#reblogging fics

[rae-gar-targaryen]

I have a question about reblogging fics that I would love your opinion on as a writer… I admittedly rarely reblog fics, artwork or photos from the TGM fandom because it’s a side interest for me, and really doesn’t match the content on my blog. I hear you and many other fandom creators on this site talk about the importance of reblogging original content and I want to help by changing my behaviour. I’ve thought about creating a new blog to specifically support the TGM creators I love by reblogging their content, but worry that that isn’t a very helpful solution because the reblogs would probably go to a “dead end” and not be further shared past my blog. Does that seem like a reasonable solution to you, or is there a more helpful way I can take action? Thanks in advance for your guidance - I love your Mickey pieces and would hate to see you stop sharing your writing due to a perceived lack of interest!!

Hi, my darling! Thank you for this question, and for taking the time to write about this! I hope you didn't think I was ignoring you -- I've been thinking about how I want to answer and what I could suggest. I am by no means the premiere authority on this sort of thing, so I welcome my other writer friends to chime in. But here I go --

Firstly, thank you so much for your love of my content and wanting to help promote it/other writer's works. I also appreciate you being willing to step out of your comfort zone in order to benefit writers and creators on Tumblr. That's so kind and so important.

To some extent, I understand being known for certain content on your blog, and not wanting to disrupt your own content for your followers. I know some blogs are really fandom and aesthetically oriented. So I get that.

That said, one big point of reblogging is getting the material in front of new eyes, so if your OG blog has the numbers to help writers get seen, I can't express enough what that would mean to me, and to other writers to be shared to that forum.

It's no secret that one frustration I have with my own writing is that it never seems to "break through." I am fortunate to receive the positive feedback that I do, and one of the things I regularly hear is "this is so well-written!" And "why doesn't this have more notes?" I wish I knew -- the answer is that it could, if things didn't sit in the likes tab. And it sort of breaks my heart to read what is intended as a compliment that serves to remind me that my content is only reaching the eyes of whomever happens to be browsing the tag that day and few others.

That said, to your suggestion about creating a side blog/library blog and the concern that it would be a "dead end," you're right in that reblogging content into a dead blog or one that doesn't have many followers does not remediate the issue. So, my counter-question to you is -- are you willing to disrupt the flow/aesthetic of your main to either share fics, or to promote your side blog and encourage your followers to check it out/follow the writers you share to there? The latter may be more effort than you're willing to put in to the endeavor (and I certainly would never ask or expect anyone to bend over backward). And the former may not be what you're willing to do for the sake of what you're already sharing to your blog.

So -- if there's an answer, I'm not sure I have a clear one. I appreciate your willingness to share. And if you one day do, I know it would make that writer's day! It would certainly make mine.

And I'm not trying to guilt anything, but I can't tell you the number of times I've felt that looming cloud of discouragement because I look at the metrics and think, "well, that flopped." Because if people are silently reading and not saying anything, it may not be the case that my fics are flopping in that sense, but if that's true, I have no way of knowing. For me, an ask (I keep anon on for a reason), a comment reblog, tags, a comment, something that lets me know what someone enjoyed about my story?? Makes my entire day! I put so much thought into exactly how I want a sentence to sound. What I want the flow of a story to be. The vibe I want to convey. It's all intentional. And it can be heartbreaking when you feel like it resonated with no one.

If you're still reading this, thank you! Thank you for asking! Thank you for your patience and dedication to reading and hopefully sharing work! You have a few options, and I welcome others' suggestions. All my best to you, my love. And happy reading! I have so many fics planned for the coming months. 💜🌿☀️🌻✨

[ghostofaboy]

Interaction of Tumblr is really getting me down. I spend hours writing and get a couple of likes and no reblogs. It makes me want to not bother.

Without reblogs fics don't get seen. They die in the tags (which only work half of the time) and then get swallowed up like they never existed.

And it's gotten worse in the past few months. The influx of people from Twitter and Reddit who believe Tumblr works with the same algorithm combines with a general lack of respect for the time and effort it takes to create things.

I compare the feedback/interaction I get on here with what I get on AO3 and the difference is stark.

If you like a fic please for fucks sake reblog it. If you don't want fics on your main blog then make a little side one for it. It's free!

