#fanfic bts brain dump

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

If the Sky Comes Falling Down (For You)

First posted: January 25, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and his various siblings

Favorite bookmark: "A variety of permutations and flavors of Robin h/c featuring Jason! The Baskin Robins of BatFam h/c, if you will."

Second favorite bookmark: "and so, step by step, the prodigal stray coaxes himself home."

Tier: #3 in hits & kudos & subscriptions, #4 in comment threads, #2 in bookmarks

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Individual chapter notations below the cuts.

Chapter One

First, to note, the title came last and is from "Hey Brother" by Avicii because it was already on my BatFam playlist and gave me strong sibling feels, so it worked!

Okay if I remember correctly, this fic came about because 1) I had jotted down story ideas, all surrounding Jason, that were all just a bit too similar for me to feel comfortable doing them as one-offs, and 2) it was late 2018 when I start writing so I was deep in 5+1 IronDad fics.

This fic was so deeply indulgent from start to finish, which I think might be why people liked it so much? Like, if you're into the tropes into this fic, you're really into them. It scratches the itch just right, because it's my itch and I wrote it for me.

The plan was to do like I did for my other multi-chapter fics (except Nature and Nurture, RIP me) and write it all out before posting anything, so I could be sure that I would actually finish. I don't have that kind of self-restraint anymore. But it was a fun challenge to figure out what should happen to whom and in what order.

Jason didn’t sleep much anymore. He’d always been a rough sleeper, his years spent in low-security public housing and then on the street grinding away at his ability to rest with ease. He slept lightly, his consciousness skimming just below the surface, ready to spring awake at the softest noise.

As I've said before, sometimes I have an idea for a fic but then, when trying to start it, a sentence pops up immediately as my opener. That's always a wild ride because sometimes it seems to have nothing at all to do with where I want to go, so then I have to backtrack and figure out but why tho????

Moving to the Manor had helped some, after he’d assured himself that no one was going to scratch at his door or steal his shoes. The cold mornings had been the best, spent curled under a mound of the softest blankets imaginable atop a mattress so perfectly contoured to his bones that it’d felt like floating on the surface of a pool. He’d slept, truly slept, at the Manor.

I like the idea of, even at Jason's most toxic and vitriolic, the Manor itself still representing safety and comfort. Maybe sometimes he would twist it into stifling or grossly indulgent, but I think deep in his stomach he would know that distortion was a lie. The Manor was safer than anywhere else, even with his mom.

Those days of rest were long gone. The Pit had done a number on his brain—intensifying and altering his emotions, erasing some old habits and dialing up others, leaving dark chasms where memories should be.

I've seen other fics play with the idea of the trauma of Jason's injuries, death, resurrection, and the Pit all combining to some degree or another to swiss-cheese his brain (a phrase I lovingly borrow from Quantum Leap.) And that of course leaves a bunch of really fun room to play with—how much does Jason know he's missing vs. how much is gone or totally distorted without him even being aware? (Again, another thing I tease out in various fics like N&N.)

It was like someone had jammed a stick in his skull and given his brain a good stir. Or maybe that was just the crowbar. Ha.

I made myself snicker with that one. It's so voiceily Jason but also that ha is so guttural and specific in my head, you all will never know.

He was making progress with his budding criminal empire—splashy progress, as displayed on the crusting cuffs of his sleeves and the splattered toes of his boots, but also more subtle progress, too. The subtle form was harder, so much harder, but he knew its changes would be more permanent, in the long run. Splashy got people talking. Subtle got them bowing.

Jason! Todd! Is! No! Thug! He is smart and cunning and uses violence to make an impact and that's that on that.

And though he’d heard her speak before in the careful neutral of the middle-class, the sounds being beat out of her now were Crime Alley crooked.

I like the idea of Steph and Jason growing up in the same neighborhood. It's not a hill I'd die on, but it makes for some interesting fic.

The girl put up a good fight. She was rough, no finesse, no real training. All knuckles and elbows and feet and knees. He spotted some of the Bat basics pop up in the way she ducked and spun, but she wasn’t lithe like Nightwing or crafty like the Replacement. She was a brawler. And she was losing.

She is who he might have been, without Bruce and Alfred and Dick. A decent fighter, stubborn, willing to brawl it out, but ultimately destined to lose.

It sucked in an abstract way, the way it sucked that someone was going hungry halfway around the world, the way it sucked when a stranger missed his bus. It sucked, but it wasn’t Jason’s problem, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. B needed to learn to pick up his toys.

Starting with Steph made the most sense to me. She wasn't (and isn't) a member I know super well, with so much of her canon backstory being things I have no interest in, and she's part of the Family but in that awkward "we're maybe siblings but also I have a mom and also I dated one of you too??" ways, so she's got a little bit of distance, for me as a writer and also Jason. She doesn't have the emotional heat of the others. He doesn't hate her, just what she represents. He also doesn't care what happens to her, except—

The knife glinted in the amber streetlight and cast a shadow across the yellow emblem on her chest.

She's not Batman. She's not a Robin. She's Batgirl. And that's a different thing entirely.

Jason knew what they saw when they looked at him. He was big now, broad-shouldered and massive in a way he had only ever dreamed of being as a scrawny, malnourished street kid. His helmet was blood-red and gleaming, its angles sculpted to subtly suggest a skull. And his clothes were still stained with actual blood. He was an Alley myth, a nightmare with more bite than the Bat, because he wasn’t afraid to do real damage. He was death.

Jason Peter Todd is scary smart, and he knows how to make the exact impact he wants.

“I don’t know you, but I know your colors. You’re Ibanescu’s boys.”

I had to google Gotham crime families. I know literally nothing other than the name.

It was one thing to let her get the snot beat out of her. And even if someone else had taken a shot at her, he wouldn’t have minded. But he couldn’t. Not in that suit.

:3

“It’s not about you,” Jason repeated, his voice gravelly and rough. He pointed toward the yellow symbol on her chest, the symbol that, in the world he’d left, the world he remembered, belonged to someone else. “I owe her a debt. And now it’s paid.” Jason was a murderer. A thief. A criminal. A drug lord. He had no illusions as to his own goodness anymore, no hope for redemption or grace. But he had his values, the few precious things that he would not allow. One of those, it seemed, was watch a man restrain and stab a Batgirl while he did nothing.

Someday I'll write more about that. The partner and friend and maybe mentor who was still reeling from trauma and hadn't yet found her way when Jason was snuffed out of existence.

Jason was tired, but the night was just beginning.

So that's where it starts. Jason tired, literally caked with dried blood, stepping in not because of love or hate or curiosity or concern but because he felt he owed a debt to someone else and that debt instead landed on the person in front of him.

#fanfic bts brain dump #fanfic #batfic #batfam #jason todd

[nunchiimagines]

BRAIN DUMP!!!! :D

OKAYYYYY!! Wow, I have to get this off my chest!! I feel like I’m going to go crazy if I don’t write out this idea for you guys! AND PLEASE....if you have any suggestions I would LOVE to hear them!!!! 😭 Here goes....how would you guys feel if I did a....

BTS One Piece au???

Like I’ve had this idea for quite some time and it would definitely be something that wouldn’t be created until after the completion of Spring Day’s redone series. But like here is the general idea behind it and I’m sorry this might get long!! Also, there might be some spoilers for the actual story of One Piece so please read with caution.

A LONG LONG LONG time ago I created an OC for the One Piece universe who I developed SO MUCH content for. I ended up making over a 100 page fanfic about her insertion in the series and her relationship to the characters. I was so proud of the concept but then it kinda just died out because One Piece started irritating the hell out of me with how the story was continued and my love for it kinda died out. But that never ceased my admiration for many of the concepts that Oda created to this day. Anyway, I stumbled upon the fanfic I wrote about the OC and started thinking how interesting it would be to use this concept for a BTS version. And that’s kinda how we got here lol.

So, that being said, let’s talk about You (aka the Reader). You are a child of Primm, a clan that was put on the earth to protect those who were marked with “The Will of D”. In the BTS version it wont be called “The Will of D” but it will be something else similar to the idea. Because of this purpose, all members of the Primm family have an obscene amount of physical strength and intelligence that exceeds even the Mink Clan. They are immediately trained from a young age having mastered all forms of Haki and they are put through physical and mental exercises to increase their agility, combat power, and speed. If someone from the Primm family fails to protect the individual marked with D, they will be sentenced to death having tarnished the purpose of the clan. 

In the OC’s case, she was supposed to protect Ace and Luffy and well....Ace died, indicating that she failed part of her purpose. However, seeing as she was also tasked to protect Luffy, she was put in a position where she was banished from the clan until the rest of her purpose was fulfilled. In this case, she can no longer come back to the clan until Luffy has fulfilled his dream. As long as he can do that without dying then the OC will be allowed back in. However, this is not without its limitations due to her allowing Ace to die still. In addition, the OC ends up becoming a liberator and captain of her own crew, someone who is similar to the Revolutionary Army but works according to their own agenda. Her main purpose is to free the slaves from auctions and household even if it means becoming one, especially World Nobles (something SUPER illegal). She incurred a crazy bounty having succeeded multiple times and was put on a watch list not only for her lineage but also for being a non-pirate for having such a huge bounty.

In the BTS version, all 7 members will be the ones You (the reader) have to protect. They all bare “the mark” and you are supposed to ensure their safety at all cost. What makes that so difficult for you though is how all 7 of them are associated with various groups, some of which oppose each other greatly. Your need to travel around and help slaves is how you managed to find and meet all of them at one point or another.

So lets talk about what that means!! 😋

Lets start off with the pirates. I LOVED the relationship between Ace, Luffy, and Sabo. Like, I wish Oda could’ve fleshed out their relationship more into their teen/adult years instead of cutting it so short when they were children by “killing” Sabo, separating Luffy and Ace, reuniting the two to actual kill Ace off, and then bringing Sabo back so suddenly after the major time skip. Like damn, my heart hated that the three of them couldn’t reunite but it is what it is and I’m going on a tangent at this point. 

So, if it wasn’t obvious, Ace, Luffy, and Sabo are going to play a critical role in this. I figured Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin could take the honors of filling those roles! However, it’ll be a bit different.

Jungkook is going to fill in for Ace. Taehyung for Luffy. And Jimin for Sabo. A majority of the concepts of Ace, Luffy, and Sabo will carry over to Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin but there will be major differences as well. 

