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things you might not know about ao3 but seem obvious in hindsight:

ao3 = archive of our own (three o’s)

the logo is “ao3” stylized

orphan_account isn’t one author but rather the name all accounts are given once they’re orphaned

bookmarks are public by default

once given, kudos can’t be taken back

drafts get automatically deleted quickly so use a different drafting platform to avoid that

you need an ao3 account to view locked fics and it doesn’t take long to apply & get one

ao3’s archive software is open source and free to use

you can change the way the site looks on your phone/computer

ao3 is run entirely on donations

no really, read why here

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events rich people go to that aren’t galas because y’all write as if the waynes are going to galas every single week:

-charity event/fundraiser

-banquet

-grand opening of some fancy place/ribbon cutting ceremony

-holiday party

-dinner at the country club

-horse race

-the opera/the theatre/the orchestra

-fuckin yacht clubs or yacht parties or something

-golf tournament (is that what a golf competition is called? a tournament?)

-HUGE wedding

-housewarming party for someone’s new mansion

-art auction

obviously i’m not rich so i don’t do stuff like this and this list is mostly a reference for myself for when i need to write them going to an event and don’t want it to be a gala

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looking for fics about your favorite character on ao3 be like:

dont care

dont care

dont care

what the actual fuck

dont care

ooh that sounds- what the fuck

unfinished

don't care

the best fic ive ever read in my life. this absolutely ruined me and ill never be the same ever again

dont care

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Bruce says that his "true self" is his disguise. But Dick doesn't believe him.

Bruce keeps saying how important it is to notice the little details. And Dick does. He notices how Bruce's shoulders relax when they make it home after patrol, the slight change in tone as he tells Dick to wash up and head to bed. He notices how Bruce rolls his eyes at his puns, with a slight smirk that he tries to hide. How he ruffles Dick's hair and calls him "chum". Whatever the hell that means.

Most damning of all, Dick knows how Bruce peaks in on him after he's done in the Batcave. It scared Dick at first, for this... stranger to watch him while he slept. But one night, Dick decided to stay up a bit longer to finish a chapter in his psychology textbook Bruce made him read. If he finished it tonight, then he would have the next day free from Bruce's homework.

He startled a bit when the door creaked open. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Bruce whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Bruce shrugged. "I just... saw the light on and wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." Dick reassured.

"Okay. Not too much longer though." Bruce quietly shut the door behind him.

"Batman's the mask, huh?" Dick thought to himself, turning back to the last paragraph. "Yeah, right."

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Adopted Damian AU Index

Brief overview of the AU

Arc 1: Who's your Daddy?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Arc 2: Welcome to the family

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Interlude

Part 8

Arc 3: A Breaking Point

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Interlude

Part 13

Arc 4: What could have been

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Arc 5: Who’s Really Your Daddy

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Interlude

Part 24

Part 25

Arc 6: 4th of July

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Interlude

Part 40

Arc 7: Mother Dearest

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

Part 44

Part 45

Part 46

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reminder that being against ai also means being against character.ai and not using character.ai and not interacting with character.ai

i've never talked to chatgpt i've never talked to character.ai i have no interest in talking to a chatbot even if it's fun or based on my comfort character. if we want companies to stop using ai we need to tell them we aren't going to interact with it - so don't.

don't talk to robots. full stop.

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I’m rereading Firework by paganpunk2 on FanFiction.net, so I’ll probably be posting a lot of excerpts from that fic, and I might even post other excerpts from the series it’s in, but I came across the first thing I want to share. It’s when Dick first noticed the entrance to the batcave, before he had any idea Bruce is Batman. Bruce is carrying Dick to his bedroom. Also, it’s the one week anniversary of his parents’ deaths, they died a bit after 8pm.

"Mmph…Bruce?" was asked sleepily as he picked him up.

"Hey there," he greeted. "Got kind of tired, did you?"

"Yeah…I don't have to go to bed yet, do I?"

There was a note of fear in his voice that made the billionaire's step falter slightly. "Well, we're going to get you in bed, at least," he explained as they reached the hallway. "But Alfred thought you might like to have a cookie before you went to sleep."

"…Will he let me have it there?"

"I'll tell you a secret; he's a terrible pushover when you're hurt or sick. Don't abuse that knowledge, but…be aware of it. It's good to know."

"Okay." A beat passed. "…Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"What…what time is it?"

"About eight forty-five. Nineish. Somewhere in there." …The show started at eight. Please don't think about that, kiddo, he begged silently. Please don't remember that a week ago now they were already dead.

"…You know your clock's wrong?"

He almost froze. No. You did not already notice that. How can I keep things you don't need to know about from you if you see everything? "What clock?" he asked, playing clueless.

"The one back there, in the hall a little past your study door. It says the wrong time."

"Oh, that clock." Shit. You're as bad as Alfred is, spotting all the little details. It's fantastic, but…also inconvenient. "It always says that time. It's been broken for years," he lied. "But I like it too much to get rid of it."

