#dick Grayson is sad

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Brother will you believe (until my bones are dust)

Tim will always be the first.

The first bird to hold a mantle covered in the corpses of Dick's wings, the first to carve a space into his heart, to make an all consuming void that only a brother can be.

"Bruce's alive, I can prove it."

He's angry at the world at Batman. How dare he leave, making another mess for Dick to clean up. Damian a child that he barley knows, Jason angry and vying for a cowl that both know, they don't believe in.

It's been years since Dick has worn the suit he worked so hard for. Passed from Jason to Tim. Only one with his actual consent not that his consent ever seems to matter anymore.

"Grayson, when will Drake be gone? He's unneeded."

Tim is all he has the only constant the only thing he can actual lean on. His little brother who has had his throat slit by Jason, and Damian is doing his damn best to push his out. He's backed into a corner.

Choices, a constant balancing act that all the acrobatics in the world won't allow him to slip from. Selfishness is his only net and for once he isn't gonna hit the ground.

"Tim I need you, I need my brother, I need someone to watch my back. We can come back to it but for now I need to breathe."

He leans back into the smell of coffee and absolutely horrid axe body spray that every teenager seems to love and just inhaled. He can feel a knife uncomfortable against his back, and what sounds like typing but he doesn't dare move.

His net curled around him and for once the world is quiet. Jason, Damian, and Bruce can come later.

For now it's Tim and Dick Grayson and he can feel the air.

[magicpiano]

I came across the AU idea that Dick Grayson is Richard Parker, and thus, Peter Parker's biological father. There are a few fics where Peter dimension travels to the DC universe and gets to meet his dead father. It is a fun idea, but I have different one.

AU where Peter dimension travels to the DC universe, and the batfam realizes that he is Dick's son, but rather than think he is from another universe, they all come to the conclusion that he is from the future.

It makes sense, after all, the rules of time travel basically boil down to 'don't change anything.' So when Peter is avoiding them and "pretending" not to know them, they just think he is following the rules. (He isn't even really avoiding them, he just has no idea who they are.)

You know how once you have an idea in your head, it take a lot of convince you that your wrong? Same idea here, they are so convinced of their idea that all new info ends up making them surer. Confirmation bias.

So Peter is trying to find a way home while the batfam tries to subtly help him without getting involved in time travel. Hijinks ensue.

Peter once mentions his love of photography and how he used to take pictures of heroes for a newspaper. Everyone looks at Tim and thinks, 'Gee I wonder where he picked up that hobby.'

At one point Peter pulls an assassin move, and Damian is like, 'I taught him that for sure.' (In reality Peter just trained with Natasha and Bucky before.)

When dealing with some issue Peter says something like, "I know a guy with some green angry problems and he taught me a lot about staying calm when mad." Everyone looks at Jason??? (He just picked up some meditation advice from Bruce Banner)

At some point he goes to the manor and everyone is like, 'Hah! More proof! He knows his way around the building!' He doesn't know his way around, his spider sense just lead him to where people are and kept him from getting lost.

He mentions Black Cat once, and everyone comes to the "totally logical" conclusion that Catwoman had a daughter, and that Peter and Felicia also have a weird almost dating thing going on.

Peter has been forced to go to some fancy events with Tony before so he knows how to act at rich people galas, which of course just adds fuel to the time travel theory.

Peter keeps accidentally referencing things that don't exist/didn't happen. Everyone just assumes these things didn't happen/don't exist yet.

[acid-ixx]

no pain, no gain, right?

"is this all a game, or are they all secretly masochists?!"

nah, imaging being kidnapped by the batfam, neglected or not, romantic or platonic, and being expected to treat your abduction as merely normal, to love them like you've known them for your entire life rather than strangers who randomly decided that you're the object of affection they'd focus on their attention on one day—

do they honestly think you'd fall for their honeyed words? of course not! you're fucking trapped with both men and women alike with physical capabilities enough to trap you in a headlock or in a bear hug. they could kill you with a damn finger jabbed into your neck. is that not a valid enough reason for you to try and constantly fight them?

if you're a person bound on the feistier side, the first course of action you'd commit on, say, dick who's known to be the most physically affectionate, the neediest of them all - who's constantly kissing you, playing with your hair and laying his head on your chest - would be your nails digging deep into his skin and dragging it along his back, or trying to throw a punch into tim's face when you feel he's been staring into you rather than at you far too deeply for your liking, watching the blood drip down his nose like a faucet right after, as long as it means his eyes would leave your body for just a damn second.

