#dick grayon

[a-taken-url]

When my current book babes have like 1 fic a week, I have to dig into the deep recesses of my mind to figure out who I used to have crushes on and scroll through their tags instead

[dailydccomics]

Nightwing and Starfire in War for Earth-3 #2

[big-gay-apocalypse]

look at these babies

// Batman: The Brave and the Bold (2023) #1

[danny-chase]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Nightwing (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Additional Tags: Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Car Chases, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Timeline What Timeline Summary:

A yellow taxi cab happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, when the Red Hood's looking for a getaway car...

“Make some deals in Blüdhaven, they said.” Jason ducks a right hook, thrown by one of Penguin’s goons, a short stocky guy, with a name tag reading ‘Fred’ on his stolen janitor’s suit. “It’s free real estate, they said.” He’s never trusting his informants again. He slides a taser into his left hand as he blocks a kick with his right. “Blockbuster’s gone, Nightwing’s nowhere to be seen, and there’s a power vacuum. Easy money, they said. Some easy money this looks like to me!”

He kicks the man back and quickly shoots the taser. The man screams and collapses, no sooner than he hits the ground, shots ring out through the alley, echoing and ricocheting in equal measure off brick buildings that line either side. “I ducking hate this town.” It smells of rotten fish, and since getting here he’s been on the run from a near-constant spray of bullets. At this rate the entire trip is going to end up an utter wash. 

He turns tail and runs towards streetlights, the fire escapes are too high to reach (which definitely breaks some kind of housing requirements, thanks Blüdhaven). He got baited on the way down, his cycle is two blocks away - the asshole, ‘Fred’, made him walk before he’d talk. He’s regretting not just interrogating the man on the spot. So much for business courtesy.

He ducks as he bursts into the street, then tackles a man waiting to ambush him. He gets up quick; he can’t fight here, not on Penguins terms, not while this outnumbered. Bullets whiz past him, bouncing off a taxi parked in an unfortunate location. He slides over the hood, taking cover on the other side. If he just had more time, he could break in and hotwire the care and-

He checks the handle, just to see if he can break it. It pops open easily, unlocked. Thank god for people stupid enough to leave their cars unlocked in Blüdhaven’s most crime ridden district. It’s a cruddy old Ford Crown Victoria too, way easier to hotwire than some new stupid floofy thing. An obnoxious easy to spot neon yellow, but if he can make it to New York City, he’ll blend right in. Muscle memory guides his hands, the screws come out easily, and within twenty seconds, the wires are together and he’s thankful Bruce made him practice this about a thousand times. He slams the gas, and is home free. For about thirty seconds.

“Whuzzit?” He yelps, nearly veers off the road as a familiar voice croaks from the backseat. Those commercials really aren’t kidding when they say to check the back seat for kids. Nightwing was supposed to be nowhere to be seen. Dick’s in the back of the car with a buzzcut. Oh well, like anything his informant said has been accurate today.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barks, jerking the wheel hard to the right around a curve. There’s at least four cars following him. Undercover work? The city’s gone to shit without Nightwing and he’s just camping out in a taxi? Yeah, doesn’t add up.

“Hey,this is my cab!” Okay. So Dick Grayson if he had a midlife crisis and shaved his head, and started sleeping in a cab. No way. It can’t be Dick; the cab smells like booze and weed. Dick doesn’t drink, or smoke. Or leave his car unlocked, whether he’s in a dangerous part of town or not. And there’s a ratty toothbrush in the cup holder - this guy’s living in here, Dick has about a thousand couches people would be willing to let him crash on, not to mention at least two safe houses in Blüdhaven. “What the hell man?!?”

The man reaches forward, continuing to yell, jerking Jason back into reality. “I swear to god, take the wheel and we’re both dead.” He yells, slamming on the breaks as a car swerves in front of him. 