For example, like Ace, Jungkook’s father will have been an infamous well renowned pirate king who put JK’s life through hell and who JK hates with a passion. But Jungkook will not die like Ace and will actual become the main captain of the main pirate crew. 

That being said, Taehyung, unlike Luffy, will not be the main pirate captain and will also not be clueless and stupid. He, like Luffy, will have an infamous reputation and encounter crazy strong individuals who he always manages to beat. 

Jimin, like Sabo, will come from a stereotypical richy rich noble family who tries to control his every waking move. He runs away, meets JK (and later Tae), and they become sworn brothers, promising to be pirates of their own crew. Unlike Sabo, he will not get his ship blown up by a World Noble nor will it take 80 billions chapters to write him back in the story. There will be an incident that separates the 3 but it’s nothing dramatic. Jimin will join the Revolutionary Army, Jungkook will become a 1 man pirate crew (for reasons), and Taehyung will become a pirate captain of his own crew. How Ace, Luffy, and Sabo met and grew up will be almost identical with JK, Tae, and Jimin. 

Now, how do you play role in this?

In the OC story I made, she gets dropped off at Dadan’s hut where Ace is staying. This is before Luffy shows up and after Ace meets Sabo. Ace did not like the OC for quite some time but eventually warmed up to her and developed feelings for her until the day he died. Sabo knows of her but doesn’t physically meet her until after he meets Luffy and also develops feelings for her as well. Luffy only ever saw her as a big sister figure and loves her deeply in his own way. For the BTS version, it will be the exact same thing except all three of them fall in love with You (the reader).

Let’s go to the Marines!!! >:D

The rap line....our lovely rap line will be the marines in this story. But not just any type of marine, they will take the role of the 3 most well known Admirals from One Piece. So Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok will have a very similar role to Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru respectfully in that order. Those 3 are so overpowered it’s not even funny and even though they are literally bad guys (Aokiji being an odd unknown in that sense) they had this cool badass aura to them that lowkey made them kinda cool even though personally I really don’t like Akainu and I REALLY don’t like Kizaru. Anyway, Smoker is my personal favorite marine (a few others too, like Fujitora and Garp and so on) and the ideology of him and a few of the other marines who are bit less rigid in the marine ideals and realize that they’re not as righteous as they come across will be very prominent with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok. So really the only similarites they share with Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru are their title, their strength, and how cool they come across (even thoguh they suck).

What’s your role in this?

They are VERY WELL aware of you. You being a liberator and having a crew who aids in your successful work, you are SUPER wanted. You are on a watch list and the marines do everything they can to try to hunt you down on numerous occasions. Because you are so evasive, the Ruler and Elders have instructed the 3 big admirals to come after you which is how you’ve met the rap line so many times. You have an odd relationship with them, in many cases you’ve had to work together. This has happened so many times that they’ve all grown a soft spot for you followed by serious romantic feelings. The three also have a weird love-hate relationship with the maknae line as well, having grown accustomed to them too.

Lastly, the Mink Clan!

So, personally I think the Mink Clan is so cool and so unique compared to some of the other characters Oda has created. It was refreshing, to say the least, and I wanted to play with that a little because I think there’s a lot of wiggle room there too. So this is where Jin resides. I played with the idea of him being a marine but I wanted to do more and remembered the Mink Clan! 

In Jin’s case, he is the next in line to be the ruler. I haven’t decided what kind of animal he’s going to be but I do know that he’ll be a bit different from many of the other minks, especially the males. The females are more humanoid and the males are more beast. But they all have fur/mammal-like qualities. Humans, to the minks, are known as lesser-minks, and Jin is going to be an odd mix of the two. He has the hybird characteristics of a mink but he has no fur like a human. He was born that way but was never looked at as less than. His mother was a princess of the minks who was beyond beautiful and his father a handsome human. Jin just came out as a hybrid of the two. Despite that, that is about the only human characteristic about him. He still goes through Sulong when the full moon comes out and he is said to be one of the strongest minks in the tribe.

He meets you a few times on many occasions. In this story, minks go for an outrageous price at auctions. You had freed many of his people and personally brought them back to his homeland. He had helped many many time in the process. It didn’t take much for him to fall in love with you and has since tried to court you.

Now that this has all been played out, the really fun thing I want to do is eventually have them all join the same crew. There will be a series of events that brings all 7 of them together to join one crew, even though that requires 3 of them betraying the marines. You will be there right along with them and it will be a poly adventure romance story. They all, except you, will have a devil fruit but, again, I haven’t thought of that yet. This has so many things that need to be figured out and if you’ve read this far, I would love to hear your ideas on different things. Like a devil fruit for each of them, or the mink breed Jin will be. Stuff like that. Only if you want. I would also love to hear if any of you would even be interested in a story like this and any other feedback! Sorry this is so long but I wanted to share it with you all so badly. It was eating away at me like crazy lol.

Anyway, thanks so much and please enjoy the upcoming chapters of Pied Piper!!!

˚✧₊⁎Nunchi

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts one piece au #bts x reader #bts x you #fanfic idea #please share your thoughts #thanks so much #brain dump

[olderthannetfic]

It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

--

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

--

But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.

#fandom meta #fandom history #Anonymous

[endlesscloudsoftime]

20 Tag Tumblr Tag

Rules: answer the prompt and tag 20 blogs you would like to know better!!

Was tagged by the fantabulous @porkcutletbowltrash  。.:☆*:･'(*⌒―⌒*))) I can’t tag 20 people though so I’m leaving it open to whoever wants to do this hehehe. 

Nickname(s): Astea ^.^

Gender: Your old fashioned female

Star Sign: Taurus

Height: 5′3″ (163 cm)

Time: 01:08 hrs

Birthday: April 24th

Favorite band/artists: UGH SO MANY. Hmmm a few of them would beee –

 -       Day6

-       Trading Yesterday

-       Ed Sheeran

-       Simple Plan

-       BTS

-       Red Velvet

-       Mamamoo

-       Sara Bareilles

-       Celine Dion

-       Miwa

-       Shaan

-       Arijit Singh

-       Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy

-       Shreya Ghoshal

-       Sakamoto Maaya

-       CHiCO

-       NELL

-       HoneyWorks

-       Lady Antebellum

 [These are just off of the top of my head LOOOL]

Song(s) stuck in my head:

-       Sing Me by Day6

-       Another Sunday by Trading Yesterday

-       Koi wo Shio by HoneyWorks

-       Fake Love by BTS

-       Je ne Oublie Pas by Celine Dion

Last Movie I watched: (Should’ve answered this tomorrow but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) Queen [Hindi movie]

Last TV show I watched: BBC Sherlock (I’m making my family watch this because they haven’t seen it yet can you believe it and rewatching it is so eye-opening – especially the JohnLock)

What I post: A bit of everything a nerd would have really – Anime, Manga, random posts, fanfic, art, nature, music, pets, etc. Everything really – my tumblr is my brain dump essentially.

Do I get asks: I never used to but now I am and even though it’s much less than what people normally get each one gives me tingly happy feels and makes my day better.

URL meaning: Ha. Ha. Ha. Okay. So I when I was coming up for a name for this site I struggled with what I should name it and why but ultimately I ended up with this because when I was 12 I was struck by the sudden (and super delayed) realization that clouds move all the time, they’re just really slow and lying there in the school quadrangle I thought that clouds were very similar to the human concept of time. I remembered this when making the site and thought it was cool so the name stuck. [I still think it’s cool – shows that I’ve never really matured]

Average hours of sleep: There’s no fixed time – it all depends on my mood.

Nationality: Indian

#astea's tumblr tag #so tired now tbh #can't be bothered with tagging #also if you ever want to know anything about anything I've put up here or in other tags then DM me #and we can get to know each other #YAAYY FRIENDSHIP #I'm slaphappy

[narisblog]

Master list of my favorite Bangtan fanfics

OT7 fics:

Bangtan Unleashed (Pt.2 is here)- Nobody knows the real Bangtan. What happens when the stage personas drop and the filter comes down? Pure insanity that's what.

Make Me Begin- When Jungkook is attacked, in the middle of their comeback, the rest of BTS struggle to come to terms with it and their own feelings for each other.

Blue Balls- Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung have a bet on who will the last the longest without getting off.The others then get involved.

Yoonmin:

Expensive Tastes- The fact that submitting to his own tastes empowers Yoongi so much makes Jimin think that he and Min Yoongi are practically made for each other.Jimin is a spoilt little thing who loves expensive gifts and attention, and Yoongi cannot help but indulge him.

Yoonmin Tumblr Requests- a place for me to dump my tumblr requests for those who want to read them! probably will be mostly yoonmin smut unless people request other things

Lock and key- Jimin had been rubbing up all over him ever since he got home, telling him he smelt good. Yoongi blanched as the realization hit him.Ah shit.

give me your full attention- “I didn’t want a roommate in the first place but you’re really fucking hot and I'm having a hard time studying since you just walked into our dorm with sweaty limbs after your stupid dance practice and now I can’t concentrate on anything else but you, fuck you.”

stuck on you- jimin doesn't do the whole fwb thing, it was too complicated and people didn't interest him enough to stick around, but he guesses that he could make an exception for yoongi's sakeーat least until the grouchy, mint-haired guy starts making him feel weird things, that is.

Head Cold- “Then why did you sneeze? You only sneeze when you’re feeling sick.”“I’m not sick!” Jimin yelled, flicking his tail at Yoongi and kicking his feet furiously. Yoongi glared at him, and Jimin returned it, quirking an eyebrow in competition.“Do you wanna get spanked?” Yoongi growled, his glare growing darker.“I dare you, Daddy.”Or: Yoongi suspects Jimin is sick, and Jimin is less than happy about his oncoming cold.

Perfect Is the Sound of You Breaking- Jimin likes being good, he likes being perfect.

Take Me To Church- Jimin, much to his chagrin, has a demon called Yoongi living in his bedroom. Things would be easier if Yoongi were a soul sucking monster instead of charming and unfairly hot.

NamJin:

Trouble- "I think you'd look good in black stockings."

tell me how you want your gift- (Feat. Yoongi)- tfw yoongi and namjoon don't remember seokjin's birthday is in, like... a week.sequel to twos company, threes a party

Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself- Every time Jin bends over, Namjoon slaps his ass. It was supposed to be a joke the first few times, but now Jin seems to be bending over a lot more.

