AthenaDione- Writes

All things Raven, DC, and RobRae Current Prompt Requests: 17

[athenadione]

Send me prompts

https://writings-of-a-hufflepuff.tumblr.com/post/613489175339106304/prompt-list

Other Prompt Lists “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” “Can I kiss you?” “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.”

[azaablue]

the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

A Dampener

"Technically, I think I flirted with him first."

"That's not at all how I remember it."

Dick remembered her long time crush on the Atlantean vividly. It was long before he and she were even...whatever it is they were. He'd never even seen that side of Raven before. He hadn't known it existed. This Raven flirted openly and often. She'd toss her hair. Bite her lip. Shake her hips. She'd acted like she wanted nothing more than to take her time at Aqualad's touch tank.

Dick didn't know Raven could house such desires. Before Garth, he'd never seen Raven unabashedly wanting before. Not for the last box of chamomile teabags on the shelf at the market, let alone another being. And for someone to bring that out of her... Someone that wasn't him. Well, it still made his blood boil just on principle. Even if the only wide blue expanse her nude body now graced were her sheets.

"It doesn't matter," Dick growled. He was done stewing over the past; he intended to make full use of the present. He was sure in his haste he wasn't making much sense tonight, but that didn't stop him. "I don't want anyone flirting with you and I don't want you flirting with anyone else either."

"Why is that?" Raven teased.

He wasn't sure she was taking it seriously, but he couldn't help it. "I don't want you to," Dick repeated. "And I don't think you want to."

"That's presumptuous of you," She quipped. "There was something about the way he filled out a black and blue unitard that sent me completely off the rails..." Raven was driving him mad. He was certain she was enjoying herself more than a little.

But, Garth. That...that...

That nautical knockoff.

"A black and blue unitard?"

"Yep." Raven folded her arms.

"Something as ubiquitous as black and blue spandex is really all it takes to get under your cloak?"

"And a head of impossibly black hair—probably product enhanced. A winning, photo-op ready smile. Throw in a box of brooding, a forkful of familial issues, and a splash of almost unreasonable moral obligations..." She shrugged and for once he couldn't tell where the sarcasm ended and she began.

But it was her cauldron and Raven's recipe was to be imbibed at her leisure.

"You make us all sound like action figures," Dick scoffed in mock outrage. 

"It could start to sound that way, yes," she said casually. "But when you boil it down..." She shrugged as if her point was made.

"Is that all we are to you, Raven? Is that all I am?"

"If the painted on briefs fit." She stifled a snort. "Or bat briefs in your case."

He couldn't tell if she was serious or not, or just toying with him. But he liked it. He wanted to prove himself to her. He was better. He was the original black-haired, blue-unitarded man in her life, after all.

"Raven, I don't know what you're trying to do to me, but I have to admit it's working."

"Oh? Do you like being told you're a product?" Her lips parted wider than needed on the last syllable, so he could just make out her tongue touching the roof of her mouth. And Dick shivered at the memory of what that tongue could do.

He snatched her hand and steered it to his chest, particularly glad he'd spent more time on upper-body this morning. "What else do you think I am?" No longer guided by his own, her touch trickled down to his abs. "Tell me."

"I think, you're..." But with her fingers on his impeccably toned stomach, she was finding it hard to say anything at all. "You're so full of hot air, it's a wonder you need a grappling hook. You could probably just glide over to the next rooftop."

"You think so?" he mused. "Well, I happen to crave an extended session with a rather gifted healer." He bit his lip at the double entendre. "One with a very soothing touch, who's extremely easy on the eyes." Dick's blue gaze shifted over her figure. "Maybe I might have to try it one of these days, see if I stick the landing."

"Pity," she swallowed. "I guess then the Titan's Most Charming Smile Award will go to someone more deserving this year. At long last."

A wide smirk spread across his face. "This smile?" He chuckled. Dick's fingers feathered her wrist and with a swift singular motion, he tugged her closer so he could speak low in her ear. "How about I prove to you once and for all that it's good for something?"

@fuckyeahrobrae / @ravenroth-grayson (Thank you for organizing this for our OGs again!❤)

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Ritournelle

A screen reflected his dull, expressionless mask back at him as he typed into the dreary, darkness of midnight. Dick slumped over and slid a hand down his bleary face. In a matter of months, he had gone from egomaniac to pod person to a shell. By contrast, the Robin that led the team in his youth seemed like a level-headed tactician. These days he was hardly a dog with a bone, desperate to make disjointed pieces fit a theory—he'd been neutered months ago. He felt helpless, like a toddler. Because this 'work' was little more than a pacifier. It was hardly dire, it was basic. Data entry. Did he urgently need to finish digitizing their old backlog of cases?

