes quick work of her closet and tapes up the remainder of her possessions in the last box. She’s glad that she only has to worry about her things. Wally’s family had helped clear out most of his belongings shortly after the memorial.

She hoists up the box and carries it out to the living room, where a stack of boxes already sits by the door. Half of them will be going to storage. She doesn’t want to impose on her sister and brother-in-law. Not after they volunteered to house her and her dog.

Speaking of her dog, Artemis notices that it’s awfully quiet. She’s used to quiet by now, but with Brucely, it isn’t always a good thing. A small smile ghosts her lips. One time, upon leaving him alone for less than ten minutes, her and Wally had found the dog neck-deep in a massive bag of cereal. They’d stayed up all night, watching their dog upchuck Lucky Charms and vowing to keep a better handle on where they kept their food.

Even though it’s a happy memory, it leaves a bitter taste in Artemis’ mouth. Wally would want her to be happy. He’d want her to remember the good times, and use them to find her strength and move on. Maybe one day, she will. One day, when she isn’t angry, or hurt, or numb.

“Brucely?” she calls out, whistling short-after. No response. That’s never a good sign. “Come on, Boy. We can go on one last walk before we have to go.” Still nothing. He must be up to something, Brucely always comes out running when she so much as mentions the word ‘walk’.

Artemis checks the bathroom. Not there. The kitchen is empty. So is her bedroom. She keeps calling his name, but Brucely remains hidden. Finally, after a solid ten minutes of looking, she finds him inside a closet, lying down pitifully.

“There you are,” she sighs in relief, bending down to pet him. “What’s the matter, don’t you want to go live with Jade?”

The dog stares up at her, reflecting her own feelings in his sad brown eyes. Artemis laughs and sits next to him. “Yeah, me neither. But you’ll like it there. Lian will love you. Roy will probably give you extra treats. And Jade…” she bites her lip. “Jade will get over it.”

Brucely huffs, making himself more comfortable on the floor. Artemis notices that he’s guarding something behind him. “What’cha got there, buddy?” she asks, peering closer to look. Behind Brucely is a box. Seems like she missed something.

Artemis carefully moves her dog and takes the small box into her palms. It’s not one of her boxes. Judging by the torn edges and the crumpled, smush state of it, the box is one of Wally’s. Taking a deep breath, she opens it.

Wally and her talked about marriage. They both knew it was an inevitability, but had decided to wait until after college. Wally wanted a huge party, with everyone on the Team and the League invited. Loud music. A massive cake. The whole five yard. Artemis was never really the type of girl to plan out her wedding, so she went along with his ideas, if only because she liked seeing how excited he got about everything.

Now she wishes they hadn’t waited. She wishes that they’d run away, eloped, made the most of their short amount of time together before it was too late. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he’d still be alive and here with her.

He isn’t though. And now Artemis sits on the floor, holding a ring that was supposed to be hers. All the stitches keeping her together tear apart at the sight of this one little ring.

Brucely whines and sidles up to her before placing his head in her lap. His drool ruins her pants, but she doesn’t care. Artemis leans forward and hugs him, doing her best not to cry, fighting hard to keep away the thoughts of what might have been.

Poseidonis October 30th, 8:19 UTC-2

Of all the strange holidays Kaldur has experienced on the surface world, none confuses him more than Halloween. He isn’t too much a fan of sweets. And the custom of knocking on strangers’ doors, begging for candy baffles him to no end. His team members tried to explain it to him on several occasions, but clearly the holiday is beyond his understanding.

He prefers to spend the holiday back home, visiting his parents, his old friends. Kaldur always found it a better use of his time than partaking in the festivities; he only had so many opportunities to return home, and this was one he always allowed himself to have.

This year, however, is different. Artemis texted him and asked him to join her and Will for his daughter’s first Halloween. At least, the first one they were both there for. He’d tried to decline, but her and Will both sent him a mass of text messages full of pictures from the pouting toddler, and really, what choice did he have? Kaldur has a difficult time denying Artemis much of anything, these days.

As a result, Kaldur plans his trip home a day earlier. For a brief moment, he considers skipping it entirely. Then he remembers his parents, and decides he’s hurt them enough for one lifetime. So, like the good son he is, he returns home and lets his mother shower him with affection. Cal asks him a plethora of questions about how things have changed on the surface world, and Kaldur dutifully answers every single one. When it comes time to leave, he tries his best not to think too hard about how tight his mother hugs him.

Upon leaving his parents, he ponders visiting Queen Mera, and her son. It has been ages since he’s seen little Artur. Kaldur still remembers holding the baby, only a few days after his birth. Artur must be so much bigger now, and the thought puts a smile on his face.

Just as he’s about to head in that direction, Kaldur stops himself. He probably won’t be welcome there. King Orin and him are on good terms, but that doesn't mean he has forgiven him enough to let him near his family. “No,” he muses to himself, “perhaps not today.”

So instead, he swims in the direction of the Zeta tube, keeping his gaze straight ahead. If he just focuses on reaching his destination, he won’t see the Atlanteans who stare at him, and whisper. He won’t hear the vicious words they mutter under his breath, calling him a traitor, the bastard of Black Manta, and worse. Kaldur doesn’t mind it too much. It’s all deserved. The people have every right to feel this way. He was surprised so many had forgiven him as quickly as they had.

“Kaldur, is that you?”

He stops swimming and turns around. It’s Garth. Next to him is a man he remembers seeing, but doesn’t recognize immediately. “Old friend,” he greets, holding out his hand. Garth hesitates, just for a moment, and then grabs his wrist in the usual greeting. Kaldur does his best not to let it get to him.

“I didn’t expect to see you. Are you heading back?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“That’s too bad,” Garth says, letting go of Kaldur’s wrist. “It would have been nice if you could join us.”

“Us?”

“My apologies, I haven’t introduced my friend. Kaldur, this is Wyynde. He was in our class, back at the Conservatory.”

Kaldur turns his attention to Wyynde. Ah, now he recognizes him. Wyynde, the purist. “You were with Oceanmaster,” he blurts before he realizes. No sooner does he say it does his face flush with embarrassment. “I… what I meant was—”

Wyynde gives Kaldur a wry smile. “And you were with Black Manta. But hopefully, those collaborations will remain in the past. Now I am on King Orin’s guard.”

“I see.” Kaldur clears his throat, attempting and failing to hide his embarrassment. “I apologize if I was rude.”

Wyynde waves away Kaldur’s concerns with a lighthearted chuckle. “Not at all. I appreciate the candor.”

Kaldur’s face is still warm, but he knows well enough that it isn’t from embarrassment. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since… “Well, I must take my leave. I have urgent matters to attend to back on the surface world.”

Helping his friends wrestle a stubborn toddler into a polyester costume and tote her around to collect candy she won't eat. An urgent matter indeed.

Garth rests a hand on Kaldur’s shoulder. “Are you positive you cannot find time to accompany us? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“I do not wish to intrude,” Kaldur makes up quickly. “You and Wyynde must be quite busy.”

“Nonsense! I have heard so many stories about the famed Aqualad. I would be honored if you accompanied us.”

It’s on the tip of Kaldur’s tongue to say no. He should say no. There’s nothing he can gain from getting close to either of them.

“Dude, you can’t be hung up on Tula forever. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Uh, and by that I mean Atlanteans. Not like, actual fish. Please don’t fall in love with an actual fish.”

The memory is so deep, Kaldur almost can’t believe he recalls it. It’s been a little while since he’s thought about his fallen friend. There was so much to do back then, he packed his feelings about the matter and set them aside, to be handled at a later time.

Still, as much as it hurts him to remember, there must be a reason he hears Wally’s voice inside his head. Wally had always been unsympathetic towards his misfortune with Tula. On countless occasions, he’d tried setting him up on a number of unsuccessful blind dates. None of his tactics had worked, but Kaldur appreciated the attempt.