Please. As someone who loves to write Tumblr right now makes me want to throw in the towel.

[museaway]

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[weaver-z]

Comments on erotica are so funny because a lot of the people in those sections are trying to compliment the author without directly saying "awesome job, I jacked it to this!"

[stoopidstapler]

SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.

[the-autistic-spider]

dp x dc prompt

Danny was on a date with his boyfriend

they where visiting a space meusem

while they where at a space exhibit they asked why

"why do you love space so much?"

and Danny being an idiot said

"oh its technically a genetic need to see the stars but i do like them"

and naturally this made his boyfriend confused

"like superman and the sun?"

" i guess?"

and somehow a week later his boyfriend was sneaking him onto the watchtower to see the stars

[tossawary]

Listening to someone else watch the original ATLA again, just starting season 3, and there's this line where Aang suggests that it didn't just look like he died, but he DID actually die and Katara brought him back. And look, I don't know much about the lore introduced by TLOK, but this sounds like a really fun place to start an AU inspired by "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"'s take on the temporary death and resurrection of a cyclical chosen one: Aang is brought back to life and is STILL the Avatar, but his temporary death still also causes another Avatar to be born into the Southern Water Tribe (or Swamp People or refugees on some southern island, whatever).

Like, I know the Avatar is a reincarnation thing, but weird things can happen with spirits! Maybe this glitch in the cycle causes the spiritual equivalent of mitosis to happen to the Avatar and the spirit attached to them, so there's just two of them now! Maybe having two Avatars has some spiritual downsides, maybe not, it's up to whatever path you choose to explore in this AU.

I just think it would be really funny for post-canon 21yo Aang (and the Gaang and the White Lotus and all the spiritual / religious orders on the planet) to suddenly be confronted with a 10yo water tribe kid who is ALSO the Avatar.

A water tribe couple shuffle awkwardly up to Sokka, like, "Sooooo... we think our 10 year old daughter might be the Avatar...? She can, uh, bend all the elements and all that. Look at this shit." And Sokka is like, "Fuck, Aang is dead?!" Before he's like, "Wait, I saw Aang last week, this kid is way too old?!" And he has to hastily contact Aang like, "Hey, buddy, you're still alive, right?" And Aang can only reply, "Uhhh, last I checked, yes?!?!"

It's probably Sokka and Katara who put the pieces of the timeline together and figure out what caused this, because all of the other Avatars are probably initially like, "Yeah, I have no idea what's happening here. I'm you and you're me, but I'm also her and she's also me, and you and her are kind of the same person, but you're obviously different people now? Wow! Good luck figuring all that out, kid! You're really going places none of us have gone before! A real groundbreaker!"

Aang, through gritted teeth, "I am really not TRYING to do that, thank you!"

[faunandfloraas]

Honestly I think a lot of people who have never made a gif for tumblr don't get that it does actually take time and effort, its not just rip it from a video and post it- you have to download the video, in my case I have a video player installed that grabs continuous caps, figure out what parts you need, you have to open those in photoshop or gimp, depending on where you got photoshop you might be paying for it every month and then on top of that is actually sizing, cropping, colouring, sharpening, adding text, etc. etc. like it is something that takes time and effort for which the only real reward is creating something that makes you happy and hopefully people reblog it with a nice or funny tag, so maybe keep that in mind the next time you think gif makers are being mean or unfair for being upset about reposts. It is its own little artform that is fairly unique to this website, and that's a big aspect of why I have always loved tumblr, if all the gifmakers stopped posting things would be a lot more boring around here.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

your boyfriend, jason todd, could break out of your pink fuzzy handcuffs whenever he wants to.

he's fought countless goons—

kicked guns out of their hands, strangled them, escaped without a scratch (besides red, chafed wrists)

—all while tied up

so to put it frankly, the cheap metal of your sex store purchased handcuffs would not hold up against the power of his arms pulling at them. that's why his arms are decidedly slackened as he looks up at you. a lazy, expectant smile plays on his lips. what's your plan here?

and to be honest, you don't really have one. you thought of the tying-him-up part.. but not much else. your brain gets a little fuzzy just looking at him.

you'd brought out the cuffs, and he'd been down enough to try, telling you that if he was tied back, you'd be given full control..

you'd been so eager that neither of you had even undressed.

