Welcome!
Hi y’all! Thanks for stopping by! My name is Ames (they/them), Ditz, or Ditzy, whichever you prefer. You can find me on ao3 as ditzyredrobin. This is my 18+ silly little side blog for all the things my brain can’t stop thinking about.
I realized my last intro was two years and two pronoun changes ago so it was time for a little update.
I specialize in both SFW and NSFW hurt/comfort content. I post when and wherever my brain takes me but this will be a lot of snippets from my current wips or metas.
Asks are open. I love sharing behind the scenes content and headcanons, if y’all are interested.
Content Round-Up:
JayTimDick
A Rook, Not a Robin (ao3) - status: ongoing, 16,417+, E :Tim was never adopt and never became Robin. Somehow he still gets tangled up in the Batfam.
Meet-Cute (Except the Meet-Cute is Bleeding Out on Two of the Hottest Vigilantes in Gotham) (ao3) - 3,065, 1/1, complete: Of course, the first time they met, Tim was freshly off the spleenless vigilante train and dodging flirty advances from The Demon’s Head like a boss.
Moral Grounds (ao3) - 2,191+, 1/3, ongoing: Meet-Cute (Civilian Edition) all set in a Gotham coffee shop.
Tim Drake and the great miscommunication. (feat. two very loving vigilante boyfriends who don't know how to use their words.) (ao3) - 7,132, 2/2, complete , E: He turned the corner into the kitchen and knew, instantly, that something was off. Jay and Dick were watching him. And not in the usual you look like a snack and we'd like to take a bite out of you sort of way. It was the we've talked and you're not going to like this conversation sort of way. They were his boyfriends? Partners? Lovers? (Though the last one gave him a bit of the ick.) After months of sleeping together, it felt like something more terrifying than that. It wasn't all passionate sex anymore (although, to be clear, there was still plenty of that). It wasn't late night adrenaline and making his escape into the dark of night the second it was all over. It was curling up in a pile of warm, blissed out afterwards. Sharing body heat under the tangled sheets. It was long showers, and bubble baths, and Jason making grilled cheese at 3AM with a frankly ridiculous amount of butter. And now they were watching him like a feral alley cat—wary, twitchy, liable to bolt if someone so much as breathed wrong.
Fix It (Fix You) (ao3) - 1,246, 1/1, complete: “It wasn’t that bad, I was handling it.” Jason scoffs and looks to Dick who just looks downright disappointed. It was a pained look like someone had just kicked Haley. “Get a load’a that, Dickie, the guy says he was handling it. Is that really what you call bleeding out all over the damn sofa?”
Tuesday, and Tuesday, and Tuesday (ao3) - 2,783, 1/1, complete: Tim is left alone for the week. It's not his fault his vigilante boyfriends have strong opinions on (not so minor) explosions.
Broken Glass (and Other Fragile Things) (ao3) - 1,417, 1/1, complete, M - All in all, the worst part about being stabbed was needing to up his antibiotics. Being stabbed? Easy. Stitches? Uncomfortable but fine. But believe it or not foreign bodies being introduced to a body without a spleen was less than ideal.
Shrike verse (ao3) - status: ongoing, 7,741+ , E : Tim Drake was never Robin—no, in the wake of Jason’s death, Bruce clipped his wings before he had a chance to fly, and from the ashes, Shrike thrived.
(Don’t) Leave Me Alone (ao3) - 2,053, 2/3 , M - Tim stands there in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was, and can't shake the feeling that all this is his fault. The sound of the glass shattering echoes in his ears, on a loop repeating over and over.
JayRoyTim
Broken Glass (and Other Fragile Things) (ao3) - 5,443, 2/3, M: He tries to will himself to say something along the lines of,I’m okay, no seriously I’m fine, or like seriously okay, but headlights illuminate the alleyway before he can say anything. A beat up Honda pulls up in front of the alleyway, headlights illuminating it with more light than should be allowed. Tim squints against the light as Jay steps out of the beater. He rounds the hood, outlined by the headlights. “Jay,” Tim breathes. Roy says something but he can’t make it out, his voice a distant din, because Jay is here. His hair is mussed with sleep with dark shadows under his eyes and a furrowed brow. One look at Tim and he’s shrugging off his leather jacket, wrapping it around his shoulders. It smells like Marlboro Reds and aftershave and it’s the first time Tim feels like he can breathe.
Sepsis is (Not) a Personality Trait (ao3) - 1,517, 1/1, complete, T : Tim knows what sepsis looks like—he’s a nurse, for god’s sake. But this time, he missed the signs. Jason and Roy find him collapsed and burning up, barely conscious and still insisting he’s “just tired.” They’re trained to handle emergencies. But this one? This one is personal.
Wash It Away (ao3) - 3,013, 1/1, complete, T: Tim almost dies. Jason stitches. Roy steadies. There’s blood, soup, and a ten-hour loop of cat videos. It’s not healing, exactly. But it’s something.
JayTim
Basic Instincts (ao3) - 1,471, 1/1, complete, T: Hood towered over him dark and looming, breathing heavy like he’d just run a marathon, and Tim’s heart roared in his chest. Even through his helmet, his gaze felt predatory, stalking him as he moved, taking in the sitch. The helmet masked Hood’s scent, setting Tim on edge when he couldn’t get a read on the vigilante. Still, he could feel the rage radiating off of him. This was bad—very, very bad. He couldn’t see his eyes but he dared to venture, if he could, they would be toxic green.
