Fascinating Idea. I’m Gonna Play With That

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

Tim: Oh yeah, Bruce was totally gonna kill Joker. But he did this while thing where right after you died he became the ambassador of Iran or something, so B killing him would've made it an international incident, so Clark stopped him.

Jason, who didn't even say anything to prompt this:

Jason: What the fuck? Can he even- The ambassador of Iran? What the fuck?

babysitting your work friend's kid and he asks to look at your patchwork quilt of a skull. wyd. inspired by Super Sons #6!

Having the time of my life with Batman and Robin: Year One.

I made these as a way to compile all the geographical vocabulary that I thought was useful and interesting for writers. Some descriptors share categories, and some are simplified, but for the most part everything is in its proper place. Not all the words are as useable as others, and some might take tricky wording to pull off, but I hope these prove useful to all you writers out there!

(save the images to zoom in on the pics)

authors jason todd can talk about who are NOT jane austen or mary shelley

okay SO. a couple of people indicated they would be interested in this which was honestly all the encouragement i needed. my credentials are that 1.) i love jason todd 2.) i love literature 3.) i got my bachelors degree in english like a week ago and am now in that awkward space in-between school and employment and am looking to fill my time with inconsequential geeking out. amen.

incomplete list of authors and works (romantic to modern) you could write about jason todd being invested in under the cut!!:

SOME DISCLAIMERS:

this list is not even a little bit exhaustive and there are authors big and small i elected not to include because i either felt like i didn’t know enough about their work to comment or i felt their work didn’t relate to jason todd, who is ostensibly the subject of this post

there’s also not a whole lot of detail on the history and context behind these authors and their works, because again, this is a silly tumblr post about the hypothetical reading preferences of a comic book character

while i do have a brand spanking new bachelor's degree in english i cannot claim expert knowledge, especially because most of my education was broad strokes in literature survey classes. i just have access to a lot of overpriced lit anthologies and a dream

also i need to say i LOVE jane austen and mary shelley. i’ve written jason referencing them before and will do it again but come on. there’s a whole world of english lit out there and most of this post is a transparent excuse to get people–including myself–to read more cool poems and stories 

NOW LETS FUCKING GOOOOO

william blake: (1757-1827) blake was a weird fucking guy. he was an artist and poet and he was very preoccupied with religious and esoteric imagery. check out his paintings; they’re all bleak and occasionally grotesque but deeply evocative and honestly?? rad as hell. i think jason would really get a kick out of them. blake’s most famous poem is probably "the tyger", but "london" and "holy thursday" from songs of experience do a great job of invoking a really grimy urban feel that would slide right into gotham. 

lord byron: (1788-1824) a guy described as “mad, bad, and dangerous to know;” which he certainly was. this guy got up to so much dark and broody bullshit that they named a whole character type out of him–byronic hero, anyone? he’s mostly on this list because jason could certainly be called byronic and the connection is too good to pass up, but i do think jason would really vibe with the apocalyptic imagery in "darkness."

okay FINE this doesn’t really have anything to do with jason but "ozymandias" is one of my favorite poems ever and well worth reading

john keats (1795-1821) possibly one of the most romantic out of all the romantic poets, right down to dying tragically young of consumption. i mean, just look at "bright star." i am personally of the opinion that jason is secretly a HUGE romantic, so he’d probably dig keats quite a bit. i would also be remiss if i didn’t nod to “ode on a grecian urn.” 

note the biographical links for the victorian authors direct to victorianweb.org, which is kind of an old reference but it is one i got directed to in one of my first lit classes, so i feel comfortable linking it as a jumping-off point. 

elizabeth barrett browning: (1806-1861) i actually already wrote a fic where jason referenced barrett browning but i’ll reiterate here. barrett browning was HUGELY influential within the victorian time period, probably best known for her verse novel, aurora leigh, about a brilliant young woman working to become an artist against the strictures society has placed on her. lots of really fascinating stuff about womanhood, art, and the intersections thereof within the victorian era. sonnets for the portuguese is another big work of hers, written for her future husband robert browning (a very talented and influential poet in his own right) during their courtship. sonnet 43 is probably the most well-known out of these, but i’m personally a big fan of sonnets 14 and 24. sonnets are great for if you need to write about jason being a weird sappy romantic or just if you want to read cool love poetry. 

