#GoodDad!Bruce
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Whumptober prompts 8 (everything hurts and I'm dying), 17 (breaking point), 22 (pick your poison), 27 (stumbling), alt3 (dazed and confused), alt12 (carried to safety), alt15 (tears)
Bruce fumbled for his phone, only partially awake but more so by the moment. It was still dark in his room, the only light coming from the screen.
Dick, his heart stuttered. Tragedy out in Bludhaven. Or the League, some threat that couldn’t wait until morning.
Bruce’s grasping hand missed, knocked the phone to the rug where it landed face up with a muffled clatter. He noticed the time first, a mere hour after he had gone to bed. He noticed the caller second, the name in white across his default ocean coast background: T.
Tim?
Tim was supposed to be home, asleep—Bruce squinted one-eyed again at the time even as he snatched up the phone—yes, definitely home asleep. Jack had come home yesterday, so Robin was off-call for the weekend.
Bruce tapped open the call and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
Silence.
No, not silence. Faintly, Bruce could make out the sound of someone crying.
“Hello?” he asked again, still half-stretched out of bed, one hand braced against the floor.
A wet, hiccuping noise, louder this time, closer to the phone. It still took Bruce a moment to recognize Tim’s voice. Gooseflesh rose up his arms. He had never heard Tim cry before.
“Tim?” Bruce pushed himself fully upright but sat frozen in bed.
He saw death. He saw blood. He saw Joker with a knife to Tim’s throat, Riddler with a bomb duct-tapped to Tim’s chest. He saw more heartbreak than he could survive.
“Bruce?” It was definitely Tim, even with his voice warped by tears.
Bruce, not Batman, some detached corner of Bruce’s brain noticed. This was Tim talking, not Robin. Tim, calling Bruce, in tears.
At least he’s still breathing.
“What’s wrong?” It was a fight not to dip into Batman’s register, low and with bands of steel to bind back his emotions.
Bruce was on his feet now, reaching for clothes, for shoes, phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder.
“Uh’need he-elp.” Tim wasn’t just crying. He was sobbing. Sobbing so quietly that Bruce hadn’t noticed until he spoke, words slurred and hiccuping with each breath.
“Where are you?” It could be anything. An accident at home, a tragedy in the city. What if Tim had gone patrolling on his own? What if he and Jack had been out somewhere? He needed more information, but Tim was crying too hard.
Bruce put the phone on speaker so he could pull on sweatpants and scoop the fob from the end table into his other hand. Tim’s wheezing echoed tinnily, and Bruce found his own chest catching.
He stopped, hand splayed against the dresser, knuckles white, and forced himself to take a breath before picking up the phone. “Tim, listen to me. I need you to breathe with me, can you do that?”
Tim mumbled something indistinct. It could have been an agreement or not meant for Bruce at all. Was he drugged? Fear-gassed? In some kind of medical crisis?
“Tim.” Bruce let a little of Batman’s command thread into his voice. “Take a deep breath right now. With me, ready?”
In.
Out.
He could hear the exhalation from Tim, sooner than Bruce’s own, and still too shaky and shallow, but he was doing it.
“Good. Again.” Bruce breathed again as he yanked open his bedroom door and sprinted for the stairs. “Again.”
Bruce took the stairs three at a time, thundering down in a way he hadn’t since his youth. He needed to get to the Cave. There was no time to wake Alfred, and Bruce worried that shouting for him would distract Tim. They repeated the process as Bruce tore through the back hallways. Tim was still crying, but he wasn’t gasping for air any longer. That was good.
Or is it because he’s dying? He’s not breathing at all, that’s why you can’t hear it.
No. No, Bruce could hear breathing, voiced exhalations like teary moans.
“You’re doing great,” Bruce lied. “I need to know what’s going on. Are you hurt?”
“Hurt,” Tim echoed in little more than a croak. “Hurt.”
“Okay. Okay, tell me what hurts.”
“Heeeeeaaaaad,” Tim groaned. “M’st’m’ch.” As if to underline his point, the sound of retching echoed over the line. Poison?
There was a garbled noise like a stumble or a fall, and a cry from Tim.
“Tim?”
No answer. The silence made Bruce’s skin crawl.
“Tim, talk to me,” Bruce ordered. “What happened? Are you bleeding?”
“Bleeding?” Tim’s voice was high with panic, nearly a squeak. “‘m I bleeding??”
Okay, bad question, though not having the answer made Bruce want to curl up and have a little panic attack of his own. He was in the Cave now, sprinting full-tilt to the computer, praying to anyone who would listen that Tim had the GPS on his phone turned on.
“Where are you?” he tried again.
“Dunno. Don’t know,” Tim wailed, and he sounded more like a lost little boy than Bruce had ever heard him be before.
Please, he’s just a kid. He’s not even mine, but he’s just a boy.
“Okay, sweetheart, okay, just breathe,” Bruce soothed. “I’ll find you. Stay right where you are and I’ll find you.”
There was the sound of retching again and quiet weeping. Bruce could have drowned in it, but he tried to listen beyond to background noises, any clue to where Tim was being held.
“What do you see?”
The BatComputer was waking up. He just needed a minute more.
“Dark.” Tim’s voice was muffled. “Trees.”
Trees?
“Tim, are you outside?” Trees in Gotham? A park? Or was he not in Gotham at all?
“Nn-hnn.”
Outside with trees, but dark. It was a waxing moon that night, not full but nearly so, and even at this hour, there still should be some light to see by.
“Can you see the moon?”
“No-o. Just trees. Hurt, hurt my leg, I—” Tim coughed, then groaned.
Woods? Bruce knew every block of Gotham, every patch of scraggly brown grass and crooked branch, but his mind was blank with panic. All he could picture was cracked asphalt and crumbling brick. Nowhere with enough trees to block out the moon.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” he asked, desperate to keep a coherent line of dialogue flowing and to have some picture of what was happening.
“Fell off,” Tim said, blunt in a way that made Bruce’s brain stutter. “Can’t—m’stuck. Bruce, m’stuck, help me. Help me.”
Tim had his GPS on. Bruce stared at the screen, disbelieving, but only for a moment. In the next heartbeat, he was gone, sprinting back upstairs.
“I’m coming,” he promised, putting every drop of conviction into his voice, as if he could reach through the phone and clasp Tim’s hand through force of will alone. “I’m coming, Tim, just keep talking to me.”
Nothing made sense. Not the blinking red light on the map Bruce had thrown to his phone. Not the mumbled, weeping replies from Tim. Not the way Bruce felt like he couldn’t breathe, broken from the inside out at the thought of anything happening to this child.