“Fuck you!” He can smell alcohol on the man’s breath. Scarred hands grab the wheel next to his, he tries to pry them off but the man’s stronger than Jason expected. “This is my cab! You can’t just steal my car! I have rights! You people think you can walk all over us but FUCK YOU THIS IS MY CAR-”

“LET GO OR WE’RE GOING TO DIE!” And they nearly do. Jason’s heart rate spikes as they narrowly miss a stop sign, then swerve through an intersection, horns blaring from all directions.

“FINE! TAKE THE ONLY THING I HAVE LEFT WHY DON’T YOU!” The wheel is his again. The man glares at him through the rear view mirror, reminding him a bit too much of someone that the man is most definitely not. Jason cuts into a back alley.

“Literally what the fuck are you trying to die?” He complains. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing! You’re the one who stole my car! What the hell’s wrong with you?” Fair point. 

“Hey, in my defense, if I didn’t steal it, it would have been shot up, so really I’m doing you a favor here. You’re welcome for saving your life.” 

“Fuck you. If you weren’t here in the first place, they wouldn’t be shooting, would they.” Jason shuts his mouth in a tight line. He watches the man down a handful of pills through the rearview mirror. Heavy medications.

“They let you drive while taking those?” He wonders out loud, really he shut his mouth and focus on driving, but that did NOT look like Tylenol to him and who on earth cleared this man to have a license? “Do you even have a license?”

“You’re lecturing me about breaking the law? Fuck-”

“Hey you’re the one putting your own life in danger.” The cars on his tail are stubborn, he turns off on a back road that leads up to the interstate.

“Are you shitting me right now? They’re shooting at me because YOU STOLE MY CAR. I swear, none of you people can see past your own noses, all you do is preach about helping people but when the people don’t act the way you want all you do is get-”

Jason just laughs, something finally clicking, he complains about the same ‘you people’ all the time. “Excuse me, do I look like a hero to you? I’m literally stealing your car.” And he’s certainly not paying for the damage he’s done. At least he’s using his turn signal as he merges onto the highway. “That’s not exactly heroic of me. And look at this.” He slides a gun out and waves it around.

“Hmp. An edgy hero then, wow look at you so dangerous with your little guns. I bet you haven’t even killed anyone. I bet you cry yourself to sleep with your My Little Pony body pillow wishing you had the gall to-” 

“Would you shut up?” He points the gun in the back seat, trigger finger itching. “I’m trying to keep us alive.”

The man narrows his eyes, Jason blinks and the gun’s out of his hand. Fine, he doesn’t need it right now. “You look like one of them. Black hair, blue eyes, yeah right there’s not a chance in hell your last name isn’t Wayne.” 

“Read ‘em and weep.” Jason tosses back his wallet. Well. Specifically the wallet that he lifted off of Tim for the fun of it. “Wait.” His mind catches up with him. “Why the hell do you think-”

“Alvin Draper. That sounds fake.” The man says flatly. Tim’s an idiot. And he’s the bigger idiot for not checking the wallet beforehand. He’d resolve to stop stealing from the kid, but it’s funny to make him mad. Guess he’ll just throw whatever he takes in the garbage.

“I get that a lot.” He says nonchalantly. God, he hates Tim so much. He wishes he didn’t drop his gun. “Now why-”

“Who would even name their kid Alvin?” The man cuts him off, continuing as if he didn’t speak. “That should be considered child abuse. I mean you’re practically asking your kid to get bullied.” Jason laughs bitterly.

“Well excuse me for having cruddy parents, not all of us are privileged enough not to be raised by Mrs. and Mr. Smith with a little white picket fence in front of the house and a son named Billy.” And now he’s lecturing a homeless guy about classism. Goddamnit. “What the hell’s your name?” He adds frustratedly.

“Ric.” The guy gives him a toothy grin.

“Huh. Short for Richard?” Jason frowns. What are the odds?

“Oh, so you know me?” Ric’s smile fades, replaced by a scowl.

“No, I- we literally met when I stole your car.” There’s no way he’s Dick, there’s no way he’s Dick, there’s no way he’s-

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I get confused. Amnesia things.” He waves his hand vaguely, turning his head to show off a two inch long scar on the side of his hands.

“Ffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudddddge.” His hands dance over the steering wheel as he swerves in a complete u-turn, cutting across six lanes of traffic. Dick Grayson is sitting in the back of the hotwired cab that he stole, careening down an exit ramp headed west into Pennsylvania with three cars still on his tail. And he has amnesia and smells like beer and he thinks those might be vomit stains on the passenger seats and the ceiling foam of the cab is peeling. “Sorry to hear that.” He chokes out. He’s mostly sorry for himself. He’s so dead for this. 

“Don’t be, I don’t give a shit. Just tired of people looking at me with long faces as if I could magically turn into someone I’m not.” Go figure. Some shots ring out. “You should take a left!” He does, turning onto a straightway between rows of corn.

“Who the hell shot you?” And why did no one tell him? Okay, to be fair, his whole crime-lord-anti-hero routine isn’t exactly conducive to pleasant weekly zoom calls with the family, but-

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Jason is going to drive this car off the next cliff he sees. “It’s my life, not yours, and it’s none of your business.”

“Excuse me for trying to make small talk.” He swerves as shots spray the road near his back tires. 

“Yeah, by asking overly personal questions. Now who’s trying to shoot you?” Dick asks, cautiously poking his head up from the backseat. “It doesn’t look like they’re giving up. What the hell did you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t block my line of sight.”

“Then tell me who’s shooting at us.” Dick sticks his head directly in the center of the rear window. “You should have known better than to mess around in Blüdhaven.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, do you want to get shot?” He can’t see.

“I lived through it once, can’t be that much worse the second time around.” What kind of logic is that?!?

“Are you insane?!?” If he could threaten to turn this car around, he would, but he can’t, so instead he floors it as guns go off again.

“Nope. My psychologist gave me a clean bill of health.” Ric ducks down, thankfully giving Jason a clear view. He catches a glimpse of a rather large looking gun and- “See?” Ric shoves a certificate in his face. 

Jason rips it out of his hands. “GET DOWN.” He swerves off the road as an explosion tears through the earth behind them. Corn stalks go flying as he cuts the corner onto an old dirt path between lines of crops. He laughs shakily, life flashing before his eyes. “I’m going to kill you. With my bare hands. And a lead pipe.” 

“If you used a lead pipe it wouldn’t be your bare hands.” 

“I’ll kill you twice.” 

“I’d already be dead.”

“I’ll bring you back to life and kill you again.”

“That’s literally impossible.” 

“Oh, come on, it is possible. You know how many people have come back from the dead?” The car rattles as it hits the main road. “I wouldn’t expect you to know about, I don’t know, Jason Todd, but Superman ought to ring a bell, he died a few years back, it was a whole thing.”

“What part of amnesia don’t you understand?” Ric groans, slamming against the back seat. “Your driving sucks, you do know what breaks are right?”

“I know how to break you.” He really wishes he hadn’t dropped his gun.

“You really suck as a hero.”

“Oh my god, do you have an off switch?” He catches a smug grin in the rear view mirror. “I’m literally not a hero.” 

“Sure you’re not, ‘Red Bobin’. Or should I say Tim Drake.”

“WHAT?” The car nearly runs off the road. “I’m not-”

“You forgot to take this out of your wallet.” Ric throws a piece of crumpled up paper at the side of his head. He smooths it out against the steering wheel, catching fleeting glimpses of the letters as he tries to focus on the road. ‘Buy ten drinks and get the eleventh free’ There’s a boba drink with cartoon eyes on the top. The name section is penned ‘Tim Drake’. “I figured if you wanted to play the ‘bad guy’ or whatever I’d just roll with it, let you work your issues out. But you’re going to get me killed at this rate.”

“Dick-Ric.” Jason coughs, mouth going dry. “I’m not Tim.”

“You literally know my name, games up. Take me home.” 

“I’m not. Tim.” He sputters. “I stole his wallet.”

“Yeah, right. Bruce showed me a family portrait or something in the hospital. Told me your hero names. You look just like him.” 

