#like finding out bludhaven was being bombed and dick was having the WORST time of his life while Jason’s doing his red hood shit? changed m | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hood-ex · 1 year

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Day 28: What if Dick had adopted Jason Todd instead of Bruce?

Listen. There are so many scenarios that could be done with this, and I'm simply going to choose one of them to explore in a non-canon type of way.

So in this specific iteration of mine, consider Jason living with Dick and the Titans. He's still training during this period and doesn't really go out with them on missions until Dick makes the transition to Nightwing. He's there through all the tough times and personal dilemmas the Titans go through. He even has his own issues with Dick during the time that Dick's being mind controlled, but that gets resolved once Dick's free, and the two of them make amends.

Things are as good as they can be until shit hits the fan once again. Some of the Titans die, Dick and Kory breakup, and Dick leaves the Titans. Dick tells Jason that he can stay with the Titans if he wants, but Jason is worried about Dick, and he follows Dick to Bludhaven.

The two of them set up a new life there with Dick working a job and Jason enrolling in school. Money's a little tight, but they make it work. Jason helps out when he can by tutoring some kids. He's paranoid about running out of food, but Dick brings home food from the bar when they're low on groceries, and he always makes sure Jason's got enough money on his dining card at school.

They bust heads at night like usual, work on Dick's car together, and make friends and enemies alike. They're Nightwing and Robin, their own kind of Dynamic Duo.

And there's Blockbuster, of course. Blockbuster, the guy who arranges for a bomb to go off in Dick and Jason's apartment complex. A bomb that goes off while Jason happens to be home.

Jason is consumed by the fire before Dick's eyes. There's nothing Dick can do. Nothing anyone can do. Dick digs for Jason. He finds Yoska's body and his necklace of coins. He doesn't find his little brother.

He doesn't find Jason.

In the process of losing Jason, he loses himself. He doesn't step aside so Catalina can kill Blockbuster. Catalina isn't there at all. It's just Dick, a loaded gun, and the man who burnt Jason to the ground.

Dick takes the shot and proceeds to have one of the worst panic attacks of his life.

While the rain soaks him and the world around him, he imagines being back inside the flaming tent at the circus. He imagines that Zitka never pulled him out of the fire. He imagines smoke pooling down his throat, wrapping around his lungs with a tight twist, his eyes stinging like an infected cut, and heat plastering his skin to the floor.

He burns... he burns... he burns...

Jason is there beside him.

They burn together.

#so yeah in my version of events jason still dies but he dies during the blockbuster fiasco #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #31DOD #Day 28

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daringyounggrayson · 3 years

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whumptober day 4: pushed (AO3)

It’s raining. Normally, that’s a non-issue; Dick’s Nightwing suit is mostly waterproof, and his boots are designed to have excellent traction, even in less-than-ideal conditions. But this is pushing it. He’s on top of a moving train, his vision is limited due to the rain and his mask’s broken night vision, and his shoes are struggling to plant themselves firmly on the slippery train roof. And the rain is heavy, coming down in sheets, and the wind is howling, nearly knocking him over on more than one occasion—it’s the worst storm Bludhaven has had in years.

And then there’re the goons trying to knock him off the train. Now their fight has become a strange dance where Dick is trying to dodge blows while also making sure they don’t fall off in their attempts to kill him. The ridiculousness of trying to keep people who are trying to harm him safe is not lost on Dick.

If he could, he’d just stick trackers on them and call it a night, but that’s not an option—there are bombs hidden somewhere in the train and/or along its route. People could die.

A branch from a nearby tree falls onto the train, causing all three men to jump back, seeking cover. Dick nearly slips off again, and from their screams, he’s sure the other two do too. Dick is on his hands and knees, balancing there as he tries to figure out how to use this to his advantage. There’s an entrance a few cars ahead. If he’s quiet and stays out of their line of sight, they’ll probably assume he fell off the train. He could easily get past them and slip inside to stop the train and get everyone off before these two fools can even set off their bombs. Ideally, Dick would also find and disarm the bombs, but replacing a train and some of its tracks is something Dick can live with so long as no one gets hurt.