"Oh." He tilted his face back down into the man carrying him's shoulder. "I'm glad you already know about it, then."

"Yeah, I know about it." You have no idea, trust me. "But thanks for telling me."

There are so many things I love about Dick’s portrayal in this series. The biggest one is that it doesn’t undermine how smart he already was before he met Bruce while still portraying him as a very adorable child. Anyway, I’m going back to reading :)

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OKAY I am writing short stories every day and I’m good at like, chapters and scenes but not whole fics and it’s driving me so insane. I’m better at mundane moments that show a bit of character development, like when Dick starts to actually trust Bruce. Or when Lois realizes she has feelings for Clark and not Superman. Or when Superman is interviewed by Lois the first time and tells her he’s an alien. Or when Bruce makes the decision to let Dick become Robin. The main fics I’m working on right now are an origin for Batman and Robin which I want to become a whole series, so a very lengthy fic about how he became Robin, and another fic about how he stopped being Robin. I want to do all the Robins in order like that. Each Robin gets an origin fic and a conclusion fic. I want Jason to be the only Robin with one fic to represent his life getting cut short. I want my Clark and Lois centered Superman fic to have at least two parts: the first where he becomes Superman and the main villain he eventually meets is Metallo, and the second one is where Lex Luthor comes in as a main villain. He also meets Batman in the second fic. I just have SO MANY IDEAS but they’re all not tied to a main villain arc and I KNOW any superhero fic needs a main villain, sometimes multiple like an organization or whatever. I JUST NEED A STORYLINE that’s MORE than the obvious “Dick Grayson’s parents get murdered and he becomes Robin” or “Clark Kent gets a job at the Daily Planet and becomes Superman” like everyone KNOWS that. I want to make up things and plots and stories but I am just completely incapable of just coming up with it so easily. If I ever do come up with anything, I bet it’ll take MONTHS to even have a rough draft and it’s driving me insane. I have so many chapters in Dick’s origin story and I honestly love so much of what I write that I go back and reread it sometimes for fun because I just love it. But I can’t make it into a concrete STORY and I am FUMING.

It’s likely that I’ll post excerpts here to see if people like it and also hopefully if they suggest where I can take the story and the characters but I’m also worried that if I do that, the stories I post here will end up in a completed fic and people will have to reread a chapter and I’m slightly against that for some reason even though I would totally love that if it were someone else’s. What is wrong with me 😭

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I'm A Good Pretender - Chapter 2: I Got Lots Of Problems

By shipNslash on AO3

My last post was an excerpt from the first chapter of this fic. I've finished it now and I like most of it, but there's something in Chapter 2 that I just have to talk about. This whole fic is a Robin origin story. It has seven chapters, so it drawfs in comparison to the 'Firework' fic by paganpunk2 on fanfiction.net (I posted about that too, maybe my favorite fanfic ever). Still, I really like it. It's written with excerpts from days. It starts with day zero, where Dick's parents are killed and Bruce comforts him. Day one is him meeting Alfred at the orphanage, and it goes all the way to day 262, where Commissioner Gordon meets Robin.

Anyway, in this particular excerpt, Dick is scheming to sneak out of Wayne Manor and kill Tony Zucco himself, and has to guilt trip Bruce in order to be alone long enough to escape even though he feels bad about it. He likes Bruce, but he isn't quite a father figure to him, yet. Dick has inherited Bruce's old bedroom, something very sentimental to Bruce. The excerpt starts with Bruce giving a tour of his old room. Bruce also gave Dick a note, saying to ring the service bell when he wakes up. He does, and it calls Bruce to his room. Dick keeps the note in his pocket. Also, a slight trigger warning for mentions of sexual abuse against a child.

So Bruce awkwardly shows Dick around the cavernous bedroom. The dresser is full of generic clothes in his size and Bruce promises they can get his stuff from their trailer later today and go shopping soon for anything he's missing. He shows him how to work the computer at the desk and the TV on the wall, and even points towards the staff lift at the end of the hallway that will take him directly to the kitchen. The bathroom is in the bedroom and almost as huge, with a sink and toilet and a big shower/bathtub combo already filled with a bunch of different soaps.

"I wasn't sure what you'd need," Bruce mumbles when Dick comments on the variety. "We have different hair types."

That's…surprisingly thoughtful, Dick thinks, and Bruce's folded note feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket.

He ignores the guilt and smiles. "Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it."

"I want you to be comfortable here," Bruce whispers back, even quieter than normal.

Dick pushes the guilt down, down, down. Now is as good a time as any and Bruce is already uncomfortable. Now if Dick can just get him to leave…

(Never talk about sex, Mama always says, grown ups hate when kids even mention sex.)

"What about rules?" Dick asks, pitching his voice a little higher and widening his already big eyes just a little bit bigger. "One of the older boys at the detention center said rich people only foster kids to warm their beds. I don't know what that means, but I'll try, if you teach me."

And bingo.