Thinking out loud- It's funny how that brain to mouth filter works huh? Well maybe not funny, But it certainly makes for a Lovely icebreaker. Even when you didn't ask.....

The beauty and the monster-  (warning:lots of smut/possible triggers) Jin is the heir to his parents' large company, but he doesn't act like the typical spoiled rich boy. Namjoon is a ruthless criminal that will stop at nothing to get what he wants. With the help of his closest gang members he is bound to succeed in everything. What happens when the beauty collides with the Monster? Not your average fairy tale.

get on your knees (say pretty please)- Seokjin hates Namjoon, and then of course, the two of them get stranded on a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Pink- Namjoon would do anything to please his pretty princess.

up and coming; we’re fucking in an elevator- When Seokjin finally arrives home from a very long trip, Namjoon finds that he can barely control himself.

Pack Mentality (Kinda OT7)- Namjoon is possessive.

You are Only Hiding from Yourself (Feat. Yoongi)- Omegas were not allowed in K-pop. It was too risky but Jin wanted in. So like any closet omega he took suppression meds to change his smell to a beta. He got them sent from home so that everyone would not see and religiously he took them every day. But when he runs out of meds on a trip to America he soon realizes that he is putting the group at risk when his heat triggers two more.

Sope:

Everything Gone Wrong- The first thing that went wrong in Yoongi's life was when his parents signed him up as a volunteer for the new governmental genetic experiment.Then he woke up as a sort of human-wolf hybrid.And got stuck with six idiots under the same roof.All of them are eager to find out their ranks, and Yoongi specially wants to Alpha them all.He should have known that nothing would go as he desired.

Game over (Fantasy fulfilled)- Back at their apartment, Yoongi and Hoseok finish what they started at the club

The games we play (My Fantasy)- Min Yoongi knows for a fact that fantasies can become reality

Sun and Moon - You are my other side- Everyone at their university said that they both wouldn't make a very good pair because of the clash and contrast in their personalities. Boy were these other students quick to judge. Min Yoongi - A hybrid musician with the genetics of both a vampire and a nix - and Jung Hoseok - A dancer with the genetics of a nix - have been best friends since the last year of their middle school days.They now have ten pure years of friendship - a few disagreements here and there. Though, Yoongi and Hoseok kept their - well fucking hidden - 3 year raging crushes they've had towards each other - that developed on their first year of college - a secret.It wasn't until their first year at University, not even two weeks into the first semester. Yoongi got annoyed at a female student who tried to grab - read: steal - Hoseok's attention. So Yoongi decided that it was now or never, and to be fair Hoseok had never been so relieved - but lowkey pissed off that it took this long - for Yoongi's confession, that day. The only ones who know about Yoongi and Hoseok's relationship; is the small friendship group that was assembled through their roommates / classmates. Everyone else is utterly clueless.

we write sins (not tragedies)- Rival Erotica writers Yoongi and Hoseok. 50% crack, 50% porn.

Kookmin:

come on and bare your teeth- Jimin heard a twig snap somewhere in the distance, and he looked up……and found himself staring right into the eyes of a wolf. When Jimin runs away, he certainly doesn't expect to find a new home in the form of a bunch of furry beasts living inside a rock.

I’m the Hyung- Request/Prompt: No matter how many times he asserts his "hyung" status over Jungkook, Jimin still has a secret 'thing' for being dominated by him

i am a good boy (Feat. Taehyung)- The ideal couple. Jimin was short and soft in all the ways Jeongguk was tall and hard. The stuff of highly rated KBS dramas, Taehyung supposed.Until recently.aka taehyung stumbles upon (more like into) the true dynamics of his best friend's relationship ft. power bottom jimin, eager to please jeongguk and thirsty taehyung

Headed to Hell for the Company- A series of one-shots depicting Taehyung's time with his mildly sex-crazed half-demon boyfriend Jungkook.

Vkook:

Nice dream- … And he awakens, drenched in sweat, to see Jeongguk leaning over him. He feels an unmistakeable tightness in his pants. How embarrassing.“Are you okay?” the other asks, face pink. Taehyung blinks a couple of times.“Yeah, just a dream, no worries,” he reassures, voice scratchy. He hopes Jeongguk can’t tell.

Worth The Wait- Jeongguk's about to go crazy waiting for the next time the four of them can have some fun together. Luckily, one afternoon they all find themselves alone in the house once again.Lots of smut, though with a teeny bit of plot. This is a follow up to Sunday Morning, though could potentially be read as a standalone.

Assassin’s Order- CEO Taehyung gets tangled up in some illegal business without even knowing and when Assasin Jeongguk gets assigned to extract information from him after being caught, he realizes in what mess he's gotten himself into and agrees to cooperate with the assassins, after learning their true reasons, to bring down his uncle's company. What Jeongguk and Taehyung didn't expect was falling for each other in the progress.

Disaster- ALL that Jungkook needed was a click and his inner Slut was discovered and of course having a strictly religious family didn't stop him from opening his legs willingly for anyone as long as he was going too get fucked well !EXCEPT FOR ONE PERSON: V the college asshole playboy And Taehyung's only mistake was being born as V's twin brother & being in love with Jungkook.

You Are My Fifth Season- Jungkook loved Taehyung when the latter couldn't love himself. Will that love resist the hardships ahead?Or: The tales of a flawed/innocent Taehyung and a player/playboy Jungkook.-"Trust me?" -"Thrust me."

Up Above the Parachutes- Taehyung is a flight attendant, Jeongguk catches his eye (and his pants).

Notice Me Hyung- Taehyung is too stupid to understand and Jungkook must change that.

I was.- Jungkook is a sexually frustrated teen with raging hormones and shit while Taehyung is tired as fuck and he just want to take his beauty sleep.

Other ships:

Stuck in a rut (KookJoon feat. Hobi and Yoongi)-Jungkook goes into rut for the first time. Yoongi and Hoseok were just trying to help a bro out.

Burnin’ Up (Namseok)-PROMPT FILL: from anon; “I was wondering if you could write an omegaverse namseok fic, with omega namjoon? Totally fine if you cant, I was just curious ♡.”

빨간색 [And Black] (HopeMin)- Red and black. That's all that mattered at the moment.

To Know Reverence (HopeMin)- Fills for the nsfw 30 days otp challenge prompts.

Crows, Flowers, and Apples (Taegi)- Yoongi is a boxer who goes by the name Agust D, Taehyung is his boyfriend/ring boy. Or: Yoongi just got finished with a match and unwinds with Tae in the shower. aka puppies, piercings, tatttos and fluff not to mention smut

Tell Daddy what you wanna do (YoonKook)- Yoongi accidentally calls Jungkook daddy.

there are two kinds of cake (YoonJoon)- both of them you eat.(lmao alternatively it's namjoon's birthday and yoongi gets cake)

Twisted (YoonKook)- In which Yoongi is a pyromaniac in every sense of the word, Jeongguk is a psycho who is also perpetually horny and Taehyung is just an innocent bystander … (except, not really).

#masterlistbtsfics #fanfics #Bangtan #ships

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Mother Bruce and His Baby Birds

First posted: April 2, 2018

Focuses on: Bruce Wayne et al

Favorite bookmark: "if only dc wasn't a coward"

Second favorite bookmark: "yooo i felt god in this chili's tonight"

Tier: As of queue date, #6 in hits and kudos, #5 in comments, #7 in bookmarks and subscriptions

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics.

I haven't figured out the best way to cover multi-chapter fics, especially behemoths like Nature and Nurture or The Return, so this is a test. I'll start with chapter one and reblog with additions for each chapter, I think. If there's a better way, please send suggestions.

Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Chapter One

My very first fic ever. I got obsessed with reading fic for a few months (thanks to @audreycritter's Cor Et Cerebrum and @unpretty's Sorrowful and Immaculate Hearts, and finally needed a little bit of output to balance out the input. It wasn't really planned, which is why my name is what it is. I'd made the lurker account to do just that and nothing more. Which feels a little silly now, five years and almost 100 fics later. 😬

The title comes from the Ryan Higgins picture book, because titles are harrrrrrd.

I think this is my only fic with chapter names, other than The Return.

He knew how it felt--that teeth-rattling, rib-crushing, pulse-racing sensation--and he knew how to push through it.

You see? You see how new I was at this? I hadn't even looked up the em-dash shortcut yet.

"And I don’t care if Arthur Pennypacker says gelato contains the required daily serving of calcium. Alfred will not let you survive on gelato alone.”

I am going to try very hard to be proud of this, my little baby fic, and not critical, but it's going to be very difficult when I clearly had to pluck a name out of thin air and ended up with Arthur Pennypacker being discussed in the same scene where Alfred Pennyworth exists. Yeesh.

"Art’s the fathead that stole Eddie’s gym shorts and ran them up the Academy flagpole.”

I wrote a joke poem about this kind of scenario for school once and it got published as part of a contest. Reduce reuse recycle.

The grin was still there, a bright smile full of pleasantly crooked teeth that leaned into each other like birds in a winter wind, but the corner of Jason’s mouth twisted hesitantly.

If I were doing this again, I'd make Jason a little less golly gee mister in tone, but at least he's precious.

Jason had always been gifted at picking up the scent of unease. Dick, Bruce’s outgoing ward, could read emotions. Jason could read tells.

Now that's clever, if I do say so myself. Good job, Amateur Me.

Jason dropped his spoon back in the empty gelato cup and ran his fingers over the stitching of the baseball on the table.

I reference that ball later in another fic and for the life of me right now I can't remember which one. Ah well. Put a pin in this. You'll see it again.

I thought I was gonna miss it for sure! And then after, Raul Huezo right there in front’a me! Just like, pshew! Did’ja see Bruce?

Raul Huezo was a spoof on a real-life baseball player... and I no longer remember who. Pity.

For a moment, all was still. Bruce had stopped breathing entirely, and it felt like Jason had as well. Bruce gripped Jason tightly, struggling to keep the preteen from falling out of his precarious half-perch on Bruce’s lap and onto the floor. But Jason was clutching Bruce just as tightly, gangly arms wrapped around Bruce’s neck and face pressed into Bruce’s chest. Tentatively, Bruce lowered his face to Jason’s hair and breathed in the smell of shampoo, sweat, and ballfield.

dadhugdadhugdadhugdadhug

Hitting post on this very first chapter was terrifying but everyone was awfully nice. And it's so fun to look back and realize @cdelphiki was my very first commenter ever. Like hey! I know that name!

