One of the worst traits lost in the translation between canon and fanon is Tim Drake’s borderline narcolepsy.
You’re telling me it’s mentioned several times in canon how he is known to fall asleep anywhere at any given time easily, yet in fanon he can barely sleep a wink.
I’m not even gonna get into the whole coffee debacle even though I really want to. I would spend hours obsessing over it. But no, he doesn’t have chronic insomnia. He fell asleep on a freaking roller coaster. Mid ride mind you. THIS WAS SUCH A COMMON OCCURRENCE THAT ZO WASNT WORRIED ABOUT HIM, SHE WAS MAD!!
Thank you for coming to my tumblr talk about how I want more chronic napper Tim in my fics, and less melatonin warrior Tim. I can aknowledge that it’s fanfiction. I cannot be upset when fanonization happens in fandom. But there is a whole unexplored trope of him and his sleeping antics just WAITING to be unearthed
(Trying to lure Batclan/Batfam fans over to the Green Lantern fandom, day 1)
What rings I think each Batclan / Batfam members would have:
First, a quick rundown of each different colour:
Red: Embodies the emotion of rage / anger. Once the ring is in the user's finger it fills them with a murderous rage, that they only snap out of once they bathe in a sea of blood. They can't take the ring out, since it has replaced their heart and the user's blood with lava that they can spit out. They can't usually make constructs.
Orange: Embodies greed, but is not getting mentioned in the list because there is only one user.
Yellow: The user has to inspire great fear. Scarecrow has been offered one, I'm pretty sure. They get to make constructs.
Green: Strength of will. The originals. The middle of the spectrum. Green Arrow has used one in the past and was only able to conjure a single arrow with all his will, and it left him completely exhausted and out of commission. Users have to overcome great fear. They also get constructs.
Blue: Hope. They're mostly support (principally for the Green Lanterns), so their offense is not exactly great, but they can overcharge other people's rings and just overall make them stronger. Also, the only way you can take a red power ring off is by putting a blue one in its place immediately. Constructs positive.
Indigo: Compassion. They are made up of assassins and killers who have decided to change their ways and repent. Good vibes all around. Live laugh make constructs.
Violet (Magenta? Pink? Purple? I'm not sure honestly): The Star Sapphires represent love of all kinds. The second of this list to appear in comics, debuted by Carol Ferris, Hal Jordan's love interest at the time. They are all women, but men can also gain this title, as seen by Guy Gardner's, Kyle Rayner's, and John Stewart's brief experiences as one.
Bruce: Has canonically been offered a Yellow Power Ring before (Sinestro Corps War, volume 2). He has also been stated to be incapable of wielding a Green Ring due to his inability to surpass his greatest fears and regrets (namely, his parents' death) (Green Lantern #9, 2004)
Dick: Would have a Red Ring during his venture as Robin, and got offered a Blue one when he shed that mantle and took on Nightwing, to his great relief
Babs: She'd be a Green Lantern as Batgirl, and would give up the title after the Joker Incident. She would regret it deeply afterwards, but would stop once she got a Blue ring at around the same time she decided that if she couldn't fight alongside them, she'd be the eyes and ears that support the rest of the Hero Community. And so Oracle was born, though maybe in this universe she'd be Blue
Cass: As a general rule of thumb, children don't usually gain a Power Ring, so I while I don't think she'd have one as the One Who Is All, if she did it would be Yellow. Teenagers, on the other hand, have been known to wield a Ring, so I think she'd have either an Indigo, for her past state as a killer, or she'd have a Violet(?) ring for all the love she has for her family
Jason: Maybe he'd be Blue while Robin. I don't really know, I haven't read enough of Jaybin to be able to pinpoint his exact ring. It'd be a cute little thing, maybe offering Jason a Hope Ring would be Dick's initiation process and offer both the closure and bond they needed at the time. He wouldn't have one as the Red Hood, mainly because he'd remember Dick's suffering and loss of control of his consciousness due to the Red Ring, and that was one of the only ones that presented itself to him at the time. The other one was the Yellow, and he didn't have the strength to have the same Ring as Bruce at the time. He'd then get an Indigo Power Ring somewhere during his healing process, and depending on what you go with Cass it could be angst material, since last I checked she didn't exactly like Jason because of his purposeful and spontaneous killing
Steph: Would start out with a Green Power Ring and maintain it to the end, though she would keep joking about how she wished she had a Love Ring to fit her theme better. She secretly would be very proud to be considered worthy of being a Green Lantern when Batman didn't think her worthy of being a Robin, and keep that title even during her darkest moments. Her and Kilowog got along like a house on fire, by the way
Tim: As the most like Bruce and unlike him at the same time, I feel he'd either have a Yellow or Green Ring, no in-between. During the Brucequest, he'd either gain a Green one, if he hadn't already, or a Blue one for all the blind Hope he demonstrated. He'd get very emotional once it finally sunk in that despite it all he was still considered pure enough to share a Ring colour with his hero
Duke: My heart wants to say he'd get a Fear ring to maintain his yellow theme, but I know it wouldn't be so. I also want to say that he'd get a Blue due to him being a Signal of Hope to the people of Gotham, but something in me doesn't feel it is right to put Duke, the only super powered bat, with the Ring meant for Support. Duke would get a Green Ring for all his resilience and Strength of Will and for his ability to not only overcome great fear, but inspire the same fire in other people around him.