Obviously not.

Hell, they all knew Victor could have done it in minutes, but he didn't. Because it was a project. And a project meant something to do. Something to keep busy. And these days, it was best he kept busy, better in fact if he stayed far away from the others. His moods seemed to put everyone off, but he didn't care. He worked better alone anyway. He sighed for the thousandth time. This was frightening dull work, but it at least was numbing. Anything, so he didn't have to think about—

Intruder! Tower Main Entrance... Intruder!

Dick bolted upright like a Pavlovian response. Without warning, the room blazed with light, shining red, white, and yellow straight into his face. It was blindingly bright as his computer began to flash incessantly with the same alert.

Intruder! Tower Main Entrance... Intruder!

Something had tripped the Tower's silent alarm. Or maybe even someone. Dick felt an odd excitement stirring in his bones. Surely, he could take care of this one on his own. There was no need to even wake the team. If he were to be completely honest, he longed for danger and the thrill that accompanied it. It was the only thing that could make him feel alive anymore. A leader shouldn’t open himself up to constant risk. But this was different. It wasn't as if he had gone out to seek it this time. So Vic couldn't tell him he was being reckless when it had come to him directly.

Who could fault him for defending the Tower?

He molded with the shadows as he propelled forward, cutting around corners and bending behind archways. He tried not to think about what or whom he was channeling as he crept along. Sleepless nights and overwork meant that Dick had lost a little muscle mass, but he hadn't lost a step. He was silent and stealthy as ever. 

At last, he saw it: A silhouette of an intruder gliding through the west entryway to the Operations Room of the Tower. Were they trying to get in using the cover of darkness? Well, they were in for it now. Trespassing was enough of a pretense. His lip curled into a sneer as he approached deadly and dangerous. 

"Don't. Move."

The figure froze.

"You have exactly ten seconds to explain who the hell you are, and what the hell you're doing here." He paused. There was still no answer, just more dead air. "Staying silent? Bad move. Whoever you are, you better start talking—now." 

His escrima sticks cast crackling spotlights in the dark. They oscillated with blue electricity as he approached—far less cautiously than he should. The shroud leapt backward. And the umbras seemed to move with it, like a squid hovering above the ocean floor, using ink clouds of its own making for cover. Something was eerily familiar about it all. He tried to shake the feeling that he recognized the way this shadowy figure was moving.

But it couldn't be. 

He'd dreamt about it enough times. But… There was just no way.

"Fine." He widened his stance, the escrima sticks moving like electric nun-chucks. Though his body's rhythm was languid, it was seamless. Second nature. But mercy wasn’t anymore. "Don't say I didn't warn you—"

"Wait!" The hoarse voice was insistent. "It's me." The cyan pulses outlined an outstretched hand and a pale visage, widened eyes. That face... Her face. "Please, don't."

The weapons clattered to the floor with a resounding clang.

An ebony brow creased in confusion. He gazed blankly, struck dumb, as a petite girl walked into the moonbeams and electronic sea of dotted blues and greens. It was her standing in the entrance. It was her in a tiny black sweater and baggy low rise jeans. Really her, like no time had passed at all. She took a single step, letting the duffel bag slip off her shoulder to land in a noisy heap on the ground.

He fell out of his fighting stance—he was powerless against her. She had overtaken him completely without drawing her magic or a fist.

"Raven."

"Dick, I—" Her voice was barely audible. "I thought... No one would be awake—at this hour..." But he was. Dick's eyes were growing wider and wider. "Hi..."

"Raven," he repeated, dumbly. He knew nothing else but her name. Because it was her. All he could think of was the fact that it was her.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Raven croaked. She swallowed, blinking quickly. "Maybe I shouldn't have come... I can go—"

"You're not going anywhere." Dick's voice rumbled low and threatening. Suddenly, he rushed forward again. Then, he grabbed her. Not to apprehend her, but to hold her, to bring her into a full and tight embrace. Lifting her off the ground, cradling her to his chest. Threading his fingers through her hair. Touching her. Breathing her in as deeply as he could. "Raven, you came back." There was a river of emotions rushing and Raven was quickly swept away as the flood poured through the cracks in the dam of their bond to break free. Her legs shook until they gave out. And she closed her eyes and let him hold her and hold her up.