#fanfic bts brain dump

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Even When the Words Went Wrong

First posted: May 27, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "In which, Bruce doesn't fuck it up."

Second favorite bookmark: "I got actual tears in my tears like this fic beat up my heart in a dark alley and then stole its wallet"

Tier: Pretty middle, but at least in the top half of all metrics

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Apparently this only took me a couple days to write, which is cool, and also makes sense. Alternate POV fics are, in many ways, so much easier because I already know what happened. I just have to express how a different person perceived it and felt about it.

Part one's title came from the David Cook song, and this one is a continuation of the same lyric, just slightly changed because my version is more poetic and appropriate.

Original: You've always been the sweetest song / Even when the world went wrong

Incorrect, Mr. Cook, do better.

Bruce Wayne had killed Jason in a thousand different ways. And Jason had killed Bruce in a thousand and one.

Some nights, it was all Jason could see when he closed his eyes.

I knew when I finished the first part that I would need to do more. I couldn't push the fic any further than it had gone from Bruce's POV, but I didn't want to end it where I did, so time to jump heads.

“You don’t have what it takes to give this city what it needs,” Jason spat, fully in the swing of his narrative. The Pit hummed like a swarm of locust in the back of his skull. “You’re weak. You’ve always been weak. You—“

I'd done POV swaps before, so I was already aware that one way that alternate POVs are not easier is finding a way to cover the same ground without just copy-pasting dialogue again. It gets so boring. Luckily here Bruce and Jason are both so distracted at different points that they can each zone in and out of the narration.

Batman’s composure was flaking off him in chunks. It was a sight to see. He was angrier than Jason had ever seen, jaw on the verge of cracking with the strain. Jason felt a sickly sort of pleasure that he was at least able to elicit that after all this time.

I personally find it funny that Jason thinks Bruce is mad, that that's the only emotion he can stick a label to, because he's never fully seen Bruce panicking like this before.

Somehow he had never considered that in the lost years Bruce might have changed, too. It wasn’t that Bruce was unrecognizable. He wasn’t. The Bruce of him was still there, grim and unyielding. The grey in his hair was new, clustered around the temples, not bright enough to be Alfred’s silver but close. There were lines, too, that had been there before, but only as the finest pencil strokes. Now they were cuts, deep and furrowed. They made Bruce look harder than ever, a man carved from stone, but stone that was beginning to crumble. He called Bruce old man, first as a joke and now as a taunt, but this was the first time it almost felt real.

I did Bruce a little dirty here, since by the timeline I use he's still in his 30s here. Oh well. The changes, both from the passage of time and the weight of grief, would be shocking to Jason regardless. Like. That's his dad. He knows what his dad's face is supposed to look like.

His finger stuttered against the trigger. He could pull it. Be done right here, right now. This close, there was no way to miss. It was why he had come to Gotham. It was all Jason could see when he closed his eyes. He didn’t want this.

That's the truth of Jason, the one I think all my fics about his anger and bitterness and resentment have to come to in the end. He wouldn't hate Bruce as much as he thinks he does if he didn't love him with the same intensity. He can lie to himself all he wants, but it's a truth he has to face in the end.

Bruce had him trapped, but Bruce wasn’t fighting. He was… he… was… Crying? Bruce had his face buried in Jason’s hair, and Jason could feel the tears on his scalp and the shuddering breaths rippling through Bruce’s chest. “B?” he whispered.

Is there anything more alarming than seeing your parent cry.

He was lost. He was falling. He was thirteen and wide-eyed, awed beneath his wariness. He was fourteen and reckless, eager to please and devoted to the end. He was fifteen and cocky, unsure of his path but sure of who would walk it with him. He was fifteen and dying, alone and crying for his dad.

I'm pretty sure I've accidentally written this same paragraph like five different times across different fics with different characters. Oops.

Bruce ignored his own tear-streaked face to rub a thumb across Jason’s cheekbone, a gesture of habit formed over a fraction of a lifetime, but the only fraction that had really mattered.

I love that paragraph specifically because I can feel it. Is there a name for that? Like written ASMR?

The end of this fic is so schmoopy in a way I don't normally like to be, but I do wonder how much that speaks to a culturally rooted aversion for male emotions that aren't anger, you know?

Also the end note is a Bible quotation but specifically the version I heard in my head is the Barlow Girls song. And some of you just got hit with 00s memories upside the back of the head, you're welcome.

And lastly, this one fic garnered multiple comments of very nice people saying DC needed to hire me I AM STILL WAITING DETECTIVE COMICS

#fanfic bts brain dump #bruce wayne #jason todd #batfam #fanfic #batfic

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

It Wasn't Real (But We Were Happy)

First posted: June 6 2018

Focuses on: Tim Drake and the Fam

Favorite bookmark: "I was clutching my face for the last two chapters."

Second favorite bookmark: "Do you want to cry?"

Tier: Top five in hits and subscriptions, top ten in everything else

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above.

This is a multi-chapter series, so this thread will be reblogged with each chapter's thoughts added beneath the cut.

Chapter One

This is one of the rare fics where I can remember exactly what was happening when it sprang into being. Mostly. I was walking home on evening, post-rain, and skirting around puddles while texting with @starknjarvis27. I don't remember what started the conversation but suddenly I was knee-deep in emotions about Tim as The Replacement, Tim as Nanny McPhee ("When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go."), Tim as Mary Poppins (That's gratitude for you. Didn't even say goodbye?" "No, they didn't.")

I don't think I started writing directly after that, though I may have. I do know I deliberately banked up the chapters and didn't post the first until they were all written. I was worried about losing steam and not finishing. Given how popular this fic is, maybe I should do that more often.

The title is from Dear Evan Hansen (it was 2018, give me a break), from the song "Words Fail," where the main character emotionally confesses the elaborate deception he had built, ensnaring the people he professed to love in a fantasy that he said was for them but really, in the end, was only for himself.

It was said that time was the great equalizer, but Tim didn’t know how that could be true. Time seemed to touch everyone differently, and everyone grappled with it in their own way.

As you've probably noticed, I do this kind of a lot. "It" being both a philosophical beginning and lining up each of the fam and examining what makes them different in certain ways. Both are a good way (for me, the writer, at least) to ease into a fic. Starting is hard.

Dick bobbed in its streams like a vacationer in a tube. He let it carry him along, neither struggling nor straining, but enjoying the ride wherever its path led. Jason floundered, striding through the water until his steps inevitably found the gap of his stolen life. He would lose his footing and plunge under, only to burst above the current with great, heaving breaths and push on determinedly once more.

Again with the water metaphors. I would say I'm sorry but I'm not. I'll also add that this is, of course, Tim's perspective. He's not wrong, but Dick, for example, would likely have a nuanced take of his own relationship with time (that also would not necessarily being objectively right or wrong because perception is subjective, even of ourselves.)

A good many endings surprised him, horrified him, came whistling out at him like fists in the dark. 

I think I use this metaphor more than once in fics. Mentally I tie it to "A Knife in the Dark," the Bree chapter title in The Fellowship of the Ring and later the song title from the Howard Shore soundtrack for the same scene. The whole point is wildly different, but the mental association is there for me, whatcanyado.

But it was only their timing that caught him off guard, never their existence, like turning the crank on a silenced jack-in-the-box. Without the music, he could only guess when the pop and cackle would come, but he knew the lurch in his stomach was inevitable.

My sister was scared of jack-in-the-boxes as a kid/young adult, like Buddy the Elf, so I stole this from her and him.

Alfred would have noticed, had he been around, but timing his exodus to Alfred’s annual sabbatical in England had been Tim’s one act of true cowardice. Alfred would have noticed Tim’s abandonment of the Manor and would have lured him back in with calls or threatening visits from the others or the sheer guilt power of a raised eyebrow.

I think if I were a stronger or braver writer it would have been a good challenge to keep Alfred present rather than shooing him off to England like Superman to space.

No, the hardest task had been quitting the Titans. They didn’t need Tim any more than the Waynes did, but they wanted him. They were his friends. Tim couldn’t see any way to continue with the Titans, however.

Commenters speculated on the Titans showing up. I hope they weren't too disappointed when that didn't happen but I do not know those children at all. And they weren't the point, anyways. The point was Tim and his family.

#fanfic bts brain dump #fanfic #tim drake #batfam #batfic

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Sunrise

First posted: May 11, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and Damian Wayne

Tier: Middle of the road, not super popular but with more hits than I expected

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Another ficiversary "give me a fic I've written and I'll add more" entry, this time adding Jason's perspective to Safe House. Also, I'll say up top here so I don't forget like I think I might have on Safe House's BTS brain dump—this one has a podfic!

Jason remembered returning to Gotham the way one remembered suffering through a fever. It was a wash of muddied, muddled images, an anxious blur of memories with no defining features except where the very strongest impressions blazed through. He remembered the rage. He remembered the plan. And he remembered the feeling of invincibility, of power.

Honestly, you say it's because of the Pit but I think everyone at some point in their life will hit a stretch of emotion where they react so utterly out of character that in retrospect it all seems a little dream-like and vague. He ain't special.

Fear had snapped at his heels like hellhounds, chasing him into the dark.

Yep, little bit of the If The Sky imagery, little bit of the Dean Winchester imagery, just sprinkled like seasoning. but also I have a feeling that used that phrasing somewhere else, too, and I can't remember where.

He brought seed packets to the Manor and helped Alfred plant them in rich, loamy soil. When not patrolling the streets, he wrapped himself in soft, tagless fabrics that soothed his skin and blanketed his frozen limbs in warmth. He filled his safe houses with small comforts—blankets, good food, his favorite tea, books, crossword puzzles, and soft rugs. He stayed inside on the nights when the wind howled and the sky crackled and the air filled with the smell of despair.

Self-Care King 👑

Storms had been worse for him since Bruce had dragged him back to the Magda Valley. (Everything had been worse for him since returning to the Magda Valley.)