alfred, lord tennyson: (1809-1892) there’s a LOT i could say about tennyson’s influence and impact on the victorian era and on poetry at whole that can’t fit into a tumblr post about the reading preferences of a semi-niche comic book character. for jason specifically, "in memoriam", written over the course of about three years after the sudden death of tennyson’s close friend, is a deeply moving meditation on grief, loss, and recovery that jason would likely find really impactful. cantos 54 and 56 are particularly impactful. how am i not supposed to resonate with a banger like “nature, red in tooth and claw”??? huh???

charlotte brontë: (1816-1854) charlotte brontë is best known for her 1847 novel jane eyre which, as a personal aside, is one of my absolute favorite books of all time. jane eyre is the one about the governess and the madwoman in the attic. (obviously, it’s more complex but i’m not getting into that in a tumblr post). jane eyre and brontë’s other two novels, shirley and villette deal with emotionality and strong feeling in ways jason would find very compelling, even if he probably spends most of jane wanting to (rightfully) punt edward rochester and st. john into the sun. jane is the most famous out of the three, but i think shirley is very underrated–i’m still thinking about shirley keeldar saying, and i quote, “bon voyage” after she rejects a proposal. shirley keeldar queen of my heart <3<3. i can’t mention charlotte without also mentioning her sisters emily and anne, but i’m less familiar with their work and can’t comment on it (but probably jason would be a big fan of the gothic leanings of wuthering heights). 

gerard manley hopkins: (1844-1889) hopkins does some REALLY fucking fascinating things with language in his poems. he plays around with sound and meter in ways that dip into modernity. "god’s grandeur" and "as kingfishers catch fire" are particularly good examples of this. "carrion comfort" is the kind of poem everybody should read at least once, and it’s also the kind of poem that jason todd would read and then lay down for a really long time about. 

william butler yeats (1865-1939) an extremely influential modernist poet, deeply associated with the modern irish independence movement and identity (for example, see “an irish airman” or “easter 1916”) which i just think is neat. yeats also wrote a lot about cycles of time and history and idk. i think that would really resonate with the guy who died that one time. i especially recommend checking out “the second coming” and  “sailing to byzantium.” 

t.s. eliot (1888-1965) pretty easily one of the defining modernist authors and critics of the era. “the love song of j. alfred prufrock” is another one of those poems everyone should read at least once and another one of those poems that jason todd would read and then lay down for a really long time about. “the waste land” is long but also really worth reading; but if you’re reading for jason todd specifically, you should take a look at sections i and v. 

there are so SO many more but this post is ah. long enough as is!! if you have any comments or thoughts or questions please feel free to reach out to me!! i’m not ever going to claim to be an expert on the subject, but i do love talking about this stuff :))

Okay everyone, help me pick an idea to fixate on. I have too many drafts and no self control.

Failed Experiment Kon: the learning modules being uploaded to Kon while he’s being grown fail to work properly. He wakes up early with almost no knowledge of the outside world. Luthor decides to scrap him for parts; enter young justice who vehemently disagree.

Broken Belfry: tensions are high after Bruce returns from the timestream. Tim is sick of being discredited and treated poorly so he leaves to make a new life for himself. Probably Tim/Kon

Black Sheep: All of the Wayne children have reasons to feel they don't belong. A series of vignettes exploring their relationships with their family.