If Wally were here, he’d tell him to go. There can be no other reason why the memory had surfaced. Staying behind, even for a few more hours, would be the very least he could do for him.

“Well…” Kaldur smiles, then nods. “I suppose just a little while will not hurt.”

Watchtower November 11th, 00:01 EDT

Dick sits in front of Wally’s hologram, cross legged. He’d never missed his friend’s birthday before. Grief be damned, he isn't keen on starting now. His heart is heavy. None of his friends even know that he’s here. He hasn't talked to anyone, really talked to anyone, in months.

After Wally ceased, he needed time. Running the team, the team he, Wally and Kaldur had started, didn't feel right. So he left. He came back for the memorial, and to officially hand the team back to Kaldur, but after that, he officially disappeared. He’s done with teams. At least, for the time being.

He never pictured living his life without Wally by his side. Through thick and thin, they’d been there for each other. They’d fought together, and laughed together. It doesn’t feel right to go on living without him.

But life moves on. Dick distracts himself from his feelings by diving headfirst into detective work, letting the late nights and constant travel take away from the unresolved pain. He watches his friends move on with their lives. Kaldur accepts the role of Aquaman, and M’gann is appointed as team leader. Conner still helps with the team, and Artemis enrolls in a Masters program and spends her free time babysitting her niece. Everyone moves on, together.

All except him.

To give them credit, everyone tried to look out for him. Texts. Calls. Surprise visits when they knew he was home. Barbara comes over more often than she needs to, and even though he isn’t always mentally present, he’s grateful. Still, he keeps everyone at a distance. He just prefers to process things on his own. It’s nothing personal.

Wally’s hologram judges him from above. Dick lets out a shaky breath, looking up at his former friend. “I know,” he sighs. “I’m an asshole.”

From his backpack, Dick pulls out an assortment of chips, every ridiculous flavor he could get his hands on. Wally liked trying the different flavors. Somewhere on his computer, he kept a masterlist of every one he’s tried, and their rankings. “You won’t believe which flavors I found this time. Fried chicken flavored potato chips. Can you believe it? They don’t taste bad, but they’d definitely score low on your yum-o-meter,” he tries to tease. His voice comes off thick.

Dick sets the chips down, his hands shaking. “I miss you, Wall. I know I haven’t really shown it. I know I’ve been an awful friend, an awful person… but what did you expect? You and me, we were supposed to go down together.” He balls his fists, looking down.

The hologram doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move. Just stares ahead, with that same, dorky smile.

After a few minutes, Dick stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulders. This isn't helping. He did his diligence, he visited, he kept the tradition. But right now, it hurts too much to be here.

“Happy Birthday, Wally,” he mutters, before leaving the hologram behind for good.

#young justice #yj #dick grayson #artemis crock #wally west #m'gann m'orzz #conner kent #kaldur #wyynde #I know this isn't the greatest but #I don't care #it's been forever since I wrote YJ #deal w it

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schweeeppess · 5 years

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Hello! I was wondering if you have any tips on writing for the Batboys? I'm planning on writing fics for them but I don't completely have their personalities down/don't know exactly how to write them.

Alrighty, let's give some tips :D

Disclaimer: I am in no way an expert on these characters. This is my grasp on the characters and their behaviors, and I know more about certain characters than I do others. If I say something you don't like, die mad. If you think I'm wrong on something, I respectuflly and honestly say good for you but keep your opinion to yourself, please. Thanks.

Dick Grayson

Keep in mind for him the fact that he has anger management issues. It takes quite a bit to get him to snap, but when he does snap, it's a terrible day for all parties involved.

Dick isn't as happy-go-lucky as fandom likes to paint him. He is serious, he is grim, and he is realistic whenever the need for it arises. He's an optimist, yes, but he's beyond smart enough to discern a very serious situation and just how to go about dealing with it.

He is a detective. People tend to forget that, for some reason. He's just as capable as Bruce or Jason are at solving complex problems. He's not the best detective there is, no, but he's still definitely above average with observation skills and such.

He tries to be there for people, but he can get overwhelmed sometimes with all his commitments and might forget some things

Which brings up this point: He overworks himself and tends to agree to do more things than he can easily manage. Dick has an issue with that; overworking himself.

Dick is also a very emotional person. He thinks with his heart most of the time. The phrase "heart on his sleeve" was probably made specifically for him. Dick is open about certain emotions, but make no mistake about the fact that he can close off probably better than Tim whenever he wants to. He feels with everything in him.

He's smart, he's funny, he's genuine, he's protective, he's compassionate, he's dependable, and he's above all loyal and kind.

Dick trusts you until you give him a reason not to, to borrow a phrase.

I think a good song to capture his character would be "Human" by Rag'n'Bone Man.

Jason Todd

Ohhh boy. Here we go.

Say it with me: Jason. Does. Not. Enjoy. Killing.

Seriously, I don't really know where people get the idea that he does from? Jason kills, yes. But why does he do it? For the better. He kills out of mercy and justice for victims (yes that includes the Talon he killed; Talons are victims to the Court of Owls, and nothing more), not because he enjoys it. I am not justifying anything, I'm just explaining.

Jason is also a very emotional person, but he's more of a heart on his cheek kinda guy. He tries to trample them down, but they get the better of him sometimes. Take everything he did in Under the Red Hood as an example. He did what he did because he was hurt and in pain and he needed Bruce to feel the same way.

Jason is hesitant to trust people, very careful to make sure he can't let people close enough to hurt him the way he's been hurt so many times before.

Look, Jason's not a fundementally bad person. He's just been betrayed too many times for someone his age. His mom was a drug addict, and she died. His dad was an abusive father. Bruce was the first real parent Jason ever had, and Bruce replaced him when he died.

My point is, everyone Jason as ever trusted has either turned their backs on him or died. He has attatchment issues, trust issues, parental issues, and so many more I can't even list them all.

He's really fucking smart. (Keep in mind that he was top of all his classes in school.)

Jason is kind, compassionate, empathetic, and loyal. He can be aggressive, brash, and can make fucking stupidass decisions sometimes, but he's still good at heart. He does things with the best intentions (well, now, anyways. Pit Madness made him do some unfavorable things).

Everyone says Jason isn't patient or a planner, but excuse me this is the same Jason as the one who very carefully planned Bruce's death via bomb under the Batmobile, right? Or are you talking about a different Jason. He's careful and thinks things through, planning meticulously at certain points.

Hands down a good Jason song is "I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young.

Tim Drake

HE'S NOT ADDICTED TO CAFFEINE!!! That's a fandom thing that I'm kinda getting sick of seeing everywhere!!!

Tim Drake, self-esteem issues, self-worth issues, and attatchment issues galore. He tends to think himself expendable and unimportant sometimes. He just generally thinks less of himself a percentage of the time.

He's fucking genius. Plans at least three steps ahead of everyone and anyone now, but... He's jaded at times. Very jaded.

Tim tries not to feel at all, sometimes. He closes himself off and distances himself from everyone ever since Kon, Bart, and Stephanie died. Of course, Kon and Bart came back, and Stephanie wasn't ever really dead, but that hardly means anything.

Tim is quiet and introverted, keeps to himself a lot, but that doesn't mean he's timid.

He's smart and he knows it, but he doesn't let that get to his head. He's cool but funny, he's wise but geeky, he's jaded but soft...

Tim is loose. He's still a teenager, albeit a teen who's gone through and seen a lot. He likes having fun.

He's not all shy and unnecessary apologies, he's not so jaded that he speaks down to everyone in clipped tones, he's not gonna go cry in a corner whenever his feelings get hurt, he's not going to have a fit when things go wrong.

Tim is complicated. He's a teenager.

He's serious but relaxed, strict but loose, calculating but calm, realistic but kind.