It took too long to reach the thick patch of trees that delineated the property line between the Waynes and the Drakes. Bruce had Tim on speaker again, looking from the screen to the dark and silent wood in front of him. He didn’t pause at the edge, instead plunging in even as he flicked on the flashlight function. He wanted searchlights, floodlights, but had to content himself with sweeping the narrow beam in enough of an arc to see by.
“Tim!” Bruce bellowed into the open air. “Tim, can you hear me? Timothy!”
The return cry was more echo than noise, but Bruce heard it. He crashed through the bushes, leaping over scrub and fallen branches, until he reached the ditch where a black-haired boy lay sprawled half in, half out, limbs tangled among the thick shrubs.
“Tim.” Bruce knelt and lifted his phone to get a better view.
“Bru-usssse.” Tim’s face was smeared with tears, snot, and dirt, a red scratch across his cheek, likely from stumbling through the woods. He tried to reach for Bruce, but the sleeve of his t-shirt had snagged on the bush he had fallen through.
“Hold still,” Bruce ordered, checking quickly for broken bones, impalement, or any other danger that would prevent Tim from moving.
When he found nothing, he looked back to the still-weeping boy in the ditch. With Bruce in sight, Tim had stifled his own hiccuping sobs and subsided back into near-silent tears. He looked miserable, which Bruce tried to keep in mind as his cresting panic warred against the reek of alcohol that wafted off Tim like smog.
“Timothy,” Bruce began, relief and crashing adrenaline quickly shifting into growing anger, but Tim had flinched back from the light and was cringing with his face buried in his own shoulder. He looked pathetic. Pathetic and so very young.
“Hurts,” Tim croaked again. Bruce sighed, relented.
“Okay, he murmured. “Okay, hold still, I’ll get you out.”
Bruce began the painstaking process of disentangling boy from debris. Tim’s stumbling path through the woods was clear enough, even by flashlight. Just out of sight would be piles of vomit where alcohol and fear had forced their way up. Bruce could see where Tim had tripped and fallen into the ditch. A better examination later would likely show a twisted ankle.
Tim was still crying as Bruce lifted him out of the ditch and into his arms.
He should cry, Bruce thought bitterly, then regretted the bitterness and the approval alike. He never wanted to hear a child cry, no matter the reason. Especially not this child.
“Okay,” Bruce mumbled and shifted Tim to hold the boy a little closer. “Okay. It’s alright.”
The journey was a slow one, hindered by the lack of light on the return and Bruce’s need to be careful with his back. It was silent except for the crunch of Bruce’s carefully placed steps in the dirt and the distant chirping of crickets. Tim’s tears soaked Bruce’s shirt but didn’t make a sound. Bruce was careful to think only about what would happen next and not about what could have been, nor about the disorienting muscle memory of cradling a half-grown boy he had never held before.
Alfred was waiting at the side door when they arrived. They exchanged looks over Tim’s head—Alfred’s concerned, Bruce’s dour and bewildered all at once. As they passed by, Alfred caught whiff of Tim and his expression changed. Bruce’s stayed the same.
He didn’t understand. This was Tim. Quiet, responsible, meticulous Tim. Tim, who bullied Bruce into going to bed and eating dinners outside of the Cave. Tim who had never once shown any signs of addiction or even interest—who had, in fact, ratted Bruce out a time or two to Alfred or Dick.
Tim, who didn’t ask for help.
Tim, who didn’t cry.
Bruce carried Tim into the kitchen and poured the boy into a chair. In the light, Tim managed to look even worse than he had outside. Though less hauntingly pale, he was still several shades below his normal color, a difference only heightened by the high pink in his cheeks and nose. Bruce kept him braced upright with one hand as the other pulled a second chair close. As he sat, Alfred placed a damp washcloth on the table with a cup of water and then disappeared after a nod of thanks from Bruce.
“Tim,” Bruce began, then stopped, not sure how to proceed.
Dick had gotten drunk once that Bruce knew of. He had been given a bottle of wine by a grateful citizen who had ignored the teen in Teen Titans, and he and Wally had made short work of it. As far as Bruce knew, Wally had been fine, but Dick had staggered home, peed in a vase, and then woken the next morning with a hangover powerful enough to make Bruce almost pity him. Almost.
Bruce had been at a loss then, too, not sure how to navigate the already unsteady ground of brother-father figure that was further in flux as Dick became more independent. The illegality of underage drinking he could deal with, though he knew it was hypocritical of him. The rest… He had fumbled through it, as he often did, with one eye to Alfred’s example. Their relationship had survived, and as far as Bruce knew, Dick had waited until 21 to drink again.
But Tim… This was different. Tim was different, but so was Bruce’s role in his life. Right?
Anger, a white-hot flareup from a fire never fully extinguished, roared in Bruce’s chest before being banked again. Where was Jack Drake? Why didn’t he care that his son was wandering through the woods, drunk, upset, and alone? Or maybe Jack was also drunk, passed out safely in the shelter of his own home.
Bruce couldn’t think about that right now without wanting to break something, and Tim already looked like he was on the far side of fragile. Instead, Bruce pressed the water into Tim’s hand and forced him to drink as he did another inspection under the sconced kitchen lights. Only when Bruce was sure that there was no damage other than some scrapes, bruises, and a mildly twisted ankle did he let himself breathe more fully.
Tim had stopped crying for the moment, his attention and concentration fixated on lifting the cup of water to his lips. Bruce took advantage of the moment to pick up the washcloth and begin to wipe away the dirt, snot, and tears that caked Tim’s face.
“Tim,” he began again, and swallowed a grunt as Tim’s head jerked toward his voice. “Do you know where you are?”
Tim blinked, then looked around slowly as if realizing he was somewhere new for the first time. “Inside.”
Bruce made sure his sigh wasn’t vocalized. “Yes. Do you know inside where?”
Tim hummed. “Th’ Manor.” As soon as he said it, his already slouched body relaxed further, as if some tensely strung cord inside of him had been released.
“That’s right,” Bruce agreed. “You’re in Wayne Manor with me and Alfred.”
He dragged the washcloth across Tim’s cheek and was both bemused and amused when Tim physically leaned into the sensation. Bruce was struck again by how very young this Robin was. He wanted to strangle Jack Drake. The man was only in town for the weekend after three weeks abroad. The least he could do was be aware that his underage son was drunk in the woods in the dead of night.
Bruce cleared his throat and made sure his tone was neutral before asking, “Tim, where’s Jack?”
Tim burst into tears. Bruce froze, washcloth still lifted. He stayed completely still as Tim—sobbing, nearly incoherent, and still very drunk—confessed that Jack Drake had not come home after all. Instead of arriving the night before, he had texted, saying he would see Tim next week instead. Tim, hurt, angry, and bewildered, had helped himself to Jack’s fully stocked bar. Because it was there, and Jack was not.
“Why didn’t you just come here?”