how were you even supposed to actually do anything to him? jason's biceps bulged through his shirt sleeves, and the stretch you had him in resulted in his shirt riding up, exposing his stomach. a line of dark hair disappeared down into the waistband of his boxers, into the deep blue denim of his jeans.

thoughts of riding him flit around your brain, making your heartbeat grow louder in your ears. he's restrained. you could tease him, pull him dangerously close to the edge, so close that he's whining, begging you to finish, before stopping altogether just to listen to him pant. you could take a seat on his face, your boyfriend using nothing but his mouth to get you off. and he'd work hard at it too, never one to give low effort to a job like that.

his eyes are half-open, but you can still see how big his pupils are. the warmth in between your thighs grows, you're unable to ignore it as it unfurls into your belly. you can see your boyfriend notice the way you're shifting around, his canines practically glinting when his smile widens in response. your pulse quickens. restraining him almost feels like a mistake.

jason doesn't think he's ever been this hard in his life. he knows you. he can practically see you thinking, knows that whatever you plan to do has you squirming, and it's just making his cock strain painfully against the taut fabric of his jeans. he can tell you're trying to ignore how wet you are, and it's done nothing but send blood pumping into his cock faster.

but he's humoring you. he wouldn't say you had full control, and not give it to you.

you've driven yourself wild with all the possibilities and jason's driven himself wild with the present. the two of you aren't even touching, didn't need to be, with how hungry you are for each other.

you place your palms on your boyfriend's chest, determined in your actions as you straddle his hips. he barks out a strained laugh.

"it's about fuckin' time."

[sykloni]

Dannymay 2023

15. Full Hazmat AU & 23. Rogue Gallery

[chiakery]

I'm thinking about the Matron of Ravens one day telling her champion, her first and most trusted ally since ascending to godhood, that she's going to leave him for some time.

I'm thinking about Purvan Suul, months or years later, following a raven until he arrived in front of a hovel. Inside it, there was a family. A mother. A father. A young girl with dark hair and green eyes, swaddled in blankets.

I'm thinking about Emhira's parents, not understanding why this stranger decided to take care of them but being infinitely grateful for this blessing - a skilled ranger bringing food and helping find shelter whenever their family had to move was more than anyone could hope for in times like these.

I'm thinking about Emhira, still young and mostly human, growing up looking up to this man who was so close with her he could have been her second father. Begging him to take her hunting, to teach her how to make and repair arrows. Playing with his wolf who was always so very gentle with her. Learning about Fate and Death and Gods.

I'm thinking about Purvan, patient as death, answering all of Emhira's questions but never pushing her in any direction, even when he saw her talking to ravens or idly drawing in sand symbols no one had ever showed her.

I'm thinking about Purvan and how, one day, this girl who was his god who was a little and vulnerable thing he had protected for the past decade and half, finally remembered. How she smiled at him in just the right way or placed a hand on his cheek with this look in her eyes and he knew. And he fell to his knees, heart bursting with prayer and joy and relief and said: "My Lady, welcome back."

[ckret2]

I'm only asking this because you said you want to draw some Billford and now I'm thinking about it. It seems to me that Bill would bring Ford extremely upsetting presents (like a cat) and Ford (like a cat owner) would be disgusting/horrified, but charmed despite himself. Am I correct? Also, would the same thing happen in reverse

Yeah that's basically where they're at in canon lol. Buuut my goal's to write them struggling & clawing past their toxic history to reach a place where they work.

And when they work, I think usually Bill gives Ford gifts that should horrify him, but that he only finds charming, because these two freaks are on the same wavelength. And same goes in reverse.

(there's another five pages under the cut)

In billford as "toxic exes who get under each other's skin because they know each other so well," having them constantly bickering and getting on each other's nerves works just fine. But when they're actually a couple, I like to see them like each other. Enjoy each other's company and do things for each other that they appreciate.

Even if it's batshit by outsiders' standards, it needs to work for them. Bill knows when Ford would love to be cursed and Ford sees weird gross body parts and knows "Bill would want this."

[batchilla]

Your new partner is Grayson.

He’s a weird guy.

Not necessarily a bad guy, but a weird one.