Damian: Once again, children don't normally wield a Power Ring, and even if they did the League doesn't strike me as a Lantern friendly space, so Damian's ring would come in during his time as Robin. He'd await a Yellow one, as “is his birthright as the blood son” in his own words, so it would be a bit surprising (for him) when he didn't get any. Everyone saw it coming, but no one had the heart to tell him. He'd try to grow around it after some time, but it would still be a bit of a sore spot. His ring would come when he least expects it, as he's calming down a spooked citizen, or helping a hurt animal, and he'd jump in front of whoever he was with to protect them from whatever had caused the loud noise. Damian absolutely cried when he realised it was a Power Ring. He'd get either a Blue, which matches with Richard and that alone would make it Damian's pride and joy, or an Indigo, which makes a lot of sense to his character growth and interests for the future as hinted at by recent comics
Hiya! ^^
The final countdown: Day 29! Only two to go! @whumptober2019
Summary: Dick had grown used to the numb feeling reigning his life, but this was something else
Fandom: DC, Batman, Nightwing
Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon
Warnings: Medical Inaccuracies, Comas
Masterlist
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
(Read On AO3)
Dick had grown used to the numb feeling that had taken over his life in the last few months, the total exhaustion that made feeling things just too tiring. But this was something else. This was a numbness not only dampening his emotions, no, this numbness cut him of from his body too.
A part of him realized that he should panic, that that was not a good sign, that something had to be seriously wrong, but the larger part of him was just mildly confused.
Why couldn’t he blink open his eyes? Why couldn’t he twitch his hands or feet? Why couldn’t he twist and turn and escape this darkness?
He didn’t know and he didn’t care. Consciousness was a fleeting thing and it graced him only seldomly long enough for him to be even aware of the numbness spread throughout his body.
When thoughts grazed him the next time, it wasn’t the lack of feeling that piqued his interest: It were the sounds that breached his senses for the first time in what felt an incredibly long time.
It was the sound of machines beeping. It was the sound of muffled steps a few rooms away. It was the sound of a hospital.
That did scare Dick. Because he had no idea how he got here. He didn’t know why or what or how, but before he could think too hard about it, the darkness claimed him again, soothing over his fears and making him compliant. It was nice not feeling anything.
Voices broke through the darkness sometime later, and it took Dick way too much time to realize that one of these voices belonged to his dad:
“And what now?”
“As I explained to you already, Mr. Wayne, multible times, now we wait. Your son had an traumatic brain injury, he is in a coma, Glasgow Coma Score of 7 when he was brought in, which has now leveled to a Cognitive Level II on the RLAS, though there has been no improvement on the GCS as of yet. He has the best care in the world, you made sure of that Mr. Wayne, and we will make sure that everything that can be done will be done. But you? The best you can do is be there for him. It’s the doctors job to heal him and it is your job as his father to be there for him. And now let me do my work!”
Dick didn’t know the other voice, and most of what she said flew right over his head, but he did realize that Bruce had done again what he did best: Annoy people.
Someone left and someone else did things with his body, but before Dick could focus again, light got forcefully pushed into his eye. Dick tried to get away from it but again his body wouldn’t work like he wanted it too. This was getting pretty annoying.