Anything for you: Dick kills the joker and Bruce doesn’t stop him. Jason’s headstone bears the correct name. Bruce refuses to allow the memorial in the cave to remain. The Wayne’s publicly mourn and Tim never wears a dead boys colours. This changes things when Jason returns.

ooh interesting idea

I need more people to acknowledge that bruce is not gonna be a great parent, but i'll be damned if he doesn't try

His parents are dead, and as far as I've seen, the only real, not-explicitly-toxic relationship he has is with Alfred, his butler

and remember that, at least for a long while, as much as Alfred cared, he still drew a very clear (sometimes limiting) line between them as butler-and-master

so no Bruce does not know what he is doing with any of his relationships, familial or romantical

and no he probably will never really learn

he's going to make absoulutely horrible, relationship-ending choices, but can you truly look me in the eye and say that any batman does not truly love and value every single relationship he is in (asides from when dc butchers everyone's personalities)

so I need to see more fics like this,

a bruce who tries and fails,

who does not know how to deal with any of this,

and so hides behind a mask or a doof smile, uses his persona to try to deal with it, to try to cope

a broken batman who doesn't know what's wrong with him but desperately wants to fix it, only, if only, just to maintain whatever semblance of love he gets from his friends, his kids

maybe that's why he has so many, desperately searching for any warmth in the innocent's child eyes

fanfic writers where you at?

dan mora art appreciation post

Ahhhhh it’s heartbreaking and it’s beautiful!!!!

✮phone call✮ (~3k words) ao3

“This is the voicemail of Timothy Drake-Wayne. If this is an emergency, please contact my secretary, Tamara Fox. Otherwise, leave a message…” “Hey Timmy, it’s Dick! I just wanted to let you know that since like 15 religious holidays are around the corner, we would love it if you could join us for dinner. Uhm, yeah, and we were joking about baking cookies together with Alfred now that we’re all finally in New Jersey. He wants to get all his boys- rustling of clothes is audible OW, CASS- no, no, NO, no tickling- AND GIRLS- Dick laughing Alfie wants all of us together to bake cookies! Please send me a message when you hear this!Buh-Bye.”

Tim knew he had been avoidant toward his older brother ever since he returned. Well, it wasn’t just Tim’s return; it was his and Bruce’s.

Tim also knew that everyone had noticed something was wrong.

He hadn’t been able to rely on anyone from the caped community after he came back. All his former friends and allies were either dead, or worse: acted like he was. Nobody wanted to take the risk of working with a basically exiled, supposedly unstable vigilante.

Another big issue was their fear. Being from Gotham didn’t help his reputation when trying to build new connections. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was his semi-public battle with Ra’s al Ghul that scared them off. The only thing certain was that the ones who’d seen him since had noticed his avoidant behavior toward Nightwing and decided to stick to their more trusted friend's side.

Even at the Manor. Cass, who was barely there anyway, knew he stiffened whenever Dick entered the same room. And Damian? While he’d slowly started to respect Tim, he sensed the tension between the two and clearly chose the eldest brother’s side. It really did seem like everyone noticed.

Everyone but Dick.

It was like they were stuck in limbo. While Dick kept reaching out and inviting Tim, Tim kept trying to dodge and skip whatever new plan Dick had come up with.

He wished everything could go back to how it was before all the bullshit that tore them apart, but having Dick act like nothing ever happened? Expecting the same from Tim? Not even acknowledging the fact that he’d burned all the bridges Tim had left after losing almost all his friends and family- and then also Robin? Nah. Tim wasn’t about to let that go.

He knew better than to repeat mistakes. He was trained to do better. Under Bruce, he learned there was no space for errors. Under Lady Shiva, he learned mistakes could result in death. Under Ra’s, he learned to be better than to make any. He loved his siblings, but feeling that sense of abandonment again wasn’t something Tim could handle. A mistake he wouldn’t make again, he was sure of it.

He needed the hurt and fear, even if it haunted him like an itchy scab that refused to heal. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“A reminder that next time, I might not be lucky enough to get away alive.”

He could stretch and squeeze and keep going through his day, it wouldn’t rip open, it wouldn’t bleed, but he could always feel it. His skin pulling at a weird angle when he moved. The constant urge to scratch at it more but needing it to heal, so that finally all the annoying itching and pulling would stop. He was torn, between the dull ache of betrayal and the yearning for peace. For a hug from his brother.

He couldn’t even remember that sensation anymore. Hadn’t felt it in what felt like years.