He's funny, smart, cunning, intellectual, realistic, caring, considerate, compassionate, empathetic, thoughtful...

Yeah uh let me just say there are so many layers to all of these characters it's so amazing and I really delight in them.

Damian Wayne

Damian isn't a stick-up-the-ass jerk, alright?

He's just a kid. A kid who's seen, experienced, and witnessed far too much for someone his age.

Keep that in mind.

He doesn't know what to do or how to behave. He went from the League, which was familiar and what he understood, to Gotham, somewhere unfamiliar and unknown. He had everything he knew stripped away and replaced with things he'd never even heard of, much less experienced.

He tries to hide it all behind a mask of bravado and superiority, but in reality he's lost and confused. He's struggling to adjust but is trying.

He's confused, uncertain, careful, and tentative, but he's also loyal, compassionate, funny, caring (in his own way), thoughtful, and actually charming (again in his own way).

He's struggling to adjust, but he's getting there.

#ask #anon #anon ask #writing tips with sep #writing tips #characterization tips #characterization #hdnskwl #i hope this didn't suck #and i hope it helped!

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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Also friendly reminder that Dick never thought that Tim was crazy for refusing to believe Bruce was dead, he thought Tim was stressed and exhausted and not coping well and needed to take a fucking break, and this is all very understandable when you keep in mind that Dick ISN’T an asshole who never pays attention to anyone but himself. That in fact, its the exact opposite, and its BECAUSE Dick pays attention to Tim and worries about stuff like, oh, his mental health and wellbeing, that he was probably thinking about the fact that the LAST time Tim refused to accept a loved one’s death.....

HE TRIED TO CLONE HIS DEAD BFF IN HIS BASEMENT.

Tim, historically, DOES NOT COPE WELL, with loss. Dick, historically, IS VERY AWARE OF THIS.

Dick being concerned about Tim when Tim starts spouting off about how corpse or no corpse, Bruce isn’t really dead, just lost in the timestream (without offering up any evidence at the time of these confrontations).....

like....it is not the betrayal and abandonment of trust that fandom makes it out to be.

Its like, a grieving, stressed and overworked older brother simply being very fucking worried about his little brother and how he’s dealing or NOT dealing with all the things Dick himself is struggling with at the moment.

Also, really wish people would provide context for the ‘Dick suggested Tim go to ARKHAM and Dick locked Jason up in Arkham where he could’ve been right next to the Joker and Dick just walked away and didn’t even care’ shit.

No. That’s not remotely what happened. Arkham BLEW UP in Battle for the Cowl. And one of the first things Dick did as acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises was BUY the contract for the Arkham remodel, because due to being painfully aware of how bad and shitty and totally ineffective it was since he was like, eight....Dick wanted to try and use his new position and resources to make Arkham an ACTUAL working and effective mental health facility. Dick literally went ON SITE in multiple issues, to oversee the remodel in person? He had supervisory access?

So when he suggested things IN THOSE SAME ISSUES like Tim going to Arkham to take a break, or PULLING STRINGS to make sure that when the GCPD arrested Jason, he was transferred to Arkham instead of Blackgate.....what Dick was ACTUALLY doing was looking out for his little brothers as best he could, DESPITE the fact that they both actively hated him at the moment, by trying to get them help/keep them safe in a location HE COULD ENSURE WAS ACTUALLY SAFE AT THE MOMENT.

Sanctuary didn’t exist back then, there was no superhero facility for vigilantes who were dealing with enormous shit that would give ANYONE a breakdown, and it wasn’t like a public figure like Tim, well known in BOTH his superhero identity AND his civilian one, could just wander into any mental health facility and say hi, I need a place to have a total meltdown in peace and quiet, thanks. The only real option for that was like....the one mental health facility Dick was pouring his time and resources into MAKING USEFUL and had enough pull at to like....keep him off the books.

Same thing with Jason? Because of the whole...Arkham just BLEW UP last year, all the big name Gotham Rogues....weren’t at Arkham at the time. Joker was NOWHERE NEAR the place the entire time Jason was there, which Dick was very aware of since like....HE WAS THERE. Constantly. It was literally just Dick’s way of keeping Jason locked up where he wouldn’t KEEP TRYING TO KILL THEIR LITTLE BROTHERS, since asking him to stop (something Dick had literally tried multiple times lol) was not effective at all....while at the same time, it kept Jason out of prison population AND didn’t require keeping him in some kinda fucked up isolation cell in a prison just for safekeeping. In fact, after Bruce came back and took over from Dick again, and BRUCE went to visit Jason in Arkham...Jason’s biggest CANON complaint was that he was BORED. He wanted to be transferred to an actual prison because all he was doing here was being giving weekly psych evaluations that he passed in flying colors (again, no forcible drugging or treatment or electroshock therapy or any other Jason whump people have written and blamed Dick for).

And when Bruce agreed, what did Jason do? He poisoned the prison cafeteria and killed like eighty people with no regard for their level of criminal behavior or whatever, which is shitty Jason writing, and was of course just part of Jason’s plan to escape, which he did with Scarlet’s help, AND Dick and Damian’s when Jason’s escape plans were hijacked by some other bad guys who then kidnapped him. And the second Jason prioritized running away with Scarlet over trying to kill Dick and Damian again, Dick held Damian back from going after them, because ALL HE HAD WANTED ALL ALONG was just a SIGN that Jason might eventually find other things more important than like...trying to kill their little brothers at every opportunity.

LOLOLOL so to recap: Bruce pays no attention to how Tim handles his grief, Tim tries to clone Kon in a basement. Dick worries about how Tim handles his grief and tries to convince him to take a break somewhere safe and private that Dick can make sure nobody knows about....OMG WHAT AN AWFUL HUMAN BEING.

Bruce literally cuts Jason’s throat with a batarang rather than let him kill the Joker, does absolutely nothing to search for Jason as Jason runs around for a couple years occasionally trying to kill his siblings. Dick locks Jason up in a safe and private facility where he can’t kill his siblings but also is safe from people with an axe to grind against the Red Hood, or like, corrupt police brutality.....OMG WHAT AN AWFUL HUMAN BEING.

Like....c’mon people.

(Oh another thing that REALLY bugs me about people not having any context for the Arkham stuff, is the last arc before Bruce’s death, Batman RIP - literally had DICK locked up in Arkham, in a straitjacket, drugged to the gills and foaming at the mouth while the group that kidnapped him to get to Bruce planned to lobotomize him. All those whump stories people write about all the terrible things that might have happened to Jason and/or Tim in Arkham because of Dick....and that were NEVER a possibility...BECAUSE of Dick....yeah, those actually more accurately describe.....what actually happened to Dick. Himself. Like, two months before all of this. I mean, how much do you have to hate Dick Grayson and be convinced he’s just an awful human being in order to believe that after going through that HIMSELF, one of his first acts as Batman would be to thoughtlessly inflict similar treatment on his own brothers, who....he’s literally shown prioritizing at every other turn, to the extent that he’s actively begging Jason to let him help him during Battle for the Cowl even WHILE Jason’s in the process of trying to kill him).

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manynarrators · 4 years

Text

AESTHETIC HEADCANON MUSIC CHARACTER

• QUICK STATS •

NAME :: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne NICKNAME :: Tim, Timmy, Timbo, RR, Red, Red Robin FANDOM :: DC Comics GENDER :: Male ORIENTATION :: gay BIRTHDAY :: May 8th, 2003 ZODIAC :: Taurus SHIPS :: /Ra’s al Ghul, /Slade Wilson, chemistry

• BIOGRAPHY •

Drake Manor was no place for a child to grow up. Tim's parents were two of Gotham's elite; Jack and Janet Drake. Tim spent the earliest years of his life being raised by nannies and the isolation of a large house. When Tim was a young child he watched as the Flying Grayson's plummeted to their deaths. It sparked an interest, first in Dick Grayson, and then once he found out about the secret being kept by the Wayne family, Batman and Robin.