whatever they're doing, even if they're always assuring you that they're doing this out of love, out of protection, out of their deep-seated paranoia that out there, you're not safe, you won't survive; their actions are all done for you — yet they'll always be met with you threatening to bite or chew their faces off. they're not your damn family, or lovers, or whatever fantasies they think they could reenact with you, and they know damn well that you won't be giving up soon, not at all—!

yet you don't know that behind your fiery side are those willing to let the fire burn much longer, those who throw more logs and gasoline into the ever-burning pit of rage and spite that crackles at your heart.

jason trying to trap you into his muscly arms only warrants your fight-or-flight instincts, akin to a gothamite walking past the crime alley, kicking and scratching at the man just wishing for a day of comfort as he sighs and nuzzles his head into the crown of your hair, breathing deeply to take in your scent, as if you're not currently pulling his hair out. he'll let you bite on his hard neck, or kick at the fat of thighs or even his crotch with no reaction other than tightening his already caged grip on your body.

a body much frailer compared to everybody else's. a mere gazelle to a lion ready to be chased anytime soon.

bruce placing a hand behind your back will only result in you digging deeply into his forearms, wide eyes and heaving breaths that reflects not only utter fear but a thinly-veiled threat of another session of attempting to uppercut him, like you're some wild prey ready to make a run if he dares push the boundaries you settled for. yet all he does is try his best to warmly smile at you without any weariness, not even any vigilance of your future actions, and most especially not fear.

how long are you going to fight them? why are even you doing this? to soften the blow? to make them wish they regret even taking you away from the first place? or do you wish for them to feel a semblance of fear you felt whenever their toned arms surprised you from when they appeared before a shadow? do they not know just how deeply terrified you are of them, that you're doing all this because you're afraid of their strength?

except, what you expected never came. you would've been fine with them punishing you, slowly losing their inhibitions, snarling at you every damn time you snap, becoming tired of your antics and threatening to throw you out, even mocking you for your weakness; anything...!

but not whatever this is.

not the stupidly gentle smiles, or the droopy eyes that look as if they've fallen in love even more at just how much droplets of blood you were able to procure with another set of scratches against jason's forearms. not the astounded whistles at another bruise you managed to punch into steph's shoulders after a momentary lapse of shock from another one of her back hugs— as of this were some all sick form of therapy. you know they're taking your daily fights seriously, you know it because they always take note of it by staring at each other every time you manage to injure them! but fuck, why are they just letting you do as you will?

since when have your nails been longer, sharper even?

why is jason just... staring at you, his gaze proud and mighty, not out of his attempts at mocking you but looking genuinely so gratified. there's rivulets of crimson dripping down his neck all the way to the clavicle until it reaches his upper pecs, multiple indents of scars already faded, now overlayed with fresher, even deeper ones; displayed like a museum artifact by his loose tee. his fingers, shaky and equally scarred, moved to run over the inflicted injuries, touching and pressing deep, as it just as quickly finds its way to his mouth, lapping at the blood, his eyes never leaving your equally shivering form; dread and disgust curling into your very being.

he takes deep breaths after lapping his fingers clean, his fists are curled together like yours; except your nails are stained with blood, jason's, a stench that curdles deep into your nostrils. and for a second you feel something scarier than fear, an immeasurable pit of doom that looms over your back. for a second, you thought this would be the last time you'll ever see the light again. just as quickly as you scratched him, you try to retort with an excuse.

"jason, i'm- i'm so sorry i didn't mean to—!"

"we get it now, angel...

this is your way of coping, right? it's all good, do as much damage as you could 's long as you get it all out of your system, 'kay?

and thanks, by the way. this one's even better than the one you gave me just earlier."

what does he mean? what's even better...? you just- you just gave it your all trying to engrave your sharp nails into already scarred skin; why is he talking to you as if he's congratulating you rather than scolding you?

no, no, no... he shouldn't be all like this... why is everybody staying silent all throughout? why do your ears wring, every sound mapped around the house turned into one singular sound? this shouldn't be happening, no! he should be mad, should be punching you, bruce should've broken you both up the moment he noticed your hands make a way for jason's neck— yet since when did anybody try to interrupt?! the only damn time, god... the only time they ever do is when you try to inflict injuries on yourself, but never on others... just why?

there's sudden clapping that distracts you from your thoughts, from dick's or duke, you don't know? one of them is saying something and you can't comprehend it other than one-liners and muffled, incomprehensible words.