Alfred would have been thrilled to have company, and Bruce had thought Tim knew by now that he was welcome any time. But Tim shook his head and tearily refused to answer, and Bruce understood. No child should have to protect their parents the way Tim did.
Bruce relented. “Okay,” he murmured as he wiped the fresh tears from Tim’s face. “Okay. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“M’sorry,” Tim mumbled. “M’sorry.”
Bruce bent down, ducking his head until he could catch Tim’s gaze. “Tim. I’m glad you knew it was safe to come here. Next time…” He hoped there was never a next time. “Call me. I’ll come get you. And don’t ever drink alone.”
Tomorrow, they would address the legal concerns, the danger Tim had put himself in, the what-ifs, and the consequences. But not tonight.
If Tim were Dick or… If Tim were his child, Bruce would have kissed his forehead and pulled him into a hug. Tim was not. Instead, he squeezed Tim’s narrow shoulder and then straightened with a pop of his spine.
He could hear Alfred setting up an IV pole in the living room. They would need to check Tim’s BAC and monitor him for the night, so Bruce mentally bid farewell to his bed. Knowing Alfred, there was likely a toothbrush and spit bowl waiting as well, so no need to detour. Rather than lifting Tim back into his arms, he helped the boy to his feet and guided him into the waiting gloom.
“Baseball or talk shows?” he asked as they sat on the couch.
Tim wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”
Bruce grunted, as close as he would get to a laugh tonight. They would get Tim cleaned up and settled. Alfred would return to bed. Tim would get to doze lightly, letting rest burn away the alcohol and sharpen the edge of his first hangover. And Bruce would stay awake, blinking gritty eyes at a bright screen, another man’s son heavy against his shoulder.
———
The phone vibrated by his elbow, the accompanying flash pulling Bruce’s focus away from the paperwork spread across the desktop in front of him. It was still relatively early in the night, at least for his family, and as he pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and lifted the phone to see the caller, he mentally calculated the odds of whose name would appear.
TIMOTHY DRAKE WAYNE the screen read. Tim’s face looked back at him, a nervous little half-smile captured at Bruce’s request a few months after his adoption. He had looked so young even then, but younger now, several years onward.
It was Dick and Damian’s week at the Manor, a routine that continued to chafe but also eased many of the tensions still bubbling after Bruce’s presumed death and return. Tim would be at his own apartment, most likely, or maybe at one of Jason’s safehouses. Bruce didn’t know the full shape of their relationship and he was reluctant to take its measure without invitation. Whatever peace they had brokered in his absence, he was glad of it.
Bruce set down his pen and leaned back in his chair before answering. “Hello?”
He expected a question, perhaps a tricky case Tim was fiddling with in his spare time, or a random thought Tim would then use to segue into a casual chat to help fill the time until it was his week at the Manor. Bruce enjoyed both of these, when they happened. Tim was more inclined to text, but Bruce liked to hear his voice.
Instead, there was no greeting, just the sound of breathing.
Bruce sat up a little straighter. “Tim?”
“Broke my promise.” That was Tim’s voice, but not the Tim Bruce knew. This Tim was flat, as dead-toned as a hostage reading from a script.
Bruce had to remind himself to keep breathing. “What promise did you break?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light and open.
Tim hadn’t made many promises to Bruce. He had a way of going quiet when pressed, implying agreement without actually agreeing, then slipping off to do whatever he had planned in the first place, conscience clear and mind set. The few Bruce could recollect pinning him down on all had to do with his own well-being.
There was a noise like the gurgle of water and a clink.
“Tim?” Bruce asked again. “Everything alright?”
He braced, waiting for the family code, the signal that Tim wasn’t alone, that he was under duress, that he needed Batman to crash through his window.
Instead, Tim asked, “Can you come?”
Bruce was already pushing away from his desk. “Yes. Where am I going?”
“My place.” Another sloshing sound, which Bruce finally recognized as a glass bottle being tipped up.
“I’m coming,” Bruce promised. “Stay on the phone with me.”
Tim left the phone on but didn’t speak again. Any attempt at conversation was met with a grunt or silence. Bruce drove with an iron grip on the steering wheel, keeping track of each audible sip.
He knew Tim’s address but had never been before. He had asked, more than once, and Tim had demurred, citing conflicting schedules, messy bedrooms, or later times that would be better. And it was true, the current shape of their lives meant it was difficult to make schedules align. If it was Tim’s week at the Manor, he didn’t want to be at his apartment, and if it wasn’t, then Bruce was expected to spend his time with Dick and Damian. Bruce had always expected to find a way, someday, or just wait out the clock until Tim was able to move back permanently. This was not how he expected to visit.
Bruce took the stairs, phone off speaker and held to his ear now as he hiked up narrow stairs to Tim’s apartment. He had a key. Tim’s emancipation was still a touchy subject, but after his collapse earlier that year, Bruce had required a backup set. So Bruce didn’t have to wait to be let in, but instead gave a perfunctory knock and then stepped inside.
Tim was not in the living room. At least, Bruce thought this was the living room. The front door opened onto a small room, carpeted, with a couch, beanbag chair, and end table. A small television sat on the floor against one wall, a gaming console with two controllers in a pile next to it. The walls were white. The carpet was vaguely beige. A Mario poster taped to one wall was the only thing with color. It was all so un-Tim that Bruce could only stare.
The kitchenette was a narrow strip of linoleum and one half-wall of cabinets with a small square of laminate countertop. There, at least, was some sign of life—a sink full of dishes, a roll of paper towels without a holder, a wilting geranium in a plastic pot. But still no Tim.
“Tim?” Bruce called.
He heard his own voice echo from a hall just off the living room. Cautiously, Bruce followed it down, until he was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. The room had no overhead light, just a small bedside lamp. Tim was caught in the edge of its glow, profile limned in gold as he sat slumped on the bed, back against the wall, a bottle resting against his leg.
The lighting obscured most details. Bruce tried to look for injuries but saw none. Then again, his children were far, far too good at hiding all but the worst. He was afraid, studying Tim’s profile in silhouette, that this was one of those times.
“Tim?” Bruce said again, low and gentle.
Tim twitched, not quite turning to look at Bruce, but jerking his chin enough to acknowledge the sound. “Hey. I…” He licked his lips, pausing to chew on the top one a moment. “Sorry. Broke m’promise.”
“Promise?” Bruce echoed, aware of the reverberating deja vu from earlier. “What promise is that?”
Tim made to lift the bottle, but only managed to waggle it a few inches off the bed before letting it fall again. There was a good portion gone. “Not t’drink alone. Sorry.”
Bruce hadn’t thought about that horrible night in ages. There had been other horrible nights since—with Tim, with Dick or Jason or Cass or Damian, or with Bruce himself—and new traumas took precedence over old. And Tim, as far as Bruce knew, had stayed away from alcohol since, the combination of his resulting hangover and Bruce and Alfred’s joint disappointment a powerful enough deterrent.