I had to ask what had happened with the whole Damian resurrection thing and where it had happened. I don't touch canon, remember, but I'd read other fics that had referenced the incident in question and I had already set up in Safe House specifically that Damian had been revived via Pit. So here we are, though I like to think my version of Bruce would be less of a butthead about it.

He hadn’t even thought to check. Damian, to Jason’s disbelief and envy, had seemed to come back fine. Better than fine, even. The kid had returned with temporary superpowers and the welcome of the entire family, the little prince ushered back into the court.

I remain baffled by that little side story that I'm told is canonical. Why would the Pit give him superpowers? That's just silly, DC.

Jason was smart. He knew he was smart. He was cunning and he was clever and he was nigh on diabolical, and above all, he was smart. He didn’t need Bruce or Dick or any of them to admit it to know it was true. But it still stung, like a sunburn deep in his chest, to know they thought he was stupid, street scum, a thick-necked thug. Damian hadn’t been trying to be snotty. He’d spoken the truth in his surprise, and that innocence had knocked the wind out of Jason.

Jason, I think, will always have a sensitive underbelly when it comes to his origins. And while Bruce and Dick know for certain that he is extremely smart and that's part of his danger, they historically haven't been very good at communicating who Jason is to the other kids, and so Damian has had to make his own assumptions.

But he’d been looking down at this boy, this kid who looked tinier than Jason had ever seen him in his borrowed Han Solo shirt and rolled sweatpants, and thought about him getting caught in the rain.

teeby

#fanfic bts brain dump #jason todd #damian wayne #fanfic #batfam

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Much That Once Was Is Lost

First posted: April 15, 2018

Focuses on: Tim Drake

Favorite bookmark: "more crying. lurker is killing me with this angst"

Tier: Top 20 in terms of hits and comments

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

As always with multi-chapter fics, I'll start with Chapter One and add subsequent chapters via reblogs.

Chapter One

I'm only tackling one multi-chapter at a time, which is why these end up so wildly out of order with the rest of this tag.

This was the second fic I ever wrote! It spawned directly out of Mother Bruce, which is wild to me because I continued to insist for quite a while that I didn't totally understand or know Tim yet.

Tim had thought becoming an orphan would feel different somehow. Like in the moment his father’s chest fell and failed to rise again, there would be this great rending of reality, forever hewing his life into Before and After. That was how it had worked for Bruce. For Dick. Maybe that was how it worked for him, too, and he was too numb to notice it.

There's always a tension between interior and exterior perspective, one that's both important and fun to play with, because one isn't inherently more true than the other, but they both coexist regarding multiple things at the same time. Here, we're stuck in Tim's perspective about himself and what he's feeling as well as his exterior perspective or assumptions on how a similar experience had worked for both Bruce and Dick, but there's already a signal that the interior perspective, which you might think would be solid and objectively true as a primary witness, may not be at all.

Tim’s fingers ran lightly across the marble table, taking with them a thin layer of dust. The dust and the stale taste in the air were the only change from the last time he had stepped inside the mansion. . . How long had it been?

It took a bit of puzzling to figure out what I thought the Drake home was like, both here and in other fics. Different details could point to different kinds of neglect—neglected and unkempt vs spotless and sterile—complicated by what the house had been vs. what it might have been in the brief window of time before Jack's death.

Bruce had trained all his proteges to walk without a sound, but Tim-who-was-Robin had never needed much practice. He was used to being a ghost in his own home. He made no noise now as he crossed the long entry hall in socked feet, shoes neatly lined by the front door. He walked in the dark, knowing nothing would be out of place. Trusting his feet to guide him safely, the way they always had after his midnight forays after the mysteries next door. In his head, Tim absently counted his steps, as he always did.

Another thing to figure out, how Tim chose to exist in his own home, a place that is undeniably his but also where he is undeniably unwelcome. I built on this more in The Return with the state of his room.

He had clipped the vase with his bag and hadn’t slowed even when the fragile porcelain shattered on the hardwood. He had barely heard it over the rattle of the bottles as he slung the bag over his shoulder. The medicine bottles full of his father’s pills. There hadn’t been time to grab them before Jack Drake had been loaded in the ambulance. Hadn’t been time to load Tim in the ambulance with him before the white doors had slammed shut. So Tim had come after with the medical records and bottles swept from the bedside table into the canvas bag. That was Tim, always following behind.

If this were in a comic, I'd expect to see Present Tim standing at the stares, watching the incorporeal path of Past Him sprinting down the full length of the page.

Also, I don't remember if I gave Jack a specific cause of death (it'll probably pop up later in his fic), but I didn't want to mess with the canon of Captain Kangaroo or whoever it was. No murder needed, just the banal tragedy of human bodies.

Flipping on the lights, he looked around. Here, too, everything was just as he had left it. The overturned chair from his lunge for the alarm. The rumpled bed surrounded by droning machines. The splash of paperwork on the floor. The crumpled plastic debris from the EMTs. Shuffling forward, he nudged the wrappers and disposable medical instruments out of the way, then reconsidered and bent to pick up the trash. Litter was carefully sorted into trash and recycling and disposed of accordingly. The chair was righted. The paperwork was tidied and placed on the dresser. The machines were silenced, then unplugged, the insistent beeps fading into silence and the screens plunging into black.

Tim, forever the fixer, the silent tidier who cleans up after disasters.

#fanfic bts brain dump

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

The Robin Manual

First posted: May 8, 2018

Focuses on: Bruce (with some Damian)

My favorite bookmark: "Dick and later Damian help Bruce with his depressed potato days"

Second favorite bookmark: "do not read if sad"

Tier: Definitely one of my quieter fics by all metrics.

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself frightfully by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

This was only my third fic ever posted and my first one-shot. As best I can remember, it started because I was procrastinating on Much That Once Was Is Lost (in which Tim is verrrry depressed) and thinking about depression in general. That made me think of the posts about Batman's cape as a weighted blanket, and then I swapped out the cape for a Robin.

Bruce Wayne was having a very bad day that unfortunately had been preceded by a very good week.

This felt important, to set up at the start that Bruce is well-acquainted with bad days and can handle them, but that he also has happiness and that sometimes the light can make the gloom feel gloomier.

Most of the time, he could feel them coming the way a swimmer could feel the approach of something huge beneath the surface of the water. The pressure would start to build, tugging at him like undertow by the shore, and it was always a gamble to see how long he could tarry before the pull yanked him under.

My two earlier fics both had water imagery, too, so this third time's charm really cemented things, I think.

As Bruce Wayne, he charmed and cajoled and raised funds and awareness. As the Bat, he worked and fought and bled. 

"Why doesn't the billionaire just—" HE DOES!! THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT! This man has devoted EVVVVVVERY facet of his life to trying to heal his city and to prevent his own childhood trauma from happening to everyone else!!

Then Dick Grayson had come into his life. Bright, irrepressible Dick, who despite all he’d been through shone so fiercely with life that sometimes it hurt to look at him. Days with Dick meant chatter and laughter and so many questions that Bruce’s tongue felt like shoe leather by the end. He loved every minute.

This was also important to me, establishing Bruce as someone so very different from Dick but who loves that boy completely and irrevocably. This was also multiple years pre-Battinson. Get on my level, Reeves, I dare you.

And then, very carefully, a small body had climbed onto his back and lay down.

Confession: I very much wanted Bruce to be on his back when Dick came in, so Dick could sleep on his chest. Idiot wouldn't roll over for me. Turns out stomach-sleeping is the most depressed of poses.

He couldn’t risk sinking, couldn’t risk losing himself, even for a day. He forced himself up and through his bad days, his mind fathoms away but his body up, moving, fighting, protecting. It felt like trying to walk on a broken foot, each step grinding shattered bones further into dust. But he did it, because he had to. And then came the very bad day in the very good week.

Again, the good makes the bad seem worse. Also, Bruce has such mammoth willpower, it makes sense that he would push through mental pain the same way he would physical, because he felt like he had to, even to his own detriment, and only be able to fall apart once he was sure it was safe to do so.

Bruce didn’t know how long he had drifted until he bumped against the reef of that voice. Skeletal fingers scrabbled at its edges, trying to hold fast before he could float away again. His kids needed him. There was an emergency. A case. He needed to pull himself up onto those shattered bones and stride back into the fight.

I am pleased with my own imagery. That is all.

When Bruce woke some time later, he remembered to twist slowly and grab the child on his back before turning over completely. With a quiet, sleepy grunt, he settled the groggy boy onto his chest and tousled his dark hair.

Finally! I got him onto his back! Have a small child curled on your chest like a sleepy kitty as a reward!

Lastly: I forgot that in the endnotes for this one, I already had staked a flag in Bruce being touch-starved. Fascinating.

#we'll see how many of these I do because it feels HORRIFICALLY self-indulgent #fanfic bts brain dump

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Wishes & Dreams

First posted: April 23, 2019

Focuses on: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth

Favorite bookmark: "👌👌👌👌👌👌👌 that good shit"

Tier: Middle of the pack at best

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Another ficiversary request, and this was one I allllllmost declined, just because "Breathing" was so perfect for me just as it was. But because I used TQT as a framework for the last fic, I knew I had to continue that with this one, so it was fun to figure out whose POV and how. Alfred as a kind of Petrus just made sense.

The nightmares were bad that night. He knew they would be. When the screaming began, it was not a question of if or even when, but rather a question of who and in what order.

It's one of those things that are so obvious once they're said out loud, but until they are... Like, of course Jason is going to have some PTSD consequences, but so are the others! Even Tim and Damian, who weren't affected by Jason's first death, saw him get stabbed and almost die and also their dad faint. Lots to process.

No one had slept on the flight back either, not truly. Master Jason had dozed off and on, twitching and muttering in his sleep only to quiet again when Master Bruce murmured in his ear. Masters Tim and Damian also had subsided into hooded, disassociated states close to rest but not quite there. Alfred himself had split his time between the entirety of the family, assessing young Damian’s bruises, monitoring Jason, and taking turns at the helm with Master Dick. As for his part, Bruce never left Jason’s side.

The whole title thing is such a bother. I go back and forth on how Alfred refers to them all within the privacy of his own head. Here I just split the difference and established the initial naming with the title and then dropped it from there.