"—'m jealous of you," that's duke's voice! what else is he saying? why is he envious? of what exactly? the fear doesn't settle down unlike all the other times, there's tears that began brimming on your eyes and you still stand in the middle of the living room, the chandelier's light basking you in its ethereal glow, yet you feel the opposite. you're no angel as what's jason called you, and the people surrounding you are more like demons than anything else; witnessing your fall from grace, taking you away from your home whilst having the audacity applauding your presence as if you've fucking graced them.

and then steph coos, your head snaps to the direction of her grating "awe's!". you're convinced she's looking at jason like he's been vindicated for some crime, eyes you never knew could hold so much anger and spite. you don't know why she does, you don't understand the hidden implications of her next words, you can only watch from a distance.

"that should've been me, y'know! that's so unfair of you!" her seething voice and hardened glare at the man subsided into your thoughts; who wishes to be hurt? who even wants to be the victim of your feisty glares and venomous insults? you know they don't like it when you stare at them with burning hatred— but why do they enjoy it when you physically scar them instead? when you punch at their noses and watch as the blood stains their clothes evidently?

and yet it only registered within your mind just now: how they never seem to patch up any of the marks you imprint on their body. it's only now that you realize that they always bare it right in front of everybody, some even wearing looser clothes that give others a peek of their skin in the more intimate places you've marked. there's bandages from when they go home after every patrol, there's casts that they wear after suffering through broken bones and dislocated limbs from the criminals they fight every night— but never with you, not even a gauze from when you've cut all too keenly into damian's cheeks, a deep gash that he's sported proudly throughout the following months with everyone else seething, even bruce seems envious of his own son.

"well, it's not my fault you didn't try hard enough, blondie. right, angel? guess they love me even more than you," his sultry words pierced through your mind, and for just a second, he was already at your side, hands weighing on your shoulder whilst his head makes its way to the crown of your head, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on your forehead. he releases an airy laugh at the complaints that come after. and for a second, your claws were ready to retaliate from mere instinct, at how he dares treat the entire situation like a bragging right; but unlike last time, you try to hold back, shoulders sagging as you try to blink out the tears running down your eyes; all right after discovering their... sick fetishes.

fetishes you didn't know run deeper than just that. you don't even know of the competition they hold every night right after they put you to sleep, counting each and every scar, every pull of the hair, every bloodied nose, bruised eyes, scratched skin, cuts inflicted from knives and other sharp objects laying around, your very own murder attempts at your abductors; all tallied and inputted into barbara's coded system that tracks and points each and every injury. you don't know just how much they cherish these marks you left in their body, like medals dangling off their parts that showcase their dedication, their patience never dwindling at achieving your trust— bruce once said it was an unhealthy habit of yours, but dick retaliates, saying it's the only way they could get closer to you.

it's the only time that you willingly touch them, even if it's with animosity, with passion and hope that someday you'd maim them just hard enough to escape.

"don't even think tonight's over yet, todd. you all simply haven't seen what they've done to me just yet," now it's damian who butts in, with emerald eyes gleaming with emotions you're still unable to detangle. yet now there's hints of rage, a face that says he's ready to compete with what jason has to offer now, hands caressing the cloth he wears that hides an injury enough to compete with the pain you've inflicted upon jason, an injury you're far too familiar with.

he's the youngest, and sometimes, you feel the most fear trying to discern why he's too possessive of your time, of your space and your presence, all whilst sporting a glare that never seems to lighten. but nothing ever changed the fact that he's the one who pushes all your buttons the most, he's the one with the cruelest words and sickening intentions, enough for you to treat him the foulest you ever could; with murder the only product in your mind every time he tries to even come closer to you.

and his words right now made you realize just how deeply you fucked up, and just how equally as fucked up your abductors truly are...

after all, you did just bite him earlier, in the space between his neck and shoulders from when he attempted to lick at your neck, making sure your teeth grates at his skin and nearly rips at flesh; to the point where the taste of blood that filled your mouth still lingers even until now.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: art by yuto sano. written in 30 minutes sheesh. you know what's scarier than your kidnappers retaliating against you whenever you try to attack them? them taking it all in stride instead. the delusional belief that it's your own expressive way of getting used to their presence— even going as far as turning it into some sort of competition on who gets to have the most scars by the end of the day. i think that's absolutely more insane than just punishing you, and please tell me i was at least able to portray the feeling of doom well with this. i also hope this isn't too ooc. guys, pls pls pls tell me what you think of this, did this cook or what? interaction's been low lately and i've been feeling demotivated to write so uhm... also, if anyone wants me to write the difference between the romantic or platonic implications of masochist/sub batfam, just tell me and i will!

this is inspired by @on-leatheredwings post about masochist tim drake. she's literally the reason why i read the entire red robin comic run and was obsessed with him for like a long period of time because of her banger portrayal of him. and it's also inspired by @sleepingdiaryzzz's recent post, her writing is really immaculate and well thought out unlike mine LMAO and she's a tad bit underrated so you guys definitely should check her out! this post is also dedicated to @neerathebrightstar, thank u for being my coolest supporter ever.