But Bruce had been gone a long time, and there was no accounting for what else he might have missed.
Bruce edged into the room, careful to keep his posture loose and nonthreatening. All of his children were sensitive to his disapproval, his perceived anger, and Tim was no exception.
“Where’d you get that?” he asked, not sure where to start but knowing he must. A full bottle of alcohol supplied to his still very underage son was at least a place to begin, if not the best.
“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” was Tim’s slurred reply. As Bruce watched, he brought the bottle to his lips and took another drink, grimacing at the bite. He looked no less miserable as he lowered the bottle to the mattress again.
“Jack,” Tim began, and Bruce went still. Tim rarely brought up either of his parents freely. “Jack always said a good negroni was the mark of a ‘proper Drake man.’”
Tim’s voice deepened in mocking approximation of his dead father. He snorted, rolling his eyes at his own air quotes. “Only, only he never taught me.” Tim sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his wrist. “Thought I c’ld figure it out. YouTube.”
He shook his head. “Nope. So I…” He lifted the bottle again, wordlessly displaying the result of his failure.
Bruce didn’t know what to say. He never did, when it came to Jack. The man was dead. There was no healing to come from excoriating him, no matter how badly Bruce wished he could. Nor did the story explain why Bruce’s straightlaced son felt the need to get drunk in the first place.
“Rough day?” Bruce asked.
Tim shrugged, shoulders rising and falling the way a marionette’s might, all string and no muscle. Even as he brushed away the question, his expression rippled, collapsing into something nearing tears before righting itself again. He closed his eyes and let his head rest back against the wall.
It had taken Bruce too long to notice how skilled Tim was at hiding his own hurts. At how quick he was to bury the first sign of need or want. And too often Bruce had let him. They were both trying to be better now, but some patterns were hard to break. But Bruce knew, for Tim’s sake, he had to be better. And it turned out he knew where to start after all.
Instead of waiting for an invitation, Bruce took the two steps needed to reach the bed and sat next to his son.
“C’mere,” he murmured and caught Tim as he collapsed into his side.
It was a unique kind of pain, listening to his children cry. If Bruce could snap his fingers and change the world for them, he would. But there was nothing to fix here, not really. All he could do was listen and wait.
Bruce pressed his lips to Tim’s scalp and held him close as Tim sobbed, then decided that an arm around him wasn’t close enough and pulled Tim onto his lap instead. Tim, small though he was, was too big. Bruce didn’t care. He had allowed Tim his space early on, assuming that Tim didn’t want or need physical affection, that he was too independent, that he didn’t look to Bruce for that sort of thing. It had taken dying to find out he was wrong.
Tim clung to him, face pressed into his shirt, body shaking with sobs.
“Talk to me,” Bruce encouraged gently, one hand rubbing circles between his son’s shoulder blades.
“Hurts,” Tim gasped. “Hurts.”
“What does?”
“Ev’rything.” Tim pressed a hand to his own chest, over his heart, and pushed as if he could rub the pain out of himself.
Bruce caught that hand and brought the knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry, love. I wish… I could fix it for you.” He would have moved earth itself, crossed universes, thrown himself back into the clutches of time, if it meant his children never needing to cry again.
Tim made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and Bruce rested his cheek atop Tim’s head. There would be time later to find out what, if anything had happened. It could have been an event, a memory, a trigger. Or it could have been nothing at all. They all bore their own scars, and some ran deep enough to be lifelong. They could talk about medication, about a change to Tim’s therapy, about consequences for underage drinking. But all of that could wait for the new day.
Bruce rocked his son until the shaking sobs subsided into sniffles. The combination of booze and tears had left Tim boneless and nauseated, so Bruce lifted his boy as if he were fourteen again and carried him into the living room.
There was no Alfred this time, so Bruce had to fetch the water and the washcloth himself, but the rest was an echo, reverberating and distorting. The face he cleaned now was leaner, older, its nose crookedly reset after a break, but it was his boy’s face. Bruce was getting better at leaning into impulse, so he did now, pressing his lips to the spot on Tim’s cheek that the cloth had just cleaned.
Tim gave a wet little snort. It was a nicer sound than tears.
“I’m glad you called,” Bruce murmured. “Thank you.”
Tim hummed, and Bruce pressed the glass of water into his hands as they settled back on the couch.
“Baseball or talk shows?” Bruce asked as he reached for the remote.
“Only got subscriptions,” Tim said, this side shy of smug, though his voice still wobbled. “Cartoons or cooking shows.” He gave a little urp, then amended, “Cartoons.”
Bruce chuckled and reached for his phone.
At Tim’s, he pecked out with one thumb. Done for night.
A pause, and then a thumbs up on the other end.
Bruce turned off his phone.
#whumptober2022#no.8#no.17#no.22#no.27#alt3#alt12#alt15#batfic#fanfic#my fic#Tim Drake#bruce wayne#BatFam#whump#hurt/comfort#knuckle kisses#GoodDad!Bruce
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thing is, whether or not GoodDad!Bruce is canon doesn’t matter anymore. the people [me] yearn for it. what is brave about giving your heroes the fatal flaw of child abuse? what is brave about making them needlessly violent against the same characters they’re created to protect?
bravery is looking at the world’s expectation that even heroic men can have child abuse as a treat, and saying, f-that.
bravery is writing fatal flaws that harm your character without oppressing others. give Bruce self-doubt, sure. give Batman bad habits that stem from his trauma, okay. but quit giving him children only to pass on generational curses that will traumatize them way more than the Joker ever could.
you’re no longer writing Batman when you do that. you’re writing Odin and Zeus and God and all the other shitty fathers myths gave us because Patriarchy™️.
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I Want To Actually Write Some Fics
So, I'm finally moving to a dorm away from "home" in a few months, and I want to take the opportunity to finally start writing some of the fanfics that have been calibrating in the back of my mind.
Warnings in advance:
I will only be writing fanfic, not original works.
I have never shared or published fics before (Unless you count reading the occasional snippet in Creating Writing Club).
As of right now, I have no beta(s).
Don't know my college schedule/workload yet, so no ideas about how often I could post/update at the moment.
I likely won't be able to post anything until I have access to a computer at the college (presumably in August, sorry about that), because the closest thing I have to an unmonitored/unrestricted device at "home" is my outdated Kindle Fire tablet (where the secondary browser I downloaded to hide reading fics sometimes likes to crash every few minutes).
