In Honor Of Messy Bitch Tim Who Deserves A Maneater Era After His Womanizer Era In The 90s. Here Is A

Art from Inktober 2018 Sticker set Here

So I’m catching up on Batman lore and comics.

I NEED A FANFIC WHERE SOMEONE SITS DOWN AND TELLS JASON THAT BATMAN TRIED TO KILL THE JOKER, ALMOST STARTED A WAR, AND WAS STOPPED BY SUPERMAN.

It drives me insane that the only reason Joker is not in a lead box at the bottom of Gotham Harbor is he somehow magically became the Iranian ambassador (how?!) and the UN hired Superman to stop Batman from causing WW3.

AND NO ONE TELLS JASON!

Oh! I hear you cry, But he saved Joker’s life after Dick beat him to death! Jason deserves to be angry.

OH BULLSHIT!

Dick wasn’t trying to avenging Jason! He almost kills Joker by mistake in a moment of grief and Joker egging him on! Dick literally mourns after he realizes what he’s done, claiming by killing the Joker “Joker won.”

So why would Batman save the Joker? I’ll tell you why. Batman didn’t save the Joker for Joker! Batman saved the Joker to save Dick!

Dick is acting on revenge for the near death of Tim and despite it being Killer Croc who had captured and presumably killed Tim, Dick blames the Joker and goes on a poorly thought out vengeance quest that haunts him even when it doesn’t work. He’s spiraling the minute Tim points out Joker is dead. You really think Bruce couldn’t see the writing on the wall that actually killing someone would destroy Dick and try to minimize the guilt Dick would feel by not letting the Joker die.

His second son is dead. The third was just thought to be dead. Batman isn’t going to sit back and let his oldest kill himself!

(Now you could argue all that I’m saying is fandom rationalizations of weird character choices made by multiple writers over at DC (Disregard Canon). Batman does let Dick walk away in shame after reviving Joker. But if I chose to forget that Bruce PUNCHES Dick after Dick rightfully demands to know why Bruce didn’t try to tell him his brother died before the funeral, I can damn well recontextualize a stupid panel and scrape together a consistent character profile based on the versions of Batman that I like! Fuck you!)

So yes! SOMEONE PLEASE JUST TELL JASON WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED AFTER HE DIED SO HE CAN MAKE AN INFORMED DECISION FOR ONCE!

You know that feeling when you're writing a fanfic idea for a tumblr post but then that fanfic idea becomes 4k long and you start wondering if it might be easier to just write the damn fic.

But hey! Get ready for some Dark!Bruce Wayne, Time Travel, Fix-it fic with some glorious Manipulate, Mansplane, Malewife vibes.

Here is a teaser:

While he was waiting for Haly's Ciricus to come to town, Bruce wasted no time checking on Jason. Batman spent several weeks sweeping through Crime Alley until he'd managed to peer through the right apartment window. Jason is a precious three year old. He toddles around the apartment with a confidence that suited him at every age. His step mother, Catherine Todd, is quick to follow him around, laying out strategic pillows to keep Jason from bruising his knees when he toddles too fast and falls. She's sober -- for now. In fact, according to the records Bruce found, she had yet to become an addict.  This is unacceptable.  Even if Bruce jumps the gun and puts Willis in jail -- it'll be so easy, too easy really -- Catherine is still a suitable, if poor, mother. So Bruce makes plans and then contingency plans, all on paper, all to be burnt at the minute of completion.

it is november, and yesterday it felt like it was supposed to be snowing. in boston, november used a winter month, not a fall month. it is supposed to be chilly; rarely capping over 45F. it is a sweater-and-jacket month. it is a "maybe a scarf too" month. in my childhood, november meant blizzards and sleet.

it did not snow. tomorrow the weather predicts a high of 76.

i have spent so many years of my life studying the longterm possibilities of climate change - the culmination of capitalism wreaking havoc on the bodies of people, animals, plants - but every so often i am still shocked by something small and personal.

in a hundred years, when someone goes outside in boston - will they know the feeling of "snow in the air"?

i know it's a learned feeling, a sensation that maybe only longterm experience can teach. a few years ago, i was walking with my friend who had just moved up from the south. i said it smells like snow and she gave me this look like - what the fuck. i said it feels like snow too, which didn't help. she looked up to the bright blue sky and then back at me and then back at the sky. 12 hours later, we had 3 inches. you can just tell if it's going to snow.

except i can't tell, anymore. i stand outside in a tee shirt and watch my dog dance around a lake. we're in a drought and the skin of the water has peeled back twenty meters. the lake is tamed, quiet, puddlelike and sour. my pokemon go app warns there's a weather condition in my area.

my dog gets too hot from running and sits in the water and i want to laugh about his long frame and how awkwardly he sits - and i can't. some simian part of my brain is scratching the walls. it was supposed to snow. it was supposed to snow, but now it's warm instead.

during the last full solar eclipse, the dogs and the birds and the crickets went crazy under utter darkness. we laughed at them then, promising it will all be okay in a moment. but some part of me is still locked in that long night: some animal sensation.

something is wrong, my body says. i can't afford eggs or rent. i go outside to watch a sunset and listen to birdsong. i don't bring a jacket. allergies are killing me this season, allergies i didn't have as a kid. everyone comments that halloween has started to feel strange, offkilter. that it's hard having "holiday cheer." my body thinks it's april, and then it thinks we're in september, and then june.

something is terribly wrong, she whispers. go outside. it is supposed to be snowing.

