Had This Strange Really Lucid Dream About Yet Another AU Of My AU (that I Am Never Getting Around To

Are you frustrated you can't leave second kudos on AO3? or third kudos? or whatever-who's-counting kudos?

Well, have I got the html for you!

Plop any of these in a comment (by copy&pasting the code) to make an author's day and show your appreciation!

Second kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/tHMjbb6/second-kudos.png" alt="second kudos">

Third kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/52bggQH/third-kudos.png" alt="third kudos">

nth kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6y7qGtC/nth-kudos.png" alt="nth kudos">

yet another kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/wKtcj0s/yet-another-kudos.png" alt="yet another kudos">

It will look something like this (and will be transparent with white outline on dark backgrounds):

Feel free to spread and use these as much as you like! (and if you have ideas for other variations, let me know ✌️)

I added a whole chapter on my bonus series, and all it managed to do is making me cry. I don't think this is healthy.

I've been thinking a lot about Dick Grayson as I often do. Because like You are ten years old, and you've never really been normal, have you?But normal has never really mattered either. And why should it? You're ten years old, and you can fly, and every night your very existence is met with thundering applause and adoring crowds. You're not normal, but you've never needed to be.

Then it all gets ripped away. The crowds, the lights, and everyone who loved you, all gone the second you hear those bodies hit the ground. You are not normal, and no longer in a way that is okay.

You are eleven years old, and you can fly again. Not on the trapeze, but across Gotham's rooftops. You feel more alive than you have since the circus. Part of you starts to believe that Dick Grayson hit the ground with his parents while Robin flew away. You've done nothing but inhabit a corpse since that night, but behind the mask, you're alive again. Alive. But not normal.

You're in middle school, and the other kids like you alright, but they realize you're not normal. You put on your best act to convince them otherwise. It almost works. You play their games with false smiles. You become known for your charm. But it's hard. You have to make them like you, but not too much. Nice, but impenetrable. You're eleven years old, but you've watched Bruce very carefully, and you know that having people close to you is dangerous. You are not normal and you can never let yourself be.

You're a teenager now, and you spend more time in your mask than out. Dick Grayson has friends, sure, but Robin has teammates. And teammates are far more valuable. You have your Titans, and you finally fit in again. Right? It doesn't matter that they're older than you, but you've trained for longer, or that they have powers and you don't. You're still one of them. And they may not know Dick Grayson, but Robin is more complete, isn't he? Robin didn't die that night at the circus. Robin doesn't have to play normal to fit in. But you're still alone. Or, at the very least, still lonely. Lonely, and not normal. Even among aliens and superheroes.

You're an adult now, and your days with the name Robin seem like a lifetime ago. Dick Grayson still isn't a complete person, but you refuse to be like Bruce and hide forever behind that mask. But sometimes you still feel like you're doing little more than puppeting a shell. Nightwing is more grounded. Nightwing can still fly. You're not normal, and you've come to accept that you will never be, but you wonder if you could have ever been. Was it Bruce that sent you on this path, or did he catch you before you fell somewhere worse? Did Gotham make you like this or is there something in your soul that is just fundementally incorrect? Something that stops you from ever being normal? That makes your smiles false? Morphs your natural charisma into a character you play both behind and in front of the mask?

You will never know. It's one of the things that stops you from ever being normal.

Writing the AU of one of my own AUs, I discovered that, in my mind, Wally West enjoys the musicians of the summer of love.

Idk why, it just kinda fits, expecially because I dare you to look me in the eyes and tell me that Wally West wasn't made to belt out at the top of his lungs " With your love" by the Jefferson Starship (I know, back in the '60s they were the Jefferson Airplane, but alas) half-jokingly serenading the love of his life.

I might have cried (multiple times already) while writing the anniversary bonus work of my series Robin's Blues.

THIS THING ISN'T FAIR

https://archiveofourown.org/series/4163446

As I wrote some posts ago, the Bonus instalment of Robin's Blues will have more than one ending, one with Roy (obv) and one with Wally.

What I would like to ask you all, is if you'd like a third ending too?

Me, writing a very serious story about Batman's family.

Also me, adding a whole paragraph with Hal Jordan discovering that Batman's daughter (Female!Dick, and the only child of his the league knows about because he too was young and naive, once) is a cheerleader, cheer captain even, in which he talks about Bring It On and Mean girls and teenager dictators, while Batman broods (supposedly) because his daughter had the *audacity* to be preppy and "no daughter of mine will be preppy in this goth household, go change back from that cheer uniform, here is your everything-black and your white foundation sweetie."

Me, literally giving a character my (very minor) disability in a fanfic I am writing.

Some person on Ao3:" don't talk about things you don't know, girls aren't colorblind".

(Just in much less civil therms, thus I cancelled it).

First of all we are in the DC comic universe, people come back to life every other day, and you are telling me girls can't be color blind.

Second of all, girls can be colorblind or have various types of color deficency, you can trust me and my Tritanopia

Signed: a tired fanfic writer who won the genetic lottery and who has to video-call one of her brothers (who actually won in a non-sarcastic way) every time she is alone at home and she has to properly coordinate her own laudry.