Even so, Tim wasn’t angry. Hell, he didn’t even need an apology. At some point, he’d figured he needed one to heal. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe they needed a therapist. Or a lawyer. He didn’t know. What was he actually supposed to do? How was he supposed to act, to fix this? Opening up to Dick like that felt wrong.

He remembered a time when he and Dick were constantly talking. Together on patrol, on comms, in person, on the phone, during Dick’s lunch breaks or during Tim’s free periods at school. There was nothing one didn’t know about the other.

Before Dick gave Robin to Damian.Before he told Dick that Bruce was still alive; and was met with disbelief.

Tim knew that making this mistake wouldn’t kill him. But it would hurt—hurt in a way that most people only felt when watching a dog get abandoned by its owners. Hurt in a way that left him hollow, ripped apart and scraped clean. Afraid he had nothing left to give.

He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up on a rooftop with a Bat-Burger bag in his lap, and Dick sitting next to him. The relentless wind of Gotham whipped at them. The icy rain had just eased enough to let them eat without their food getting soaked.

They’d been eating in silence for a few minutes when Tim finally spoke up.

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“I have this friend…” Tim shivered, finishing his burger.

“Uh-huh.” Dick raised a single eyebrow, his mask quirking up.

“Well, listen-okay, so my friend kind of feels stuck right now.”

A loud sigh from Dick. “Don’t we all…” he added.

“Look, I wouldn’t come to you if I thought you wouldn’t understand. Maybe this is a bad time for this, but it’s kind of important to me, y’know? It’s just that-”

Suddenly the comms burst to life. Barbara’s voice crackled through.

“Nightwing and Red Robin, Batman is requesting backup for a possible Scarecrow attack. The Batmobile is en route, ETA 30 seconds.”

Tim sighed into the comm. “Affirmative, Oracle.”

The moment was already gone. Forgotten. He stood and began to prepare to scale down the building with his grapple.

Then he felt a hand on his ankle. He looked down. Dick was still sitting at the edge of the roof, looking up at him. Knowing his brother, Tim knew that behind the mask, Dick’s eyes were filled with worry.

“I really appreciate you coming to me for advice, you know. I missed our patrols together,” Dick said, tightening his grip on Tim’s ankle briefly. A small huff of laughter. “Want to talk about it later? I’ll even buy breakfast. From that diner we used to go to.”

Pure relief washed over Tim. This was the chance he’d been waiting for.

“Please,” Tim nodded at the masked man in front of him.

“Of course,” Dick answered earnestly, smiling as he let go of Tim’s ankle. Below them, the Batmobile pulled into the alley.

“This is Dick Grayson’s phone, you know the drill! Message after the beep!” “Hey Dick,uhm- I just wanted to know where you are? See you soon!”

“This is Dick Grayson’s phone, you know the drill! Message after the beep!” Caller did not leave a voicemail.

“This is the voicemail of Timothy Drake-Wayne. If this is an emergency, please contact my secretary, Tamara Fox. Otherwise, leave a message…” “Hey Timmy, just wanted to let you know that Jason said he’s coming to Easter breakfast at Wayne Manor, so Bruce is planning a get-together for the 20th and wants everyone to stay overnight. Alfred assured me that attendance is mandatory, just so you know. Dick chuckles audibly You can bring a plus one if you wish to, maybe Conner has time or something. I was seriously considering calling Kori, but Jason said he really needed a break from both her and Roy since things were a tad bit crazy the last time they talked. Maybe Wally isn’t busy yet actually… OKAY anyway, see youuu.”