Here is a thing I’ve been writing if anyone is interested:

Inspired by an AU I wrote about here: [SPOILERS]

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It had been Barbara who’d brought it up first.

The news had been everywhere: the kidnapping of Gotham’s own Jackson and Janet Drake, CEO and co-owners of Drake Industries, had been a sensationalized story. Especially when some well timed information leaks proved the US Government had failed to negotiate the return of the couple after three months. Vicky Vale herself had written an expose into the ethical pharmaceutical company, Drake Industries, and the darling family that led it. Soon after Timothy Jackson Drake’s photo had begun circulating.

A capricious, intelligent young boy. It seemed he had a bit of an attitude with authority and often switched schools because he advanced too quickly through the curriculum and frustrated his teachers.

“He sounds bored,” Dick had remarked during one of his bi-monthly visits. He’d been scrolling through his phone all afternoon, oddly attached to the new story.

Bruce for his part had double checked Vicky’s research and found nothing notable or dangerous about the Drakes. They really were a semi-rich if not average family with a smart son and a relatively ethical multi-million dollar pharmaceutical company. Certainly, they’d given some bribes to “grease the wheels” on some of their rarer expeditions but nothing nefarious, especially not for Gotham.

No reason for the Batman to get involved.

Which is why it is so odd that Barbara brings it up during patrol. It’s a quiet night, of course. No other chatter on the coms and with Nightwing taking Robin on an excursion throughout the westside of the city, Bruce found the night almost peaceful.

And then Barbara says, “I feel bad for him.”

Batman grunts questioningly as he leans forward as if to spy this mysterious him that Barbara is preoccupied with.

“Tim Drake,” she clarifies. “You should read some of these articles, B. It really makes you nervous who's going to try and snatch him up.”

That gets Bruce’s attention. “He doesn’t have any extended family?”

• so we wander •

Some drawing practice!

I had a fun idea for a canon compliant Bruce & Tim ABO fic where Tim is presenting as an omega and he calls Bruce to take him back to the manor during the time Jack made him give up Robin.

Like Jack and Dana are in the other room but Tim wants to be with his pack alpha and that hasn’t been Jack in a long time.

And it’s painful because Jack isn’t the worst dad in the world. He’s been really trying lately, even before he found out about Robin, he’s been giving a real effort. But it doesn’t make up for all the years he was shitty and absent. He’s still got a temper and a tendency to threaten Tim with boarding school. And Bruce is who Tim feels safest with. He’s Batman but he’s also the guy who held him when his mom died and takes care of him after hard patrols. Who asks about his schoolwork and pets his hair when he’s tired during a stake out.

So he’s present as an omega and calls Bruce to take him home and Bruce shows up bc he’ll always do his best to never let one of his kids down again. And Bruce has already called Dick over (omega or beta I’m not sure) and Alfred is preparing the pack nest for Tim’s presentation. And he knocks on the door.

And Jack opens the door with a gun, demanding to know why Bruce is here while his son is in heat.

And Bruce has to tell this man who hates him, who feels emasculated by his very presence, that his presenting omega son didn’t feel safe enough in Jack’s home and called Bruce. And it’s made worse because Tim has his bags packed and he’s standing behind the two of them, swaying from the pain, and waiting for Jack to step aside so he can go be with his dad.

And Jack wants to rant and rave and force Tim back into his pack nest and cover his son in his scent and just get him to stay and be safe in his arms. But Tim is standing there waiting to leave and it is a reckoning. That even if Tim has agreed to let go of Robin to make him happy. Even if Tim says he loves him and calls him dad and pretends to follow his rules, Tim will never view him as a dad.

Maybe Jack will blame the coma. He’ll think it was the start of everything going wrong. Maybe he’ll remember, for just a moment, Timothy crying as they dropped him off at his boarding school — just 7 years old and so scared to be separated from his pack — begging them not to leave, clinging to his shirt asking why he didn’t love him enough to stay. But then his mind will reject it, not ready to face a reality where it was always this broken. And he will blame Bruce. He hates Bruce Wayne and everything this man represents as a threat to his family.

So he’ll move to raise the gun, to threaten Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham, off of his front porch, only for Dana to tap him on the shoulder and ask him to let Tim through. Because this isn’t about Jack and Bruce or even Jack and Tim. It’s about Tim. It’s about what his instincts need.

Jack will look at his son, really look at him and not the son he wished Tim was but the son Tim is. And he’ll see his son staring at Bruce with so much unmasked love and trust, a look he hasn’t seen since Tim was toddler in his arms. And he’ll step aside. Because for all his faults, Jack Drake loves his son. And it’s the single most selfless thing he’ll ever do as a parent.

And three weeks later, he’ll be dead.