He started to collect newspaper articles, and most nights would steal away into the streets to take pictures of the Dynamic Duo.It became an obsession, and when Jason Todd, the second Robin died. Tim found himself taking up the mantle to save Batman from himself. It was a good life; his parents never called, and the nannies hardly cared, so Tim was Robin, life remained consistent until Batman died. (He didn't really, but only Tim realised that).

When Bruce was lost, it seemed as though part of Tim had gone with. Dick was Batman, and he had fired Tim, only to replace him with Damian. So he left to go prove he wasn't crazy, and that was when he found himself working with Ra's al Ghul.

Tim is brilliant, and more than a little self destructive at the best of times. It's not always the worst thing, he worked hard, and had a tendency to throw himself into his work making him an excellent detective. Timothy Drake is above all, however, a reptile. He easily took on the skin of whatever he needed to be, and always tried to find the most self-serving path to success.

• PHYSICAL •

FACE CLAIM :: Timothée Chalamet HEIGHT :: 5′9″ BUILD :: Slim, athletic VISUAL AGE :: 16 ACTUAL AGE :: 17 HAIR :: black EYES :: blue SPECIES :: Human HAND :: right GLASSES :: yes, but he usually wears contacts IDENTIFYING :: Tim’s whole body is littered with scars, and bruises from his nightlife as a vigilante.

• MENTAL •

FAITH :: He knows that there’s probably something, Wonder Woman exists after all, but he can’t bring himself to believe in any of it. MARITAL STATUS :: single OCCUPATION :: Wayne Enterprises CEO && vigilante EDUCATION :: Tim was taught by the finest tutors his parents could by until their deaths, when he went to a an upscale private school. (In the future he goes to university for a BA in computer science, and a Masters in business). QUIRKS :: Tim overworks himself, and more often than not, he can be found with a cup of coffee darker than the night sky.

• VERSES •

Dreams of Paradox

The Drakes were a well known family in the Dreamshare. Janet has been one of the most skilled extractors, and her husband had excelled at mixing somnacin. And then, of course, they died and everyone in the business wanted an in with their son, Timothy Drake. They wanted to guide him- shape him. His parents had been the best of the best, and they wanted him, believed that he could continue their legacy. Morpheus, one of the few ‘legitimate’ Dreamshare companies got to him first, and it was with that Tim learned how to navigate and use the dream. It was unfortunate for Morpheus, that Tim left them when he was old enough to pursue his own career in the Dreamshare. Perhaps it had been foolish to take the additional job, but a friend had asked him, and it had seemed fascinating.

Now on the run from Morpheus, Tim found that for as good as an extractor that he was, he was better at the being the point man. It had never been needed within Morpheus. They gave you a file of all the necessary information, and you got the information they wanted. For others in the Dreamshare, they weren’t so lucky. Tim was good at getting the information his team needed, and especially good at fixing the plans when things threatened to fall apart in the dream. Now, Tim spends his time as a privately contracted point man, avoiding the authorities. (He makes a totem, because he heard whispers of a way to keep yourself aware if you were in a dream. It’s a small polaroid photo of when he was a child and met the circus performer Dick Grayson).

Aperture of Midnight

When Janet Drake died, and Jack Drake fell into a coma, there was news, and reporters, and attention. But then, like with any sort of news, the next exiting thing happened, and Tim Drake was left with the news stories buried under the new exiting thing, and so he remained tucked away in that big empty house. For the several months it took for Jack Drake to wake up, life continued for Tim, unchanged. Neither his mother or father were home, at night he went into the city and photographed the vigilantes, and Drake manor was always haunted by shadows.

Of course, Jack eventually woke up, and after that life changed somewhat. He didn’t leave the country as much, and Drake Industries’ profit actually went up, now that it wasn’t being run almost entirely by greedy shareholders. Their relationship was never close, but Jack loved his son, and encouraged him pursuing his interests. he could take over the company when he was older, and when Jack was ready to hand it over. Sending the picture of Batman and Robin during one of the most recent fights with Poison Ivy to the newspaper had been a spur of the moment choice. There was something surprisingly prideful in seeing his photos in print. So with the next fight he sent in the photos as well, and the same with the next. Until Tim Drake became synonymous with Gotham Vigilantes.

Semper ad Meliora

‘Always toward better things’. One of Tim’s earliest memories was Janet telling him to always reach forwards, and to always aim to achieve more. He wasn’t entirely sure that she would be proud of him and what he had done. He wanted to think she would be. Then, four years after her death, he learned the truth of who his mother had been. She had not always been Janet Drake, no, she had been Jannat al Ghul. Older sister of Talia, and daughter of Melisande and and Ra’s al Ghul. Tim was eighteen when he learned the truth. He was the grandson of Ra’s al Ghul, (and Damian’s cousin). Ra’s offered him a place by his side, and Tim refused. He couldn’t– not now, there were things he needed to do, a family he wanted to stay with.

*the fic for this AU found HERE.

Conned Into Some Sort of Life

Tim Drake didn’t die that day he was stabbed by the Widower, at least, not quite. He was brought back from death, or near death. Maybe he had died between the hotel and the Cradle, he didn’t know, and Ra’s hadn’t told him. All he knew was that he had woken up and learned soon after, that he had been put into the Lazarus Pit. He may have hated Ra’s for doing this to him, but he could thank him for teaching him how to control the pit madness as well as he could. He finishes his time with the League and brings Bruce home, before following and going home to Gotham.

When he gets home the first thing he does is get a pair of blue contacts to cover the green they had become. He pretends to all the world that he was fine. He won’t– can’t let the others know the truth, know what sort of monster he’s become. He nearly killed Captain Boomerang, a bit of luck, and a half-desperate clinging to his morals stopped him. He isn’t sure he can stay in Gotham, and even less sure he can stay a vigilante. The madness was contained as best he could, but the desires were strong and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control it.

Domino Motion: It’s All Over The Papers

Tim Drake was his mother’s son. Charismatic, ambitious, and a chameleon, shifting form one persona to another with nothing more than a thought. He was smart, and knowing exactly what cards to play at any given moment had been a skill that he had been taught from birth. Perhaps Janet had not meant for Tim to go down the path he did, but that had hardly mattered. He had, and Gotham had been introduced to the charming, young Tim Drake. The name carries with it a sort of weight, and people whisper about him.

Tim Drake: brilliant, charming, intelligent, cold. The the Gotham elite, it meant the young man who had single-handedly managed to make Drake Industries one of the most formidable companies in Gotham. What they didn’t know was how the underworld had flourished because of him. Anarchy and disorganized crime had vanished, almost overnight, replaced by a mysterious figurehead who called themself “S”. The biggest issue presented there were the Bats, who seemed determined to stop him.

Eyes In The Night && Eyes of Power

“Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed speak not a whispered word of them or they’ll send the Talon for your head.”

The Court of Owls was old– powerful in a way that nothing else in Gotham was. They watched, and waited, and shifted the world in the way they wanted. For the Drake’s, their place among the Court was not surprising. Jack didn’t care much for it, there was something about the Court that had disturbed him, but for Janet, and then later, their son, it came naturally. Until they decided that they didn’t like the way it was being run, and decided to stage a coup. Janet became the new leader of the Court of Owls, and several years later, when Tim was old enough, she gave the mantle over to him. She stepped to the side, and watched as her son conquered.

And conquer he did. The Drake’s reordered the Court of Owls, pulling enough marionette strings to hide them in a thousand shades of shadow and smokescreen walls, all while gathering even more power than they had previously had. When Jason Todd was killed by the Joker, the next week the clown was dead (the authorities had no idea what had happened. the Talons did as they were instructed). Some things could be tolerated, killing the son of the Batman was not one of them. The risk of them getting exposed in an angry tirade was too high. So they killed Joker, and dealt with the problem before it could get any worse.