He’s not cold, in fact he’s rather friendly. However, when you really consider it, he volunteered very little information on his personal life. Reasonable, you suppose. So long as he has your back in the field and gets his reports done, you don’t need to be best friends.

Your new partner Grayson is a recent Gotham transplant. You’d never personally been, but you weren’t oblivious to how utterly mad the city was. You could hardly blame him for getting out.

Your new partner Grayson, tenses up whenever someone mentions the Batman, or any of the nutcases he fights. You don’t pry.

You do your own research.

Your new partner Grayson watched his parents die. He’d been taken in by Gotham’s favourite son, a man he seemed reluctant to speak of. He’d had, and lost a brother, to the most deranged man Gotham, if not the world, had ever known.

You stop mentioning Gotham around him after that.

Your new partner Grayson is a weird guy, who seems constantly surprised whenever you demonstrate competency.

At first you’d suspected sexism. It wouldn’t have been your first partner to have that failing.

After a few days though, you catch him being equally surprised when officer Jackson makes a connection on a string of breaking and entries, and realise that perhaps he’s just not used to the cops not being utterly reliant on a very scary angsty furry and a small child without pants.

Your new partner, Grayson, is a weird guy, who disappears sometimes. Middle of a chase he’ll be gone, and you won’t see him again for sometimes as long as hours, before he’s back. More often than not, somehow through some insane luck, the perp will have been taken down by Bludhaven’s new vigilante, and tied to a lamppost for you to find. You both hated and envied his luck.

Your new partner Grayson was a weird guy… and he was a damn good cop.

He made connections like no one else. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense. You’d asked him once, about how he seemed to know all he did. How he seemed to have access to a whole other database of clues you just couldn’t see.

And he’d smiled that cheeky smile of his, and told you he’d been consulting an oracle.

Your new partner, Grayson, moves like nothing you’ve ever seen.

You’d initially attributed it to his past as an acrobat. The way he could simply parkour over and around anything in his way, run faster then he had any right to, chase down a perp like a bloodhound.

It was more than that though. You’d say without hesitation that if you were in a firefight, he’s who you’d want at your side. You must’ve owed him your life three times over by now. Even in those situations though, when no one would have blamed him for the use of lethal force, he never had.

You’d been pinned down by a smuggling ring. You, Grayson, and ten of them - all armed to the teeth.

He’d been incredible. Superhuman, almost.

Someone had shot out the lights. He’d told you one of the smugglers must have missed. You’d never once believed him.

Ten smugglers. You’d managed to knock out and cuff one, unwilling to risk taking a shot blind.

The other nine? Those had been your partner. He had them unconscious in a heap by the time your eyes had adjusted.

No bullet wounds. He’d done it hand to hand.

You didn’t know exactly what he was hiding, but you knew he was hiding something. You decided not to call him out on it. Not as long as you trusted that whatever he was using his … inexplicable skills for was good.

And trust you did.

Grayson was a good man. Even knowing little about him

Which was why this betrayal hurt so badly.

“Say again?”

You’d sat in relative silence in an unmarked police car for about half an hour on a stakeout, and Richard Grayson had just said the worst sentence you’d ever heard. You’d never been so utterly horrified.

“Peeps popcorn.” He says, holding up the tupperware containing an atrocious biohazard, grinning from ear to ear.

“One more time please?” you fight to keep up your faked anger, but fail in the face of that fucking smile.

Honestly, it should be some sort of crime to smile like that. Like everything would work out in the end, so long as you could keep him smiling at you.

“Peeps. Popcorn.” He says it a third time. He’s trying and failing not to laugh at her, at the way her mouth twists and flails to maintain a frown.

He was tempted to tell her it was in vain. He’d broken Batman, and he’d make her smile too.

Honestly, she had such a pretty smile. Not that he’d say that, she was his partner, and they needed to keep things professional.

“It’s my turn to provide stakeout snacks, and so,” he lifts the lid of the peeps popcorn balls.

“Peeps popcorn.”

She rolls her eyes, and looks out the window of the passenger side. But she’s smiling. “It is one of life’s great injustices,” she huffs “that you can eat like that and maintain your… impressive physique.”

Dick feels his chest puff out a little. While he had been able to tell all along that she had a crush on him, but he’d never risk acting on it. Still, it felt nice to be complemented by her.