[violent138]

I think the Batfamily can be organized by levels of germaphobia:

Least concerned/worst offenders:

Bruce - established grand tradition of running around in sewers 

Dick - licks evidence off the ground. Will wear the same domino mask for multiple days. 

Tim- enjoys being stabbed in the chest by blades that may or may not be clean. Long career as a skateboarder means his board has been tossed (to the horror of others) onto his bed/their car seats.

Jason - Expiry dates are a myth. Also see penchant for severing heads and then using the same gloves to answer his phone 

Mid-Level Offenders

Stephanie- likes swimming. In Gotham. Also a sewer acolyte.

Babs - Has made out with Canary in the most dubious of make out spots. Will also drink coffee that has been there for an indeterminate amount of time.  

They're Doing Their Best

Damian - Adopter of random animals, however he was raised extremely well and performs wazu five times a day 

Cass- Will eat from dubious food carts, however she does take ridiculously long showers 

Duke- (Has microscopic vision and will get grossed out pretty quick), everything he's done in sewers has been against his will, raised by a mom who was a neat freak.

[casuallytalkingtothevoid]

Thinking a very normal amount about Tim being joker junior.

Thinking about Jason dying and Tim becoming robin out of necessity.

Thinking about Bruce not noticing Tim has been kidnapped because surely, surely his parents would file a report. Surely Tim must have been dragged into going on a trip with them and just didn’t mention it.

Thinking of Bruce not questioning things correctly because he is too busy grieving the previous robin.

Thinking of Bruce just thinking Joker Junior is a random kid.

Thinking of Barbra being the one to notice instead.

Thinking of Barbra consoling Tim after he kills the Joker.

Thinking of her taking Tim and letting him heal in the Drake estate.

Thinking of a file Bruce Wayne makes called Joker junior, one that Tim never looks at, that talks about a kid who killed the Joker and has been missing ever since.

Thinking of, months later, when robin returns to Bruce’s side, it just so happens to coincide with the return of Jack and Janet.

Thinking of Tim thinking Barbra must have told Bruce, but he just never came to see him. And that’s fine, because it isn’t as if they are family, Tim is just here to make sure Bats doesn’t go off the deep end again.

Thinking of Barbra not telling Bruce, because surely he already knows, he’s the world’s greatest detective. Plus she isn’t one to talk about other people’s trauma when they aren’t around.

Thinking of Tim hiding his laughter, because Batman would never let him keep patrolling if he knew he was still having fits.

Thinking of Dick not being there most of the time, and when he is, he mostly spends it arguing with Bruce.

Thinking of Tim knowing that Dick must know because he hears them fighting about the joker being dead once, although he did leave pretty soon after when he feels the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

Thinking of Jason coming back, attacking him at the titains tower, and telling him that he’s read all his files and knows everything about Tim. Obviously Tim takes this to mean he knows that Tim killed the joker as JJ. Because why wouldn’t that be in his file.

Thinking of Jason not having time to question when the little Robin who replaced him starts manically laughing once he sees him, because as soon as he hears the familiar laugh the green takes over completely.

Thinking of Tim finally feeling in control of himself, but then worst year ever happens. His parents are dead, Bruce is lost in the time stream, all his friends are dead, Robin is stolen from him, and everyone thinks he is crazy. He starts to relapse.

Thinking of Tim actually going a little bit crazy after that, trying to clone Bart and Kon, joining the league of assassins, doing all those crazy things he did during worst year ever.

Thinking of Cass learning after saving Tim from the daughter of Acheron. There isn’t much he can do but explain after she witnesses one of his fits.

Thinking about years later, when everyone has relationships more akin to Batman: Wayne family adventures, Tim still feels a little out of the group.

Thinking of everyone getting mad when he talks about the Joker, especially if it’s in front of Jason.

Thinking of Tim going silent or making himself scarce everytime the Joker is mentioned.

Thinking of a Tim who finds an excuse not to go out when Harley Quinn is.

Thinking of a Tim who hasn’t had an episode in years.

Thinking of a Tim who watches Jason get all this support for his trauma, while he doesn’t.

Thinking of him going to Barbra or Cass anytime he has a set back because they are the only ones who seem to care.

Thinking of a Wayne family who doesn’t know.

Thinking of a Tim who Knows they Know, but they just don’t care.

[lxkrissyy]

Their dynamic is very important to me.

[fruitfloats]

you know what? continuation of a previous post of mine

habits other robins got from Jason

Dick- the way he sorts his books, while he doesnt have many in his apartment, Jason sorted them when he came over when he was younger and Dick has always kept them like that.