All For Fun && Jewels

Meeting Catwoman the first time had been an accident, but so had the second, and third, and sixth times as well. Eventually it had become almost a game to see how long he could follow her without being noticed. He wasn’t quite sure when his interest had shifted from batman and Robin to Gotham’s most notorious cat burglar, but it had, and most nights Tim was content to follow her, and catch the pictures that he could. For months that continued, until the one night where Catwoman was taking longer than he had expected her to, and the police had arrived.

It didn’t take long for him to get to the window Catwoman had entered, and called through to her, a warning that the police had arrived. It was the first time he’d actually spoken to her since he had made the unconscious choice to photograph her. After that, he met her properly, and she took him out for hot chocolate, more to get answers about the child that had been following her for months than anything else. Tim just kind of stuck after that, she wouldn’t let him near anything properly dangerous, but he made sure to warn her if anything was coming. It wasn’t until he was slightly older that he asked her if he could join her, and after a few more months of asking he was allowed to become Catwoman’s companion, Stray.

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justbitthedust · 5 years

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Never Too Late [Chpt. 2]

A/N: So over on my poll, people voted for me to get the next chapter for this and Welcome To Gotham out before I posted the 1k+ Celebration fics, so I worked on this update, then comes WTG Chpt. 3, then comes the 1k+ Celebration fics!

I hope this was worth the wait!

Warnings: Jason’s mouth.

Pairings: None.

Jason stretched, popping his back, and shook his arms out after. Patrol tonight had been mercifully slow after that major gang bust two nights ago, and he was content with enjoying the calm before the proverbial storm started back up again. The entire patrol had been peacefully silent, his comm muted, save the Bat chatter in his ear. As far as he knew Barbara was off on a vacation with the Birds, which was why she hadn’t kicked him off the frequency. She, to put it mildly, was not a remote fan of Jason’s. He didn’t care. It wasn’t a loss; Barbara had made her dislike for him known even when he’d been Robin. Yeah, it’d hurt back then, but at this point he was used to it. They’d never really had any sort of relationship—as friends or otherwise—so nothing was really lost.

He yawned, shifting to stand as he started contemplating whether or not he could make a quick stop by that Thai place by his safehouse when a certain bird’s chatter was addressed to him. Jason groaned, his head leaning backwards. In his ear, the bird wouldn’t shut up, even with the lack of response.

“Hooooood. Red Hood. Heyyyy, Little Wiiiing. C’mon, Hood, we know you’re probably there. Maybe. There’s the chance.”

Jason didn’t answer. Instead, he stubbornly shook his head—though nobody could see it—and marched off for the Thai place.

In complete honesty, he was in a good mood because of the slow patrol. So he was thinking about answering even as he heard another, smaller, bird chirp back at the older one angrily. Then a certain bat got into it, and his ears processed it as a bunch of screeching, chirping, and growls that were starting to give him a headache.

Suddenly, he realized that there was another little bird who hadn’t make a peep the entire patrol, and he wanted to hit himself with something. How hadn’t he noticed sooner? It’d been a slow night—nothing to distract his mind, except for thoughts about turning it in early.

…okay he was trying to think, right now, and the noises in his ear weren’t fucking helping, at all.

Before he could think about the decision he was about to make, Jason turned his comm on.

“Can you guys shut up for one fucking minute? I can’t hear myself think!”

Fuck.

“LITTLE WING! I knew you were there! See, Robin?”

“You have only proven that Red Hood is someone who cannot be trusted to keep to his own business without Oracle forcing him to do so.”

Jason snorted. “Fuck you, half-pint.”

“Language, Hood.”

“English, thanks no thanks you ugly-ass furry.”

He was surprised when Dick didn’t try to comment on the profanities and instead asked if he was done with patrol yet.

A brow raising—that literally nobody would have or did notice—Jason answered skeptically.

“Yeah… Why? What’re you going to ask me for?” He scoffed. “If you want to know my kill count for the day, it’s a whopping zero, same as it’s been every day for three months straight.”

He was trying, okay?

“No, no! I wasn’t saying anything like that—I wanted to know if you could check up on the other Red for us. He couldn’t patrol today because he pulled a muscle in his shoulder pretty bad two days ago. He’s been pretty upset about it, actually, because B won’t let him work on any of his cases.”

“What did you want me to do, let him use his shoulder maneuvering the machinery?”

“Yes, father, for then he would have further delayed his recovery and we would be spared his irritating and unnecessary presence at least whilst on patrol. I find it a satisfactory choice of yours to allow him to spend the duration of his recovery in his own apartment.”

“Robin…”

Dick’s sigh carried surprisingly well and Jason grinned a little. Little brat was really wearing on the all-patient Grayson, huh? Not his problem.

“So,” he interrupted before any of the others could start an argument or lecture, “you want me to make sure the baby bird isn’t messing with his injury and doing work.”

“That is a gross simplification.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Shut up, bat-brat.”

“Yeah, basically!” Dick abruptly piped in before Damian could start cursing Jason out. “Would you mind?”

Pretending to think long and hard about it, Jason waited about three minutes before shrugging. He’d made up his mind when he noticed Tim wasn’t on patrol. He figured the annoying urge to make sure the kid was okay was just something left over from last month when he’d let Dick crash at his place and actually fucking rest for once in his damn life.

Jason always heard them prattling on about getting proper rest and taking good care of their bodies to Tim, but they’re all hypocrites. Bruce didn’t sleep; Jason was convinced of that now. Bruce had been Batman so long that he’d actually become a vampire, like the idiot thugs always whispered about whenever Halloween rolled around. Dick had the tendency to overwork and stress himself and his body. He always took on more than any human being could handle and was ridiculously hard on himself if he didn’t accomplish them all perfectly. It was annoying.

For them to go and tell Tim off about not getting enough sleep was such bullshit from them. At least Jason took better care of himself than they did—hell, Damian probably did too.

“I’ll do the solid, but you owe me one.”

“Awesome! Thanks, Hood!”

He’d been just about to crack a sarcastic response when Bruce spoke up and made his thoughts—and body, which was already heading in the general direction Tim’s apartment was—screech to a sudden halt, making him trip and nearly fall.

“…thank you, Red Hood. I appreciate it.”

Damian’s immediate squawk of alarm and cry of “Father!?” registered through the sudden rush in Jason’s head and he blinked twice before clearing his throat, yanking his thoughts back by the scruff of their proverbial necks, and replying.

“I, uh. No problem B.” Quickly he tacked on, “I’m not doing it for you, though.”

Then he was shaking his head—the sarcastic comment of that was traumatic popping into mind—and resuming his quest for Tim’s surprisingly comfortable apartment, muting his mic again as the birds started talking.

Getting to Tim’s apartment was pretty quick. Jason was crouched by a pretty big window—really Tim? Human-sized windows for an apartment in Gotham?—as he contemplated either knocking on the window or just cutting all the alarms and helping himself inside.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled as he started pulling out his stuff. Disarming security measures it was.

Tim was ridiculously paranoid or something. It took Jason five minutes to get everything, and even then he couldn’t rely on the scanner in his helmet because Tim knew about those, so he had to find the rest by eyeballing it and asking the classic, ‘If I were Tim’ question.

Only when he was sure the measures were all disabled did Jason crack the window a little and promptly exhale in relief when no lasers appeared to detach his hands from his body. What? Jason didn’t know what the things he’d taken apart did, he knew how to keep them from doing those things.

“Yo, Timbit!”

Jason looked around once he was inside, having removed the helmet, and a scowl etched onto his face when he flicked the lights on. God, the kid lived like his home was a garbage disposal. It was disgusting. Alfred would have a heart attack…

Where even was Tim? The place was moderately-sized and Jason knew for a fact that his voice carried well.