With this Breath (I Promise to Protect You) (ao3) - 1,086, 1/1, complete, T: A case gone wrong leaves Jason injured and Tim holding on by a thread.
It’s Happening Again (ao3) - 298, 1/1, complete, M: He had eventually forgiven Bruce. But losing Jason for a second time… How was Bruce going to forgive him again? How was he going to forgive himself? (For JayTim Week 2024)
Chicken and Stars (ao3) - 485, 1/1, complete, T : “Campbell’s chicken and stars, really? If you’re going to burn the house down, at least pick the food stuff.”Tim closes his eyes and counts to ten. A deep breath in through his nose, a deep breath out through his mouth, hoping it’ll help a little with the mounting emotions. It doesn’t. (For JayTim Week 2024)
Gen
Tim Drake (The Spleenless Wonder) (ao3) - 1,567, 1/1, complete, T : “Jason, put me down, now!” Tim snaps, trying to wrestle his way out of the blanket burrito he is currently rolled into. He’s currently slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and pissed. Well, beyond pissed. Pissed doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the raging fury he’s currently feeling, being carried around like an oversized toddler. (Or: Tim is sick and Jason is sick of him)
Life, Love, and Assassins (ao3) - 2,605, 1/1, complete, T : Tim and Jason have a heart to heart on life, trauma, and the assassins that keep following him.bTo be fair, he has it all under control.
Lazarus!Tim
The Threshold (ao3) - 3,161, 1/1, complete, M : “Open up, Drake. I know you’re home.” The voice punches the breath from his lungs. Rough. Familiar. Jason. Tim doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He had braced for a lot of things. League agents. Interpol. The quiet decay of solitude. Even the possibility that someday—maybe—he’d slip up and Bruce would come knocking. But not this. Not him. “I brought Wong’s,” Jason adds after a beat. “It’s not poisoned… Probably.”
Joker Junior!Red Robin (The Joker’s Red Robin) (ao3) - status - ongoing : In which Tim was Joker Junior and now he’s Red Robin, Dick is the new Batman, and Batman is lost in time (and Tim knows it).
The Calling (ao3) (tumblr) - 1,356, 1/1, Complete, M : It haunted him in the same way Joker’s laugh did, plaguing his dreams, replaying over and over again until he woke up panting. But that wasn’t always the end, was it? Not in their line of work, at least. Jason was brought back, Steph came back, it was only right Bruce came back too. He could just feel it.
Enter: Jason (tumblr) - snippet, M : “You know something, Dickie. Spill.”
Nightwing!Tim
Someone Else’s Skin (ao3) - 814, 1/1, complete, T : “Oracle to R—Nightwing, do you copy?” The snagged in his ear like a bruise pressed too hard. A little too late. A little too tight. Tim didn’t answer right away.Just closed his eyes. Let the wind cut across his face—cold and sharp and real in the way nothing else was anymore. North by northeast. Salt from the bay. Engine exhaust. The scent of rain not yet fallen. He could hear the city below him. It didn’t sleep. Didn’t settle. It just seethed.
Superman 2025! Connor Kent
What Comes After (ao3) - 1,119, 1/1, complete, T : After the rift is closed and the dust settles, there’s no extraction team. No shutdown code. No orders. Just a boy—months old in a body built for war—standing in silence while Superman offers him a place to go. At a farmhouse in Kansas, he’s given a room. A name. A chance to exist without a mission. He doesn’t know what to do with any of it.
Post-Bruce Quest
An Interpol Thing (ao3) - 583, 1/1, might continue but complete as of now, G : “-and you know, the whole Interpol thing,” Tim says casually, gesturing with his fork as he cuts through his slice of pot roast. It’s apparently a mistake. Because when he glances up, every pair of eyes at the table is locked on him. Forks paused mid-air. Glasses halfway to lips. Even Alfred has stilled near the kitchen doorway, holding a bowl of mashed potatoes like it might be the next bombshell. “…What?” Tim asks, blinking. ( Or: Tim accidentally reveals a little too much over pot roast. Bruce is not amused. Jason is thrilled. Tim is regretting his life decisions.)
Come Hell or High Water (ao3) - 245, 1/1, complete, T: It’s been a long year for everyone, he just hadn’t realized just how much of a toll it had taken on his son. If he had paid just a little more attention, maybe he would have noticed just how big a toll it had taken on Tim before it had gotten to this point. Before he was a step away from losing another son.
A/B/O
Tug, Pull, Ping (ao3) - 731, 1/1, complete, T : He shouldn’t be here. Damian made it clear the last time he was here exactly where he belonged, particularly, anywhere but here. Riffraff, a placeholder for the true Robin. He who had threatened to change his passcode and keep him out with all of the other street trash, who had gone out of his way to cut his lines and break his bones. But there was a second set of instincts warring with the drive to run. The kind that craved to be surrounded and wanted to be wanted by his pack. (Omega!Tim)
Snippets
Holy Distractions, Batman! (ao3) - status: ongoing, M : Batman/Batfam drabbles and things from my increasingly disorganized Tumblr (each in varying stages of doneness).
Meta
Coming soon