If you've read past all of that and are still interested in my possible future writings, here are the possible options for what I could actually post:
Azure Fingerprints: Title of a possible series based off of this idea (batman and megamind crossover). > (Time travelers have realized that Bruce Wayne will always, without exception, base his crimefighting persona on the first thing... – @grandpuppyalpaca on Tumblr)
Featuring (so far): a delayed start to "Batman's" career, SuperBat friendship, Bruce's poor social skills, the not-yet-"Batcave" getting turned into a babyproofed nursery, and lots of fluff and crack and FEELINGS. Not sure if other parts of the series would be other longfics in that world, or just little snippets of stuff.
2. Anna Elizabeth Wayne (Actual Title TBD): My take on an Annabeth is Bruce Wayne's daughter fic.
Featuring (so far): Show!Annabeth (Leah Jeffries is phenomenal), Reverse Batkids AU (with a twist or so), an Athena characterization based on Circe by Madeline Miller, GoodDad!Bruce, multiverse stuff (only a little at the moment), Siblings Bonding Over Weird Childhoods, and So Much ANGST. This one is reallllly complicated, so it might be a series just so I can include one of those "explanation of the writer's AU" pages. Not as much of a plot as it is ANGST, small ideas for individual scenes, and general vibes right now.
3. The Adventures Of Lulu And Hatchling: probably the title of first fic (probably backstory stuff) in what would likely be a series. Crossover between ACOTAR universe and PJO/HOO (I am NOT ACTUALLY merging the two worlds). Basic background is that Annabeth's mortal family are the descendants of an illegitimate child from a kept mistress of Tamlin's father, and Annabeth is the first person to have powers from their bloodline. Baby Annabeth gets sent to grow up with Tamlin (Watsonian reasons would be explained in-story), but Lucien unofficially becomes her main caretaker. She spends seven years in the Spring court (pre-Amarantha even coming to Prythian), then is returned home in time for all PJO relevant events to occur. This would NOT be a Complete Re-Write Of PJO Canon.
Featuring (so far): Multiverse stuff, Annabeth w/fae powers, Book!Annabeth description so she can look like Tamlin (Leah Jeffries is still phenomenal, fight me), Lucien's gradually increasing blood pressure, Found Family Fluff, Lucien being a good father/uncle/older brother figure, Tamlin not being a complete alphahole in the beginning, Eventual Tamlin Bashing anyway, Ianthe Bashing (once she joins the story).
Definite intentions for later parts of the story: Powerful!Annabeth High Lady!Annabeth, Consort!Percy (he refuses to become High Lord, especially when he can just vibe and technically hold the official title of Least Politically Important Person At This Meeting), Tamlin's manor getting abandoned and Annabeth employing people to help build a new one that she designs, Inter-Court Meetings between all the courts becoming a Regular Thing (bc I want to put all the little dudes in a jar, shake them up, and study the results under a microscope), Inter-Court politics, gradually undermining the patriarchy, Inter-Court friendships, Beron taking psychic damage from the sheer audacity of---, Everyone Bonding Over Hating Beron, Positive Social Change, and Me Adding My Own Additional Lore To The World Of Prythian.
Optional fun fact! The base story could take multiple paths after TTC, so it would be the most likely fic to eventually make me write one or more AUs of itself, so here's later random details of the story that may or may not be added depending on which timeline I write: Tamlin dies, Tamlin gets locked up in his own house and told that Annabeth is willing to talk to him once he's "being more rational". Beron has a brain aneurysm in the middle of an Inter-Court Meeting and dies, Percy and Annabeth somehow creating a plan to get away with sending Beron off for the Hunters and Amazons to hunt him for sport, Amarantha kills Tamlin and is shortly killed by Annabeth before ACOTAR would have happened, Rhysand and Annabeth become Very Fast Friends and make fun of people together, and Doreen Green (Squirrel Girl) becomes Annabeth's spymaster bc that would just have so much comedic potential, fight me (she's honest about that being her job [if not explaining the details of how she does it] and she's just so open and friendly and polite that it has to be a hoax, right? there's no way she's actually in charge of collecting real intelligence. she has a network of squirrels who pass info to her across the entire continent? oh right, because of the tail, very funny. some of us are actually taking this seriously, Tarquin).
4. Lightning Rod, Grounding Wire: Approximate title for a crossover AU where Agatha Heterodyne (Girl Genius) and Hunter (The Owl House) end up swapping places right before Barry would have gotten Agatha (exact explanations undecided, maybe Belos let the Collector get too bored?) and about the same time Hunter was created (with Hunter being a couple years older than her biologically). Longfic? Series? Who knows, not me(yet).
In the Boiling Isles: Agatha is initially raised by Belos in something a bit similar to the get in loser we're assassinating the emperor - elliptical - The Owl House (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own] AU, but it's Agatha (Spark, Heterodyne, etc.) so she gets on the wrong side of the empire way quicker. I'm thinking that she wouldn't make it more than a couple years after her breakthrough (w/o Uncle Barry to build her locket) before she starts spouting Extremely Logical Treason in meetings. Mostly, Canon occurs but minus Hunter (I'm going off the theory that Belos had to reuse the same galderstone for each grimwalker, so in this he's permanently down one(1) clone child soldier) and with way more explosions.
Meanwhile, over in Europa: Barry quickly deduces that this Very Small Child isn't Bill and Lucrezia's, is definitely some kind of construct, and is likely part of some kind of plot by Lucrezia (the man's stressed, and 2ish out of 3 ain't bad). Barry's not the kind of spark who'll try to vivisect or euthanize the kid just to stop Lucrezia, so his best bet is hiding him away from the world. Hunter grows up considering himself a construct, in time gets left with the "Clays", and lives a somewhat less stressful life than Agatha would have pre-canon. Everything goes passably well for him until the first events of "The Beetleburg Clank".
Featuring (so far): The rapidly increasing blood pressure of Every Adult in this situation, young Agatha being a feral gremlin, Hunter actually having a childhood, if Eda had a a nickel for every time a semi-feral teenage girl built an interdimensional portal in her back yard she'd have two nickels, SO MANY mistaken identity shenanigans after Agatha and Hunter actually meet, eventual Huntlow and Agatha/Gil/Tarvek OT3, and Eda menacing All The Sparks.
Now that I'm thinking about it, the only one of these that wouldn't need an explanation page is number one.
I do have more ideas on all four of these (as well as other vague ideas still calibrating), but this post is pretty long so I'd need a request from someone before I give more info.
Please comment/reblog/@ me with your thoughts!
For future reference, my Ao3 account is:
Update: Okay guys, I tried to edit one of the words in the title of the poll and it wouldn't let me do that so I just remade the poll but forgot to set the length to one week. If you're still interested in voting, there's another poll pinned on my blog, or you can just comment what you're interested. Even after the polls end, I will be officially taking thoughts/questions/feedback up until August.