Tim- he organizes his thoughts when he writes them down the same way Jason did in reports, he even writes some letters like Jason did.

Steph- continuously blows bubbles when chewing gum. She saw Jason doing it a couple times in an attempt to annoy someone around him and she thought it was a great idea.

Damian- sorts his food on his plate and eats it in the same order as Jason does, it just seemed easier that way.

[strangedesired]

Damian calling for his dad but it’s not Bruce, it’s Dick

This could be emotional, Bruce and Dick looking at each other because neither knows how to address it and both feel guilty but taking care of Damian needs to come first so Dick jumps into action

Or it could be your classic (innocent) name mix up where Damian asks “dad, can you pass the salt?” at dinner and Bruce and Dick both reach for it. Dick looks up at Bruce with wide nervous eyes and Bruce is just completely taken aback. It takes Damian a second to process the hesitation before he realizes what he’s done, and although he was 100% talking to Dick, he doesn’t want to hurt his father’s feelings and no one knows what to do so they’re all just at a standstill staring at the salt

[overwhelmedandlonely]

It’s hilarious to me that the Drake’s live next door to Bruce. I haven’t read all of Tim’s backstory so maybe they moved him and his dad into a house next to the Wayne manor after his mom died but if not, can you imagine little Tim who knows Batman and Robin’s secret identities sitting in his room with a camera taking pictures into the Wayne manor.

Just.

There’s Bruce Wayne eating breakfast. Dick is currently throwing his homework in the trash out of frustration. Jason opening the door after a nightmare and asking Bruce to stay with him until he falls asleep again. Dick coming to visit and teasing his little brother over dinner. The everyday mundane things alongside the super.

And then after Jason dies, he watches constantly for life but there’s just… nothing. He occasionally spots Alfred meandering the halls, but otherwise the manor is dark where it was once so full of life.

And he realizes he can help not only Batman, but Bruce Wayne.

[deadsetobsessions]

What Do You Have There?

A knife!

Danny plunked the butter knife in its pedestal of importance. The nice thing about having a billionaire vigilante for a... foster is the amount of money Danny was allowed to drop on his hobbies. For example, his extensive collection of souvenirs.

They're not just any old regular souvenirs. No, no, no. That would be so boring! No, these souvenirs, he obtained from the various muggings, knife fights, and various other situations he's been in ever since he was dropped ungraciously into Gotham.

The butter knife? Damian. Precocious, stabby Damian who he had startled into the stab instinct. A point of pride, really. Danny knew Damian was good at fighting! It was practically, in ghost terms, a super enthusiastic hello! Yes, the butter knife would be kept in the well lit part of the wall. Alfred had told him to stay home today to recuperate. He didn't need it, since the wound would heal in an hour or two, but he'd take staying at home any day.

A couple of hours later, well into the afternoon and right before what Danny knew to be their patrol hours, Danny had a visitor.

"Danny."

"Oh, hey, Damian! What's up?" Danny turned around to see Damian hovering awkwardly near the door.

"I am here to... check upon your wound. It is imperative that it gets proper treatment."

Ancients, Damian was exactly like those alley kids. He just ate a thesaurus instead of the drawling accent the alley kids picked up. Which meant Damian endeared himself to Danny pretty quickly. Like a little ghostling.

"Oh, I'm good. See? No blood is leaking out of the wound." Danny held up spotless bandages.

Danny watched Damian step into his haunt- his room- with a pleased hum. Damian inspected the bandages and stepped back with a sharp nod of approval. His eyes flicked to the wall that Danny was rearranging (again) and did a double take at the butter knife in the middle.

"Is that the butter knife I stabbed you with?"

"Why, yes, it is!" Danny beamed.

"Why on earth would you display that?"

"Because you stabbed me with it?"

"That makes absolutely no sense, you simpleton! When someone stabs you, stab them back!"

"That would be mean!"

Damian spluttered. Danny tugged the kid closer to the wall, cheering inwardly as Damian didn't shove him away. It might be because he was exaggeratedly wincing as he moved his "injured arm" but Danny has learned to take a win where he could find them, especially with ghosts. Not that Damian was a ghost, but he sure acted like one.

"Do you want to see my collection?"

"Your collection?"

"Yeah!" Without giving him time to answer, Danny barreled ahead. "So this is the knife you stabbed me with. Which, by the way, was an awesome show of strength and accuracy."

Damian grimaced. Danny continued blithely, secretly memorizing Damian's reactions to laugh at later.

"And this is the knife those guys stabbed me with that one time Cass found me. And this one is a bullet someone shot at me down by the docks. I think I interrupted some kind of meeting?"