"You're back—you came back."

"Yes," Raven whispered. "I did—I am."

"You came back to me," Dick said, almost questioningly. He brushed the longer locks out of her eyes as he searched them. They were different. Her hair was different. 

It didn't matter. Not just this second. Not ever. Not when he'd soon be able to open her up and search her at his leisure. He registered this briefly before his mind went blank and he crushed his mouth hard into hers. She melted into him, so he could drink her up, after drinking her in.

Dick was unrestrained, claiming her lips furiously, holding her so tightly, his hands fumbling all over her body. He just needed to feel her. Make sure she was really real. Really there before him. Gods, she tasted so damn good. And she felt just like he remembered.

Perhaps a bit thinner, but he didn't care. It was her all the same.

"Dick. Dick, what are we doing—" She whispered on each erratic breath falling between their lips. 

But she knew what they were doing. And what she was doing to him. She let out a squeak of surprise as he pushed into her mouth. He hissed when her tongue pressed back against his. It was so hard and hot, their teeth clashed before they had to breathe. 

"I missed you." Her words tumbled out clumsily. Drunkenly. But she couldn't fight it. "I did."

"Gods, Raven." He grunted in approval, tucking her lip between his. Dick sighed. "I really was losing my mind. A moment ago, I thought you weren't real." Each day had been more painful than the last. "I just...missed you so much."

"Oh, Richard..." Her eyes were moist, but she couldn't stop. And neither could he. She gave in completely the soft sensation of his lips on her neck. "Mm—"

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

reblog if you’re anti censorship and against harassing real people over fictional characters

[athenadione]

sometimes you lose (and sometimes you don’t)

After a hard shift at Gotham Hospital, Dr. Roth intends to go home so that she can fall apart before putting herself back together to do it all over again. That, and go back to her cat, Nevermore. What she doesn't expect is to find a certain bat in her living room- ready to catch her as she falls- and bullishly re-insert himself back into her life.

[damiraeweek-damiraeevents]

⛄ Happy Holidays ⛄

🌲 Merry Christmas Damirae 🌲

Art Kudos _vax247 Instagram

[camilla-artworks]

Merry christmas

[inverted-typo]

Holy fucking shit I forgot about this—MY BAD. Anyways, this was my contribution to the Damirae Zine 2025 😮‍💨 released all the way back in May no less!!!

God I’m so distracted 😂

[athenadione]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

a borderline crack fic solely inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's 'When Did You Get Hot'

Gods.

Raven tries to make sense of the scene before her after walking into the kitchen—brain literally short-circuiting.

Alarm bells are ringing in her head, blaring and flashing, accompanied with a bright red sign in bold letters that’s screaming ‘Reboot’.

Damian’s chopping vegetables on their kitchen island. 

In an apron! (That she’s never seen him wear). With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows! And—his hands!

They’re moving in such a practiced way that looks so fluid. The tips of his fingers are curved on the carrot he’s cutting, perfectly dancing parallel to the knife in his other hand as he slices. 

His forearms follow the movement, muscles flexing in such a way that is—Sexy??

And—and the veins. She’d read how attractive they are many times in the tabloids but didn’t understand before. Watching him now… 

A few strands of his hair fall forward, shadowing his eyes from her while he cuts—the sharp edge of his jaw tight with concentration. 

There’s a fleeting thought as her brain begins to restart, in the form of a pop-up notification reminding her that she’s been staring like a complete idiot for multiple minutes now, and should probably move—at the very least get out of the entryway—but…

For some reason her feet are floored to the spot—unable to break free from her trance. She can’t stop staring at him. 

She’s always admired his fighting style during training, and had immediately picked up on the quiet grace he carries into everything he does. Just like a leader. Just like a prince. 

As Damian gets closer to the end of the carrot, his brows furrow together more. A couple of slices later he bites his lower lip, and she nearly melts into a puddle right there on the spot.

Death by vegetables? Yeah, that sounds about right. 

“Raven.” 

She blinks hard—completely caught off guard by Damian calling her name. Her eyes meet the warm welcome of his own, and her cheeks heat with the realization that he had just caught her staring. 

Like an idiot.

So instead of saying something redeeming and neutral like ‘Oh hey Damian, how are you doing?,’ or ‘What a nice day it is this afternoon,’ she blurts out, “You’re chopping.” 

One of his eyebrows rise high as he scrutinizes her face, probably considering if she’s being serious, and how much sarcasm he should deal out. She wants to smack herself. Really? Of all our emoticons, that’s what we came up with? 