Bruce's pale skin goes practically gray and he flinches back until he's outside of the bathroom. "That- No, I- You won't ever-"

"Did I say something wrong?" Dick asks, adding in a small sniffle and not letting up on the eye contact. (He's already learned that Bruce Wayne hates eye contact.)

The man is still backpedaling, now well to the hallway. "No! No. I'll… see you at breakfast." When he steps out of the room, his shoulders sag. "Kitchen. Eight." And then he's gone, latching the door shut behind him.

Dick sighs and flops against the bed. That was almost too easy. He feels… kinda bad.

Still. Eight o’clock. That's just over three hours, according to the clock on the wall.

"Alright," he mumbles to himself and carefully rocks to his feet. "Like Mama says, make a list."

So, he does.

Stretch my poor, atrophying muscles

Shower off the scent of the detention center

Find out where Haly's went

Sneak out

Catch and murder Tony Zucco

Run away to (re)join the circus 

There, that doesn't seem hard now that he's made a list- Mama's always right.

Something about "I don't know what that means, but I'll try if you teach me," is literally so well written. Obviously, gross, but Dick using something that makes Bruce obviously uncomfortable to his advantage against Bruce is so Dick coded. Dick absolutely knew what it meant and purposefully used it to horrify Bruce. Guilt tripping Bruce Wayne is so easy, as long as you're Dick Grayson. He's a little gremlin and I love it. Also, the list he makes is adorable, literally went from zero to a hundred real quick.

[dcficrecs]

I'm a Good Pretender

By on shipNslash on AO3

I just finished the first chapter of this, so my apologies if the rest of the fic isn't as good, but the last line of the first chapter was actually so genius I had to share. Minor spoilers for how Dick finds out Bruce is Batman, I guess. Although everyone knows that he does find out eventually, so the only spoiler is how. In this scene, Batman is interrogating Tony Zucco's old cellmate. He refuses to talk and Batman just knocks him out.

The whimpering tapers off until it's just blubbering and then nothing but unconscious breathing. Batman drops him with a sigh, stopping only to zip tie his hands to his apartment radiator.

What a waste of his time-

Creak.

Batman freezes, melting into the shadows out of instinct more than any sort of training. He peeks around the corner, ready for- for…

For anything but that.

Crawling in through the seventh story apartment window is a young Richard Grayson, dark jeans and black hoodie the only thing separating him from the glittering Gotham backdrop of flickering street lamps and red and blue sirens. He pads across the creaky floor on silent feet and stops only when he sees the unconscious resident.

The boy mutters something in an unfamiliar language but it's clearly a swear.

Bruce, never one to waste a dramatic entrance, steps forward a foot. "It's a little late to be out of bed, Richard Grayson," he whispers, voice still as loud as a gunshot in the silence.

"Câcat!" To his credit, when the kid jumps three feet in the air, he lands without a sound. Even more impressively, he doesn't have any other reaction besides for dropping a hand almost imperceptibly into his pocket- a weapon? "Holy fuck. You're Batman."

He cocks his head to the side, trying to get a clearer shot with his contacts. "Yes. How’d you scale seven flights of an exposed building?”

"I’m good at climbing,” the boy says dismissively. “You know my name. Why?" Chin tilted back, eyes a bright splash of anger in the dark- Richard is more confident in this moment than Bruce Wayne has ever been in his entire life.

Instead of answering, Batman nudges the man between them with his boot. "I know it's not a coincidence that you're here. What was your plan?" He's burning with curiosity.

"I- I was going to make him tell me where Tony Zucco is. I know he killed my parents and the last person he associated with was this piece of shit." Richard sounds angry. Fascinating. "What'd you do? He’s not dead, is he?"

"I don't kill people, Richard."

"Stop saying my fucking name unless you tell me how you know it."

Bold.

"Your face has been in the news a lot lately. I've been trying to solve your case."

The kid seems to crumple. "...why? The police obviously don't give a shit."

"That's not true. It's not exactly police procedure to discuss the details of a double homicide with the couple’s orphaned eleven year old." Bruce almost winces -that wasn't good socializing- but Batman doesn't care about those types of things so, for now, neither does Bruce.

Richard doesn't seem to care either. "First I'm going to catch him and then I'm going to kill him. And if you think anything is going to stop me, you're not as smart as they say," he spits out.

Bruce almost laughs, if only in disbelief. Who is this kid?

Instead, he pages Gordon with the address. There's usually an officer patrolling this block. "Listen, kid-"

"Dick."

"Excuse me?"

"My name." God, Bruce feels like he's looking in a mirror. For all that the boy doesn't look anything like an eleven year old Bruce Wayne, that burning rage is achingly familiar. "Nobody in this stupid fucking city might care about me, but I have a name and it's not Richard," he spits like a swear. "It's Dick. Dick Grayson."

Okay, now you know how he met Batman. Here's how he met Bruce (The second time, anyway. The first is at the circus, after his parents' murders). And for context, Miss Lopez is Dick's social worker. More context is that Alfred met with Dick at the orphanage and said that Bruce offered to buy Dick's parents' trailer and all their belongings and give it to Dick whenever he was ready.