He lies down on his stomach, army crawling across the train’s roof, letting the branch block him from his enemies’ view. When he gets to the ladder, he slides his legs over the edge until his foot hits a rung. Then he leaps from one ladder to the next, catching the next rung with a tight grip. It would be faster to simply jump across the rooftops, but he needs to be as discrete as possible.

He’s nearly there—just a few yards left to go—when a gun goes off. He instinctively stills and covers his head, and a bullet bounces off the train several feet away from him. Normally, gunshots wouldn’t be a shock in this kind of scenario, but Dick’s already disarmed them, he—

He looks up to find a third partner. He’s just exited from the same place Dick was hoping to enter through, and he’s holding a gun with a shaking hand. Fantastic.

Dick moves like lightning—he charges the man and knocks the gun out of his hand before his trembling fingers can find the trigger.

“How many of your people are here right now?” Dick shouts above the wind, holding the man in a headlock.

“It doesn’t matter. it’s too late,” the man sneers. “You can’t stop us now.”

“That’s what they all say.” Dick swipes his legs and knocks him to the ground, pulling out handcuffs and attaching him to a nearby bar. “But you know what? I kind of like being underestimated.”

Dick stands, planning to walk back to the hatch and enter the train. He hasn’t even taken his first step when heavy footsteps charge toward him. Dick ducks just in time to avoid being body-slammed by one of the goons from the other train car, and the man stumbles, losing his balance and sliding along the length of the roof. He’s quick to get back up and charge Dick again, this time with raised fists and an animalistic screech.

“I’m kind of on a tight schedule here,” Dick calls as he engages in the fight. He really doesn’t have time for this; the train’s picking up speed.

A large gust of wind nearly knocks him over again, and his boots squeak as they try and fail to find traction. The thug lunges at him, tripping over his own feet but managing to land a weak hit against Dick’s shoulder.

It’s ridiculous that it’s enough to send him tipping over the edge.

He tries and fails to find his footing, only managing to slip backward further. He reflexively reaches out for the attacker’s hand, but he forces himself to retract; the odds of Dick pulling him down and killing him are higher than the odds of the man managing to hold their combined weight. As he falls over the edge, the tips of his fingers brush against the train car’s safety bar, but the rain prevents him from grasping it.

He hits the ground, tries to roll with the fall. The initial impact knocks the wind out of him, and he’s left gasping as sharp pain explodes over his head and back. When he finally stops, he’s covered in mud and blood, and every inch of him feels sore. It wasn’t a long fall, but it was fast and hard.

He pushes himself up on shaking elbows, watches as the blurry figures on the roof disappear into the train car. He’s not going to get back there; even if he had the time, even if he had super speed, he doesn’t think he can move. He needs help.

Dick presses his emergency beacon and calls Wally on his comms. He thinks he says something, but he must pass out, because next thing he knows, Wally’s tapping his cheek, begging him to wake up. He’s blurry, which doesn’t make sense, because Wally’s not running—the only thing moving is his hand, and it’s slow.

Instead of voicing his confusion, Dick vomits. Wally rolls him onto his side, talking too fast for Dick to understand.

In between gasps, Dick says, “The train. Bombs.” His voice sounds wrong to his own ears, slurred.

“You’re hurt,” Wally points out, hesitant. His hands are bloody. How did Wally get blood on his hands already?

“I don’t care—you have to save them!” Dick says, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as the pain builds in his head. “Medical is on their way—go!”

oOo

Dick isn’t awake when the medical team arrives, but he does wake up, so he figures they did show up.

He raises his hand to rub at his eyes and finds an IV sticking out of it, stuck to his hand with clear tape. He turns his head, taking in the machines and monitors. He must be in the Watchtower’s ICU.

“Hey,” someone—Wally—whispers on the other side of the bed. “Are you awake?”

“Mmhmm,” Dick mumbles. He turns his head to face Wally, wincing. “Bombs?”

“I took care of it; no one got hurt,” Wally promises.

“Thanks.” Dick closes his eyes. The lights are dim, but they still feel too bright. “How long have I been out?”

“As in unconscious?” Wally sighs, and his chair creaks. “Well, uh, you were in a coma for almost three days. You woke up yesterday, but you’ve been pretty out of it. I’m honestly not confident that you’ll even remember this conversation.”