“That is the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He can feel his insides shriveling up. He’s not even mad anymore. Just. Filling with gray clouds. He’s died before, felt his soul leaving his body. It’s a tenth of what this feels like. He realizes with a jolt, that the car’s slowed down, and slams the gas pedal. 

“I’m sorry you look like yourself.” Ric shrugs. “The portrait wasn’t that bad. Your disguise kind of sucks though.” 

“I am NOT Tim!” Jason grips the steering wheel. “Do I look like someone that would barge in and replace someone’s son that just died?!?” 

“I dunno. You barged into my cab real easily.” Jason bites back a scream.

“That’s different! This was my life! He replaced ME.” 

“My cab IS my life.” Ric throws another crumpled bit of paper at the side of his head. “And it’s my life, and I’m done with you ‘heroes’ interfering! Take me home!”

“Oh yeah, I’d love to! In case you haven’t noticed-” He glances in the mirrors. “Oh.” Ric turns around too. He takes his foot off the gas, and the cab coasts to a stop. At some point, the guys chasing them left. He’s not sure how long they’ve been gone.

“Good. Now take me home, Tim.” 

Jason lets out a long suffering sigh. “You know what. I’m done.” He gets out of the car, and tosses the keys back to Ric. He steps into the cornfield, and lets the path close behind him. He’s just going to live in the field and survive off the land until this whole thing blows over. Heroes he can deal with. Villains he can fight. Blüdhaven is Ric’s for the taking, he’ll wait for the storm to pass.

[bluegarners]

professor talking about infant attachment behaviors and me instantly crumbling internally thinking about bruce and dick

[disco-troy]

Dick was fighting a tentacle monster be he decided that cheering on Donna was more important. Good for him tbh

Dick: Fight him and win this while the earth still has time! You can do this Don, I know you can!

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

Wow Bluejay actually would've been a great hero name for Jason haha. Robin is Dick, Bluejay is Jason, Drake is Tim...

uh idk about Damian and Steph

[dcmakeitpoly]

Unexpected Blessings by McDiana

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandoms: White Collar (TV 2009), Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Neal Caffrey/Dick Grayson/Wally West, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Neal Caffrey/Wally West, Neal Caffrey/Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Soul Bond, Magic Made Them Do It, Alien Technology, Forced Bonding, Established Relationship, First Time, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Mildly Dubious Consent, Due to Alien Technomagic, Consensual Sex, Superpower Sex, Wally West Is a Human Vibrator, Barebacking, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anal Plug, Ass Play, Ass to Mouth, Lube, Double Penetration, Gay Sex, Creampie, Simultaneous Orgasm, Telepathic Bond, Past Character Death, Wally West Lost In The Speedforce, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Did Not Fake His Death, Wally West Needs a Hug, Protective Mozzie (White Collar), Come Inflation,Come Eating, Coming In Pants, Multiple Orgasms, fletching

Summary: Ninety-eight percent of people had a soulmate, someone that they would meet sometime in their life. Most of them were romantic in nature, and most of them turned out well. Neal was just as markless as the day he was born. Granted the chances of him developing a soulmate after birth was next to impossible, being only a handful of recorded cases in history. Most cultures believed that the markless had soulmates in the world but fate had cursed them never to meet. So how did he wind up with not just one but two superheroes for Soulmates?

[i-am-literal-nightmare-fuel]

I have annotated notes on how I am just like Jason Todd and Dick Grayson (both from official media and MOSTLY from the Batman: Wayne Family Adventures webtoon /which is absolutely amazing and very wholesome /except the episodes about Jason’s trauma which made me cry inside/)

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

had this thought of either Dick or Jason finding out you have your nipples pierced and well...they go feral, and always feel the need to be touching it or having their lips around it

Warnings: Smut 18+ Only!!!!!!

Grayson

"Thanks for ah, inviting me back to your place. We can just hang out if you want," he says shyly, rubbing the back of his head, "no pressure I mean, I know what they say about third dates. But it's totally cool with me if you want to just hang," he stands awkwardly in your doorway, "or if you want me to go, yeah I can just go and I'll call you-" he's cut off by your kiss your fingers already pulling your dress over your head, "or we can do that." His hands slip around your back before coming up to cup your breasts.