Damian's jaw had a slight tick to it that would have been a baffled frown on anyone else.

"And when was this?"

"Oh, like a week ago."

"What? When did you go to the docks?!"

"At night. I couldn't sleep."

"And you went to the docks?! How did you even get there?!"

"Walked," Danny lied, like a lying liar. He floated, obviously, but none of them knew that. "Anyways, this is a law book! Someone threw it at my head!"

"Hey, guys! What're you doing?"

Danny and Damian turned around.

"Richard? Brown? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Bruce wanted me to come back for the weekend," Dick said. Danny knew it was code for "something's going down and we need back up." Man, he still couldn't believe they didn't know he knew they were crime fighting vigilantes.

"Same!" Stephanie said. Danny was glad to see that her wounds from "cartwheeling in the manor" were healed.

"I see. Danny was showing me his collection of... objects people have used as weapons against him."

"What?!"

"Yeah!" Danny beamed, completely innocent. "Come on! I'll show you!"

With that, Danny continued to ramble. He just knew that the way Dick's and Stephanie's smiles strained would give him a good laugh for weeks to come. "And this is the glass bottle a drunk tried to shank me with in Crime Alley, and this is a knife the Red Hood himself threw at me."

Dick interrupted, face stiff. "Hood threw a knife at you?!"

"Yeah, but that was because my kids broke into his safe house and I was trying to get them to stop looting the place. And he didn't know I was a kid too, so he aimed a gun at my head. He shot at me too, but I couldn't go back to get the bullet, or else it would have joined my collection." Danny grabbed a box and shook it, metal rattling inside.

Dick smiled sweetly, Stephanie and Damian inching away from it.

"Oh, wow, I see!"

----

In his apartment, Jason shuddered. He grabbed his guns.

"Something's wrong. I just know it," he muttered to himself.

----

Danny smiled innocently as he described the horrific, near death events he got his souvenirs from.

"This is my bullet box! Man, Gotham has a lot of gun fights. I got shot so many times!" Danny complained, shaking the box like a rattling toy.

"Did you know Danny snuck out to go to the bay?" Damian snitched immediately, like a snitch.

"The Bay?! Danny! You know that's where people dump bodies, right?!" Stephanie poked him in the arm.

"Yeah, but like... I wouldn't die. And besides! I missed my friends!"

"You mean the minions you made in Crime Alley?" Steph asked. Danny pouted, eyeing the way Dick's gaze roved over his souvenirs and paling the more he realized how often Danny "got hurt."

Damian bumped a shoulder against Dick's arm. Danny returned to the conversation.

"If anything, I'm their minion." He said, remembering the times the Alley kids sent him on food runs.

"Fear Danny, the overlord of street rats."

Danny snorted. And- "Oh! Yeah, there was like a weird owl looking guy? And then they stabbed me with a finger and I kept it because woah, cool talon looking thing, right? And then they threw a bunch of those tiny knives at me? And then they just kind of vanished? Gotham is so weird."

And now, with all of them pale and stressed out of their minds, Danny swung a devastating blow called guilt trip.

"And that's the batarangs!" Three heads swung over to the line of batarangs. "Those vigilantes kept throwing them at me! One of them even hit me in the arm. Those things are sharp, man."

"Uh. Which ones?" Stephanie asked.

"Hm?" Danny hummed obliviously.

"Do you know which vigilantes?"

"Oh, it was like... the purple one. And the sword one? And like the one with the yellow insignia in the middle. And... all of them, I think? Except for signal. That guy's cool."

Stephanie and Damian had matching veiled looks of guilt. Dick shot them a sharp look. Danny decided to deal the last bit of damage to Dick.

"I'm glad you guys are way less stabby than the general Gotham public though, butter knife incident aside. At least I don't have to worry about you guys getting into danger, right? If you guys got hurt like my family did... I don't know..."

Danny smiled-squinted at them, channeling Cujo at his cutest and saddest: when he doesn't get to eat off of Danny's plate. So, pretty sad and pathetic.

"Uh, yeah." Dick said, guilt splayed all over his face. "Alfred said dinner was almost ready."

"Yes," Damian cleared his throat, looking away. "We shall partake in Pennyworth's hard work."

"Ahaha!" Stephanie laughed, nervously. "Welp, let's go bother Tim!"

Falling into step behind them, Danny grinned.

[minnie-draws]

Made this for the tiktok trend a few months back

[p1nkshield]

Jason: (stubs toe) AH GAH F*CK THIS TABLE

Dick: Jay Language! You should be ashamed!

Jason: You. You taught me these words man.