Ordinarily, Jason would protest being called a boy. Much like Damian he was in that way. And, truth be told, there was little boyishness left in his appearance. Death had filled him out in ways Alfred could scarcely believe, broadening his shoulders and deepening his voice. Death and that wretched al Ghul clan. It was a man, not a boy, who had protected his brothers at great cost to himself, a man who had hid the truth to spare them further damage. But it was still a boy who had fussed under Alfred’s care, the same boy who used to squirm away from plaster over skinned knees and ice packs to swollen eyes blooming black. And it was, in many ways, still just a boy who had fought to reach his father’s side, when he had thought there was danger afoot.

I will never be over Jason dying as a child and coming back so radically changed physically. Like, think about the cases where kids are abducted and are found years later as adults themselves, how wild that seemingly instantaneous shift is for their families.

Alfred couldn’t wholly stifle the grunt as he heaved himself to his feet. His hip had gone stiff in the waiting, the movement sending a twinge down his leg to match the ache in his lower back and the gritty burning behind his eyelids.

I love seeding human fallibility into Alfred.

“Master Jason.” Alfred’s voice was soft now, low and conciliatory in the proper way for frightened children and dangerous men.

🥺

The sweat-plastered head snapped in the direction of his voice. Blue eyes stared but did not see. A splotch of red was beginning to spread across his abdomen, staining the cotton t-shirt. That would be stitches popped, then.

Let me tell you, writing a KOA scene from Petrus-as-Alfred's view is such a trip. (Not in the least because Alfred is far more Galen.)

“Is there danger?” “Does he need water?” “Aw, Jay—Al, I’ll get him a new nightshirt, don’t worry.” “I can fetch some clean bandages.” “Was it a nightmare?”

I think they would be offended, being compared to the attendants, but they are. yap yap yap

Into the silence, Bruce spoke. “Your brother has made his wishes clear. To bed with you, or to the kitchen for warm milk if you can’t sleep, but it is time for you all to leave.”

I don't know that Bruce would like his TQT foil any better, though. 😂

He was watching Jason on the off-chance that the boy decided to throw the second knife now clutched in his hand. They would likely be safe—though thrown in panic, the first projectile had not been aimed to injure—but Alfred thought it wise to monitor against, regardless.

Jason would never, even in anger or panic or fear. As long as he recognizes them, he wouldn't.

“That was the worst,” Jason groaned as he sagged into his father. Bruce hummed. “You always were an overenthusiastic puker.”

This pops up again in later fics and is stolen directly from my brother, the kid who would puke so aggressively that he would bust blood vessels in his face.

Jason huffed a shaky laugh, then turned to press his forehead against the side of Bruce's neck. That was something he used to do as a child, Alfred remembered with a start, wondering how he could have forgotten. When compared to Dick, Jason had always been the more standoffish of the two, but he had been known to cling when truly distressed. 

It isn't only Bruce and Jason who forget the little things. Loss and distance steals from us all.

“Bruce,” Jason whispered, “promise me you’ll make sure I’m dead next time. Promise me you won’t bury me alive. Or cremate me. And promise me you won’t bring me back.”

I love it any time this is addressed in a fic, even in passing. Sometimes other people have Jason want the exact opposite, and that's okay too. I just like it when it's something he's clearly thought about and stressed over, because of course he has!! (And if you know TQT and know what this conversation actually was in that story.......)

Bruce had his face turned so his lips were pressed into his son’s sweaty, matted curls. A single tear had streaked his face, shimmering in the light before disappearing into the tired lines that creased his skin. Old. They had all become old when Alfred had looked away.

😭

“I’ll make sure you have some sort of alarm, how about that?” Bruce offered. Despite the hitch in his voice, he sounded warm and soothing, much like his own father, God rest his soul.

They've lost so much.

Alfred sniffed disdainfully as he reemerged, his heart tucked neatly back into his pocket. 

That's him. That's Alfred Pennyworth.

“Alfred’s not old,” Jason protested with a yawn. “He’s immortal. That’s a different thing.”

That's him. That's Alfred Pennyworth. But also wow what a thing to say immediately after their last conversation.

Despite the night’s fright, both of the bed’s occupants were blinking dozily by the time Alfred closed the kit again.

That's an adverb we as a society should use more often.

“The privileges of an old man. You are all still little boys to me.” Alfred bent and pressed his lips to Jason’s forehead, then to Bruce’s. “Goodnight, sirs. Only the sweetest of dreams to you both.”

Alfred as Petrus. Alfred as Phresine. Six of one, half dozen of the other.

#fanfic bts brain dump #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfic #fanfic #batfam

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Choose - Lose

First posted: April 2, 2019

Focuses on: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, and Bruce Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "cried again. i will cry another time"

Second favorite bookmark: "fuck yeah"

Tier: Pretty middle of the road.

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

This one. was. wild. At 699 words, I think it's my shortest (just checked, it is) and one of my more uhhh experimental pieces.

At some point in 2018-19, I read Raisin Delight by @lemonadegarden, who is an evil genius. I read it and it broke my entire brain and also my heart. It it one of the few fics I remember my name instead of a Friends-esque description. I don't know when exactly I read it because I don't know how long the emotions it inspired had to rattle around in me before they splorted out this fic in response. I wrote it all in one sitting, if I remember correctly. I don't remember getting stuck or having to backtrack. It being so short helped as well. It was—as you can tell by comparing the works—less about what happened in the fic and responding to that the way one might via a sequel or even going "I like that but what if you..." and more about be feeling many, many things around the concept presented and just needing to barf emotions into a brown paper bag.

They stood side by side, shoulders angled outward, faces on the horizon. The wind rose, lashing stinging grains of sands against their skin before dying down again.

No philosophical intro on this one. It's too short and the tone is all wrong for that kind of introduction. There was no question about sidestepping my usual chattiness and dropping in midscene. Like I said, wrote it all in one sitting, bang, done.

I did try to make each word and image count, though I'm no Ann Leckie and probably could/should have done an even finer job of it, but I do feel like the first two sentences packed in a decent amount of information.

Tim looked to the empty space where the time traveler had stood, a forgettable man with a forgettable face in a forgettable shabby brown suit, and had made his unforgettable offer.

I blame Agatha Christie for this imagery, if I blame anyone.

Bruce, face bare, t-shirt wrinkling in the wind, had sucked in a sharp breath.

This was important, them, as civilians, as people, as a father and his sons, not in costume, not with their gear and tools and weapons. This isn't Batman being forced to choose between his Robins.

In the air, a chopper whined. In the distance, a truck rumbled. A small, caped figure hurried across the dunes.

Fun fact: Even though this fic is so short I have slightly more insight than usual because I was able to pull up my chat history with @audreycritter from right after I wrote it and then surprised her with it, which is the only way I know that I was at work when I started thinking about debt and histories and timelines and realized that Jason's death was the only reason Tim joined Fam, that everyone else would have made their way in eventually but he needed Jason to die to make it and how guilty that might make him feel if he realized it, and then I remembered "Raisin Delight" (still at work) and just about lost it.

Literally at 5:03 PM on 4/1/19 I'm listing different takes I'd love to read and tell Audrey "Or some twisted scenario where a time traveler takes them back and gives them the choice. I couldn't do that one. but I would read it. Maybe. Through my fingers."

... Annnnnd by 7:43 PM on the same day I'm casually texting Audrey "hey off the top of your head by chance do you remember how Jason and Sheila got to the warehouse?" Which is how the above sentence comes into being.

(By 8:31 PM, the fic was already done.)

The traveler disappeared.

This was very much a no-answers fic. Who was that guy? Why was he doing this? How did he find them? Were they all together or did he gather them from separate places? How are they going to get back when they're done?

Answer: Don't wooooorrryyyyyyy 'bout it

Tim’s place with Bruce was bought with blood. Paid for by the death of another boy. Without the sucking, gaping void of Jason’s absence, there was no role for Tim. There would be no grief for Bruce. No reckless rage to tamp down. No despair to fight back. No place for a lonely boy from down the hill. No reason to make the walk to the Manor’s front door.

My thesis statement (paragraph.)

Beside him, Bruce swayed. Forward, as if to step, as if pulled beyond his control. Then backward, rocked by the horror, repelled by the choice.

This is the horror of the fic. Bruce cannot choose. He cannot choose one child over another. Like unbreakable-law-of-the-universe cannot, divisible by zero cannot. But not choosing is choosing, so he can't choose and he can't not choose, and if one of his sons didn't choose for him, he was going to spontaneously combust into antimatter, I think.

Beyond, Jason stood still as granite. Frozen. Hard. Petrified by the glare of Medusa. 

Contrast with Jason, who doesn't dare move a muscle.

The numbness hadn’t yet made it to Tim’s heart. It gave a twinge of surprise that they hadn't moved. Was it up to him again, then? To push Bruce into action? To do what must be done?

Contrast with Tim (the Robin who does what must be done, who exists to help Bruce and keep him on the right path), who assumed Jason must be the one saved, because as he goes on to explain, Jason dies. He gets beaten, tortured, blown apart, killed, buried, and resurrected in his own grave. Tim... well, Tim will lose his heart and happiness and the only true family he's ever known, but he won't know that.

Or, to quote myself:

He would wake, alive and whole, in his own bed. He wouldn’t even notice the hole where his heart had been. He would live, but he would lose.

Some version of those two words were always the options for the fic, because it's about choosing and losing (not or. and.) But the options listed in the chat were:

Choose. Lose.

Choose / Lose

Choose - Lose

and then lots of grumping about how, grammatically, Choose, Lose and Choose; Lose are both more accurate but I loathed them.

Bruce had gone white. Jason had gone green.

A clever commenter thought this was a reference to the Pit. It wasn't, just nausea (watching yourself walk to a horrible end) and maybe a small nod to Megan Whalen Turner. I like the thought, though.

Tim took a step forward. Then another. A hand encircled his wrist, held him fast. The trigger callus scraped against his skin.

Like I said. Bruce could never choose or not choose. He needed his sons to make the choice for themselves. There was never another universe where he stopped Tim or let him go. It had to be Tim's choice to go and lose his future just as it had to be Jason's choice to stop him and accept what he had.

And lastly, a commenter left essentially a dictation of the dialogue she had with her mother (who doesn't read fic or know anything about DC) telling her what happened in this fic, and it made my entire life.

#fanfic bts brain dump #fanfic #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

You've Always Been the Sweetest Song

First posted: May 25, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "Oh my god i came looking for gold and I received mythril. IT'S THE GOOD CONTENT FOLKS.