“You are doing great, sweetie. That was almost a normal reaction. And don’t be mad at me for yelling at your dad, but he can get pretty grating for my nerves. I hope he comes back soon with one of your cute siblings. They really want to see you again. Even if you are gonna sleep a bit more, huh?”
Well, what was he supposed to answer to that? Yes, coma-ing sucks? No. He… he went to sleep again. Teetering to the edge of consciousness was exhausting and not really rewarding. Especially since confusion tinged all of his thoughts. He would think something and only second later it would be gone again. Yeah, the darkness sounded so much more relaxing.
The next time he heard someone it was that woman’s voice again. Again? He was sure he had heard her before but he couldn’t pinpoint it.
“… on the RLAS. That means he reacts to some stimuli. You can talk to him or hold his hand and your big brother is probably gonna know. He just isn’t going to really react. Sometimes some of his muscles might twitch but that doesn’t automatically mean that he will wake up, it’s more-”
“I know. I have done some extensive reading on coma patients, Har- Doctor. Now, let me see my brother!”
“A whole family of charmers, I see…”
Footsteps, very, very lonely footsteps. Then a small hand clutching his. Dick tried with all his might to squeeze back but his muscles wouldn’t react.
“Hello, Richard. Father doesn’t know I’m here, said that it wouldn’t benefit me to see you in such a state but I disagree. It does us all some good to realize we are not infallible.”
Damian. The little one. What was he doing here?
“I really did some reading on the matter. But what that harlot wouldn’t tell me, is that which each day you waking up becomes more and more improbable. You’ve been here for over a week. They had to stabilize you and in the beginning they weren’t sure if you could breath on your own. They weren’t sure if you would survive at all.”
Damian. His kid. He sounded so sad. Dick didn’t like that. He wished he could just stand up and wrap the kid in his arms. It would make both of them feel better. But his body didn’t belong to him. It was a numb puppet, hanging there with it’s cables cut.
“I wasn’t allowed to see you then. Because I was too young. Imbeciles. All of them, as if I hadn’t seen so much worse in my life already. But we couldn’t tell them that, of course. And now I came here anywhere. And the doctor told me, that she would let me see you. Because except for Father no one had been here and she thought you might be lonely. And we can’t have that Richard.
Father only told me you were hurt a few days ago. I was in San Francisco. You wouldn't be here if I had stayed in Gotham. I would have had your back. I am the Robin to your Batman after all."
His little brother talked and talked and talked. More than Dick had ever heard him say before. After a while the words blended together, washing over him before he could grasp them. But he was happy anyway. His brother was there. Damian. His kid. Even if he did sound sad, even if Dick had forgotten why he was here, again. But he was.
"I miss you. And I hope you get better soon... Being home with Father just isn't the same without you"
And Dick let go of consciousness with a bit of resistance. At least this time.
A weird noise ripped him from the darkness of his mind to the darkness of his life. It was a scratching sound, almost vanishing behind the beeping of the machines keeping him alive. It was the sound of a Bat opening a window.
“Holy Shit, they really did a number on you, huh, Big Bird?”
It was Jason. His brother. The… the lost one. The dead one. Was he here to take Dick with him? Dick wasn’t ready. But at least one of his siblings would be the one to send him to the other side. That was something Dick could be happy with. Something to be content with.
“When B called and said you were critical, I didn’t really believe him. Well, that’s on me, I guess.”
B had called Jason? They were talking again? Why had they stopped? Oh, because Jason was dead. Dick had the feeling that he wasn’t really following the conversation.
“Timbers and Bruce are across the world, searching for even more, even better medicine for you, and they left you here to rot alone. B should really understand how empathy works, that fucker.”
There were steps and then the soft sound of papers being ruffled, before something heavy dipped the bed Dick laid on.
“Huh, GCS 7 = E2 V2 M3 at 22:14? RLAS Level II? That doesn’t look too peachy. But I know you, Big Bird. You don’t stay down for long. Even if the rest of us wants you to. And now all of us are working on this together, for once. You have no choice but to survive this.”
Something heavy hit his hand, and it took Dick too long to figure out that Jason had taken his hand in his. That Jason was shaking. That Dick could do nothing to stop it.
“I brought a book. Thought you might want to read it with me?”