“Wanna bet?” Dick asks, a loopy smile crossing his face.

Wally laughs. “Sure, I could use ten dollars.”

“I’m going to remember.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am.” This time Wally doesn’t protest, and Dick takes it as a win. After a moment, he asks, “I’m okay, though, right?”

“Oh sure. Spinal bruising and a brain hemorrhage have nothing on the Justice League’s medical technology and your stubbornness,” Wally says lightly. “What happened to you anyway?”

“Got pushed off a train,” Dick mumbles, words slurring together as he gets closer and closer to unconsciousness. “Probably landed head first on a rock.” He can barely remember the fight, barely remembers falling. Instead of a solid memory, it’s just a bunch of non-chronological snapshots.

“That tracks.” Wally shifts in his chair, and his fingers find their way to the back of Dick’s hand. “It was scary, finding you like that. I thought you were going to die.”

And Dick had told Wally to leave him anyway. He doesn’t regret doing it—someone has to make the hard calls—but he doesn’t envy Wally. “I’m fine,” he tries to reassure.

Wally’s voice is tight when he speaks. “Yeah, you’re going to be fine, because you’re you—but you weren’t fine. And you’re still not. Hell, you’re hooked up to a bunch of machines and you can’t even keep your eyes open.”

Dick opens his eyes and finds that Wally’s are shiny with unshed tears. “Wally.”

“Sorry, it’s just—” Wally shakes his head, wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “Uh, can I get you anything? Last time I was here you were nauseous.”

“No, stomach’s fine, just tired.” He must be on a million drugs, too. He wonders how many he’ll have to add to his regimen because of this.

Wally nods, then looks down at his watch when it beeps. “I have to go—Watchtower duty. The rest of the original Titans said they were going to stop by later today, and Alfred and Bruce are outside waiting for me to finish, so you won’t be alone.”

Dick hums in acknowledgment. Then he says, “Thanks for coming, the other day and now.”

Wally leans in and hugs him gently, carefully. “Anytime. And take as much time as you need to heal. Seriously—the Titans will be okay without you for a while, even if Roy ends up leading.”

Dick laughs and nods into Wally’s shoulder, and then they let go. Wally leaves with a promise to be back soon, and Dick, determined to remember this conversation, reminds him to bring his ten dollars when he does.

#dick grayson #wally west #nightwing #flash #titans #teen titans #elizabeth writes

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maryenette-writes · 7 years

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One More Chance [Dick Grayson x Reader]

A/N: This is a little something I wrote when I was in... a bad place. It ended up being a lot longer than I expected.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Warnings: language, mental health issues

Word Count: 2208

You were tired.

Exhaustion wasn't the committer this time though. Exhaustion had nothing to do with it. It was an absence of feeling in your heart, an unfillable void that used to be so full of hope, of innocence, but was now nothing. That nothingness was tiring.

Filling it was also tiring. When you opened your heart the door couldn't be slightly ajar, it burst wide open without your permission. It was a tsunami that made that void full, full of unnecessary feelings. The weight was tiring.

Then there was your mind, a darkness that controlled your thoughts, clawing on the deepest, darkest secrets that you had failed to hide from them.

It was a dreadful feeling, one that always picked on you, whispering cruel words and feeding off your insecurities and self-doubt. The weight on your shoulder only grew heavier and everyday was a battle, a battle to fight the urge to let go and let that weight crush you and your spirit. It was not just painful, it was bone-crushing. It was a knife twisting slowly into your chest. It was icy fingers wrapping around your neck, suffocating you in an agonizingly slow speed until you were left desperate and gasping for air, for salvation, or perhaps for a will to live.

Most people have no knowledge of the silent struggle. They didn't even bother to look closely, because if they did they would see the cracks underneath the thin layer of skin, an illusion nature created to hide--or perhaps protect--the vulnerable, fragile but tragically hideous truth.

You were broken. Maybe not on the outside, where you kept a smile plastered on your face and a mask on. Oh, but on the inside, buried deep under layers of lies and deception and pretense, you were no one, just broken pieces of the woman you used to be. You lived in the brighter memories of others and yourself. You remained solely as a body without a person, for that person was scattered in the shattered shards of your former identity.