Dick: (now sweating a little bit) Such foul language and now lies? You lie on the name of your older brother? I don’t know what I did wrong! Timber have you ever ever heard me curse?

Tim: …no?

Dick: exactly! You wound me Jacey!

Jason: you literally would party all the time and you once told this very table the exact same thing I just said!

Tim: … okay the joke was funny before but now you’re taking it a bit too far Jason.

Jason: WHAT? ME!?

Later he found a Polaroid of a younger Dick Grayson clothes in disarray, holding a bottle of tequila and dancing amongst several other people. Said photo has a note on the back that read “hope to see you again soon” next to a deep red kiss mark.

Jason: SEE I WASN’T LYING LOOK!

Tim: …This is really good photoshop! I thought you didn’t want to learn! But seriously can you drop this? You’re asking me to believe that the guy who calls me timbits did drugs. Its not gonna work.

Dick: (mouthing behind Tim) no one will ever believe you >:)

[justsomestuffreally]

I think the Batkids reaction to a Bruce who isn't de-aged to 8 but rather 29 (pre-Jason death, post his adoption) would be fascinating. 

Their reaction would vary wildly:

Dick: Oh. Bruce is soft again. Bruce calls them ‘chum’ and ‘buddy’ and gives head pats for no reason. He still isn’t perfect, his communication skills are still a work in progress, but compared to his future self? Without actively dying Dick is hugged plenty. Bruce asks him to go to the zoo, unrelated to any case, just to spend time together. Dick is hit with more nostalgia and longing for the past than he knows what to do with.

Also notable: his dad is younger than him. That is something. Second, holy existential crisis Batman, his dad is younger than him and already one adult and one teenage kid??? Dick is not ready to feel this old yet. Third, Dick has absolutely no idea how Bruce managed to stay patient through his no-pants years. He is going to thank reason every day from now on that Damian wears full protection.

Jason: After his death and League he clung to an image of Bruce. One many tried to beat out of him, but he still kept it somewhere close to his heart, buried deep enough even he couldn’t see it. When he came back Bruce wasn’t like this idea of him. How stupid of him to believe the mind of a traumatized kid. Trying to create one good thing before the kid drew his last breath. Making up memories that never even existed.

But they did. Every smile and hug and even his words reflect the image tugged safely against his still-beating heart. His dad very clearly, very deeply loves him. Which is so much worse. Because he can understand why a Bruce, who never cared, didn’t kill the Joker. But he cares. So why the fuck did he not kill the Joker?

Tim: The reason he joined the family, the reason why he became Robin in the first place was because he saw a problem when Bruce started self-destructing and thought ‘Someone needs to fix that!’. Therefore he went and collected Dick, who didn’t seem keen on fixing it. So, the job fell to him to fix it.

He thought he did a good job, he thought he fixed the problem. Except now he sees who Bruce was, and he knows he failed. Their Bruce is less soft, less affectionate, less like he was before. Batman needs a Robin and Tim didn’t manage to be good enough of one to save him. 

[Or: Tim has a guilt complex a hundred miles wide and blames himself for things that aren’t his fault part 52]

Steph: Jason and she are very similar. Both come from the Narrows, both have a mother addicted to drugs and a shitty father. The differences start when Steph keeps waiting on the roof of their apartment for Batman to whisk her away, while Jason tries to steal the tires of the Batmobile and is taken in.

When Steph started out as Spoiler Bruce tried to keep her off the field, and obviously this one would too (even if he would probably be less paranoid about it), but she knows this Bruce would have also taken her in. This Bruce would be the father she always wished for when she sat on their roof and couldn’t see any stars. 

And she didn’t get to have this because Jason went ahead and died. (Of course, she knows she isn’t fair to the guy. Dying isn’t fun… And she knows the only reason she lived is because he died. When Batman rescued her from Black Mask she was in such terrible shape that Leslie managed to convince the World’s Greatest Detective that she died. If Jason hadn’t died Bruce wouldn’t have been as paranoid, wouldn’t have noticed her missing so soon, wouldn’t have been as urgent in his response. Would have been just a minute slower, a minute which would have killed her. Just as it had Jason.)

For her, this Bruce is a distorted mirror into a past which never was. 

Cass: This Bruce and B are not the same person. They don’t move the same. In a fight, this Bruce is younger, faster, stronger. Doesn’t compensate for a previously broken spine. Less experienced. Still one of the most experienced she knows, but less. 

He still moves differently, outside a fight, less pain. More likely to engage in physical affection, more likely to hug and pat and talk. He talks more than B. B knows what she means without words. This Bruce doesn’t.