Carefully pulling on a more refined accent (Mama loves southern France, she thinks their dialect is ‘fancy’), he jerks to his feet and gasps. “Mister Pennyworth! You came!”

“I told you I would,” the old man says simply, pushing the door all the way open.

And behind him stands-

“Do you remember Mister Wayne, Richard?”

Dick almost collapses under the weight of-

Strong arms, wrestling him to the ground. “Don’t look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just don’t look.”

So, yeah, maybe he’s off his game a little, but the first thing that pops out of Dick’s mouth is, “you don’t look like a billionaire.”

Mister Pennyworth laughs in a distinctly British way while said billionaire makes a face that Dick would hazard to describe as a pout. “It’s early,” he mumbles, shoving his pale hands into the pouch of his hoodie.

Aw hell, Dick thinks and suddenly feels guilty. Even though he really shouldn't because it’s true. He’s dressed like a homeless person, layers of old clothes and mismatched aesthetics, and he even has a ratty backpack over his shoulders. Shouldn’t a billionaire have someone to carry his stuff for him?

They’re saved from the awkwardness by Miss Lopez, who sweeps into the room in her usual chaotic way, her stupidly big bag overflowing with all the stuff she never seems to need.

She doesn’t even acknowledge the two men already in the room. “Really, Richard? Again?” She asks, sounding so tired.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whimpers. (He’s not). “I won’t do it again, Miss Lopez, I swear!” (He will.)

He watches her deflate. “Oh, Richard. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Can’t I just go back to-”

“Please don’t bring up the circus again-”

“But it’s where I belong-”

Mister Wayne interrupts, his voice painfully quiet. (Mama says enunciation makes the difference between talking and speaking.) “I'll take him.”

…what?

Dick and Miss Lopez both freeze. She just now seems to realize that they’re not alone and Dick can pinpoint the exact moment she recognizes who’s standing in front of her.

“Oh my god. You’re- Oh my god. Hello, Mister Wayne!” She gushes, the hand not holding up her stupidly big bag reaching up to swipe at her hair.

Mister Wayne doesn’t exactly look like the type of person to judge someone for a bad hair day but even Dick feels the urge to fidget under the weirdly intense stare. He knows better, though, and keeps himself perfectly still while Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth start talking about things like state certified foster homes and mandatory wait periods and generous donations.

He follows along with that side of the conversation with perfect ease. People with enough money can do whatever they want and Mister Wayne has ‘more money than God’ according to the cop who brought him in. The only thing he doesn’t understand is…

“Why?” He asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

Intense eyes lock onto him. “Hm?”

“Why are you offering to help me?” Dick asks. He knows he’s blowing his act. The optimistic orphan would never look a gift horse in the mouth. But he just doesn’t get it. “You don’t even know me.”

Mister Wayne shifts so that he’s facing Dick head on instead of Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth, who are looking over a thick legal document. “You don’t have to. I’ll still help in any way I can. If you'd rather try a different foster home, I'll pay for a lawyer,” he murmurs and Dick gets the impression that this is more talking than Mister Wayne has done in a long time.

To be fair, he seems harmless. Dick doubts he’s a pervert or something. There are plenty of less famous orphans he could have snatched up if all he wants is to cop a feel. And he definitely isn’t a good actor, so this has to be at least a little genuine.

When Dick doesn’t answer, Mister Wayne sighs and crouches so that they’re almost eye level. He’s very tall and Dick is very not tall, okay? And he doesn’t say any stupid shit either, like ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘how are you doing?’ that everyone else seems so insistent on. Instead, he pulls an envelope out of his backpack and offers it to Dick wordlessly..

“Um. Thanks.” Dick takes it, checking to make sure that Miss Lopez isn’t watching before opening it-

Holy fucking shit.

Mama and Papa’s faces smile back at him, a chubby cheeked Dick balancing on their shoulders in front of the Eiffel Tower.

This time, the tears in his eyes are real. “Mister Wayne…”

“I want to help, Dick,” he whispers.

There’s a long list of thoughts running through Dick’s head right now.

He’d somehow forgotten that Mister Wayne has his parent’s trailer. He wants to kiss the picture of his family, safely sealed inside of a little plastic bag. He knows that he’s going to juvie. He knows that Mister Wayne is his best chance at getting out of juvie. He knows it’ll be way easier to sneak out of some big mansion than it will be to break out of a detention center. He knows that Tony Zucco is still alive and roaming free.

But all he can think about is the fact that he’s only told one person in this god forsaken city his real name and it was Batman. So why did Bruce fucking Wayne just call him Dick?

Literally holy shit. I love obscure details that the reader can miss, sometimes is supposed to miss, becoming important later on. I sure as hell missed it.

This fic is good so far, but one thing I know I don't like is the tags saying that Dick's parents were slightly abusive. That's just too out of character for them for me. But I am really into any 'Dick Grayson becoming Robin' fics right now, so I'm trying not to be picky. If this fic does end up being good despite that, I'll probably post more excerpts here.