“Tiiim. Timber. Timmy. Timothy. Timmy bird. Timberly. Kid. Timothy Jackson Drake. Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Young emancipated adult who lives in bio-hazardous waste.”

Nothing.

Jason’s scowl deepened as he started walking to the bedroom, the only place where Tim had better be fucking sleeping, because if he wasn’t, there would be consequences. Jason would snitch to Dick who would immediately dive into panicky mother-hen mode and not leave Tim alone for more than a minute. No way was Jason above that. If he found out Tim was still doing work while he should be recovering…

Alfred was always an option, too, but Jason would pick up a little—a lot—to prevent any premature death by aneurysm.

Gently opening the door, Jason poked his head inside the room and waited for his eyes to adjust to the low lighting. There was a small lamp on the nightstand beside the bed, the warm orange-y glow softening the room, and it helped Jason make out a sleeping figure on the bed.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, because he knew about the pillow and wig tricks—had pulled it once or twice with Bruce—Jason walked over silently, crouching beside the messy mop of hair and tilting his head a little as he shifted some of the hair. Tim’s sleeping face came into sight and Jason calmed down, satisfied.

He stood, gently carding a hand through his little brother’s hair on some weird instinct, and didn’t have to make sure Tim was sleeping on the good arm. If he were on the bad arm, there wouldn’t be a bulge where his shoulder was poking visibly from under the blanket.

Silent as he’d been when he’d entered, and feeling a little bad for being so loud calling Tim’s name, Jason moved to exit the room.

Or, well, he tired to make himself get out, because all the trash and clothes everywhere was seriously bothering him. Did Tim not know how to do laundry or maneuver a broom? Christ.

With a deep and silent sigh, Jason gave up controlling his urge to at least pick up, and bent down to start collecting clothes in his arms. Once he’d gotten it all and dumped it in a pile on the floor of the main room—after he’d cleared a space to dump it in—Jason hunted down a broom and dustpan to set to work sweeping Tim’s room up. He ended out taking a trash bag into the room too, because he had no idea what the hell half of the rancid-smelling stuff in the room was, and opted to just dump it in the bag and toss it out with everything else.

There were no words to describe how Jason felt once Tim’s room was clean. He still had to wash the sheets and stuff, but Tim was using them and Jason didn’t want to wake the kid. Instead, he took out his phone, checked the time, then texted Dick.

Game-over: Tim’s asleep.

Game-over: His laptop and stuff is still in the main room, but it doesn’t look like he’s used it.

Game-over: Did you know he lived messier than you?

Messages sent, Jason sighed and went to go clean the rest of Tim’s apartment. It was something he could do to help, and he was already thinking about helping the teen out on some of his casework. Jason really doubted he’d be getting any sleep tonight, as he finished filling a second black bag of trash and moved on to the third.

His phone buzzed and Jason checked the notifications.

Dickaster: He is?! You didn’t do anything to his drink or something?!

Jason scoffed.

Game-over: Fuck you. No I didn’t drug him. He was passed out when I got here.

Dickaster: wow.

Dickaster: Thanks for checking up on him, Jason.

Game-over: Just remember you owe me.

Dickaster: ;)

Conversation ended, Jason turned some music on quietly and went back to cleaning.

Three hours later it was four in the morning and Jason was finishing up, wiping down the last dish, because dishwashers were just a waste of water and time since they never really cleaned the dishes their entire purpose was to clean. Jason would die before he used a dishwasher.

Yawning when he’d put the plate on the drying rack, he stretched a little and sighed, plopping down on the recently-cleaned couch.

Propping his head up on his fist, and resting his elbow on the arm rest, Jason closed his eyes. He’d sit, just for a little.

Fuck. He’d earned the damn rest.

Jason woke up with a jolt, shooting up and off the couch before he got his bearings.

Where the fuck am I and why am I here?

His head whipped around and he calmed when re recognized Tim’s recently-cleaned apartment. Huh. Jason had forgotten about that.

Lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, Jason’s hand touched the domino instead and he groaned. Damn it, he’d slept with it on. Taking the fucking domino off now would be a bitch.

As he walked to the kitchen to make some breakfast, Jason didn’t think about the possibility of Tim not having anything inside of his refrigerator except for milk and—are those fucking goldfish.

He stood there, looking into the fridge, stunned, for about five minutes before he was grabbing an over-sized jacket that was probably Dick’s from the clothes he’d folded and washed, throwing it on over his armor to hide the red bat, and walking to the nearest supermarket to do groceries.

Were they going to need to hire a caretaker for Tim? The kid couldn’t seem to be able to take care of himself for shit.

The grocery run was quick and Jason regretted not swiping Tim’s car keys as he made his way back to the kid’s apartment with bags both dangling from and in his arms, as he also plotted.

Maybe they could get that Fox girl—the fuck was her name again? Sam? Pam? Tam? Tam. Tam sounded right—to at least check up on his little brother. Tim had told him about her, and Jason had sensed feelings that went past ‘just friends’. It would be good for him.

Once he was back at the apartment, Jason dialed Dick’s number—it was only six in the morning and Dick had probably gone to sleep around three, but three hours was fine since Jason knew Dick would go right back to sleep after the call—and waited for his older brother to answer as he started putting groceries away.

“H’llo?”

Yep. Dick was just waking up.

Pausing to word it just so it would spark Dick’s curiosity, Jason said, “Wake the fuck up, Dickface. I need to scheme with you,” and waited for it to work.

It worked.

“Scheme? What kind of scheme, and what are we scheming about?”

Grinning, Jason explained his master plan to help Tim get both his shit together and the girl. Dick laughed by the end of it, and agreed to help, saying he’d talk to Bruce about it later in the day. The call ended with Jason wondering what the fuck he was doing setting Tim up and making him breakfast.

What. The. Fuck.

His time to wonder where it all started turning into this ran out when he heard sounds from the bedroom. Jason quickly served up a plate, filled two cups of coffee from the pot he’d started, and slipped out the apartment from where he’d entered.

The alarms and traps were re-enabled faster than they’d been disarmed and Jason was gone by the time Tim made it to his kitchen.

Tags: @mizmahlia @boosyboo9206 @an-all-write-life @lovelywally-deactivated20181210 @avengerdragoness @crazyfreckledginger @red-balistic @solis200213 @emmadevr @tomscaprisun @whambamthanksbatfam @queen-fighter @jaybird-rednerd @shirokokuro @aaren-27 @osejn

#nxttime writes #my writing #my fanfiction #my work #fanfiction #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Batbro bonding

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camsthisky · 6 years

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Batfam Feb (2018) Fic Recs

Sorry for such a long wait. I forgot about January, so to make up for it, this is a little longer than the past rec lists.

Mistakes Were Made by CaramelMachete Words: 7,369 Summary: Nightwing joins Jason as Robin and Batman for a stake-out. When Batman gets called away, Nightwing and Robin are unable to follow Batman's orders. They bite off a little more than they can chew. So, how much first aid training does Robin remember anyway? Jason worries that if he can't handle this, maybe he's not fit to be Robin after all. Comments: This is a great Dick ad Jason bonding fic, and I think I’ve read it before, but I don’t think I’ve rec’d it. The characterization is amazing, and it does a good job juggling the strained dynamics between Jason, Dick, and Bruce. It’s from Jason’s POV as Robin, too, which I don’t think we see enough.

been trying to do it right, been living a lonely life by streetlight_skeletons Words: 2,287 Summary: “Kid, what are you doing out alone?”

Even in the cold, shivering, the boy glared defiantly, the white lenses in his mask pushed up, and pushed out, “I- I’m not alone. Batman’s here”

To his credit, his voice seemed to shake from the cold and not paralysing fear, which Selina had expected. She grinned, looking around her mockingly. “Well, I don’t see him, do you?”