#percy jackson#pjo tv show#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#batman#pjo series#batfam#annabeth chase#bruce wayne#percy jackson and the olympians#girl genius#batman crossover#girl genius crossover#pjo/hoo crossover#the owl house crossover#acotar crossover#the owl house#acotar#lucien vanserra#agatha heterodyne#hunter toh#baby megamind#megamind crossover#megamind fanfiction#megamind au#please give me feedback
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More gooddad!Bruce raising his gaggle of robins
#dc comics#dc robin#robin#batman#batfamily#tim drake#dc comix#fan art#dick grayson#jason todd#damian wayne#batfam#bruce wayne#good dad bruce wayne#pride and prejudice#slice of life
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Why does gooddad!Bruce make me CRY every time I read it?
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Chill Pill
by AhsokaJackson
Batman is the very personification of fear, of vengeance, of the night itself. He is also the World's Greatest Detective.
Bruce Wayne, however, has a spottier record. A quiet day at home quickly reminds him of this essential fact.
(At least Bruce Wayne is still the one his children like best, though.)
Words: 4720, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: Gen
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Tim Drake
Additional Tags: Bruce Wayne Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne POV, Bruce Wayne the Idiot Sandwich, GoodDad!Bruce Wayne, Ethnically Ambiguous Jason Todd, Ambiguously Ambiguous Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd Deserves Happiness, Jason Todd is a good brother, Jason Todd Is a Pissy Mother Hen, Protective Jason Todd, Sassy Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Tim Drake & Jason Todd Friendship, Tim Drake and Jason Todd are Siblings, Tim Drake Deserves Better, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical themes, Caretaking, Humor, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Male Friendship, No Slash, One-Shot, Swearing/Profanity, Kevin Conroy - Freeform, In Memory of Kevin Conroy, RIP Kevin Conroy, Tribute to Kevin Conroy, Batbros for Life, Batcest-B-Gone, Idiot Sandwiches, keep it gen, Really Dumb Smart People, We Need Gen Fics, Character Study
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/43342147
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Reverse!Batkids could be fun if it's made with the characters in mind
This post made me think a lot about REVERSE!Batkids a lot and how the characterization could be backwards and I feel like no one really gets how closer to GoodDad!Bruce it could be. Like it's focused on the Robins, yeah, but it should also revolve around Bruce's reverse characterization from canon (from angry man to caring father).
Like imagine: Damian is the first Robin (or not Robin as it's Dick's nickname) and he's still an assassin trained child-turned-vigilante. This world would show him how awful it is to be Batman and disillusions him from being 'son of the Bat' early on. He takes one look at Bruce's methods, brutal, efficient, cold and it reminds him of the league of assassins.
He didn't think he would upgrade when he came into Gotham, but at least in the LOA he fought opponents who were trained and not homeless men who stole $20 for dinner.
Damian follows the same path as Dick did, warring with his emotions and torn between continuing the legacy but also fighting to be his own person. He eventually leaves because Bruce failed at everything except sending him to the Teen Titans to socialize. Damian socialized and saw the world for its beauty, for the good that came outside of the LOA's brutality and Batman's recurring cynical nature.
Tim would come along when he sees Bruce is lost without Damian and offers to be Robin. Bruce doesn't accept at first (because the kid's not even his), but does so when Damian makes it clear he's close to disowning him until Bruce cuts out the savagery.
Damian hates Tim because how could he try to be a hero without training? Damian is league trained and the streets are still dangerous for him. A snot nosed rich kid would only get himself killed. The Joker sets a trap in Gotham. Damian tells Tim he can't confront the villain because he's not good enough (especially if he thinks Batman is doing good for the city) and Batman needed to gather more information on what Joker is trying to do. Tim tries to join them anyways.
This eventually does get Tim killed, not-killed, and dumped into a Lazarus pit because the LoA didn't see Tim as a leverage on Batman (Bruce didn't seem like he cares enough), but because Tim's mind can be an asset against Damian. Red Hood appears in Gotham, pit-mad, and systematically undoes the vigilante's influence by triggering gang wars and bribing cops. He doesn't do this to drive Batman into a confrontation (Tim doesn't care about another parent that didn't care for him), he does this to destroy the goodness Damian was looking for.
Robin 2's death would send Bruce to the opposite spiral, being more open with his emotions and learning how to be a father through Jason. He didn't know how to handle Tim and it drove him to his death, the next kid should know how valued he is to the family. It's not always perfect, but Jason makes him laugh when he doesn't think he could laugh again.
Jason absolutely is the reason Damian returns, not Bruce and if someone mentions it again he's still got that LOA knife in his pocket-
Damian does not become the older brother to him Dick had been in canon- but he ensures Jason is equipped with the best training to avoid another dead Robin. Jason laps it all up because 'wow someone's actually teaching me to fight good'. If Damian was less harsh in his teachings, well, it's just about time Damian accepted that you can't stop children taking to the streets so might as well equip them like how he failed to do so with Tim.
Red Hood!Tim would never develop the same morality as Jason because he didn't live as a street kid (outright murder would still be wrong for him), but he'd be hell bent on making sure he's everyone's problem by working with the system, the gangs, the corruption, the criminal underworld if in the end he gets what he wanted. But Tim would find nothing wrong if someone dies because the Riddler's latest bomb was set in someone's apartment. If it ruffles Damian's feathers then you bet Tim would release the Riddler due to a court ruling loophole.
In another world, a replacement Robin would fuel Jason's rage. In this one, Tim turns his anger into himself. When Jason gets adopted, Tim doesn't blink an eye. When Damian is shown on the tabloids picking Jason up from Judo practice, Tim nearly kills himself in rage. Instead, he goes and pesters the Teen Titans by breaching their security over and over again and sending Lex Luthor back doors to their systems.
Jason is still passionate about Crime Alley and hates that Tim does not care about the people he hurts and this is the major reason why Tim almost slits Jason's throat when Robin confronts Red hood.
Jason is still an emotional person. He gets over the hesitation and wariness about his adoption and thrives in the family. He understands Bruce's and Damian's guilt over not saving Tim. Bruce admits his faults. Damian admits to his attitude. Jason is overwhelmed by their (his family's) emotions enough that his bullheadedness shows.
So Jason tries to bring Tim home through various traps (telling the prostitutes down Lincoln ave about an upcoming gang was easy, the warehouse confrontation with Red Hood wasn't). It takes a year before Tim sets foot in the manor, but only for Alfred's cooking I swear to God Jason if Damian is here I'm setting the Brain on his friends-
He stays because Bruce cards his fingers through his hair and apparently it feels nice?
Dick comes along, a little boy who's got a bone to pick with Zucco. He's not rainbows and sunshine- he's a traumatized little kid who wants to kill a man and the motive to do so. Bruce loves him anyways, openly, as much as he can, but still trying.