Raven’s pretty sure she sees Knowledge in her mind, shrugging helplessly at her. 

The next best thing is a humble and hasty retreat—cast with a mumbled apology and a dramatic swish of her cape while turning on her heel. 

Before she can follow through with that plan, Damian replies with a snort, “That’s very observant. Your detective work is phenomenal.”

Raven tries to backtrack. She knows, of course, from the schedule that it’s Damian’s day to cook. “I mean—I wasn’t expecting to see you making dinner so early.” 

It seems to be a fair point, because Damian doesn’t tease her further into oblivion. “I decided to prep now so that all I need to do later is bake it,” he admits. 

Her feet finally wake up at the startup sound of her brain beginning to function again. They lead her closer to the island.

“What are you making?”

“Chicken pot pie,” he says, using a single finger to swipe the blade of his knife, guiding the stray pieces of carrot into a bowl. Then Damian takes the cloth tucked into his apron pocket to wipe his hands before causally tossing it over his shoulder. He gets started on the crust, kneading the dough with careful, methodical movements. 

Raven finds a stool across from him to sit on. His hands are still working in the dough—arms flexing again—and she’s suddenly wondering what other skills he has with those hands that she doesn’t know about. Up closer she can smell his cologne, some kind of dark spice that she inhales deep—

Raven hasn’t noticed before how good he smells. She’s always known he’s been somewhat attractive. She’s not blind after all. The features in his face and body have always been symmetrically appealing. The sheer amount of fan mail he gets everyday is a testament to that fact. That and the literal trail of women that make a point to track him when he goes out in public. Plus the tabloids that have an entire staff dedicated to his whereabouts. It’s a little obsessive really—and plus they have absolutely no right to violate his privacy like that—

“Are you unwell, Raven?” Damian asks, breaking the silence. 

Raven almost slips off the stool.

Oh Gods. She’s been staring at his hands again, watching the easy way they work the dough into a crust for the pie. Damian’s now looking at her with both concern and confusion— clearly finding her behavior odd, but unsure why. 

Suddenly the kitchen is too damn hot, and too damn small. 

I have to get out of here. 

“I’m fine!” Raven squeaks while rushing out of her seat, then clears her throat because that came out way too high-pitched, “Just have a little tickle in my throat—I’m gonna grab a glass of water, and I’ll be out of your way.”

Damian pauses in his prepping to watch her stride across the kitchen to the fridge. Raven can feel his gaze at her back. 

“You’re not in my way. You can stay if you’d like,” he says after her. 

Raven silently wills the blush in her cheeks to fade while searching for a glass in the cabinet. Now focused on the singular goal of getting the heck out, she declines Damian’s offer.

“No, no, I was actually on my way to meditate.” Her hands keep fishing, coming back with coffee mugs. Dammit I just need one glass. Who’s idea was it to put all the drinkable dishwear together in one cupboard? Fucking Garfield. “It might take an extra hour today so I want to start early.” 

There’s silence while glass and ceramic clink against one another, until Raven finds a water glass towards the back. Finally! Then she turns to the fridge to fill it. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Damian asks.

“Mhm, all good. Don’t worry about me,” she rambles, internally wincing because this is probably the most nonsense she’s spouted in a conversation with him, “I’ll be ready for patrol tonight.” 

“I’m not worried about patrol.” 

His words stall her, particularly the ones that he doesn’t say. His concern is touching really, and she feels a need to dissuade him from pushing further. 

“Good! That’s great, then I’ll see you later for dinner? I’m sure the pie is going to be hot—I mean great! I mean, I’m sure it will be hot as in it’s coming from the oven hot—not er—“

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“…Right.” 

Raven sucks in a breath through her teeth and closes her eyes, desperate to slow down her current spiral. The glass of water clutched in her fingers is cold—a stark contrast to the embarrassed heat fanning her face. She ponders if she can get away with placing it against her flushed neck. He’d notice (he notices everything), but maybe he’d be too polite to comment on it. 

“Ooooo’ watcha makin’ in here, Rob?” Garfield calls out a moment later, strolling in with his nostrils flared. 

Oh thank Gods. Who knew Garfield would be her saving grace? 

“Chicken pot pie,” Damian says, his eyes still on her—now unreadable. 

“Oh man,” Gar pouts comically, canines protruding.

Damian finally breaks eye contact to roll them at the ceiling. “I’m making a vegan pie as well, Beast Boy.” 

