frostbitesjc
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Summary
Zuko was banished, but instead of devoting his life to finding the Avatar to regain his honor he gave in to his spite and became a pirate against Ozai.
Series
- Part 1 of The Pirate Prince
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 382,253
- Chapters:
- 33/33
- Collections:
- 4
- Comments:
- 905
- Kudos:
- 3,098
- Bookmarks:
- 910
- Hits:
- 159,740
Bookmarked by frostbitesjc
24 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
WHAT THE FUCKK
best atla fic ive ever read im so serious i dont know how the author does it but they have EVERYTHING from incredible worldbuilding to the most emotional character relationships. love the canon divergences, not just for zuko's redemption but also the plot in general — yes i know this is a spoiler but im especially obsessed with the differences in the ending re. the northern water tribe. and every single one of the OCs. The atla fic Ever u guys
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Untitled Superboy Mission by Booo
Fandoms: DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
14 Dec 2025
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Summary
“Oh, come on. That’s like saying Batman could beat him with Kryptonite. It doesn’t count.”
“Please explain to me why that doesn’t count.”
“It’s a handicap! We’re talking no mojo, no green rocks, just Batman as a human and Superman with his genetic super powers.”
“Super powers aren’t his baseline. Or yours, for that matter.”
“What? Yes, they are.”
“Krypton’s red sun would beg to differ.” Superboy groans, nearly drowning out his words. “He doesn't have powers on his home planet, it absolutely counts! Wonder Woman, on the other hand, is magic.”
“Oh my God. You’re so annoying.”
***
Or, after Superman's death and return, Tim is tasked with keeping an eye on Superboy. They proceed to fall in love.
Bookmarked by frostbitesjc
05 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
romance is real because i fell in love with this on first sight. wonderful writing; one of my fav timkons ever
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I Want it That Way (1990s Tim/Kon) by WynterSky
Fandom Batman (Comics), Reign of the Supermen (2019), Superboy (Comics), Superman (Comics), The Death of Superman (2018)
28 Jan 2025
Summary
Tim/Kon fics set in a lazily researched 1990s universe (written by an authentic 90s kid but I lived under a rock).
Mostly based on post-crisis comics canon but using some later elements I enjoy as well. Series focuses on an alternate scenario where Superboy is created by Luthor and starts out secretly working for him.
- Words:
- 140,092
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 263
Bookmarked by frostbitesjc
22 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
this is like. THE timkon of all time im so serious if nothing else read this series NOW!!! its so fun and just a good time all around... my timkon holy grail
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Summary
Robin is a hero. Tim becomes Robin. The hardest part, he thinks, is that he barely feels like a hero at all, and he’s not sure what he’s doing wrong. Day after day something in his chest will crack and itch, but he will not scratch it. He’ll be afraid of what’ll come spilling out if he does. He’ll wonder if it’s a speck of rot. One day they’ll be going over the rooftops, he and Dick, and Dick will crack a joke Tim doesn’t understand, and it’ll hit him that it’s likely something Jason would have understood immediately. Tim will glance over his shoulder and say, half-jokingly, It sort of feels like I’m chasing a ghost, and Dick will look at him like he’s already dead, like he has just realized Jason is dead all over again, and Tim won’t speak again for the rest of the night.
He wonders what it would be like to be missed like Jason is. He doesn’t think he’s ever been missed before.
In which Tim Drake ponders on what a hero isn't, and what a brother can be.
Series
- Part 1 of strange bird
Bookmarked by frostbitesjc
15 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
my fav author on ao3 writing a tim drake-centric fic... this will always be one of the best things to happen to me ilysm
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BUT WHO CAN GROW ME A NEW BROTHER? by solistrix
Fandoms: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), DCU (Comics), DCU, Batman - All Media Types
30 Dec 2025
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Summary
There's no way he could pass for Dick’s actual brother and he’s got the face of a shell-shocked cartoon mouse — but not the cutesy mice, the ones in the old 80's movies that gave Dick nightmares as a child. That plus the fact the Drake kid’s got a thick New Jersey accent he can’t shake and Dick doesn’t look grown-up enough to be toting around a preteen is sure to get people asking questions. Or worse. So Dick hauls Tim in by the strap on his backpack, steps onto the shoulder, sticks his thumb skyward toward the cloudless cornflower blue of middle America in summer, and prays that whoever pulls over lies somewhere boring on the sliding scale between serial killer and snitch.