Damian smiles at him, remembering his own childhood, and finally becomes a big brother. Dick comes into a family, a dad who's vocal about his love for his kids, an eldest brother who's love is shown through his hesitance to stab you, another older brother who has C4 strapped under everyone's bed as a safety net, another brother who will sit on you while he reads but will punch the bully if he finds them bullying you-
But Bruce still doesn't know how to stop him from donning red, green and yellows and taking to the streets.
#Batman#Damian Wayne#tim drake#jason todd#dick grayson#Reverse Robins AU#calypso rambles#idk it just sounds so fucking fun to explore
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A Different Batman
I want a Batman story where he starts off as a cheerful and a bit socially daft guy. Where Bruce Wayne is a complete goof and hopelessly romantic fool. He tries to court Talia or Selina with the extravagance and thoughtfulness of a man with the means and mind to try to give his love the most fantastically romantic time ever. He'd be so proud and happy for Dick and his team of superheroes, and all he can imagine is the good they'll do when they become the next Justice league. Even the criminals in Gotham aren't too violent, just people looking out for their own.
Then Jason comes into his life, He loves this child so much. The kid adores Alfred and follows him around like a duckling and is quietly delighted with all the toys, books, schooling, ect. that Bruce can provide. He's smart, studious, sassy, curious, and adorably enthralled with magic (magic!Jason) practically a prodigy but still playing little pranks here and there. He can imagine Jason fitting in very well with Justice league dark if he wants to follow his big brother's footsteps. Though that plan doesn't quite play out as he'd hoped.
(I'm just so done with Jason only ever being destined for death and nothing more, and the death of a child being treated like no biggie or a goddamn joke. That shit should be goddamn traumatic and serious.)
However Jason is mercilessly murdered by the Joker, then Barbara is paralyzed, Talia doesn't want anything to do with him, and Harvey well...Harvey went insane chasing shadows before killing himself. Bruce then starts to spiral into his dark and broody, emotionless, cold and calculating Batman. Turning paranoid and controlling, because if he could have planned for everything then he would have prevented the worst from happening to the people he cared about.
I want Batman's closed off and harsh personality be a result of his life getting to a point of falling apart instead of the insanity of "dead parents" because frankly I'm sick of those damn pearls. I get it as a motivation to start being a hero but the rest of why he's a dick to his allies and so damn standoffish about being in control all the time shouldn't be tied to that. I think it should be a process of him losing his hopefulness to the thoughtless acts of cruelty later down the line.
Give me a batman that starts with everything to lose, a hopeful man who believes that people can change for the better if they were given a proper chance. That goodness is inherent because superman who has all the power to do anything still decides to do good. A batman who thought people were only evil because of desperation, or needed/wanted something but is proven so wrong that it slowly breaks him, into the batman we're familiar with.
(the kind of batman that lashes out at Dick, ignores or doesn't care for Tim and Steph, beats & banishes Jason from Gotham, and makes contingencies & plans to be able to take out his JLA friends)
Maybe even have the parents be secretly not the best people. I've been thinking about Martha Wayne being a high ranking member of the court of owls, and his father sharing a hand with Hugo strange to make Arkham asylum a hell on earth.
Lemme know what you guys think because frankly I kinda hate how toxic Batfam is and I really don't care for trying to pretend it's a good time to be with the kind of batman we have. Straightup fanon gooddad!Bruce is so far away from what Batman is, I can't imagine them being the same person at all. At least with this kind of timeline I feel like it could possibly work.
#batman comics#dc comics#batman#batman villians#batman rogues#dc#dcu#robin#jason todd#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth#batfamily#batfam#batman and robin#tim drake#dick grayson#robin damian#damian wayne#damian robin#justice league#superman#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#cassandra wayne#steph brown#duke thomas#bruce x talia#batkids#batdad#batbros
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Oh, please. Play victim less. You can project whatever you want. But fandom as a whole making the only poor Robin (Steph was middle class, nomatter what fandom thinks) Latino, the most violent Robin latino, the Robin who ended up murdering people Latino... that's racist. These are whole ass stereotypes people us AGAINST us. You arguing for the right to do it is shit. Go back to watching Miraculous Ladybug.
I considered not answering but, from the tone you're writing in, I'm willing to bet you'd come back and say I'm avoiding it if I didn't and my mom raised a lot of things but it wasn't no bitch so let's do this.
~
First of all, and most importantly: I agree with you.
I think I even said in the tags that when white people do that it's 100% a racism thing. The other race headcanons that I've seen floating around are Black!Steph and Asian!Tim which are also racist. The whole 'race headcanons' thing always ends up being based on stereotypes.
I've never once actually written him to be latino in a fic, either, because I get that it's a racist stereotype. Strangers have used it against me. I've had ex-friends use it against me. I don't want to perpetuate it and I never will.
I'm not fighting for the right to do it, because I don't even really want it. What I really want is more media with latino characters in it, written by actual latinos, but that will never happen. So, it's difficult to find content that represents me and my people in a way that feels legitimate. To see a character that really feels like it completely gets me.
This leads into my second point.
Secondly, the reason why I have a problem with not being able to write Latino!Jason Todd in particular is that the entire batfandom is based on projection. Gooddad!bruce fics are just a bunch of people using escapism to deal with shitty home lives, baddad!bruce fics are people venting their family problems via a batkid.
Is it so wrong to want to do the same? To project onto Jason because I deal with similar problems where my dad and I don't meet eye to eye on seemingly anything? To want to rectify the large cultural divide between myself and this character that I relate to so much?
I just don't like that there's no ethical way to do something that white people do all the time without having to worry. White people get character after character to project onto and see themselves in but when someone like us wants to do it it falls into racist stereotypes. Even if I wanted to use Latino!Jason to critique the racist system that we live in that makes it so hard for people like us to get ahead just like he and his family struggled to do in canon, it would still have a racist base. Even if I just want to share things from my culture and correct misconceptions about us and the way we do things, it would still have a racist base.
And that was what I was really complaining about.
#also for the record i only watch miraculous ladybug because my 5yo cousin likes it#the reason i write for it so much is that i think it actually could have been interesting#the lore and setup COULD have been interesting#but it just... wasnt#i write fics largely as a hate letter to canon and there is no canon ive ever hated more than miraculous ladybug#woke up from a nap#saw an anon#grabbed a mountain dew#and put my dukes up#(dew)ks#(duke)s#i couldnt decide on a pun so have both#ask#discourse#i guess#jason todd#latino!jason#batman#batfam#race discourse#also lmfao grammarly thought that this was joyful#good job grammarly thats deeeefinitely how im feeling right now#all full of joy#fuck you
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all i want is gooddad!Bruce .. THATS IT !! THATS LITERALLY IT !!!
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WFA WAS SO MUCH
SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!