“This is Dick Grayson’s phone, you know the drill! Message after the beep!” “Hey… I don’t think I’ll make it to Easter, actually. I have a Wayne Enterprises gala in Paris that day. Yeah… sorry… a shaking breath is audible You know, we never made it to breakfast last week. And actually- I’m kinda sick of this whole thing we keep doing, so let me just say this and let’s be done with it, alright? Honestly, it’s kind of hard to believe you haven’t noticed this before, but- we’re not okay. I get that Jason is back, and that Damian needed you when Bruce was gone, but you-Tim audibly clears his throat -you have to understand that I can’t just forget everything that happened. I know I seem grown and responsible and strong, but I also needed someone. It didn’t have to be you, but I was left with no one on my side. Doing this- the whole ‘asking-my-brother-for-advice’ thing; was me extending an olive branch. Can you believe I made up an entire elaborate story just to talk to you about something? This, all this, I don’t think I’m ready for it at all. I know you didn’t forget me on purpose, but I was there, y’know? The other morning. I sat at that stupid diner for four hours, just waiting for you to show up or to call me or to send me a stupid message. a sigh is audible I love you, man. And I respect the hell out of you, you know that. We’re busy people. We have busy lives. I know this isn’t some elaborate plot to hurt my feelings. I know you’re someone I can trust. But I think, as long as accidents like this make me feel like I have nowhere left to go and no one left to go to, we can’t keep doing this. I can’t let myself trust you like this only to fall on my ass again and again and again. We- I-I’m sick of this. Best option for me is to wait it out, I think. Until this, us meeting and things being weird and different and you forgetting me, doesn’t feel like a punch to the gut every fucking time. I appreciate you trying to invite me. Really, I do.Love you. Say happy holidays to everyone for me. Happy Easter, Dick.”

<Missed call from Dick>

<(2) missed calls from Dick>

“This is the voicemail of Timothy Drake-Wayne. If this is an emergency, please contact my secretary, Tamara Fox. Otherwise, leave a message…” “Tim- uhm, could you call me back when you get a second? I know you’re busy with WE business, but I think we have to try and talk about this… Please, Tim.”

Tim had avoided Gotham for months now.

He didn’t want to leave Gotham. Not the States. Not indefinitely. But once he sat down in the jet, wearing his stupidly expensive suit, on that windy April morning, he had to swallow down the bile rising up his throat.

He saw the missed calls and listened to Dick’s voicemail and wanted to respond, he really did. But then he opened Instagram and immediately felt a pit settle in his stomach.

It was stupid to feel hurt about this, but looking at the Instagram post Dick had uploaded not three hours ago, he couldn’t help it. It was a nice family photo- Duke and Steph smiling brightly next to each other, and all the other Waynes entangled in some kind of a fight-hug with Bruce standing behind everyone, looking at them with quiet awe.

It was a nice family picture. But the caption, “Waynes reunited again”-that stung.

Rationally, Tim knew feeling like shit about this was dumb. But the sirens in his head were blaring. He had withstood so much- but this? This was his breaking point?

He’d stood tall and waited for months on end, enduring the twisting ache in his chest, convincing himself that if he just held on, it would settle on its own.

But something had to give.

And this time, it was Tim.

This was over.

He put his phone down, asked to exit the jet, and he left.

And maybe he did heal at first. He was sure he did.

He missed everyone at home, especially Young Justice; but he didn’t dare call out to Kon, or try to reach Bart from a payphone. Cassie was probably still pissed at him for leaving the first time, so she wasn’t an option either.

And somewhere in between passing out in a small French forest thirty miles from the Parisian suburbs, and seeing the Mediterranean Sea for the first time, he started to forget. About the people he’d left behind- like they’d left him.

But then he woke up one night somewhere along the Côte d’Azur and felt like he was in his childhood bedroom. Thick clouds hung over the moon, barely letting it peek out for a few seconds before swallowing it in silver mist again.

He just laid there, lost in the memory of a life he lived a decade ago.

When he first opened his eyes, he swore he smelled his mother’s perfume lingering in the air. It was strangely comforting. He wondered if an old bottle still stood somewhere in Drake Manor.

He remembered the times she would wake him in the middle of the night and press a kiss to his forehead, that same scent surrounding her like a cloud. Whispering softly, “We have arrived home, Timothy. Sleep well.”

He thought about the time when Bruce and Dick were living down the street from him, and he would sneak out on icy nights to watch them run across the rooftops. They didn’t know him. And he didn’t really know them.

Their only interactions ever were polite handshakes at galas or parties the Drakes attended.