[dcficrecs]

brilliant (like a confession)

By kathkin on AO3

After knowing Clark Kent for eight years, Lois finally realizes she is in love with him. She obviously can't go to Clark about this situation, so she goes to the only other decent man she knows to seek advice from: Superman. Clark decides he cannot play this charade in front of her for any longer.

I love this fic for so many reasons. Clark Kent and Lois Lane are my favorite couple of all time and I think the description of Lois' feelings in this fic are so spot on. Lois knows Clark was in love with her when they first met, but assumes that he had simply gotten over it after so much time. She's wrong. I'm gonna include two of my favorite moments from it. The first is when she first realizes she's in love with him:

It’s hard to stay cynical in the face of Clark Kent and his relentless optimism. Looking at him there, still in his button up shirt from his business trip, sleeves rolled up, still focused even though it’s pushing midnight, she feels a warm, steady wave of fondness in her chest.

She wishes they could do this every night. Not the pulling a furious all-nighter right after someone tried to murder her – that part she could take or leave. But it would be nice to spend every evening with Clark. She’d always told herself she liked her space, but being with Clark was like having space and having company rolled into one.

It would be nice to have dinner with him every night. To just – come home with him every night, and eat dinner, and wash the dishes and watch TV together. It would be nice to have him in her life, all the time.

Then her highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived brain catches up with the implications of that thought process, and she thinks, shit.

Oh, not now. She can’t deal with this right now. She’s had enough drama for one day. She’s in the middle of a story and she doesn’t have the time or the space or the emotional energy or the – anything to deal with –

My second favorite moment is when Clark tells Lois he's Superman, and you can see Lois' thought process and emotions shift when she starts looking at things from his perspective:

She’s thought before, that Superman must be lonely. He’s gotta be, right? It’s lonely at the top. That’s what they say. He’s the only one of his kind on earth. The only one in the whole universe, maybe.

It’s one thing to think about that loneliness in an abstract way – to picture him alone in his ice palace, doing whatever it is he does when he’s not being a hero. It’s another thing to be confronted with the raw and immediate reality of that loneliness.

To spend eight years – longer, maybe – not letting your guard down, not even letting anyone hear your real voice. To be afraid to even touch anyone, in case you broke them. How did a person live like that.

The thing was – there were a lot of different directions you could look at this conversation from. She’s been turning and turning it over in her head for coming up on twenty-four hours and she’s still not sure she’s seen them all.

There’s Clark Kent is Superman but also Superman is Clark Kent, which in spite of sounding the same on paper were entirely different experiences, emotionally speaking. There was Clark Kent is an alien; there was Superman lives in a shitty apartment in south Metropolis and works as a reporter, which was a real blow-your-mind realisation. Superman once watched me throw up – god, what a mortifying thought.

Clark Kent had dropped everything and flown from LA to Metropolis to keep her safe. He’d flown three thousand miles to catch her in his arms.

Superman had come to her apartment with dinner to make sure she was okay. Superman had sat up with her for hours, while she was stressed out over her work and more rattled by the near death experience than she’d been willing to let on.

Now that she thought about it, this wasn’t the first time some version of this particular series of events had played out. She remembers a night – early on, maybe a year or two in – after that first incident with Brainiac. He’d sat with her till the sun came up, till her hands had stopped shaking – he’d politely pretended not to notice, that her hands were shaking. They’d watched a movie. She doesn’t remember which movie.

He's always been there.

Something about Lois realizing that Clark has always been there for her when it counts tickles my brain. I also love how the whole idea of being Superman makes him kind of lonely. In this fic, he has two different voices for Clark and Superman, yet none of them are his natural voice. Superman's voice is strong and commanding while Clark's is quite and unassuming. Lois notices this and realizes that Clark/Superman has literally been acting brave half the time and acting weak the other half of the time when he truly feels like he is somewhere in between. Also the short story of Lois being so traumatized by some early event with Brainiac that she spends an entire night physically shaking, and Clark is there for her, treating her like a normal person and only wants for her to feel better is so incredible and so telling of who he is as a person, and how much he cares for her.

Anyway, read this if you haven't yet. It's brilliant.

[dcficrecs]

In my last post, I mentioned a series called "Spark in the Dark" by paganpunk2 on FanFiction.net. The first fic in the series is a retelling of Dick Grayson's Robin origin story, and the first installment has 300k words and a hundred chapters. There are seventeen fics in this series, so I'm just going to put the links to all of them in order so I can reread them all in proper order later (the layout of FanFiction.net does not let you save a series as far as I know and it sucks) and in case anyone else wants to read them:

Firework - The story of how Dick Grayson was adopted by Bruce Wayne and starts his crime fighting career as Robin to avenge his parents' murder

Summer Shorts - Short stories about Dick's first summer under Bruce's care

Batfairy - Dick loses a tooth but doesn't believe in the tooth fairy (He is 8 or 9 in this fic)

The Princely Pardon - The Wayne family household has had this tradition of eating a freshly turkey every Thanksgiving, meaning the bird is still alive when it comes to Wayne Manor to be killed for dinner. Dick does not like that idea, so he does what he can to save the turkey

Of Friends and Foes - Dick is having a hard time at school making friends when he meets another young hero, Kid Flash

A Frivolous Holiday - It is Valentine's Day at Dick's school, so Alfred reluctantly helps him make some cards for his classmates.