“He’ll- He’ll find you and beat you up if you hurt me,” the boy informed and, of that, Selina had no doubt.

Or,

There's an injured bird, but it wasn't the cat who did it Comments: I need more Robin Dick and Selina interacting. Also the fact that it’s hurt/comfort and Bruce is like an overprotective mother bear? Gold.

Brunch with Bruce by DawnsEternalLight Words: 2,014 Summary: Dick's overworked and exhausted, but he's not going to let that (or a cold) keep him from having lunch with Bruce. Comments: Dawn always manages to hit me right in the feeling with her fics, because sick, overworked, tired Dick and overprotective and worried Bruce is one of my biggest weaknesses.

The Blame Game by DawnsEternalLight Words: 5,669 Summary: While on a case together Jason gets hurt, and Dick realizes he's sicker than he thought he was. Comments: Dick and Jason angst!! This plays off the events of Batman #16 with Bane, and it’s done wonderfully. It was disappointing that we didn’t get the full account of what happened in comics, and this is a great insight into what could have happened! Plus, all of the hurt/comfort and angsting between brothers is amazing.

Scatter the Heavens into Stars by DawnsEternalLight Words: 2,416 Summary: Dick is getting over fear toxin, and finds the best way to do that is work a little and spend time with his dad and little brother. Comments: Cookies!! Dick spending time with his family!!! Cookie Dough!! His family loving him!!! Dick eating the cookie dough!!!!!!! I’ve read this no less than six times since it’s been posted.

Foreign Object by audreycritter Words: 86,122 (37/37) Summary: Bruce Wayne deals with a serious illness, one that threatens the most crucial part of himself. He and the family try to cope with their own fears and expectations about it and then the aftermath. This is written partly as character study, partly as family drama. Originally posted to tumblr. Comments: I’m going to be honest and admit that I had a really hard time starting this fic. I’ve read other things from the Cor Et Cerebrum series, but I hadn’t gotten to this one since it hits so close to home. However, I read this entire fic in one night, and it was absolutely worth it. The characterization is so on point, and there’s a balance of hurt, comfort, angst, fluff, and everything else.

Cold Hard Want by audreycritter Words: 12,310 Summary: “Are you happy?”

“I...I’m getting there.”

A follow-up to DC Rebirth Batman #35, in which Bruce recovers from being stabbed in the back and Damian considers the elusive nature of happiness. Comments: Holy shiitake mushrooms. Okay, so I’ve read this a few times, because it’s so good. Damian’s emotions are so real and present and I feel like I’m riding or dying along with him. It’s like I’m in the story and I’m seeing everything unfold, and my heart hurts for every single one of them. For Bruce, Selina, Dick, and Damian. It’s just so good.

Every Fiber of My Being by scxlias Words: 21,376 (5/5) Summary: As much as Dick and his siblings have argued, Bruce has never budged on his "Keeping Secrets Policy". There's not a person alive outside of the family that knows the secret identity of any of the Bats. Not even Dick's boyfriend. Dick understands the need for some secrets, knows that keeping their identities safe keeps them and their loved ones safe, but when he takes up the cowl, team dynamics aren't the only things that begin to change. Comments: This is a birdflash fic that I absolutely love to death. It’s an AU of the batfamily never telling anyone their identities, and it’s absolutely heartbreaking. You can feel how absolutely alone and stressed Dick feels as the weight on his shoulders grows heavier and heavier, until he’s just about to break, and it makes my heart hurt.

Fallen Bird by Croppmar000 Words: 2,887 Summary: Something had happened, something bad. Dick was a wreak. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Batman's birds didn't just die. Comments: A YJ fic that deals with Jason’s death and how Dick reacts to it. I love that it’s Wally and Roy that are there for Dick. I just love their friendship so much.

The Joys of Fatherhood by theragingstorm Words: 2,408 Summary: Young Bruce Wayne has a chance encounter with two small children, while all of them are still ignorant of how important they’ll become to each other. Comments: This is a cute little fic. It’s probably an AU, but it’s still cute nonetheless. It’s a “if Dick and Babs met as small children and hide from their fathers as they go absolutely mad with worry” fic, and it’s the cutest thing. Especially when Bruce comes into it.

Two Dead Birds by InsaneTrollLogic Words: 29,034 (15/15) Summary: There's some lunatic in red helmet running through Jason's territory. He wants to think it's a copy cat.

He's wrong. Comments: A Jason-centric fic. I’m not usually too big on fics that don’t have a lot of Dick in them, but this is a very good fic in my opinion. Jason’s characterization is very well done, and I love Dick when he comes into it as well. Time travel stories are also one of my favorite tropes though, so maybe I just have a weakness for it. The only thing is, it ends in a slightly open-ended way, and I’m not sure if that means there will be a sequel of if it’s just how the fic was meant to end. Either way, it was worth the read.

Catch Me by TantalumCobalt Words: 1,453 Summary: He hates these nights. When he’s stretched thin from chasing leads on three cases, when he’s trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible because he’s hyper conscious of what date is approaching, when a severe thunderstorm has driven him off the streets and back to the Manor. Comments: Again, stressed, overworked, tired Dick is my weakness. And Ren does a really good acknowledging the Blockbuster situation and the effects it has on Dick.

The Bat's Crest by lilylamaire Words: 168,328 (29/?) Summary: Tragedy strikes the hero community when Bruce Wayne commits a crime so heinous even the best start asking for blood. However, as the heroes try to recover from the hit and carry out justice for their friends, a random assortment of people start acting oddly, including the current Speedy Tim Drake, a child hostage in Gotham, and a young man from an unremarkable circus amongst others. All of them seem intent on saving Bruce Wayne from the grasp of the Justice League for no apparent reason, going as far as betraying their previous allegiances.

Unknown to the Justice League, these people are equally confused. Clearly they're stuck in another dimension, but how do they get back? How did they even get here? Who else is stuck in this world? And how long will Tim's patience last? Back home, the Bat was a planetary symbol that struck fear in the hearts of criminals. In this new world, it has no meaning, save for the handful of stranded souls. Comments: Okay, so this fic is Tim-centric, and it has a lot of Damian in it, too. I was a little disappointed because I’d hoped that there would be more Dick Grayson in it, but it makes sense why there isn’t. And it's a very good fic to address the problems of what would happen had Bruce Wayne not become Batman. It kept me on my toes, and when Dick does come in, I definitely think it’s worth the wait.

All your resolve (dissolves) by animegoil Words: 5,424 Summary: Season two: Tim watches Dick fall apart. Comments: Another YJ fic. I think this is one of my favorite topics to read about. Dick was under so much stress during the time while Bruce was on Rimbor, and I don’t think it’s addressed quite enough. This fic is one of my absolute favorites to go to when I think about Dick in season 2, and it does a really good job with Tim’s POV and his helplessness of being unable to properly figure out why Dick’s so stressed. There’s a lot of levels to this fic, and I honestly think it’s some of the best writing I’ve ever read.

The Wayne Family Ghost by pupeez4eva Words: 1,713 Summary: In which Bruce realises that having a legally dead son, who regularly hangs around the family, might be slightly problematic. Comments: This fic is kind of hilarious. I don’t often read funny fics, but Damian getting in trouble for accidentally including Jason Todd in the family and Bruce having to deal with the fallout is always great.

Pixar by ChimaeraKitten Words: 3,076 Summary: Sometimes, favorite movies are influenced less by the movie itself, and more by the people one shared it with. (batfam + Favorite Pixar movies) Comments: This is literally one of the cutest fics out there. It addresses each individual kid with Bruce, and I love that I get emotions about each kid through their favorite movie. Chi does the dynamics between all of them really well, too.

Monkey by ChimaeraKitten Words: 570 Summary: Dick has a new shirt. Comments: Baby Dick is so cute and Bruce is such a good dad in this.