His long fingers graze over your nipples and he lets out and excited squeal, "that's so hot," he pulls you closer, his fingers toying with the metal that's through your nipple, "is it sensitive?"

"Yea," you moan, your chest pressing out into his fingers.

"What if i -" he bends down, taking your nipple in his mouth, while his tongue flicks over it, his other fingers toying with the other, "What kind of noise was that?" He presses you into the wall, "do it again." Dicks fingers toy with you as he starts to growl into your breast, his other hand taking greedy handfuls of your ass, "God your so hot. Can I fuck you against this wall with your tit in my mouth?"

Todd

"Hi," the man you've been ogling for weeks says as he approaches you at the weights bench, "you need a spot?"

Pulling your headphone to the side you smile back at him, "nah, I'm good. Thanks though," you move to put your headphone on when he starts talking again.

"I just, I wanted to tell you."

"Go on?"

"I can ah-" his eyes flick down to your sports bra, "look, I can see your nipples and you know I thought you'd wanna know," he looks away as you put your bar down and sit up, "you know, I'd want someone to tell me, if I was-" he waves at your chest.

"Oh," you peer around the gym noticing that you are totally alone with him, not surprising as it's nearly midnight, "it's fine. Not like there's anyone here to see."

"I'm here."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Just makes me think," he tilts his head, pretending to think, "what's got them so hard. The ac in here is garbage."

"Well, that's an easy fix," you laugh, tugging your sports bra over your head, "see?"

"Yeah," Jason licks his lips, "that's ah," he steps toward you, sitting down opposite you on the bench, "very interesting."

"You wanna touch them?"

"Yes," his hand snaps out grabbing you by the breast and pushing you back into the bench, "is this ok?"

"More than ok," you moan, wrapping your strong legs around him as his lips cover your nipple and his body presses down onto you.

"Fucking sexy," his lips lath and lavish at your nipple, pulling the metal bar into his mouth and sucking at it, "to think all this time I've just been staring at you wondering if you were horny or cold."

"Two things can be true," you grip his hair, holding him to your chest as you start to grind up into the hard cock between your legs.

"I'm not usually like this but fuck-"

"Really? In the 3 months I've spent watching you," you pant, shivering as his other hand palms at your breast, "I had no idea you were shy."

"You've been teasing me," his hand leaves your tit as his mouth switches sides, and he grips at your sides, trying so hard to pull your leggings down.

"Worked didn't it?"

"Yes," he starts to grind down onto you, his eyes noticing the cameras in the corner of the gym, "we need to get out of here," he pulls away, dragging you with him, "my place is just down the road."

"Lets fucking go then."

[that-sea-sponge]

Come Back to Me

Chapter 10: Burn It Down, Build It up

Summary:

The Bats and The Titans launch one last attack against the Court of Owls to unravel the last conspiracy, save Richie's life and save Dick's soul.

Notes:

Epilogue incoming shortly.

It's finished! I've poured a lot into it and I'm really, really excited for you to see how it all ends.

[dc-and-arfrona]

Gifts - Headcannons - Batboys

—- Batboys x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+

Masterlist

Summary: Gifts From their missions —

Jason Todd - Plushies

Jason Todd, the Red Hood, was known for his fierce and relentless nature as a vigilante. But there was a side to him that few had the privilege to witness—a tender and caring side that he reserved for you, his cherished partner.

After a long night of patrolling Gotham City, Jason returned to the secret hideout he shared with you. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders, a small smile tugged at his lips as he pulled out a plushie from his backpack—a soft and adorable creature he had acquired during his mission.

"Hey, babe," Jason greeted, his voice carrying a hint of weariness and affection. "I brought you something."

You looked up from your spot on the couch, a smile of delight lighting up your face. Jason's thoughtful gesture never failed to warm your heart. "Another plushie? You spoil me, Jay."

He shrugged, a bashful expression crossing his face. "Just a little something to remind you that I'm always thinking about you, even when I'm out there fighting the bad guys."