I'm reading Tim Drake's origin story (Batman #440-447) and I cannot believe this panel exists. Pre-9/11 was a different world!

For context, Two-Face is trying to figure out what to do to get Batman's attention.

A Batman Fanfic Idea:

Tim is a Creature, an answer to a prophecy that spells the doom of the coming universe. On his 18th birthday, the dark blood inside him will rear up to rip away his human facade and all of earth and the many plants known and unknown will be crushed under his heel.

It is a prophecy that has been guarded by the magical community for eons. They know the signs. They know what this doomsday child looks like. The day Timothy Jackson Drake is born, the magical community turns its attention to stopping the prophecy, of sealing the creature away in human flesh and bone.

The problem is that nothing works. Every ritual and spells falls away to fate. It is written. Tim will bring upon the doom of the universe. So what if… they just don’t let him turn 18.

It works for a few years. Messing with time has side effects. People don’t remember but they do? Villains get smarter and tougher. Magic feels less potent as more and more is siphoned of to hold back the flow of time. Mutations occur, ripples in the time stream that twist ally to foe and foe to ally.

(They try to kill him. Three “years” into the whole mess, Tim falls asleep while Bruce and Kon hold his hands. And then he wakes up the next day, a whole day older, in his coffin during his funeral. No one ever mentions it (not enough remember and those that do can’t). The prophecy will not let him die before his time.)

It’s not possible to keep the whole world stuck. Some events can’t be undone. Natural disasters persist even as time doesn’t. Some people age. Some don’t. Damien grows. Dick and Jason and Steph and Cass and Duke and Bruce don’t. For “years” no one notices.

And then Damian is only a year younger than Tim and the inconsistencies become too much to handle. The magic breaks. The spell shatters leaving a gash in the world.

For the first time since his 17th birthday, Tim ages a day. And then a week. A month passes and he can feel his hair growing longer for the first time in six years and has a panic attack.

People start to remember. Bruce goes form 35 to 41 in a week. Dick complain about back problems and aching joints of a 30 year old.

But there is nothing they can do. It was always unsustainable. There’s discussions of trying new ways to kill him, to freeze him. But even a frozen bodies feels time.

His birthday is a countdown.

Damian refuses to give up even as everyone else does.

The whole hero community holds its breath as the last month approaches. They prepare for war.

Tim prepares for death. He makes his peace. He says his goodbyes. He writes letters. It’s like a terminal illness. There’s enough time to say goodbye. There’s not enough time to heal it.

Tim and Kon get married. Kon is 25 now and beautiful. Tim, as always, forever 17. But they won’t have enough time for anything else. The wedding is gorgeous, expensive, a little gaudy. Bruce pours all his energy into planning it. He can’t fix this. There’s nothing he can do to save his son but he can give him two perfect days. It’s beautiful and they record every minute of it.

(Jason is Tim’s best man. It’s funny. Laugh!)

Damian never gives up. He runs to the League, searching the depths of his grandfather’s library. Oh the hero’s asked Ra’s. They scoured the globe for solutions. No knowledge forbidden in an attempt to stop the apocalypse. But there are secrets only family can access, records so lost to time that Ra’s barely remembers them.

He takes Jon (17 and Damian only 16, once again similar in age) with him on the quest, runs himself ragged against mortal and supernatural foes alike. He nearly misses the wedding, surfacing just long enough for a day of family photos and tearful congratulations that do nothing but add to his feverish resolve.

(His family has lost so much, has suffered in ways no family should. He loves them. He aches for them. His brothers and sisters. His aging father. He can’t lose this family when they never got to have enough time.)

He finds a portal to the fea world. The space between dimensions full of holes after six “years” of holding back time. He spends six months within its borders and dances a deadly game of wit with Kings and Queens older than time and returns to the mortal plan to find only 3 days have passed.

He returns to the manor with an untried solution, one he had to pry from the lips of an undying seer trapped within the depths of a catacomb (hard won after outsmarting a face stealer, wondering through an impossible fog, and facing far too many dragons) two days before Tim’s birthday.

The blood ritual is done with all the family present. There is a gash along Damian’s neck that will never stop being angry red, magic always pulsing beneath the skin. But it is worth it to see the hope flare in his family’s eyes.

The solution is deceptively easy and terribly dangerous. You can’t stop fate but you can make it wrong. Tim’s creature blood will rise to the surface on his 18th birthday. But what if it comes a day early. There is a risk that it will all go wrong, that the creature will always ache for blood and death even without fate pulling it along. But, Tim argues, at least then he can die (no one finds this as reassuring as he’d hoped).

Bruce and Kon hold his hands — a parody of that moment three years ago when he fell asleep — and Tim braces for pain. But there is none, just a new taste of magic and the ease of his body morphing. Ears twisting into points, his hair turns feathery and fluffy, pupils spinning into triangles. There is more. Seams along his cheekbones and neck he knows can open into extra mouths and eyes. A tail curling along his spine. His tongue splits at the tip. But his limbs do not twist into anything inhuman (though maybe he could if he tried). And his mind — oh his soul — stays his.

As the clock strikes midnight on Tim’s 18th birthday, nothing happens.