#fic recs #february fic recs #dc #monthly fic recs

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 8 months

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when you said that i looked sad i thought that you meant it like pathetic

by TheCopperPan The Red Hood moves to stand a few feet in front of him. Dick can still strain himself from leaning forward too much. Hood doesn’t do anything though, just stands there and stares. Dick is so tired he can’t even think of something cheeky to say. He can only blink at Crime Alley’s risen drug lord and wait. Hood suddenly sticks out a hand and brushes his fingers to rest against Dick’s cheek. Dick’s breath stutters, and he can’t stop himself from leaning into it. It’s not nearly enough. He shakes under the touch. Hood scoffs scornfully and drops his hand. Dick is so overwhelmingly sensitive that even that little bit sends agony crashing into his nerves. When his vision clears, there’s no one else in the building but corpses. ~~~ Dick gets caught on cuddle pollen. Jason is trying to find the drug that keeps killing his people. This is not what he came here for. Words: 5382, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, bruce shows up at the end i guess but he doesnt do much Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Additional Tags: Cuddle Pollen, Torture, Restraints, Minor Character Deaths, drug mention, overdose mention, those are your content warnings, Exhaustion, jason and dick both overworked themselves, also allusions to jason and dick's past rain-related trauma, rain smell bad, Identity Reveal, youll never believe it lmao, Enemy to Caretaker, you can really just tell what i wrote after an envysparkler kick huh, not really a happy ending? kind of open, i would also like to specify this is not a ship fic, dont take that anywhere near my works please via https://ift.tt/ywkUbYA

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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bettrdays · 6 years

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There’s a lot to love about Dick Grayson, and that includes his flaws. For example:

- He has a lot of anger that he keeps inside, and when it reaches a boiling point he is prone to lashing out at people he cares about. He can also be pushed to extreme rage and despair, such as when he believed Robin to have been eaten by Killer Croc on orders from the Joker, resulting in Dick beating the Joker to death with his bare hands. He has a similar mental breakdown following his failure to stop Tarantula from lethally shooting Blockbuster.

- He tends to blame himself for failure, even if it wasn’t something he could have feasibly prevented. Dick holds himself to an impossible standard, often overworking himself and forgoing proper rest/recovery times. It’s a wonder where he learned that one from....

- When stakes are high, Dick can develop a “the ends justify the means” attitude. He isn’t above lying, manipulating, and otherwise making risky calls that he believes will pay off in the long run, but those decisions often put him at odds with the people around him. Season 2 of Young Justice actually did a great job of depicting this side of him; he orchestrates a plan to save Earth from alien invasion, but the results shatter trust between himself and his closest friends/allies. He’s fully aware of the effects his plans have on a personal level, and while he takes no pleasure in doing so, he is certainly capable.

- He tends to brush people off when he’s under extreme pressure to succeed. What might ordinarily be seen as someone checking in on him and inquiring about his well-being can be seen by Dick as them thinking he can’t handle the given situation. ESPECIALLY if that person is Bruce, which leads me to my next point...

- Dick worries that he will never escape Bruce’s shadow, especially when he first becomes Nightwing and begins to fight crime in Blüdhaven. He fears that he will never be seen as Bruce’s equal, and that Bruce in that same vein will never treat him like one. He has more or less worked past this particular issue, but in his early years it was a real point of contention between the two.

These were just a few off the top of my head; if I’ve missed any I’d love to hear ‘em!

#dick grayson #nightwing #robin #this was pretty fun #sometimes you just gotta muse aloud about your favorite characters

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

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A Sweet Kiss of Poison

BATMAN #339 SEPTEMBER 1981 BY GERRY CONWAY, IRV NOVICK, STEVE MITCHELL AND BRUCE D. PATTERSON

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC WIKIA)

Batman has been working extremely hard and as a result, his performance has been affected. During a meeting on Wayne Enterprises, Bruce is barely able to keep his concentration on the discussion and he dismisses the meeting until the next day. Worried for his boss, both Alfred and Lucius tell Bruce to give himself a break, but the overworked millionaire doesn't heed their advice.

At noon, Bruce Wayne goes on a meeting with Hamilton Hill, who is looking to have Wayne's support for his candidature for Mayor of Gotham, but Bruce refuses as he doesn't want to be involved in politics. At that moment, a woman approaches Bruce and gives him a kiss in the lips, only to be terribly ashamed after she realizes that Bruce is not the man she thought. Bruce doesn't give much though to the situation, but when the woman leaves the building, she goes into a taxi and removes her disguise to reveal herself as Poison Ivy. She is satisfied after having kissed Wayne and following her plan, she goes looking for the next victims.

That night, Batman goes on patrol at the Waterfront and he spots a couple of thugs, when suddenly he is compulsed to leave the place and go to a very specific building in the middle of Gotham. Batman walks through the city without any concern about his surroundings, like a hypnotized person. When Batman arrives at the designated place, he finds that all the members of the Wayne Enterprises board have gathered at the same place and overcoming the need to join them, he first changes his outfit. After a few minutes, Bruce Wayne becomes part of the group and learns that all the others have also had the sudden urge to meet in the same place and once they are all gathered, they are forced to go inside the ambassador theater, which was closed at the time.

Inside, the men are guided to the main stage of the theater by a female voice and when they arrive at the place, Poison Ivy reveals herself. She informs them that she had "accidentally" kissed all of them with her special lipstick that was dosed with poison, that same that affects their minds and turns them into her slaves. Ivy has gathered all the members of the board of Wayne Enterprises with the intention of forcing them to sign a legal document that will give Ivy total control of the company. After all the members have signed, she commands them to leave and only Bruce's signature is missing. Giving Bruce another "dose" of the poison, Ivy makes sure that he won't resist and after the document is signed by everyone, she commands them to never speak of the whole situation or the consequences would be disastrous.

As Ivy gets ready to leave, Bruce makes a quick change and he confronts the evil lady as Batman. During the confrontation, Ivy gets the upper hand after Batman injures his ankle. Using special vines against the Dark Knight, Ivy leaves Batman to die, but the Caped Crusader uses some defoliant from his Utility Belt to save himself. Unfortunately, by the time he recovers, Ivy has already escaped.

Batman hurries to the Batcave II, where he calls Commissioner Gordon to inform him about Ivy's nefarious plan, but as Ivy commanded, he is unable to reveal the truth as the words won't come out of his mouth. At that moment, Batman starts to worry that he won't be able to stop Ivy from taking control of everything.

While performing his aerialist's routine at Hill's Circus, Dick Grayson reminiscences about his parents, their death, and how he became Robin. All of this, while he performs stunning athletic feats for the audience of Hill's Circus. After his act is done, Dick Grayson is thankful for all the mentors of his past and he is glad that he had become something much more than what they had ever imagined.

REVIEW

The first story in this book is just the beginning of an arc and the second story I assume is a transition for Dick Grayson’s return to the batcave. I found the Robin story more powerful. Not that there is anything wrong with the Poison Ivy story, it may be just personal preferences.

This is the period of time when Poison Ivy relied on lipstick to control her enemies (or kill them). This was changed in this new century. You could like one version or the other or both. I think it makes sense with this version mostly because she looks human and can get away with things more easily. Current Poison Ivy is a bit more intimidating and usually a victim of others.

In any case, in this story she relies on lipstick, which makes me think a lot about how practical it could be and how can Batman prepare for those (he would normally use rubber lips over his lips).

The second story is an exploration for the character of Dick Grayson. That’s a story that hasn’t been told as much as Batman’s. At least not at this point in history. And it is curious they decided to do so then, considering that the next Robin was just around the corner and sharing a very similar origin.

I give the book a score of 8

#dick giordano #rich buckler #tatjana wood #dick grayson #robin #poison ivy #batman #dc #comics #review #1981 #bronze age #batman80

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