You took the plushie in your hands, marveling at its cuteness. It was a testament to Jason's consideration—the fact that he took the time to find something he knew would bring you joy. Each plushie held a story, a silent testament to his care for you.

"I love it," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Jason."

He joined you on the couch, his arm finding its way around your shoulders. "You deserve all the cute things in the world, Y/N. And I want you to have a piece of me with you, even when I can't be around."

In that moment, you realized that the plushies held a deeper meaning—they were tokens of love, a tangible reminder of the unspoken affection that blossomed between you. They represented the bond you shared—a connection that transcended the dangers and uncertainties of the world they navigated.

As you nestled against Jason's side, the plushie cradled in your arms, you knew that you were cherished. In a world of darkness and chaos, Jason Todd had found a way to bring light and warmth into your life—a simple act of bringing you home a cute plushie, a symbol of his love and devotion.

And so, with each new plushie, Jason continued his tradition, leaving a trail of soft creatures in his wake—a trail that told the story of their love, the moments of vulnerability shared, and the unbreakable bond forged amidst the chaos.

---------------------

Dick Grayon - Chocolate

Dick Grayson, the charismatic and agile Nightwing, had a secret tradition—one that brought a sweet delight into your life. After his thrilling missions in the darkness of Gotham City, he would always return with a small package of chocolates, each one a unique and tantalizing creation.

As you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening, your heart skipped a beat. The scent of adventure and chocolate lingered in the air, signaling Dick's return. With a smile of anticipation, you made your way to the living room, where he stood, holding a small box in his hands.

"I'm back, and I brought you something," Dick said, his voice filled with excitement and affection.

You leaned against the doorway, a grin spreading across your face. "Let me guess—another delectable treat from your mission?"

Dick chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling. "You know me too well, Y/N. I can't resist the allure of unique chocolates, and I love sharing these discoveries with you."

He extended the box towards you, the delicate packaging reflecting the elegance and artistry of the chocolates within. With eager hands, you opened it, revealing an array of intricately designed confections, each one a work of edible art.

As you tasted the first piece, your taste buds danced with delight. The flavors, carefully curated and blended, offered a symphony of sweetness that took you on a culinary adventure. And by your side, Dick's eyes shimmered with joy as he watched you savor each bite.

"These chocolates are incredible, Dick," you murmured, your voice laced with appreciation. "Thank you for always thinking of me and bringing a touch of sweetness into my life."

Dick's smile widened, a warmth radiating from his soul. "You deserve all the sweetness and happiness, Y/N. It's a small way for me to show you how much you mean to me."

Together, you explored the world of chocolate, each new flavor bringing you closer as you reveled in the shared experience. With every mission, Dick returned with a different assortment, each one reflecting his adventurous spirit and his desire to bring joy to your life.

As you sat together, savoring the chocolates and exchanging laughter and stories, you realized that these moments transcended the simple act of tasting sweets. They were a celebration of love and connection, a reminder of the tender affection you shared.

And so, with each new box of chocolates, Dick continued his tradition, weaving a tapestry of shared moments and delectable treats that intertwined their lives. In a world of darkness and danger, he brought light and sweetness, his gestures speaking volumes about his love for you.

In the realm of chocolate and love, you and Dick Grayson discovered that the simplest acts—bringing home a new type of chocolate—could deepen their bond and create a sanctuary of sweetness in a tumultuous world.

---------------------

Tim Drake - Mug

Tim Drake, the brilliant and resourceful Red Robin, had a unique tradition that he shared with you—a tradition that brought a touch of warmth and comfort to your mornings. After his missions took him to various cities around the world, he would always return with a new mug, each one a reflection of the places he had visited.

As you heard the sound of Tim's footsteps approaching, a smile of anticipation lit up your face. The door swung open, and there he stood, a small bag in his hand containing the latest addition to your growing collection.

"Hey, Y/N," Tim greeted, his voice filled with a mix of weariness and excitement. "I've got something for you."

You met him with a hug, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Let me guess—a new mug?"