There wasn’t anything you could give the world for the world never gave anything to you. It took and took until you were on the ground, battered and crushed. Really, there was nothing left for you, so you decided instead of helping the world, you’d help the people in the world, the people that this world fucked up.

They called you the Guardian Angel of Gotham City, which was almost amusing to say the least, for angels weren’t monsters. Angels didn’t reside in the dirtiest corner of Gotham, preying on criminals and drug lords and a certain psychopath. Angels didn’t have to keep in the shadows because they were beautiful creatures. You were anything but that. Angels had wings, so large and magnificent, radiating brilliance and acting as the symbol of hope for those who never knew it even existed. You had none of that. You only had a mask that struck terror into the hearts of your victims.

Your code was simple; never kill and never fight in front of children. There were many vigilantes that roamed around Gotham City, some good, some bad and some dancing on the border between the two. You kept out of their way, always striking the smaller criminals and saving the smaller lives. They may not matter in the big picture but a life was still a life.

It was a moonless night and the city haze obscured the stars, providing little light for you. You were on a rooftop, observing the silent streets below with interest. It was always fascinating how small people looked from above. It made you realize how insignificant the little planet you called home was in a universe full of many larger galaxies filled with planets that were full of creatures from a child’s imagination.

It was truly pathetic how people thought they were greater than others. In the end, everyone would end up rotting in some grave. They were all small beings in the grand universe, why bother attempting to be something greater than what you were meant to and will always be?

You heard his footsteps before you saw him; Nightwing. The man was a trained warrior but you were quite the fighter yourself, having been fighting the streets of Gotham City for years now. He took a seat beside you and for a long time, that’s how you two stayed. You two sat there in a surprisingly comfortable silence, though it didn’t go to waste. You had observed and studied him and you knew he had done the same to you, and against your will, your heart sped up.

Nightwing was a strange man, if you say so yourself. He was a familiar face around Gotham City despite being the protector of Bludhaven. If there was anyone who you could trust, it would be him. You had known him for a little over two years now, having worked alongside him on many cases. This meant you knew him well, too well. You knew spending time with him was dangerous; he was the closest person to a companion and that was something you wanted to avoid, even though deep down, you knew he had already captured your heart.

Upon realizing you weren’t going to be the one initiate a conversation, words began to spill out of his mouth. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You seemed lonely, thought I’d drop by.” You grunted but said nothing. You didn’t tend to say much, that he understood well. “How have you been?” You simply shrugged.

“I see you’re still a ball of sunshine.” Nightwing commented lightly, causing a smile to slip onto your face. That was another aspect of him that made him your closest accomplice; he seemed to be the only one who could make you smile.

“I see you’re still as insufferable as ever.” you countered effortlessly, the comeback rolling off your tongue like a wave.

“So she speaks!” he gasped, feigning shock. You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, causing him to tilt to the side.

“I could have fallen off the building, how could you do that?” he said with mock horror.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, swinging the legs that dangled off the edge. “You could survive.”

You must’ve said something he liked because he smiled instantly. “It’s sweet to hear you think so highly of my skills.”

“Don’t push your luck.” You leaned back and rested your palms on the concrete you sat on, propping yourself up. You spared him a quick glance before inquiring, “why are you here? Need my help again?”

This time, it was Nightwing who shrugged. “Can’t I just drop by and see a friend?”

Your blood froze when you heard the word friend. He considered you a friend? You? You stared at him in shock and disbelief as you were anything but a friend to anyone.

You stood up with haste with the intention of leaving, but he knew you too. He knew you so well. He caught you by the wrist, preventing you from running away. With a pleading expression that was evident even with his mask, he said in a voice so soft, so gentle that it forced the door to your heart open in a single swing, “wait, no. Please don’t go.”

You took deep breaths, trying desperately to ignore the rapid beating of your heart and the addicting tingling sensation where his hand gripped you. Pivoting to face him, you released yourself from his hold and stared at him, your eyes begging him not to do this.

“I don't have friends.” You tried to sound cold but your voice wavered. You cursed yourself for being so weak. It was another thing you were tired of, another reason to why you barricaded your heart with thick, concrete walls and barbed wires.