Tier: Pretty middle, but at least in the top half of all metrics

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

As I put in the notes for this one, the idea started with watching Under the Red Hood for the first time with @starknjarvis27 and LOSING. MY. MIND. over how the movie chose to set up and portray Jason's return to Gotham. Then I went on a rabid rant to @audreycritter about how it SHOULD have gone, and here we are.

The title comes from a David Cook song that is a very Bruce song to me.

As best Bruce could reason, there were nine possibilities, ranging in plausibility from manageably unusual to outright insane, as dictated by the facts he could be sure of.

The thing about Bruce is he will always try to be logical. This is especially true in high-stress high-emotion moments. This poor man had to bury his son and was deeply destroyed for several years after. And now he suspects a new enemy might actually be his dead son, whose corpse he held and whose body he buried??? My guy is not going to reach that conclusion without AMPLE evidence AND every other alternative being crossed off as implausible, even if he has that immediate spark of recognition.

Figuring out what Bruce would accept as confirmed fact and what theories he would consider was a challenge, but a fun one. The tricky thing for me was I did need to get him to the place where he would rationally be able to consider Jason resurrected as plausible, when that's not a very plausible possibility at all. Comics, man.

The Cave was empty. Bruce’s foul mood—really, no more than poorly disguised panic, but foul nonetheless—had run off everyone else. Even Alfred. He was alone, with nothing but the computer and a backlit memorial case to keep him company. It was safe to rest his head in his hands, so he did.

My boy was going through it.

All Bruce had was the life before him, the one with visits from Dick, patrol with Tim, and solitary visits to a quiet cemetery. To hope for anything different was… foolish. . . . Even when the results returned and the screen flashed bright with a name and an achingly familiar face, Bruce felt like he was waiting still. Some possibilities were scratched off, some shuffled to put them higher or lower in the probability rankings. But the truth waited.

Bruce, bless him, will always prioritize the truth, even when it's a truth that hurts him. And that often means that even when he wants something badly, he won't give in to the temptation of the lie. He wants his son back more than anything, but he wants it to be his son. Jason is too important to replace with a falsehood.

He couldn’t tell Alfred. Couldn’t bear the thought of putting the old man through whatever it was this was without answers. Couldn’t tell Dick or withstand the confusion, the demands, the fresh heartbreak. Couldn’t tell Tim. Couldn’t begin to fathom what this would mean for any of them.

Bruce so often is so alone, not even necessarily by choice, not because it's his preference, but because he would rather take a heavy burden on himself than unload onto others and damage them in the process. (He is not always correct on the consequences and sometimes badly misjudges. But still he is trying.)

It couldn’t be Jason. Jason Todd was just a boy, slight and wiry even for fifteen. He had yet to reach his growth spurt, his potential for height only evident in the gangliness of his limbs, the knobby stretch of hands and feet too big for him. Though fed regularly and lovingly by Alfred, he had never quite shaken the damage of years of malnutrition. He was just a little boy.

This is a thing I love love love love to dig into, both from Jason's perspective and from those who knew him before. He wasn't just 15 and growing; in my version of this world, he's slight. There was no indication in him that he would become a tank. And besides, even if there had been, he was just a kid when he died and he was gone for several years.

Hood’s voice was low and rough, like a crowbar dragged across cement.

My favorite descriptor. It's a mean little nod on my part but also really how I mentally characterize Jason's voice as Hood, thanks to repetitive listens to "The Devil & the Huntsman" and "Arsonist's Lullaby" while thinking about Jason. It also matches neatly with the way Jensen Ackles voices Jason in the movie, so.

Red Hood laughed. It was not Jason’s laugh. It was hard, unyielding, and utterly devoid of humor. . . . Stop. Stop. Don’t use his words. Don’t use that name. Not without proof.

He so badly wants Hood to be Jason, because he wants his son to be alive, but he CANNOT let himself believe until he's certain. Believing a lie would break him.

At Bruce’s movement, he had swung the gun around and pointed it squarely at Bruce’s chest. Bruce didn’t care.

My original discussion with Audrey involved some version of me ranting that Bruce would hug his son even while Jason stabbed him, and I initially intended to write an actual stabbing but it got in the way.

Bruce’s arms tightened further, one hand coming up to cup the back of the neck, and he buried his nose into the sweaty, riotous curls. He knew that smell. Bruce breathed in movie nights and late-night homework sessions, false alarms and real scares, sick days and training sessions. He knew the smell of these curls, of this boy, as well as he knew his own name.

This was the bit that I text-screamed at either Audrey or Stark that got me to write this fic. Bruce Wayne absolutely buries his nose in his kids' hair and he absolutely 100% know exactly what they smell like.

#fanfic bts brain dump #bruce wayne #jason todd #under the red hood #fanfic

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Jason's First Christmas

First posted: December 17, 2018

Focuses on: Jason Todd et al

Favorite bookmark: "The many Christmases of Jason. Parts will make you sob, but the ending is worth it."

Tier: In the bottom half of all metrics

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I'm super fond of this one. It was my first time joining a Christmas stocking fic exchange, and I plucked this one from my friend @starknjarvis27's wishlist (and was suuuuuuper nervous about the reception in addition to the idea of the exchange as a whole.)

To quote my own intro note: Created to fill Cylobaby27's BatFam Christmas Stocking prompt "Jason’s first Christmas back at the manor." When writing this fic, I could only remember "Jason's first Christmas" and was too lazy to look up the details/made a deliberate artistic choice, so I decided to hit all the bases. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Listen, when your brain serves up like five opening lines at once, you gotta write the scenes worthy of those lines.

Speaking of, let me jump out of order a minute and make you look at them all lined up together:

(1) It was Jason’s first Christmas without Willis, and though he didn’t know it yet, it was the beginning of the end. (2) It was Jason’s first Christmas at the Manor. A new beginning. (3) It was Jason’s first Christmas back in Gotham, and he still wasn’t sure if he was living in a recycled beginning or an overextended ending. (4) It was Jason’s first Christmas sober. That was what it felt like anyways. He could still feel the Pit just beneath his skin, like an itch on his arch of his foot with his shoe still on. The pull was still there. The urge to lash out. To run wild. To destroy. The temptation remained. But he was resisting. Maybe, finally, this was his fresh start. Maybe this was his new beginning. (and then the very last line of part 5 and the fic as a whole) It was Jason’s first Christmas back at the Manor, and it was only the end of a new beginning.

I'm poetic as heck.

They’d lost the apartment. Lost the janky little fourth-hand dresser that had held all Jason’s clothes. Lost the fridge that rattled like an airliner coming in for a landing. Lost the couch with its busted springs and his name sharpied under the left seat cushion. Lost anything that couldn’t be stuffed into a trash bag or slung over their shoulders.

It is both a trial and a joy to figure out how to stage a space. To not only puzzle through the logistics of what they might plausibly have had and lost but also what you, the reader, might need to know about and what Jason would have thought about and mourned—things that were his, things that represented his basic needs and his former security that those needs would be met.

Jason wrapped the scarf, his present to her, around her neck as gently as he could manage. The plaid fabric was itchy, but it was warm, and that’s all he had cared about as he smuggled it out of the thrift store under his shirt.

This is a gift that made sense in logistics and characterization and need but also I think I stole it from the American Girl Addy Christmas book. Doesn't she give her hardworking mom a scarf?

Jason still jumped every time the butler said his name. The old man was too quiet, and his mustache was judgey. Jason pivoted on the ball of his foot, turning slowly until he was facing Alfred.

New kids being suspicious of Alfred's mustache is a running theme.

Bruce was sick? Bad sick? Vomiting could mean all kinds of stuff, and a high fever could be real bad, right? Like, hospital bad. Like, brain damage bad. Jason’s palms suddenly felt slick, and he wiped them on his pants as he said, “I didn’t know he was sick. Is he okay? Did a doctor take a look at him?” What if something happened to Bruce? What would happen to Jason? Did that make him an awful person, worrying about himself when Bruce was in danger? Oh god, he was an awful person, grouching over a late Christmas when Bruce was upstairs barfing his brains out.

Turns out! Having no safety net! Or reliable access to standard care! And watching your mom die slowly! Messes with a kid's anxieties when it comes to preventable illness!

Jason felt another flicker of panic at the base of his throat. Bruce looked awful. He was still a huge dude, but he looked small in that big bed with his hair all flat and sweaty and dark circles under his eyes. He looked nothing like Jason’s mom. And yet.

I really should do more with the various kids' uncertainties and insecurities their first few months/years in the Manor. I've leaned on Tim's a lot, but I should play with the rest more.

“Is this a chick flick?” Jason asked dubiously. The movie did not look promising. Sure, the guy had a sword, but the biggest image was of a lady in a tiara. And it was about a princess getting married. Bruce choked back a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “You were so close to asking the right question there, Jay. Trust me on this one, okay? It’s the best sick-day movie.”

There was no other option. None.

Next to him, Bruce chuckled quietly, his chest rumbling deep and low like a cat’s purr.

You will pry this characterization out of my stiff dead fingers. Bruce's kids feeling the low vibrations in his chest like a tiger's purr is everything to me.

He was cold. That was nothing new. He was always cold now. But Gotham itself was cold, which only pushed the aching chill deeper into his bones.

Jason being cold as a corpse is also a thing I'm a fan of.

Jason flicked his lighter once, twice. The flame caught, held, and he lifted it to the cigarette dangling between his lips. The smoke curled down his throat. He held it there, relishing the ache. He’d thought of stopping. Had tried a couple times as a kid, once he’d gotten himself off the streets. Ironically, given her own hangups, he’d always felt a little guilty, wondering what his mom would think of his vice.

I go back and forth on Jason and smoking, whether he would actively and militantly avoid anything addictive or if he would allow himself the one vice as a comfort because it's not one shared by either Catherine or Willis.

Jason scooped up his helmet and put it back on. The fumes were making him feel lightheaded. He surveyed the room once more, grimly satisfied with his work. The red arterial spray on the wall added a festive touch, he thought. He flicked the lighter again. Bent. Touched the flame to the glistening streak on the floor. The fire raced down the trail of gasoline, crackling merrily as it crawled over the bodies and up the wall. Jason closed his eyes as the heat beat against his face. The cold coiled tighter in his chest.