Tim chuckled, his blue eyes shining with affection. "You know me too well. I couldn't resist finding something unique for you during my mission."

He handed you the bag, and you eagerly peeked inside, your eyes widening with delight as you saw the beautifully crafted mug nestled within. Each one held a story—the design reflecting the culture and essence of the city Tim had visited.

"This one is amazing, Tim," you said, admiring the intricate patterns on the mug. "Thank you for always thinking of me and bringing a piece of the world into our home."

Tim's smile deepened, his gaze full of adoration. "You bring warmth and comfort to my life, Y/N. These mugs are just a small way for me to express my love and appreciation for you."

Together, you embarked on a journey of mornings, each new mug holding a promise of adventure and memories. As you sipped your coffee or tea, the flavors melding with the stories behind each mug, you couldn't help but feel a connection to the places Tim had visited—the cities that had become a part of your shared experiences.

In the quiet moments, you would sit side by side, your mugs cradled in your hands, sharing tales of the cities and the adventures Tim had encountered during his missions. Through these stories, you felt closer to him, as if you were a part of the excitement and the mysteries he had unraveled.

And so, with each new mug, Tim continued his tradition—a testament to his love and the bond you shared. In a world of secrets and shadows, he brought a piece of the outside world to your mornings, a reminder that love could thrive amidst the chaos.

In the realm of mugs and love, you and Tim Drake discovered that the simplest acts—bringing home a new mug—could deepen your connection and create a sanctuary of warmth and comfort. Each sip taken from those mugs became a toast to the love that bloomed between you, a love that transcended distance and time.

---------------------

Damian Wayne - Post Card 

Damian Wayne, the fierce and skilled Robin, had a secret tradition—a gesture that spoke volumes of his affection for you. After his missions took him to far-flung corners of the world, he would always return with a postcard, each one adorned with a picturesque scene and a heartfelt love letter inscribed on the back.

As you heard the sound of Damian's footsteps approaching, a smile of anticipation tugged at your lips. The door swung open, and there he stood, a small envelope in his hand containing the latest addition to your collection.

"Beloved," Damian greeted, his voice carrying a mix of confidence and vulnerability. "I have brought something for you."

You met him with a gentle kiss, feeling the depth of his love in that simple gesture. "Let me guess—a postcard?"

Damian's lips curved into a fond smile, his emerald eyes shimmering with adoration. "You know me well, beloved. I wanted to capture the essence of the place I visited and convey my emotions through the written word."

He handed you the envelope, and you carefully opened it, marveling at the image on the front of the postcard—a breathtaking scene that transported you to the place Damian had journeyed. Turning it over, you read the words he had penned—a concise yet poignant love letter, expressing his devotion and longing.

"This is beautiful, Damian," you whispered, tracing the words with your fingertips. "Thank you for always finding a way to express your love, even from a distance."

Damian's gaze softened, a rare vulnerability shining through. "You are my anchor, beloved. These postcards are a small token of my affection, a reminder that you are always in my thoughts."

Together, you embarked on a journey of love, each postcard a testament to the strength of your bond and the depth of Damian's emotions. As you read his words, etched on the back of each postcard, you felt a connection—a lifeline that bridged the gap between his missions and your shared life.

In the quiet moments, you would sit side by side, your fingers entwined, reading and re-reading the postcards that held Damian's love. Through these snippets of his thoughts, you glimpsed the depth of his soul and the extent of his affection, a love that grew stronger with each passing day.

And so, with each new postcard, Damian continued his tradition—a testament to his unwavering love and commitment. In a world of darkness and danger, he brought light and tenderness, his gestures speaking volumes about his devotion to you.

In the realm of postcards and love, you and Damian Wayne discovered that the simplest acts—a handwritten note on a distant shore—could deepen your connection and create a sanctuary of love that transcended borders. With each postcard received, you reaffirmed the strength of your bond, knowing that even in the face of danger and uncertainty, your love would endure.