Jason’s smooth voice carried Dick’s thoughts away. He didn’t know which book they were reading or what the plot was but he enjoyed the sensation of being able to lay next to Jason and just listen. There had been a time where this was normal. Dick couldn't remember it anymore. He didn’t even realize when Jason left again.
The voices became a constant after that. Sometimes it were nurses whispering about him or their private lives, sometimes it were friends and family. There were moments were Dick thought he might have opened his eyes, only for it to not work the next time.
There were times were Dick didn’t know or understand the person visiting him, even though they knew him. There was the time Bruce came. And sounded way too defeated:
“Hey, chum. Sorry, that I haven’t been around that much. You know me, I can’t sit still when there is some mystery to solve. That’s a trait I’ve got from you. And now you are the mystery I try to solve. But nobody can tell me anything besides the things I already know: Waiting. Waiting for you to wake up. Waiting for us to be able to access the damage. Waiting to know if my son truly did survive.”
Dick didn’t like this. Didn’t like the heavy feeling of dread that replaced the numbness holding fort in his heart. Didn’t like to hear his father sound lost. Didn’t like just laying there, unable to do anything. Unable to even give a hint.
“The Doctor told me that you’ve switched between cognitive levels a few times. It’s normal in the first few months of a coma and yet it still filled me with hope. She’s mad at me too. The Doctor, I mean. Said I should visit you more. That my sons are here frequently, as are your friends, but I never show. She’s right, isn’t she? I’ve spent the last few weeks restlessly searching for a wonder instead of taking care of you. That’s gonna change now, chum. I promise.”
Again, with the hand holding. Dick wasn’t sure what he felt, but he knew that being a bystander in his own life had gotten lame real quick. And hearing his family repeatedly break down on his bedside made nothing better. He was supposed to be there for them. To support them. Instead they had to take care of him.
"It's just... you are always so full of motion. It hurts seeing you so still. This is something were I can't do anything. There is no mystery to solve no matter how hard I try. There is only my son in a hospital bed, completely unresponsive. There is only my child and I can't help. I'm sorry, Dick. I wish... I really wish I could make everything right again..."
Dick had the vague sense that Bruce had stopped talking about this situation specifically and meant something else, but.. all he wanted was for his father to stop crying.
It was hard to track time. There were always people now, talking, touching, and yet Dick couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t keep up with their conversations long enough to understand, couldn't keep up long enough to get the passing of time.
Sometimes he would hear the nurses cursing, when they returned to his room to right some alarm one of yet another machine had produced. He liked them. Their swears made them human, more than just the shadows who came and washed or changed him. They were a constant. They came often to poke or prod him. Nothing else happened with the same regularity than they did. It was comforting. It really, really was. Because everything else about time was fleeting.
He knew that Damian was with him often. But not how often. He knew Jason liked to visit at night. But not when night was. He knew Bruce tried to make more time for him. But not how often he succeeded. He knew Barbara wanted to visit more but was afraid. But not why she didn’t anyway.
Tim visited rarely. And he never knew what to say, so Dick was surprised to hear this particular little brother one day:
“They want to move you. Said that you are stable enough to be placed in a more permanent location. You don’t need the ICU anymore.”
Why did Timmy sound so sad? It was still hard to follow concepts and Dick knew that just in a few moments this whole conversation would vanish in the nebulous depths of his mind. But still, why was his little brother sad? Tim took a deep breath:
“I… I’m sorry, I haven’t visited more. Even Bruce got his act together. Hell, Demon Spawn came to me and told me to visit you, but… I am so sorry. It’s my fault. I asked you to help. I’m the one who didn’t catch you when you fell. It’s my fault. And I tried everything. I searched harder than Bruce, but… but I couldn’t find anything to make this right again. I failed you again. I’m so sorry.”
Dick couldn’t remember how he had ended up here. He remembered very few things with any clarity, but he knew with utmost certainty that whatever Tim was talking about, wasn’t really his fault. If he could just tell his brother. But that was impossible.
“I’m sorry… it’s just… they want to move you. You’re a 9 now on the GCS. That means they think you’re no longer in any real danger of sudden deterioration. But that also means that they think sudden improvement is out of the question, too. They suggested a semi-permanent care home to Bruce. You should have seen the look on his face”
There was a small chuckle in Tim’s voice and Dick wanted to do nothing more than hug his little brother until the self-loathing look that surly went with it, had vanished.