There were no negative emotions between them. No sense of abandonment.No heavy years of pain and suffering.No kidnappings. No Scarecrow attacks.No drug-ring busts.No fighting.

Just… nothing.

A simple, polite neutrality.

And yet, somehow, neutrality left him with less than nothing. He knew he couldn’t come home yet.

And yet.

One night Tim quietly slipped out of his small, temporary apartment in nothing but a sweat shirt and shorts. He was a mess, almost dizzy with too many thoughts swirling through his head in an endless loop. The wind picked up and within a minute a heavy summer rain engulfed him completely, soaking through his clothing. To his luck he found shelter in an old dimly lit phone booth, completely overgrown with vines on a hidden side street. He was cold, wet, exhausted and wanted to clear his head, or just to stop worrying.

It probably was a stupid idea but he threw the change in his pocket into the old machine and typed in an all too familiar number, one he hadn’t dialled in months.

The rusted display began to glow and to his surprise he heard it ring two times before someone picked up.

“Hello?” Dick’s voice was gruff; probably half asleep and confused. It felt weird to catch Dick in a moment of vulnerability and made Tim want to throw the receiver back at the pay phone and disappear.

“Hey…It’s me.” He instead said softly.

A beat of silence then-

“Tim?”

“Yeah. I’m not- I don’t have reason to call. I just-“ Tim sighed heavily “I don’t know.”

Tim could hear Dick drawing in a breath.

“You can always call me, you don’t have to have a reason.”

Tim couldn’t help but pull a grimace and close his eyes, the words felt like they went from his ear directly to the pit in his stomach. The distance, the guilt, the hurt were still waiting there, ready to be unearthed. Then he told Dick, voice curt to try and hide the hurt, “It wasn’t always like that.”

A heavy silence followed and the static in Tim’s ear crackled as he waited for Dick to say something- anything.

“That’s fair, I probably deserved that.” Dick answered, and Tim couldn’t help but wince at the hurt he heard in the others voice.

“This- I couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts, I feel like I am struggling under this heavy burden even though all of it’s over. Bruce is back- everyone’s back. It’s just me who’s gone.” His voice was tight and he knew he sounded exhausted, he leaned against the cool glass of the phone booth and bumped the back of his head against the wall repeatedly.

“Are you save?” Dick asked him after another silent pause that felt like years.

Tims voice broke, “Yeah, just trying to be… better? I don’t know…” he breathed out heavily.

“I’m sorry, Tim. For everything, I never wanted to hurt you like this.” Dick said with a raw voice. “You never should have gone through all that alone, and I just-“ his voice broke and Tim’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to cry, not here, not on the phone to Dick, thousands of miles away from Gotham.

“I feel like I lost you, Tim. I never wanted that, I never thought I could screw us up like this…” Tim could almost hear Dick fraying at the edges. And the only growing summer storm, pounded against the phone booth, drowning out the static that rang through the speaker as they both sat in silence again.

Dick spoke up again first, “I’m sorry, Tim.”

And Tim didn’t know what to say, in his ideal world, he’d give his brother a hug and tell him that all was forgotten- but in that world, none of the heavy and soul crushing shit would have happened to him in the first place.

“I- I’m not coming back. Not yet.” Was the only thing he managed to wring out himself to say in fear of breaking down.

“I know,” Dick said softly.

Another pause.

Tim knew what to say, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, every word felt like it fought it's way out.

“I might call again.”

“I’ll be here. I’ll pick up.”

Tim swore he could feel something move in his chest like a weight falling off him.

“Goodbye, Dick.” He whispered into the receiver.

“Goodnight, Tim. Love you.” Dick said and for the first time in a long time, Tim believed him.

The soft tone of a disconnected call buzzed in the receiver and Tim stood still listening to it for a moment before he placed it back on the hook.

And the rain outside kept pouring.

PROMPT OF THE WEEK: phone call

its almost 1 am if u find any grammar/vocab mistakes you can keep em. ya no entiendo nada

thank you! @anyknot for the wonderful promt <3

divider by @cafekitsune

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