She likes this Bruce, warmth, and softness. But not as much as B. He knows what she means, when she wants a hug, when she tells him ‘I love you’ without words. B doesn’t need words. This Bruce doesn’t know her, doesn’t communicate like her. She wants B back.

Damian: At first, when this version of his father seemed uncanny and oddly familiar, he assumed it to be due to the stories of his mother. After all, she always told him tales about his father. He simply did not have the frame of reference to understand the kindness she spoke of. Clearly, the clash between the ideals of the League and the ones of his father causes these feelings, just as they did when he first entered the manor.

He presumed this to be the case until one day on patrol Batman laid a hand on his shoulder and told him he did a good job after no particularly impressive fight and he nearly called him ‘Grayson’. Because the stories of his mother may have painted the picture of this version of his father, however, it wasn’t what made it familiar; no, he knew this kindness. These hugs and compliments one would bestow upon a child. Compliments which, despite the indignity, still warm him. Because Grayson learned how to be a… caregiver from his father.

His father used to be like Grayson, used to be until his grief hardened him. Damian could have had this. Damian could have a brother and father who would- But he doesn’t because of Todd. He loathes Todd. Loathes him for ruining the life he could have had.

Why did he die anyway? Damian certainly wouldn’t have a problem escaping bonds created by the Joker, Damian would have disarmed the bomb in time, Damian would have never thrown this life away like he did.

[Or: Damian is a child who was raised by assassins and has unreasonable standards for fighting abilities and also is a child who needs to focus his rage on someone.]

Duke: He was neither there before Jason died nor in the aftermath [according to my math he was around 4 when Jason died] he joined the family when Jason was already back for 4 years or so. He mostly skipped all the drama. For him, Bruce is the way Bruce is because he is Bruce. It’s weird to see him so different, to see how grief shaped parts of Bruce which Duke assumed were just Bruce things.

He’s glad this Bruce is brighter, or not because it just highlights how much that light will dim? Who knows, certainly not him. 

What he does know is that, with their Bruce, he has a distance which, with his parents still alive, he appreciates. With this Bruce, he can understand why Dick struggled so much whether he wants to be his ward or son, how he doesn’t want to replace his parents but still have this Bruce as a dad. It definitely explained the ted talk Dick tried to give him after Bruce officially took him in as a ward.

He likes this Bruce well enough, but he doesn’t necessarily want him to stay this way. Yes, their Bruce is less happy, less open but he did heal, he did grow. Duke met a Bruce who tried to learn from his mistakes, learned to communicate better, and learned when to pull and when to push. For Tim, Damian, Dick, and certainly Jason there is too much baggage, too much history in their relationships, it’s difficult for them to ever move past- anything really.

Sure, when Dick and Bruce are on the same page they are essentially invincible but then the past catches up again and they don’t talk to each other for months. And honestly? Apart from Cass, Duke’s pretty sure he has one of the best relationships with Bruce simply because he got to know him at a better time.

Duke doesn’t mind this Bruce. But their Bruce loved Jason, cared for him so deeply the scars still show to this day. And he still chooses to open up again even if just a bit by bit. Even if just Duke can see it. He is used to being the only one that can see.

And maybe knowing this care extends to him, this love even grief can’t shake? Maybe it makes him feel just a little bit safer, a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter.

[inkpotsprite]

He really pulled his cowl off as if that would take it away.

[ikiprian]

there’s a lot of interesting stuff that can be made by examining the objectively scary stuff the robins face in a realistic light, but also? i really like the robins making trauma jokes. humor’s a coping mechanism that makes a lot of sense for them, given their previous role as the lighter side of batman. and, perhaps more importantly, i think it’s funny

Dick: did you just house an entire family-sized bag of chips? by yourself, in less than an hour?

Jason: as an orphan, i qualify as a family of one

Steph: but you died too, so that would make you a family of zero

Damian: multiple of us have died. it doesn’t make anyone special. i, however, am naturally special, on account of being heir to the batman

Steph: ah, heck. well, i’m no longer special, guess it’s time to fake my death and flee to africa

Dick: are you really heir to the batman, though, if bruce kicking it anytime soon would just put me in the cowl? which is a terrible job, by the way, to which nobody should brag about being heir?

Tim: hey, guys. has anyone seen my chips? i coulda sworn i…

Jason: [makes direct eye contact as he tips the bag up, funneling the bottom-bag chip crumbs into his mouth]

Jason: oh, sorry. did someone take something from you? steal it, perhaps?

Tim: [deep breath]

Tim: do you want guns batman. because this is how you get guns batman

Dick: [muttering] at least someone wants the job

[pokeberry5]

my attempt at reclaiming the arkhamverse tim design