“Then what about me?” he questioned, sounding hurt.

“You're just an accomplice.” you answered, saying it more to yourself than to him.

Nightwing took one step closer to you, his breath now fanning your face. From this proximity you could smell his cologne.

“That's not true.” he stated, his voice so full of certainty and determination it made you doubt yourself even further than you already were. “You're denying it.”

“No I'm not.” you claimed quickly.

“You are.” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders. The next few words that left his lips were barely whispers, and if you weren't expecting the question you wouldn't have heard it. “Why are you so afraid?”

It was only five words, but those five words triggered emotions that weren't meant to be there and memories that you had pushed away. That weight pressing down against you was heavier than ever, so heavy it was almost unbearable and you just wanted to lay down, curl up into a ball and let yourself drown in your own depression until it all went away. However, with Nightwing standing in front of you, hands on your shoulders and expectations for an answer high, you couldn't escape.

You closed your eyes and grimaced, shaking your head. “Why shouldn't I be afraid?”

“I don't und--”

“Of course you wouldn't understand!” And just like that, it all came rushing out. Years of running and masking your pain and heartache, bursting all at once, but it wasn't beautiful like a firework show. No, it was like a bomb, spreading destruction upon everything it touched. “I open my heart, let people in only for them to walk out of my life once I get too attached, once I get too dependable.”

You moved away and frustrated tears cascaded down your cheeks. “Everytime I think someone cares I am proven wrong. I am not a girlfriend, I am not a daughter, I am not a sister, I am not a friend, I am no one!” Your voice dropped down to a whisper. “And when I think someone is different, they always prove me wrong. Is it selfish… is it selfish to want someone who you know will always be there for you, when you are at your best and your worst?” You choked out the next words. “Is it selfish to want to be somebody to someone?”

Arms enveloped your body but you couldn't find any resistance to fight back. How long has it been since anyone had embraced you?

“You’re not no one.” Nightwing objected, “you’re someone to me.”

“That’s what they always say.” you mumbled, “and then they leave when it gets too much. When I get too much.”

He pulled you even closer than you thought humanly possible, as if wanting to eliminate the molecular distance between your two bodies. He was holding you like you would disappear if he released you from his welcoming arms.

“I’m still here, aren't I?” he quizzed, smiling slightly. “I'm still holding onto you, because you, angel, mean the world to me. I'm not going to let you go no matter how much you push me.”

You wanted to believe it. You wanted to believe him so badly but that string that attached you to your doubts were pulling incredibly hard and you found it difficult to resist. Years of abandonment and being cast to the side, years of loneliness and betrayal had created a monster inside of you that had its bony fingers wrapped around your heart, reminding you of your past, of your failures and mistakes.

“You don’t know that.” you protested, pulling away and hugging your body. “I’ve heard those words a hundred times and this is no different.”

Nightwing, however, was still determined to win you over. His hand went up to his domino mask and you gasped as he took it off, revealing the most beautiful set of azure eyes you had ever encountered.

“Look at me.” he cooed, tilting your head up so you were staring directly into those enchanting and strangely comforting eyes. “Do I look like I’m lying?”

You studied his face, especially his eyes, for any signs of doubt or regret but all you saw was certainty and perseverance. You cast your eyes down to your feet nervously.

“Why would you reveal your face, you idiot?” you halfheartedly scolded the vigilante. “We wear masks for a reason.”

You saw him smile, and it was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen with your wearied eyes. “Because friends need to know each other’s names, don’t they? And if I’m going to stay in your life, might as well know each other’s identity.” he said with a grin.

“You’re not going to stop, are you?” Though you voiced the question, you already knew the answer from the look on his face.

“No, I’m not. I told you didn’t I? I’m not going to let go, even if you push me away.”

You sighed in defeat, finally coming to accept this fate of yours. Perhaps this was the universe apologizing for everything. Perhaps this was another trick, but you decided to take a chance.

One more chance.

“Then… I’m [F/N] [L/N].” you introduced, taking off your mask and extending your hand. Nightwing’s grin widened and you swore his cheeks turned slightly pink. He took your hand and shook it firmly.

“Dick Grayson.”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #richard grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #dc #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #dick x reader

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