A Weekend in Bruges - Bruce Wayne is required to go to Bruges, Belgium for a business trip while Dick is sick and Alfred is out of town. Bruce does not cope well with missing his son.

Turkey Song - Dick's pet is nearing the end of its life and he learns about one of the first cases the Justice League ever worked on, and the reason for his pet's sudden demise

Camp Batman - Batman, Robin, Flash, and Kid Flash go camping to help teach them some survival skills.

A Haunting in Central City - Robin and Kid Flash go trick or treating an encounter their first haunted house

Sick Day - Dick comes home from school sick, and Bruce spoils him

Hope - Clark Kent spends the new years with Bruce and Dick, written from Clark's perspective as if it were a journal entry

Instant Gratification - Bruce has Dick complete an exam every two weeks to enrich his education and help him as Robin. Dick becomes inpatient when Bruce is grading his exam.

Phenom - A group of aerialists come to Gotham and Dick watches the show with his best friend Wally West, also known as Kid Flash. Watching aerialists perform makes Dick sad about his past and his old family.

The Boy in the Box - Clark Kent gave Bruce a flash drive containing what he called "Dick's childhood," which was performances of The Flying Graysons

The Ache of Cowardice - This is the only entry in the Spark in the Dark universe that's rated M for mature, and for good reason. HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD: It has graphic depictions of sexual abuse against children and child trafficking. The story is that Dick gets injured as Robin and is forced to go to the hospital (as a civilian), Bruce Wayne almost loses custody because of an evil person who has his own malicious motives. While this is happening, Batman uncovers an absolutely disgusting ploy in Gotham

To Catch A Predator - Bruce, Dick, and Alfred go on a family vacation to a small town known for it's fishing scene and find evidence of crimes being committed that only Batman and Robin can solve, only Batman and Robin left their uniforms at home. Despite the title, this fic is not rated M and does not have any depictions of the crimes committed in the show with the same name

The final fic was last updated 12 years ago in 2012. Although the account was last updated in 2021, nothing has been added to this amazing series. Even though it is incomplete, it doesn't really end on a cliffhanger so if you do choose to read it, you don't have to worry about that. Wherever you are, paganpunk2, I hope you're doing well :)

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Turkey Song

By paganpunk2 on FanFiction.net

This fic is part of a series called "Spark In The Dark" that is unfortunately unfinished, the last published entry to the series being last updated in 2012. The first entry to the Spark In The Dark series is called Firework, and it is a Robin origin story with 300k words and a hundred chapters. Although I prefer Dick Grayson becoming Robin about a year or two after Batman appearing in Gotham and this fic has it happen after about eight years or more, it's still incredible and I would encourage all Dick Grayson/Robin fans to read it.

The premise to Turkey Song is really hard to explain so I'm not even going to bother, but basically Dick ends up with a pet turkey that dies and he gets so upset about it that he cries in his sleep. Alfred becomes sort of distant seeing Dick grieving for his pet, and Bruce gets a bit mad at him because Bruce doesn't know how to deal with grief either and Alfred is basically not helping, so Bruce decides to finally talk to Alfred about it. That's all you really need to know for this excerpt:

"Master Wayne," Alfred nodded to him as he entered the kitchen. "How is the young master?"

"Asleep. Still crying," his grimace deepened, "but...asleep."

"You didn't leave him alone?!"

"No. Clark's with him."

"Ah." The butler gave him an appraising look, and then a faint smile. "I'm quite pleased to see that your attitude towards Mister Kent has improved of late. It's a good thing, I think, for all three of you."

"Mm," Bruce frowned. It was true that his jealous animosity towards the Kryptonian had cooled somewhat over the past few months, but that wasn't what he'd come down to talk about. Sensing that the other man knew as much and was trying to avoid the heart of the matter, he grew agitated. "Alfred...where were you tonight?"

"...I beg your pardon, sir?" He glanced around from the dough he was kneading. "I don't understand."

"Where were you?" the billionaire repeated, his voice growing terse. "You kept running in and out of the shed, and now you're down here doing...what are you doing?" Where were you when I couldn't make him stop crying, Alfred? Now, and earlier...he's crying in his sleep, and where were you? Where were you when I needed you? Why did I have to chase you in order to get an answer for him?

"I'm preparing your breakfast. After the night we've had in this house, I thought something heavy would be needed in the morning before...before we do what must be done." Sighing as Bruce's posture remained rigid, he held up one finger and proceeded to wash the flour from his hands. He stepped closer and drew to a halt, crossing his arms. "...Well, go on, then. If you're determined to be upset at me about something you should let it out now, while he's asleep. It will only upset him more if he senses some sort of discontent between the two of us later on."