Dick Grayson turns 20 on March 20th, Jason Todd dies on April 27th, and by May 23rd, Bruce Wayne's ward-not-son is rattling around in the bed of a 1979 Ford F-150 heading anywhere but Gotham, New Jersey. Wayne money and Bat technology can't find him, but he's got a bug-eyed shadow and a raw Robin-shaped wound to haul across the continental United States.
or: road trip, coming-of-age, #Grief Fic triple-threat with a healthy dollop of early accidental Tim acquisition. or about as accidental as Tim acquisition can get
Series
- Part 1 of lpd road trip au
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 46,161
- Chapters:
- 6/6
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 291
- Kudos:
- 437
- Bookmarks:
- 175
- Hits:
- 9,000
Bookmarked by frostbitesjc
09 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
oh my god. Oh my god.
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“It’s one thing to lose a classmate. It’s another to lose a brother,” Clark’s hand flattens on the table. He glances up from his hand to meet Dick’s eye. “I can’t say I know exactly how it feels, but I know that it’s awful. I’m so sorry, Dick. He didn’t deserve that.”
The can clangs when Dick sets it back onto the table. His thumb presses into the raw cutting edge of the opening. Orange bubbles pool in the lid. When he speaks, it’s like dragging his voice across gravel, like steel girders giving way, like a cable snapping.
“We weren’t close,” Dick says. “I didn’t call him that.”
Clark watches his face. What he finds makes him press his lips thin and white.
“I don’t get to call him that. I could’ve helped him and I didn’t,” Dick says. “He left me a voicemail and I still haven’t listened to it. The last thing he wanted to say to me and I’m ignoring it.”
“We can listen to it together if —” Clark starts.
Dick almost hisses. His hands yank his hair. Follicles go pop-pop-pop as they’re pulled from his scalp. “No, no, you don’t get it, I can’t. I can’t do that to him.”
“Dick—” Dick cuts in again.
“Jason’s dead and it’s our faults, me and Bruce,” Dick says. “If I had just — if I had just —”
“Dick, no,” Clark says, then his eyes go wide.
Dick feels it coming on before it happens. It slams out of him. It’s like hitting a deer going eighty-five. It’s like falling forty-one feet onto sawdust-covered dirt. A freefall, an impact, a crush. For the first time since May 23rd, a raw, ragged keen drags out of his chest and rips him up on the way out and it tastes like blood and orange soda, and it’s loud and angry, and Dick’s hands shake more when he covers his face, and the tears burn when they come out, and Clark drags him up into his hold and Dick hangs there in his arms because his knees won’t keep him up, and he wails into Clark’s flannel like he’s being cut from navel to throat, and it feels that way, and his guts are unzipping like envelopes and half-skinned big game and Dick wishes he’s started bleeding so he has a reason for it to hurt like this, he wishes that someone’s taken a knife to his insides, he wishes he’d have died instead and maybe it would be easier than this, than the pain and the guilt and the fact that it’s his fault, that it’s Bruce’s fault too, that Jason was fifteen and stupid and wanted his fucking mom and was so alone because the only person he could talk to was Dick and it’s not like Dick made that easy for him and Dick’s such an asshole how could he ever call himself a hero and if he hadn’t let his parents die and if he hadn’t wanted Bruce to love him he wouldn’t have made fucking Robin and Jason wouldn’t have died but maybe he would have but maybe he wouldn’t and there’s no way to know and he’s still fucking dead and a war that wasn’t even his own killed him and he had one brother and he didn’t know it and now he has zero. He snarls his hands into the wide expanse of Clark’s back, nails ripping at cotton, shaking in safe harbor.
Jason needed braces. He wore a size 8 and stole Dick’s hand-me-down jacket and got embarrassed when Dick asked about it. Dick stole his well-loved copy of The Westing Game after a rare joint patrol in November and was meaning to give it back. He would hum showtunes and metal classics on stakeouts because he always had at least one earbud in and never took it out unless forced. Dick teased him a few times about growing mold in his ears. Bruce took off work for a few days when Jason had pneumonia. When Dick would come home for one reason or another he’d sit at the top of the stairs, thinking he was hidden, listening to Dick and Bruce tear each other's throats out about stupid, inconsequential shit. He had a Park Row accent so thick it sounded like he talked out of his gullet and not his mouth. He was five feet six inches tall and a hundred and thirty pounds, blood type B negative, with 80% TBSA full-thickness burns, multiple complex fractures, massive internal hemorrhaging, cause of death asphyxiation. If Jason had lived, he would’ve probably never walked again without pain, nevermind followed Batman across rooftops or attended in-person school. Dick had only learned Jason’s middle name when he’d read his obituary. He doesn’t know Jason’s favorite color. He never will.
Jason Peter Todd. Jason Peter Todd. Jason Peter Todd. Dick knows it now. He won't forget it. He can't forget it. He didn't even get to die with that much. The colors of somebody else's dead parents. It's Dick's responsibility.