jaydickdonna commission for @runnfromtheak thank you so much for commissioning me, this was super fun to work onĀ ā”Ā ā”Ā ā”Ā

#dc comics#dc#batman#tim drake#dick grayson#bruce wayne#batfam#batfamily#dc fanart




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jaydickdonna commission for @runnfromtheak thank you so much for commissioning me, this was super fun to work onĀ ā”Ā ā”Ā ā”Ā

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begrudging self-love retrospective
tagged by my loves @bitterleafs and @epistemologys
"Rules: Itās time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2021. Tag as many creators as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!"
I wrote more than I thought this year tbh, so this will be a bit hard because a lot of my works were brain infestation passion projects that consumed me until I released them.
So I would like to share that I did the fic! The JayDickDonna fic Iāve shared some snippets of! Anyways Iāll link it here!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/30202626/chapters/74419272
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hereās the summary:
Thereās a saying, an excerpt from a story written on tea-stained pages, written in an old journal scented with the musk of age: you donāt fall in love, you shatter. You break parts and bits of yourself to fit that person in, make a mosaic from the old and the new, make a teacup lined with gold out of porcelain fragments. You donāt jump from a cliff of not love to land in it; love isnāt a journey, itās an immersion, itās a drowning, itās a break in logic and a break in person and an opportunity for rebuilding and a new form of beauty in place of the loveliness of solitude. Dick doesnāt fall with love at Jasonās feet, with Jasonās bruise like a fingerprint on his skin, like a kiss or caress or marking. Dick shatters.
Three people fall together and apart like stars.
daily snippet time! This one comes from the JayDickDonna fic that will not stop growing, and is currently nearing 15k and only just at a halfway-ish mark unless I can speed things up. I love this particular part, and figured I'd share cause who doesn't love a little suit trauma and identity issues? Dick. Dick doesn't. But we all know by now this is not a safe space for him ;)
It isnāt just the suit, but that event and all things associated with it (see: Batdad beatdown with the rules of Fight Club, the exposure and the axing of (1) Richard John Grayson, Spyral and not-so-sexy missions with lots of blood and not a lot of morals, a Jason Peter Todd not speaking with him. See: Tarantula and Blockbuster and Chemo. See: Mirage and Koriandār and engagement rings that burn. See: Damianās corpse and Jasonās corpse and Jokerās blood crimson on azure. See: Renegade and Slade and Donna dead and Roy on drugs and Lianās death. See: Joker burning down the circus and Firefly burning down the circus and Talon as his once-destiny and a gold suit built for him in his mindās eye. See: everything and nothing at all.) The suit is too tight. The suit is too constrictive. The suit is too suffocating. The suit is the furthest thing from him imaginable, and he doesnāt know how to phrase that. How to admit to that.
Snippet from a fic project Iām hoping to release within the next week featuring JayDickDonna post Spyral ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø itās entirely Epiās fault.
(Everyone who would care, every person who would grieve and cry and write eulogies and miss him and carry him like a physical burden in their grief, already has done all that. They carry his memory like a torch or a mantle, they speak his name in past tense and feel pain whenever they see reminders that heād existed. He is dead to them, in the most literal sense possible, and his own state of existence is only relevant by the frame of reference through which he is viewed. Isnāt that what Einstein had said? Everything is relative?
Or maybe itās more of a Quantum thing. Maybe heās Schrƶdingerās spy, dead and alive until someone opens the box and looks, really looks and sees him.
Or maybe itās that age old question if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound? But instead itās if a person dead in all but the medical sense dies and no one is there to witness it, when did he really die?)

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@luthienluinwe tagged me FOREVER AGO to post seven lines from a WIP and tag seven people, so I shall!
āHeās really dead,ā Donna Troy says over a vodka bottle they pass between them every sip or so softly, blue eyes staring off at something in the distance, glittering with unshed tears. āIsnāt he?ā
It hadnāt really sunk in before now. Not even at the funeral with the speeches and with Bruce acting like a real human being with real tears being shed. It hadnāt sunk in when theyād watched Dickās coffin being lowered into a six-foot deep hole made out of dirt, or when theyād gone home apart and met today. It sinks in now, in a quiet moment over Gotham city watching the sun set on a world where Dick Grayson isnāt going to fly across the skies ever again.
Because heās dead.
Jason pries it from her ironclad grip and sits himself next to her, shoulder to shoulder, feeling the way her chest heaves, the way she shudders when he dips the bottle back.
From a previously mentioned JayDickDonna fic I am never going to finish because it won't stop growing <3 tagging: @icosagens, @stevieraebarnes, @boyblunder-thedarkheir, @epistemologys, @behindtherobinsmask, @strialternatives, and @nightwingvixen23
Post of the day for writing snippet! I would have done it earlier but I had a nap instead bc sleep deprivation be like that sometimes lmfao!! Have more JayDickDonna fic sneak peek as the word count grows!!
Itās the loneliness, the isolation of everyone youāve ever loved thinking youāre dead because youād died but not stayed dead. Itās the grief, the agony still cracking his ribs with every heartbeat, every reminder that his Robin is no longer in existence. Itās the pain, the hatred he feels for Bruce, the hatred he feels for every godforsaken member of this organization, the hatred he feels for himself for not fighting harder. Itās the fact that he knows heās left his loved ones in a world of suffering thinking heās dead when heās anything but, not that Bruce cares any.
Being a number is inconsequential. The only number he has to watch out for here, after all, is number one. (God how he hates it.)
today's daily snippet comes from jaydickdonna fic, which officially is titled halfway to heaven with nowhere to go!
āHe always did love his games,ā Jason snarls, standing up and staring down at his past in some other kidās skin. His death on some other kidās head. āIāll contact the others. Keep a patrol āround the Narrows. Last four kids frequented that area, so heās probably snatchinā them from there.ā
Montoya nods, a flash of pity crossing her face as she looks back down at the kid.
Jason wonders if people had looked at him like that at his autopsy. That 'youāre too young to be dead, what a waste of life' look. He wonders if this kid will look the same as he did on that silver table with a y-incision carved in his skin.
He shivers. It isnāt cold.