There was a fic I read early, early, early on, when I was brand new to fic and hoovering up everything I could find, long before I thought about writing anything for myself. It was an AU where Jason returned as an arsonist and graffitist. I don't remember anything about it other than that, including who wrote it, but whoever you are, it clearly stuck with me, so thanks!

It was Jason’s first Christmas sober. That was what it felt like anyways. He could still feel the Pit just beneath his skin, like an itch on his arch of his foot with his shoe still on.

As others have noted, I'm also a fan of depicting the Pit through the hybrid lens of addiction and mental illness. That hasn't changed. Good job baby writer me for that itch metaphor though, I don't remember that one.

He popped a fry into his mouth, then stiffened as someone slid into the booth across from him. His mind scrambled for her name, her real name. It was something perky and ponytailed like Kimberly or Tiffany. They’d only met once or twice out of masks, and it took him a moment to place her.

In my semi-cohesive universe of fics, I have no idea when Jason learned who Stephanie was out of uniform. I do mentally clump those 80/90s prep names together, too.

He hadn’t expected his Pit sobriety to be tested in a rundown 50s-style diner on the border of respectable Gotham. Not over an order for a Snickers milkshake, of all things.

A real diner would not have a Snickers milkshake, bad job me.

“To want in so bad for so long that the wanting goes rotten in your mouth.” A smile, thin and bittersweet, flickered at the corners of her mouth. “Keep spitting it out. You’ll get clean eventually.” Jason stared, considering. Wondering. Where did Bruce find kids like them? Kids with bruises on their knuckles and poetry in their chests. Kids so hungry to belong that their teeth turned inward. How do you even go about finding kids like that?

Those bits maybe didn't fit with the voice of either of them, but I couldn't let the lines go. Call them an indulgence. It's Christmas, I'm allowed.

“You’re on some painkillers. And you lost a lot of blood,” Bruce warned. Typical that his first words would be a scold.

Perspective is so fun. Jason: :( stop scolding me. Bruce: I am stating FACTS, it's on you how you interpret the factual context being provided.

“You did,” Bruce confirmed. “You were stabbed. Twice. And then decided to hole up in a safe house and pass out without telling anyone.” Oh. Ohhhhh. Jason did remember something like that. He didn’t remembering deciding to pass out, but the rest��

That was a scold. Bruce's kids make him a little pissy sometimes, poor man.

“You missed brunch with Alfred. He was concerned.” Jason dropped his hand to blink slowly at Bruce. “But that’s tomorrow.” “That was three days ago,” Bruce corrected. “You were out for over a day, just based on your wound. We brought you back here two days ago to rest and heal.”

Ugh, time math, the worst.

Bruce rolled his eyes, a weirdly comforting gesture. If Bruce was able to roll his eyes, it must not be too bad. Jason owed Alfred a make-up brunch and an apology, though.

I have since migrated to the belief that Bruce doesn't roll his eyes, he blinks verrrry slowly and deliberately. (Though I also like @frownyalfred's depiction of him absolutely rolling his eyes but doing it with his eyes closed to hide it.)

Jason hummed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just them, though, right?” he teased. Bruce rolled his eyes again and knocked a knuckle against Jason’s cheekbone. “How are you feeling?”

hello physical touch is my favorite love language, especially for people who suck at words

They had flung themselves across Bruce’s king-sized bed, careful not to jostle Jason but also, he noticed, careful to casually stay within reach. Jason expected this from Dick and Cass, both touch-affectionate under normal circumstances, but even Damian and Tim had seemed to orbit closer than normal. In the spaces not occupied by bodies were trays of snack foods, including easily digestible soup for Jason. To Jason’s undisguised delight, Alfred had brought up the nibbles and then uncharacteristically had settled in one of the chairs by the bedside after giving Jason’s hand a pat.

Like I said.

“If I fall asleep before Miracle Max, wake me up?” “As you wish.”

And what he meant was, I love you.

#fanfic bts brain dump #batfam

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Listening

First posted: April 14, 2019

Focuses on: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Tier: Middle of the pack at best

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

More than once person requested a continuation of Carried for the one-year ficiversary prompt, so after Shoulder to Shoulder I wrote this. Since I already rehashed Janet's funeral from Dick's POV, I figured it was time to take on Bruce, but for what happened after.

Bruce didn’t know what he was doing. On paper, he was trying, just like he had promised Dick. But Dick, ever the optimist, had underestimated just how broken Bruce was. I don’t know how to do this, he admitted to no one, but surely they could tell. 

Bruce is Not Well, y'all. Like bless him outwardly he's all 🗿, but internally? Parental Panic 24/7.

Dick had been too young and traumatized to notice when he had first come to the Manor. Jason—would it always hurt like this, just thinking his name?—Jason had expected everything and nothing of him and so hadn’t been disappointed to receive something in the middle. But what ground Bruce had gained, he had lost in a gleaming swing and a deafening explosion.

I would remove the "gleaming swing" because I'm not sure Bruce would know about the crowbar specifically, and even if he did, I'm not sure he would think of it in those terms. (Also it sounds more like a sword?) I'd want another adjective-noun pairing there for balance, though. Just "deafening explosion" doesn't feel right. The rest of it is nice, though, very true to how Bruce perceives his own efforts and how/why he feels his kids forgave his many mistakes.

Unlike the others, Tim had been unwanted. Bruce could admit that to himself, if to no one else. Tim had been the chirping bird on the windowsill, urging him to meet the dawn when all Bruce wanted to do was never wake up again. Tim had been the buffeting blow of an airbag to the face, the ricochet of a guardrail, the snap of a harness.

Hello, still fairly fresh off It Wasn't Real, howzitgoin. It's awfully fun to take a thing that two characters are each secretly thinking and secretly agree on and show how very far apart they remain on what that thing means. Tim knows Bruce did not want him around at first, and he carries that rejection with him long past when it was valid. Bruce acknowledges Tim wasn't wanted at first but places the onus of that on himself. It has nothing at all to do with Tim, other than the fact that Tim was pushing him to live when he wanted to die.

Tim had saved Bruce’s life, maybe in more ways than he would ever know, but he had not been wanted, only needed. Even once that had changed, Bruce’s behaviors hadn’t, not significantly. For all the deception his life depended on, he wasn’t sure how to fix this disconnect between behavior and emotion.

Ain't that always the way.

There had been no tears, no outbursts, no nightmares like the ones that had rousted Bruce from bed to pace the halls and Dick to cross his path in the glow of the open fridge.

Readers during Shoulder to Shoulder had noted the implication that being at a funeral would affect both Bruce and Dick, as people with past trauma involving death and funerals. Here's the payoff. Tim's mom died and Bruce and Dick are the ones who can't sleep.

He had only crossed paths with Jack Drake once or twice before, despite being neighbors, and remembered little about the man other than a vague sheen of dislike, like a thin film of oil floating above the water of his impression.

I like that line. Sometimes that's just how it is. There's no real mass, no substance to a dislike. A person just leaves a bad aftertaste.

He had reminded Bruce too much of other little boys, too much of himself, too much of Tim himself the first and only time Bruce had raised his voice outside the cowl.

I don't know why I wrote that. My guess is that I figured Bruce couldn't have yelled at Tim too much before this point or he wouldn't have reacted to strongly to Tim's reaction, but wow I really painted myself into a corner there. Bad Mental Health Bruce only yelled at Tim once???

And maybe if Tim had needed him still in the days to follow, that would have made things easier and given Bruce a template to follow. Instead, Tim was fine and Bruce was the one floundering.

me @ me: o o f

“I’m sorry you’re dead. Which is a-a dumb thing to say, I know, but... You were really important to Bruce. Even if no one said so, you can tell, by the way he doesn’t talk about it. And he’s old now. I mean, an adult and everything, but he’s still upset about it. Which is how it should be, right?”

I am perpetually fascinated with Bruce's grief, especially how it might be perceived by and affect those around him. It's often portrayed as this nostalgic, static thing—an unchanging event from his childhood—rather than a real, living, ongoing thing that affects his day to day life. Tim knows better.

“I’m upset you’re dead,” Tim was saying, “because you seem like good people, and because it hurt Bruce when you went away. And I’ve never even met you. So... so shouldn’t I be upset about my mom, too?”

IIRC, that first bit was one of the sentences I was writing toward, one of the reasons I put Tim out here in the snow at all. He needed someone to talk to and no way was he confessing any of this to people who might think less of him.

"But I was surprised, because they said she must’ve been on her way home, and I hadn’t even known she was coming back.”

Another sentence I remember being determined to fit in, since it fit in well with his previous sentiment in Carried.

“Alfred installed these. They’re really buried in Gotham Cemetery, but I wanted a way to talk to them every day, so...”

Oh I fussed so much about figuring out the logistics for the Waynes. You can't just bury people on private property! But I wanted them there! Thinking through why and how there might be a replica of a gravesite on the grounds was a useful exercise, though.

That seemed a long time ago, the days when he felt bursting with things to say. Bruce could still remembering the tight, burning sensation in his chest, like if he didn’t get all the emotions out, he would go to pieces, but it was like remembering something that happened to another person. He still had the emotions, still had the blaze beneath his breastbone, but the words had slipped away entirely.

I was pretty deep into Nature and Nurture by the time I wrote this fic, so clearly Bruce's psyche and communication skills remain Of Interest. I just love the idea of some parts of Bruce being a consistent throughline while others that non-Alfred people might think of as a core piece of his identity are actually a result of trauma.

Bruce pointed to the chipped arm of his mother’s cross. “I did that. I was... I don’t know how old. I don’t even really remember why. I just remember being angry. Angry at them for not being here, angry for leaving me with two hunks of rock that didn’t talk back. Angry at myself for being angry.”

I had to pull these details back up for a later fic and work around them/incorporate them into The Rain Again, when Bruce gets angry again.

The words came slowly, as they always did, but Bruce had learned by now to speak at a measured pace to make them seem as deliberate as they were, if less hard-won.

I was reading some book at the time that uses this framing for a character's speech and I wish I could remember what it was, because it makes sense.

“You were missed,” Bruce finally answered

I loved knowing that that's where this fic was headed, in the end. It made me feel so warm and cozy.

#fanfic bts brain dump #bruce wayne #fanfic #batfic #tim drake