“We’ll be taking you home instead. Alfred remodeled your room to fit all the hospital gear in and Bruce hired a nurse, who can take care of you. It’s… we’re gonna make it alright. I am gonna make it alright.”
Yeah, they would. Tim would. Whatever it was.
Dick was aware now more often for the tests, for his body responding even though Dick hadn’t told him to. Sometimes they pinched him and his eyes flew open, too unfocused for him to see anything, sometimes something hot would touch his arms and he would flail. There were even the times where moans escaped him, but those were rare.
And none of that was really Dick’s doing. It was his body’s sign that it still worked - at least somewhat. When he tried it, nothing came of it. When one of his muscles twitched at the same time as Dick’s struggle for his body, he could never not be sure, that that was just that: A twitch. Nothing special.
Even being at the Manor again did nothing to change that. For Dick it brought only subtle changes: A new smell, different noises, and more outlandish visitors. People, who were unable to sit by his bedside while he still stayed at the hospital. Kory came. Donna came. Garth came. Barbara basically moved into the Manor.
She was often in the room with him now, reading, or typing, rarely talking, but Dick could do with that. He wasn’t really bored, too out of it most of the time to care for it. But he liked her silent companionship. He didn’t have the feeling of missing something when they were together, there wasn’t a conversation he didn’t understand. There wasn’t an interaction he was incapable of giving.
With Barbara he could just be.
The words that left her mouth, were encouraging, nothing that made her or him sad. It was relaxing. It was utter nonsense. It was gossip. It was great.
“Pff, Kate’s new girlfriend is yet again a cop. People say you have a type but they have not yet met Kate Kane”
“Why is so much sugar in everything? It is hard to keep this body fit and all that sugar in pizza, of all things, isn’t helping!”
“Alfred made Rainbow Cookies and everyone is afraid to ask whom they are for, in case he made them for them. It is hilarious. He made them for Cass by the way, but she won’t spill”
“If I hacked the world championship of mathletes, and changed the score to proclaim me the winner, I might not be the greatest mathematician but I would certainly showcast myself as one of the greatest hackers”
“What if I rickrolled people by playing Bohemian Rhapsody instead? Like, instead of a really obvious rickroll. Oh My! Tim would be so mad!”
It was easy to let himself float in and out of focus with her, and it made it easier to listen to the others. In some ways this was the culmination of his entire character: Being helpless and damned to listen while everyone told him about their woes, and physically unable to tell anyone about his.
But luckily his scattered brain didn’t allow for the dark thoughts to stay any longer than the light ones. Instead it left only a bitter taste and the longing after physical contact behind.
He missed being touched. In the most basic sense of the word: He missed friendly interaction, he missed hugs and cuddles and forehead kisses. People only ever held his hand. The closest contact he had was with his nurse who washed him twice a day and made sure he wouldn’t get bed sores.
It was a lonely endeavor, on some level. Even with a person being constantly with him, nobody was truly with him.
God, Dick wished the numbness was back.
Waking up was different than he could ever imagine. Waking up was a struggle so unimaginable that Dick didn’t even realize that that was what’s happening.
Because him hearing things? Him feeling things? That wasn’t being awake, that was being aware. Waking up meant having to fight for every inch of control for his body back.
Waking up meant, feeling the horrible ache behind his eyes. Waking up, meant feeling the weakness in his limbs, the catheters, the IVs, the life support connected to his body.
Waking up meant leaving behind the numbness, the darkness, the calm.
Waking up meant being terrified and confused. If Dick thought his thoughts to be slippery before he wasn’t prepared for what came with each ounce of consciousness that bleed back into his body.
It was complete surprise when suddenly someone was next to him or when the nurse touched him, to make sure everything was alright and the different machines were still connected to him.
It was blinking only for his eyes to fall shut immediately.
It was loud noises and a brain that refused to filter them into something comprehensible.
It was finally being able to open his own eyes, on his own accord, only to find Alfred standing in front of him with a tray. A tray that fell to the floor in an undignified clatter as Alfred left the room, yelling:
“Master Bruce! Master Tim! Master Damian! He is awake. He is awake!”