Fine. "The only time you've really spent around him tonight was when he was distracted by the story about the Project and when he was asleep. Every time he broke down, you vanished," the billionaire accused, his anger growing. "Where have you been?"

Alfred shook his head, his gaze perplexed. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, sir."

"...What?" Bullshit.

"I said that I'm afraid you're mistaken. I was present for the young master's tears in the cave, when you initially announced that his pet was doomed, and I stayed firmly in place outside when he cried again after eating his dinner. I said relatively little, it's true, but I left you only to bring things that were needed for your maintenance; food, blankets, information. I am endeavoring to continue that service now," he gestured to the dough on the counter, "but I rather get the feeling that my attempts to bring a modicum of comfort to this evening's unfortunate events have been misconstrued as lack of care. Am I right, Master Wayne?"

Bruce blinked at the butler's gentle tone, the misdirected ire that had been pumping through his veins washing away under a glut of guilt. Fucking hell, he bowed his head and raised one hand to his temple. How did I get so worked up over this? I know you care, Alfred, I just...he's crying, and I can't make it stop, and you weren't there for me to ask... "Alfred..."

"Don't say a word, my boy. I understand."

"...You do?" How?

"I do." A beat passed. "You said he's crying in his sleep, did you not?"

"Yes," Bruce whispered. "He...he did it earlier, too. It doesn't matter what I say to him, he just can't seem to stop, and I can't fucking stand it..."

"I know. I know, believe me." A wince crossed the older man's face. "You did the same thing, you know."

"...Huh?"

"After your parents died. You cried all the time at first, of course – perfectly natural – but soon after, when...when you got no suitable response...you changed your habits. You let your sadness out only at night, in your sleep. When you were alone." He coughed. "You never said a word," the sentence trembled minutely, "but I knew. Your pillowcase was always damp come dawn, and your eyes were bloodshot no matter how many drops I put in them. I remember what it feels like to not know how to make the tears stop. Trust me," he drew a deep breath, "I remember."

Bruce stood silently for a minute, stunned. He couldn't recall crying in his sleep, but now that it was mentioned he had a hazy memory of medicine being constantly applied to his eyes. Behind the hated bottle hovering over his face had been the butler's expression, a look of concentrated self-loathing that he hadn't recognized for what it was until now. "...Jesus, Alfred...I..."

"But this isn't about you and I, sir," Alfred cut him off softly. "This is about you and Master Dick. My track record for helping young people deal with grief is somewhat less than sterling," he confessed hoarsely, "and while I do believe that I took firm lessons from the past I've generally thought it best to leave comforting the boy to you whenever possible. I'm sorry if that's made me seem distant or, god forbid, uninterested, but...well, I trust you understand my intentions better now." He drew himself up straighter, banishing his emotions from his mien with obvious effort. "Now, you needed me for something, did you not? I can't imagine you'd have left him without some pressing mission."

...I'm so sorry, Alfred, the billionaire swallowed, eating his emotions in imitation of the older man. "...Yes," he choked, swiping at his eyes. "Uh...I need to know how to do it. How...how to make him stop crying. Nothing I've tried tonight has worked."

"I'm afraid I never learned the trick, sir, or I'd gladly share. Excuse me, please," he requested, dabbing at his cheeks as he returned to his abandoned baking. "We can continue talking, but if I leave this dough much longer..."

He trailed off, and Bruce knew better. Keep your hands busy so you can't concentrate on your heart. I can guess who I learned that from.

I love the entire series so much, and although this is probably my least favorite fic in the series, this is one of my favorite parts. The whole idea of Bruce crying in his sleep so many years ago and now his son is dealing with his grief the same way, and Alfred being present for both of these events and not having an answer because there really isn't an answer to grief is so heart wrenching yet makes so much sense. I love this scene so much even though it makes me so sad.

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The One Where the Justice League Almost Didn’t Figure it Out: The Training Room Incident

By batsandthebirds on AO3

The premise of this fic is "Nightwing joins the Justice League and no one knows he was the first Robin, so they think he's crazy for being so normal around the goddamn Batman." My favorite scene is the entirety of chapter 2, where the League sets up a sort of test fight while Nightwing is still pretty new to get a sense of his abilities as a fighter. I'm not gonna spoil how it goes, so here's the excerpt from it:

 “Look, I’ll fight him if you want, but I’m not sure it’ll be that useful. If pitting me against someone because of superpowers is really the issue, why don’t I just fight him?” Nightwing pointed, and it took Clark a moment to register that he wasn’t pointing at him or Diana, but between them, where Batman had stood looming silently this entire time.

You could have heard a pin drop. Before Clark could attempt to let the kid down easy, explain that there was no way he was fighting Batman as a new recruit and lasting more than a few seconds, and also that he’d really rather not have their newest member further on the Bat’s bad side than everyone else way, Batman stepped forward between him and Diana and regarded Nightwing with a frown.