“Seriously, do you clock off and just do the ninja warrior course all night or something?” She muses, her head against the window, looking at him out of the side of her eye.

“Not exactly,” he replies, sitting back in his seat, bringing his foot up onto the cushion. “Try one.” he presses, poking her side with the container.

She takes one, rolling her eyes and nibbles at the neon cluster of popcorn.

“No. no.” she gags, “oh that's nasty. Oh, it's so sweet. Why? Why Grayson. Why would you do this to me?” she asks, setting the sticky concoction on the divider between their seats.

Dick just laughs “I am determined to make you a peeps convert.”

“Never, regular marshmallows are fine.”

“Peeps are rainbow.”

“How old are you?”

“There is no age too old to enjoy whimsy, Detective.” he responds, biting into his own.

“Besides, are you implying that rainbow marshmallows are irregular? In this day and age? Tut tut.”

“We are not making me out to be a homophobe over peeps!” she protests, still laughing, slightly taken aback at the audacity.

“If you say so.” he says, stretching his arms over his head and into the backseat. Stakeouts were terrible. He was not built to sit still in a confined space for hours at a time. However, this one provided a useful opportunity he cannot afford to waste.

Not to torment her with his war of attrition for peeps supremacy - though that was fun.

He needed to be sure of something else.

“Well. You being wrong about peeps aside. I … wanted to check back on a file from a few months ago. You uh… you didn’t move the Holt murder file, did you?”

“Holt.” she clicks her tongue in thought “the guy with…” she gestures to her chest.

“That's the guy.”

“Not knowingly. I haven’t had cause to reopen it. No new leads. I tried to track down the kid… He didn’t want a bar for me. Guess I can’t blame him. I offered the help I could… but well… the last time someone helped him his dad got brutally murdered. He’s staying in the tent city by the docks, best I can figure.” She seems to feel guilty as soon as she says it, but Dick doesn’t blame her.

He had paid for that room. If he hadn’t… who knows what might have happened?

“But if someone moved it?” he prompts, not wanting to dwell on that gnawing guilt.

“Wasn’t me.”

Your new partner, Grayson, was a weird guy who ate strange and terrible foods.

He blames himself for what happened to poor Mr Holt. Because he was good to the core, and somehow that had led to something utterly twisted.

He’s also standing on your balcony. On the 20th floor.

And it all makes sense now.

Your apartment isn’t particularly nice. It was small, and frequently disorganised. Especially when you got overly invested in a case.

You’d been texted many gifs of the conspiracy board meme by friends over the years.

Work life balance? Not something you’d ever seen much value in.

And now, your unfairly attractive new partner Grayson was in your apartment, in full vigilante getup.

You need to find a way to be normal about that in ten seconds or less, because he’s staring at you, and you're staring at him, and it's starting to get awkward.

“Hello.” you eek out.

He greets you as Detective, followed by your first and last name.

Unusually formal, for him. Unless… unless he somehow thinks a few inches of fabric in the shape of a wingding is going to fool you.

Unless he thinks he’s got you hoodwinked.

“Nightwing… to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He leans in the doorframe, his hands braced against its top, so he is leaning into your space without touching you, and giving you plenty of ability to step back if you so chose. You don’t.

“I have reason to suspect there’s a serial killer moving though Bludhaven. And that whoever they are, they have someone in your precinct on the payroll.”

You fold your arms, bristling.

“Not sure I appreciate the accusation.” Sure, the bludhaven police department was ridiculously corrupted. But you’d hope that your partner would have at least the trust in you not to think you’d help a serial killer.

“No accusation.” he reassures “a request for help. I need someone I can trust inside the department. And my source says that’s you, sherlock.”

His source? Was he kidding?

No. No he wasn’t.

Oh this was madness.

This was hysterical.

He really, truly thinks that you can’t know him outside of his streetwear. And he’s trying to pass it off like he doesn’t know himself either.

Perhaps you should tell him you know.

But… Grayson and his peeps tomfoolery isn’t the only one who can have fun.

“So… you’re asking me to… what, exactly?” You prompt, unfolding your arms, willing to give him a chance.

Nightwing offers you a smile. It’s slightly different from Richard Graysons.