---------------------

Bruce Wayne - Souvenir 

Bruce Wayne, the enigmatic billionaire and vigilant protector of Gotham City, had a secret tradition—a gesture that showed his thoughtfulness and his desire to share the world with you. After his Batman missions took him to various cities across the globe, he would always return with a random souvenir—a tangible piece of that city—to bring a slice of the world to your doorstep.

As you heard the sound of Bruce's footsteps approaching, a smile of anticipation graced your face. The door swung open, and there he stood, a small package in his hands containing the latest addition to your collection.

"Hello, my love," Bruce greeted, his voice carrying a mix of weariness and affection. "I brought something back for you."

You met him with a loving embrace, feeling the strength of his presence. "Let me guess—a random souvenir from another city?"

Bruce chuckled, his warm gaze fixated on you. "You know me too well. I couldn't resist finding something unique for you during my mission."

He handed you the package, and you carefully unwrapped it, revealing the treasure that lay within. Each item held a story, a tangible connection to the place Bruce had visited—a trinket, a piece of art, or a cultural artifact that represented the spirit of the city.

"This is incredible, Bruce," you whispered, your voice filled with appreciation. "Thank you for always thinking of me and bringing a piece of the world into our home."

Bruce's smile deepened, his eyes reflecting a love that went beyond words. "You bring light and joy into my life, my love. These souvenirs are a small way for me to express my gratitude and share the wonders of the world with you."

Together, you embarked on a journey of discovery, each new souvenir transporting you to the places Bruce had visited, the cities that had become a part of your shared experiences. As you admired the items and listened to Bruce's stories, you felt a connection—a bridge between his missions and your life together.

In the quiet moments, you would sit side by side, tracing the details of each souvenir, sharing tales of the cities and the adventures Bruce had encountered during his missions. Through these stories, you felt closer to him, as if you were a part of the excitement and the mysteries he had unraveled.

And so, with each new souvenir, Bruce continued his tradition—a testament to his love and the bond you shared. In a world of shadows and secrets, he brought pieces of the outside world to your doorstep, a reminder that love could thrive amidst the chaos.

In the realm of souvenirs and love, you and Bruce Wayne discovered that the simplest acts—bringing back a random item—could deepen your connection and create a sanctuary of shared experiences. Each item became a treasure, a symbol of your love and a reminder that, even in the face of danger and uncertainty, you were a team, ready to face the world together.

[thequiver]

Fandom is so terrible about CSA as a theme.

Because if a character isn't a perfect victim and shows realistic trauma responses, like Mia Dearden or Jade Nguyen - then the fact that they're a survivor is made an afterthought or outright ignored.

If a character doesn't outwardly let the trauma affect them then it's "not really that bad" and "you're reading too much into it" - like with Sam Guthrie or Kon-El.

Characters that fandom considers to have been attractive as kids/teens are blamed for it. If a character acts on these trauma responses in a way that makes someone uncomfortable then they were "asking for it" or it "becomes consensual" or a choice they made. (see Dick Grayon, Tara Markov, Mia Dearden, Sam Guthrie, Kon-El.......I can continue)

And at the same time, fandom will take the canon CSA history of characters and just.... move it to a new character they like more. They treat it as backstory flavoring, and not like something that actually affects the character, not like something that happens in real life to real people. They don't treat it as a topic that should be handled with care. It essentially becomes an issue of CSA trauma being fetishized.

[jelmet]

been thinking about how dick’s full name is Richard John Grayon, John also being her dads name. Thinking that when Dick comes out as trans she takes on her mom’s name and becomes Mary John Grayson. She has each of her parents names and they name the three of them created together (Grayson).

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Jonathan Crane Knows...

where the batcave is

how to sew and mend clothing

how to use a typewriter efficiently

when every Jewish holiday is (so he can talk to Harley about it)

how many riddlerbots Eddie owns, and their names

the secret sewer hideout of killer croc (they have card game nights)

how to speak three languages (Latin, French, and English)

when dick grayon’s birthday is (he sends fear toxin)

how to inject toxin the most painful way

more about science then any other rogue

[comiccrazes]

Nightwing / Dick Grayon