“Heck yeah! I can’t wait. I’m starving.” 

Raven can’t help her own eye roll at the Changeling's words while basking in the slight reprieve from Damian’s attention. 

“Well the more you talk, the more distracting you are,” Damian deadpans. 

“I’m leaving! I just wanted to come see what was for dinner,” Garfield says, then walks over to the pantry to grab a snack. Typical. 

Damian deigns not to reply, re-focusing back on his task. Raven’s relieved to find that he leaves her alone for the time being, respectful of her own time to get away so she can meditate. Which is needed even more since she’s been in the kitchen. After watching Damian.

Who seems to be at such ease in his environment while cooking dinner. He grabs the rolling pin already laid out to one side, and starts to flatten out the dough, like he’s done it a million times before. A practiced art. It’s so…so domestic. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Garfield jokes from beside her, snapping her back into the present. 

Damian looks back up at the two of them quizzically just as Raven’s power lashes out. It takes the plastic bag in Garfield’s hands, and promptly makes it explode. Barbeque chips rain down on the three of them, shocked silence broken by Garfield’s yell. 

Damian’s eyes dart between the two of them, at a complete loss while trying to bridge together what just happened. 

“My chips!” Garfield whines.

“Idiot,” Raven growls back at Gar. She doesn’t wait for a response, or even offer to help clean up the mess. Saving grace my ass. Instead she finally turns on her heel like she should’ve done at the very beginning of this disaster (and yes her cape does swish out dramatically). She stomps out of the kitchen, all the way up to the roof of the tower, all while bidding her heart to slow its wild and rapid beat. 

When she reaches the railing, she groans into her hands, feeling like one of Damian’s vegetables on the cutting board. 

Of all the emotions warring through her mind, battling it out in her mindscape, there’s only one singular conscious thought running through it. 

An admission that she can’t take back now that it’s fully formed.

Damian’s fucking hot.

[damiraeweek-damiraeevents]

[athenadione]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My late post for damirae week 2025 Day 6: Trapped/Captured

[damiraeweek-damiraeevents]

✨ DamiRae Week 2025 ✨

It's only a few months away now, and this year is a bit special as it's the 5th canonversary, starting on the 5th day of May, in the year 2025!

By popular vote, here are the chosen prompts for DamiRae week this May! We hope everyone has fun with the selection and we are excited to see what you all come up with.

Like every year, there are two prompts you can choose from for each day of the week. You can pick your favorite, mix them together, or make changes as you see fit to make it your own. If your favorite didn't make the cut - no worries! We have a 'free space' option you can take advantage of on the last day. What we want most out of this is for everyone to be excited about participating and that we can all have fun!

🐦‍⬛

[damiraeweek-damiraeevents]

Just for further clarification on the prompts

[fuckyeahrobrae]

RobRae Weekend dates and prompts for 2025!!!

As always, you can use these prompts as inspiration or you can just do your own thing. Whatever you want. Just celebrate the love between Dick Grayson and Raven!

Tag your posts with #robrae and #robraeweek, but feel free to send me links to your posts just in case I miss them. Thanks!!

Day 1 - April 25th: smile / untouchable Day 2 - April 26th: science fiction / ring Day 3 - April 27th: fireworks / anatomy Day 4 - April 28th: favor / justice

[damiraeweek-damiraeevents]

Hello DamiRae Shippers!

Well you voted and the results were pretty heavily in favor of having damirae week starting Monday May 5th and ending Sunday May 11, 2025. As you know this is also the five year canonversary!

‼️‼️👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇‼️‼️

So the next step is to get a list of prompts/themes for each day of the event. Please dm or comment on this post with the prompts you'd like to see. We'll collect responses until Friday and then put the list to a final vote to pick the top 14 (2 per day, as we've done in the past).

We're looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with, we love to see the creativity in this fandom so this should be a lot of fun!

[andthendk]

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day Part 3! ~fin~

And here it is, the final installation to @vilavi-2, @athenadione and my 3-part February collab!! Always a treat working with you guys ;) Hope it was just as enjoyable for everybody!

note: artwork at end is not smut but could be slightly nsfw! start reading at own risk

be mine (for valentine's)

Part 3: Satisfaction

[athenadione]

[athenadione]

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day Part 2!

We are continuing our series with part 2 alongside @vilavi-2 and @andthendk ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (Stay tuned for Part 3) Thank you for reading/viewing!

~Please Note: This chapter is Rated E for explicit~

be mine (for valentine’s)

Part 2: Introspection