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Apparently Fridays are ‘Fic Back Friday’ and I thought it would be fun to look back at some of my earlier pieces of writing. I decided to start with a piece from the first fandom week I participated in. This was the only time I managed to post a story for each day of the week and pretty much on time too. That’s a challenge I hope to someday meet again.
The story I chose to share is ‘The Gift of Family.’ It’s a BatFamily story and the prompt was ‘Hurt/Comfort.’
Why I like this one: This story focuses on Cass and has her interacting with each member of the family. It was fun to explore the relationship between Cass. Since so many of the comic storylines like to show how broken the relationships are in the BatFam, I like to write stories where those relationships are healing (or never as badly broken in the first place). I want more GoodDad Bruce and GoodBatGam Siblings in stories. There’s also the three iterations of Batgirls (though, they’re going by Black Bat, Spoiler, and Oracle in this story). And, ‘Batgirls don’t give up.’
Also, the only time Cass vocalizes during the entire story is when she screams as she’s injured. The rest of the story she communicates through sign language. I like the fancanon/headcanon that Cass signs. It makes sense to me that she would prefer to communicate that way. The signing isn’t written in ASL structure, though when I described specific signs in the story they are the best I could do at describing the ASL version in text.
Oh, and the kitten was based on a very real kitten my friend was fostering at the time I wrote this story. The kitten’s name really was Tiny Batman and I couldn’t resist adding him to the story.
Summary: After Cass is badly injured during a routine patrol, the entire family gathers around her to help her through her convalescence.
As they seek to comfort her, they learn that comfort goes both ways.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1: Cass
They hadn’t heard her fall.
Black Bat was silent as she tumbled from the building. When she hit the ground, the snap of bone and the tear of flesh was followed by an unearthly yowl. Immediately, overlapping concern filled the comms as every Bat and Bird in Gotham wanted to know what had happened.
No one had worried when Black Bat went off on patrol alone. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. Likewise, no one had thought it odd when she hadn’t reported in on schedule. She didn’t like using the comms, because she couldn’t read the intent behind the words. Now, it seemed like a misstep. Where was she? Who had she been fighting? What had happened? How badly was she hurt?
“Silence.” Alfred’s normally calm voice cracked across the comms in the sharp snap of command. Softening his tone, he switched from the open comm to Black Bat’s channel. “Black Bat, report.”
Heaving breaths and strangled sobs had replaced the pained screams. Despite the prompts to respond, Black Bat didn’t speak.
(read the rest here)
#my writing#fanfic#fic back friday#batfamily#cassandra cain#black bat#hurt/comfort#stephanie brown#dick grayson#barbara gordon#tim drake#damian wayne#jason todd#bruce wayne
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My Top Five Favorite Grayson Fics
I wanted to celebrate some of my favorite fan artists and compile a list of the Fics I find myself going back to again and again!
So here it is, my TOP 5!
1. Interval of Shadow - @caramelmachete
This is a work that I honestly have read a dozen times and still go back for more. Without giving too much away, Nightwing sustains a devastating injury on patrol and has to deal with the potential of life-long consequences. If you love batfam dynamics, and a carefully crafted narrative based on sound research, this is 100% the best fic for you.
2. All the Roofs of Uncertainty -
Kieron_ODuibhir
This is another batfam fic with a heavy focus on Jason. Nightwing is badly injured, and Jason reluctantly keeps some potential deathbed promises. What follows is some family in-fighting and the resolution of past traumas.
3. Mother Bruce and his Baby Birds -
@lurkinglurkerwholurks (author page)
Oh my goodness. If you want some good batfam feels THIS is where you get them. Lots of GoodDad!Bruce and warm fuzzies. A series of scenes that detail the precise moment when Bruce adopted each of his kids.
4. Measures of Progress - @renecdote (author page)
This is some excellent Dick and Dami stuff. Each chapter details a time that Dick carried Dami. As a parent I love this one, because you never know when those “last moments” are going to sneak up on you, and the ‘last time’ you pick up and hold your child holds a bittersweet place in your heart forever.
5. Trade Your Heroes for Ghosts - @caramelmachete (author page)
This is a lovely, short fic about Bruce waiting at Dick’s bedside after he was shot (just before the Ric Grayson arc). This one felt so necessary to me, and I feel like it’s an excellent example of fan works filling in the gaps of canon stories.
So there they are - my top five (SFW) Dick Grayson Fics! Enjoy!
#dick grayson#nightwing#batfam#jason todd#ao3#fanfiction#recommended#damian wayne#bruce wayne#batman#ficrec
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Gooddad! Bruce supporting his kids and making Jason go to his brother’s gymnastics competition
#yes it’s for the olympics#because he deserves it#dick grayson#jason todd#brothers#dick is a gym pro#dc comics#dc robin#robin#batfamily#batman#battinson#rob pattinson#robert pattinson#batdad#gymnastics#nightwing#fan art#digital art#jason is grumpy
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🔥 Bat-Fam
Ohh, I adore the BatFam so this is a hard one!!
I’m not sure if this is unpopular, but-- Even GoodDad!Bruce is still...not a good dad. What I mean is, I obviously do not accept comics that depict him as abusive. However, a good father is emotionally present for their children (I also stand with Diana that putting your traumatized child in a costume to fight crime is not a healthy way for them to cope, but...)
A lot of people confuse loving your child with being a good parent. It’s not the truth. Depicting Bruce as “father of the year” is inaccurate, just as depicting him as abusive is.
Batman is a good character because he is realistically complex and flawed.
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Chill Pill
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/t2OkAob
by AhsokaJackson
Batman is the very personification of fear, of vengeance, of the night itself. He is also the World's Greatest Detective.
Bruce Wayne, however, has a spottier record. A quiet day at home quickly reminds him of this essential fact.
(At least Bruce Wayne is still the one his children like best, though.)
Words: 4720, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: Gen
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Tim Drake
Additional Tags: Bruce Wayne Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne POV, Bruce Wayne the Idiot Sandwich, GoodDad!Bruce Wayne, Ethnically Ambiguous Jason Todd, Ambiguously Ambiguous Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd Deserves Happiness, Jason Todd is a good brother, Jason Todd Is a Pissy Mother Hen, Protective Jason Todd, Sassy Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Tim Drake & Jason Todd Friendship, Tim Drake and Jason Todd are Siblings, Tim Drake Deserves Better, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical themes, Caretaking, Humor, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Male Friendship, No Slash, One-Shot, Swearing/Profanity, Kevin Conroy - Freeform, In Memory of Kevin Conroy, RIP Kevin Conroy, Tribute to Kevin Conroy, Batbros for Life, Batcest-B-Gone, Idiot Sandwiches, keep it gen, Really Dumb Smart People, We Need Gen Fics, Character Study
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/t2OkAob
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huntingbanshee
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