“That’s not a good idea,” Batman growled.

Somehow, this just made Nightwing smile even wider. “Oh, I think this is a great idea, B.”

Clark had just enough time to think, Okay, that settles it, Nightwing has a death wish, before he registered that the corners of Batman’s mouth twitched up in a nearly imperceptible smile.

Without any other words spoken, Batman and Nightwing positioned themselves on either side of the mat and the small crowd of spectators all stood back. Clark thought about trying to stop this, and he could have, in theory, but he thought it prudent to let this die now. A lot of new recruits came in with a bit of a cocky attitude, trying to prove themselves against the more powerful heroes on the roster. A lot of times that meant trying to beat Batman at his own game. Best Nightwing got knocked down now, rather than screw something up on an actual mission later. But there was still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something was off about Nightwing. He came off as cocky, yes, or maybe just too fearless for his own good, but something told Clark that there was more substance to that disposition than most young heroes had.

The two opponents squared off, and Clark took one look at Batman — imposing, heavily armored, and trained to his absolute peak — and Nightwing — young, lithe, relatively short, and still a virtual unknown - winced inwardly on Nightwing’s behalf, and signaled for the fight to begin.

The fact that Nightwing didn’t immediately end up on his back was a miracle in itself. He dodged the first blow, then the second, then the third, and flipped out of the way of the fourth, kicking Batman in the chest as he did so. Batman stumbled, recovering in a fraction of a second, but it was enough time for Nightwing to get the escrima sticks off his back. They crackled with nasty looking blue electricity, which would have worried Clark, if he didn’t know that they had no chance of getting through Batman’s suit.

Clark thought that Nightwing’s luck would run out, and soon. But the fight went on like that. Nightwing dodged any blows that would have knocked him down in an instant, and traded his own blows back with a vengeance. Neither could get the upper hand. After a minute, Clark remembered that he was supposed to be analyzing Nightwing’s abilities, not just staring dumbly as the young hero continued to stay on his feet. He was fast, that much was obvious, and his brain could certainly keep up with his body, if not think ahead. He landed strategic hits, trying to knock Batman off balance, using the weight of his suit against him, and, at one point, even managing to tangle Batman up in his own cape momentarily.

Then — absurdly — Nightwing started laughing. As the opponents traded blows, Nightwing cackled like he was having the time of his life, dodging when he could, taking the hits he couldn’t get away from without faltering, and landing his own blows in the slight windows of opportunity afforded to him. Clark caught sight of a fierce smile on the young hero’s face too, different from the rehearsed, easygoing expression he wore around the League. It was pure, unbridled excitement.

Just as Clark thought that the fight might go on forever, Nightwing raised a hand to throw one of his escrima sticks, but Batman lept at him, swinging his fist in an arc that Nightwing easily should have dodged, but he didn’t. Batman’s fist connected with the side of his face, the laughing stopped, and the weapon Nightwing was throwing went wide. Nightwing reeled from the harsh blow, and that should have been when Batman knocked him to the mat, ending the fight. He could have, easily. But Clark watched as Batman faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough for Clark’s ears to pick up on a ping, ping, ping noise, before Nightwing suddenly sidestepped, and the escrima stick that Clark thought he’d thrown wide connected squarely with the back of Batman’s head, having bounced around the room and off the back wall.

Batman fell forward, hitting the mat hard, and Nightwing stood victorious, laughing again as red bloomed on the side of his face and blood poured out of his mouth from a split lip. He picked the escrima stick up off the mat and attached both of them to his back again, then offered a hand to help Batman up.

To Clark’s further surprise, Batman clasped Nightwing’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. This was so unprecedented that Clark had no idea what to expect next, but Batman wordlessly turning and leaving the training room wasn’t it.

I cannot express how this is one of my favorite moments in any fic ever. I left a comment saying that writing a character outsmarting Batman usually doesn't end well: the writing doesn't make sense, it falls flat, or underestimates a character's (usually Batman's) abilities. This fic, however, does it so perfectly. Nightwing using Batman's care for him against him, and embarrassing him in front of a bunch of Justice League members including Superman and Wonder Woman. Later on in the same chapter, Bruce asks Dick why he didn't dodge the punch and Nightwing explains the whole "using your fear of hurting me to my advantage" thing and Batman is obviously disapproving of that, but it is so in character for Nightwing. He would totally get punched in the face if it meant harassing and/or embarrassing Bruce. It is so clever and absolutely brilliant and everyone should totally read the whole fic. I am in love with this.

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Obligatory introduction post:

My name is Sarah, I’ve been a DC fan for as long as I can remember, and I started reading fan fiction (mainly for DC) in freshman year of high school. I wanted to make this account to share fics I like, organize them a little, and keep track of what I’ve read across different websites. Mainly to share fics though. I might even post bits and pieces of fics that I’m writing that I highly doubt I’ll ever finish. Hope you enjoy! ☺️