Hi, I'm trying to find a batmom fic and I'm just asking most of the writers in the taglist. But what I'm trying to find is a story where batmom worked in the league of assassins and is close with Damian but the rest of the boys don't trust her. And Bruce takes them all on a a family vacation. Did you write read anything like that?
@freaky-fangirl-psychopath
hey there! i’m not sure if you’ve found this fic already but i think i’ve read something like this before, though, not on here but on ao3. i scrolled through it and it seems like what you’ve described but i’m not sure if it’s the right one. it’s called right under their noses. apologies if it isn’t. cheers!
i don’t want to come off as rude but please don’t aggressively pester me to write your requests. i’ve already said that i won’t be very active on this blog and that means i’m not accepting any requests. i do drop by from time to time so i do see your messages. but to be honest, i don’t think i can do any amount of writing for your prompts that would do it proper justice. the best i can do for you is to suggest you request someone else to write it. or maybe you can try and write it on your own? i don’t know. and besides, i’m thinking of just deleting this blog anyways. this is mostly bc i’m just not happy with any of my writing on here anymore.
when oscar wilde said 'i am tired of myself tonight, i should like to be someone else' and when sylvia plath said 'i wish i knew what to do with my life, what to do with my heart' and when rilke said 'this heavy humanness'
hi! i’m a superhero blog and i’m trying to get back into writing and i’d appreciate it so much if you told your followers about me? my blog is @jcson-todd thanks so much! 🥺
everyone!! check @jcson-todd out and give them a follow!! they write for marvel and dc, and i believe they’re currently accepting requests! ☺️
The city is fast asleep as dawn approaches. For the most part, everyone is in bed, coddled by mountainous piles of blankets and pillows and turning their numerous alarms to snooze, begging the day to wait just five more minutes. This time of morning feels still with barely any movement or sound, like honey slowly crawling down the bottle. There wasn’t the usual sounds of the city: no cars honking at one another, no loud conversations carried by scurrying crowds that fill the air, no people rushing in and out of buildings. The only sound came from the hum of the street lamps.
It was dark, the sun distant from the city’s skyline with the night’s silence making a home in the cool, frigid air. And while the city sleeps, he stays awake. It’s the only time, he feels, that no one expects anything out of him. The barren, dark trees that line the street don’t want anything from him, the snow dyed an orangish color by the lamp posts stay piled around the streets and sidewalks, listening to him. He can just exist in the silence of the dark, cold morning, and simply be Dick Grayson under the lamp posts and snow-covered streets. You were the one who showed him the beauty in silence: that it’s not something that needs to be filled constantly, that it can just be. The silence of the morning calms him a bit—but of course, pales in comparison to the waves of calm your presence alone can bring.
Dick doesn’t know why he’s sitting at the steps of your building though. He doesn’t know why he’s sitting out in the cold, counting the number of windows the building across the street has as if the right answer unlocks some sort of miracle. He doesn’t know why or what he’s waiting for. He just found himself in front of your steps, looking for dawn. He knows should have crashed through his apartment window an hour ago, catching up on the sleep he desperately needed. But he hasn’t seen you in what may be days or weeks—he’s not sure how long it’s been; time spent without you blends into nothingness with him counting down the minutes until he can see you again. Even though you make his heart beat rapidly against his chest, make his blood burn with an overwhelming sense of trepidation, and make him forget every thought or word he wanted to voice to you, he still craves your smile, your laugh, your words, your presence. Even though he tries to distance himself, he still comes right back to you, even if he can’t find it in himself to tell you why.