It’s just as sunny, and it makes you feel just as warm and fuzzy and giggly inside. You have to fight even harder to stop yourself blushing, given how much less this getup leaves to the imagination then his usual dress pants, shirt and tie.

But it’s a little more … brazzen. Flirtatious. More… cocky. Sure, He was always at least a bit of a show off, but as nightwing? He was one of the most capable, incredible people alive, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Oh, you were doomed. But that was a problem for later.

“I’m asking you to keep an eye on the ‘heartless’ case. Holt… he’s not the only one and I think there’s going to be more. And, to be blunt?”

He stands up straight, and puts an arm on your shoulder.

“It’s a big request. But you might be the only person in that station who I have real confidence in.”

You wonder what that says about his relationship with himself, but like so many things with Richard, you don’t ask.

“I can do that.”

“And I understand that it’s dange— I’m sorry, did you just agree?” he cuts himself off, staring at you.

You laugh then, just the once.

You owed him your life many times over as his partner. But as nightwing?

Since he’d come on the scene, you’d actually felt like something mattered. Like change could happen.

Like someone was willing to help the people of Bludhaven not to reap a profit, but because the system you’d once hoped to help restore was broken at its very core, and restoration wasn’t the solution - reformation and fundamental change was. And you didn’t know how to do that.

But then Nightwing had come onto the scene, and started kicking the asses of the worst of the worst, and you had felt like you had when you’d joined the force, bright eyed, bushy tailed, and determined to make a difference.

Before the incident. And every other day, when you’d felt that optimism slowly being crushed to death, into a fine powder and blown away in the wind.

“Yeah.” you say, and agreeing to help is one of the best feelings in the world. You get to help. To make a real difference.

“Bludhaven owes you a hell of a lot, Nightwing… seems like the least I can do is tell you if anything weird comes up.”

“Right. Thank you.” he clearly wasn’t expecting this. Maybe he’d thought it would be a harder sell.

“If I do… have anything for you, how should I alert you?”

He passes you a wingding. “Put this in your window. I’ll check in every few days.”

You raise an eyebrow “all your fancy tech and you don’t have a phone”

He shrugs “phones are traceable. Plausibly just something you picked up on a case as a trinket that you ‘forgot’ to log in evidence left on a windowsill? Lot harder to trace.”

“Fair.” you acknowledge.

“Besides.” he steps backwards onto your balcony once more “your place is on one of my main patrol routes. Can’t let anything happen to the best looking detective Blud’s got.”

You scoff, without any real offence. You know he’s only playing, and that he does, as Richard, respect your intellect more then your appearance - but you suppose as ‘nightwing’ he doesn’t know you that well.

“I think you mean best detective full stop.” you respond, and he gives a small bow of playful deference.

“But of course, sherlock.”

And then he’s gone.

That night, you don’t sleep.

You felt so stupid. He’s nightwing. He’s been nightwing the whole time.

The skills. The disappearing. The way he seemed to just… know things.

The way he tensed whenever someone mentioned Gotham.

… the timing of Robin reportedly becoming a child again.

Had your new partner, Grayson, been Robin?

Had he been using the Batman's archives to solve cases? Was that his so called oracle?

… wait.

Was Bruce Wayne the FUCKING BATMAN?

You screamed into your pillow. You were laying awake, face down in your bed, because now you had realised far too many things in one night.

The first: Your new partner is Nightwing.

The second: Bruce Wayne might be Batman.

The third: you, enchanted by that fucking perfect smile, had agreed to help track down a serial killer stealing hearts.

The fourth: Your new partner, Richard Grayson, between his stupid snacks, the Alfred Pennyworth foundation he’s been working to get off the ground, and his work as Nightwing, will save Bludhaven, you know it to your core.

And the fifth. The worst, and scariest part of your night: You may very well have fallen in love with him.

Chapter two

If you read this far, reblog?

Divider credit: @strangergraphics

Tag list:

@jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

First time writing Dick! Feedback is welcome.

[sorawritesstuff]

batcave records:

patient name: damian wayne

injury: concussion

cause of injury: was hit in the head by a heavy jane austen book

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patient name: jason todd

injury: pulled muscle

cause of injury: throwing pride and prejudice at the head of the batbrat snooping through his things

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patient name: y/n

injury: none, but complains of shortness of breath and stomach pain

cause of injury: laughing too hard