#dick grayson grief

[yes-im-a-simpp]

Dick was mad after Jason's death.

Not just mad destroyed. I imagine him staring at nothing and just saying 'I'm fine.' whenever someone tried to talk to him.

He would isolate himself A LOT. And avoid everyone in any kind of way, no texting, no talking, no calling, no staring. Dick is just lost in his head and good luck if you want to get him out of it.

What really concerned the titans was the fact that none of his best friends were able to talk to him.

Donna is pissing him off with every message, Roy not hiding his pity made him loose it, Wally running after him all the time to check on him would only make him act colder and colder.

There was no way to help.

That's what made him drown, his way of isolating himself.

Bruce wouldn't be able to help because he is too deep into his own grief and I like to think that he didn't even know how much Jason meant to Dick. Which would explain why he didn't realize how bad Dick's state was.

Alfred wouldn't see him often enough to help. (knowing he's also deep into his grief.)

So really what I'm saying is that Tim is the reason Dick 'got better' he started trying again thanks to Tim.

He forced this joyful version of himself thanks to Tim.

He always kept the guilt of not being good enough for Jason, good enough to save him.

And unlike most, I'd like to think that Jason is aware of it, he knows that Dick will still be thinking of his 'mistakes' when he looks at Jason

[julymusings]

will you hold me instead, and tell me that it's over now?

i look forward to a little me and you, so now i hope that you don't tell me that it's over

or; patching jason up after an intense mission [2.1k]

jason todd x fem!reader; angst/fluff; brief mentions of human trafficking and allusion to murder (he's talking about how the mission went); mention of his scars; jason being insecure & thinking he's not good enough😞; description of injuries and the first aid applied to them (please do not take anything as actual medical advice); this is me hard-launching my physical touch x touch starved!jason agenda

You don’t know how early it is when you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, just that it’s too early. It’s not like you could sleep anyway; you spent the night drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, too worried to let yourself relax. You always got like this when Jason went away on missions. Several days, and sometimes even weeks, spent anxiously anticipating the state in which he would return home—you haven’t been able to get a manicure since before you met him.

You’re still a little delirious when a hand ghosts up your arm, stirring you from your half-sleep. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and register the sight in front of you. Your boyfriend is on one knee on the floor in front of you, brushing strands of hair out of your face with endearing eyes.

“There she is,” he says when you lift your head off the pillow and reach out to him. He catches your hand and kisses your fingertips, spreading a warmth up your arm that combats the midnight chill. You push yourself up to a sitting position, and he takes the opportunity to cup his hands around your face and bring you in for a kiss.

“Missed you,” you mumble against him, and his lips curve upwards against yours.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” His mouth travels up from yours towards your temple, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake. Your palms, pressed flat against his chest, slide up to loop around his neck. He tenses, choking back a strained grunt. But you catch it.

You pull back abruptly. “Are you hurt?” Your eyes frantically dart around, scanning his entire body. Now fully alert, you reach over to the bedside table and switch the lamp on.

“’s just a bruise, baby, I’m fine.” A hand comes up to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. But with newly unobstructed vision, you can see more than just a bruise. He has a busted lip, a shallow gash on his temple, and splotches of purple and red peeking out of his shirt collar.

“You’re bleeding, Jason,” you chastise him, getting up off the bed.

He stands alongside you with a huff. “It’s nothing,” he sighs. “Doesn’t even hurt.” But when you take his hand and start pulling him to the bathroom, he follows without argument. You lead Jason to sit down on the edge of the tub and fetch the first aid kit from under the sink, setting it down next to him on the bathtub ledge. You stand between his legs, your positions making you a half-head taller than him. He gazes up at you and for the first time tonight, you notice how dark and deep the skin under his eyes is.

“Off,” you order, dragging up the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it off, wincing when it requires him to lift his bruised arm.

“Someone’s eager,” he muses, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner. It earns him a swat on the arm; he grunts loudly and doubles over in pain.

You gasp. “Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I—”

But when he looks up, it’s with a coy smirk and a twinkle in his eye. You swat him again.

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t help the slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Why didn’t you take care of this earlier? Alfred wasn’t at the manor to help you?”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “Don’t know. Came straight here.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” You ask.

He looks at you blankly, as if to say, don’t you know who you’re talking to?

You sigh, exasperated. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jason. What if ended up becoming serious? And you didn’t make it here in time? What if—” 

He interrupts your doom spiral by pressing a finger to your lips. “I know, honey, I’m sorry. But I wanted to see you.”

You sigh. There’s a sadness to it, one that comes from familiarity with the fact that he does not care for himself as much as he should—as much as he deserves. But there are no words to make him believe that you haven’t tried, so all you do is lean your forehead against his, hoping he can hear what you're not saying. You need him to hear you.

“You’re not sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m not,” he whispers back.

You start with his shoulder, which is decidedly not ‘just a bruise,’ but rather several bruises, all clumped together to form one giant Franken-bruise which covers his entire shoulder. It gets rubbed with ointment and you’re not sure who it pains more, because while you’re spilling out frantic apologies as you try to speed through it, Jason is white-knuckling the edge of the tub with a wad of gauze between his teeth. 

His lip doesn’t require any medical attention, but he insists you kiss it better anyway, and who are you to deny him? 

You tend to his temple last, but he’s antsy now. His leg bounces up and down, one hand is drumming its fingers on the tub, and the other is fiddling with the loose threads that hang from the hem of your shirt; you have to scold him into sitting still.

“Where’s the dermabond?” You ask, sifting through the contents of the first aid kid.

“Used it up last month, remember? After you just had to feed that fuckin’ squirrel.” His voice is gruff at the recollection. “Should be a new pack under the sink.”

You fetch the new box, picking at the plastic wrapping. “Can you blame me? He was so cute.”

“Yeah, was. Until that greedy fucker decided he wanted the whole picnic.” Jason sees you struggling with the plastic covering and takes it from you, breaks it open, then hands it back. “Bastard.”

You giggle. “You know, you could’ve just let him have the cupcake. It wasn’t worth risking rabies for.” You fish out the glass tube of surgical glue, tossing its cardboard box aside.

“‘Course it was. My girl wanted red velvet, she should get her red velvet.” Jason’s hands finally rest on the backs of your bare thighs, squeezing them lightly. He grins when that makes you let out a little squeak.

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth flowing in your veins that courses from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. “My hero,” you muse with a smile.

There’s a pause. Then:

“I’m not a hero,” he responds. His tone is still light, but his eyes feel far away.

You start to clean the blood from the wound, which has since clotted and dried, with a saline-soaked cotton pad. He stares at you while you clean and then close the cut with the glue. And when you finish, supplies set aside and glue cured, he’s still staring. His eyes are traveling all over your face, taking in each feature, committing every ridge, every angle, every pore, every freckle to memory. The light-hearted teasing demeanor from mere moments ago is long gone. You're a deer caught in emerald headlights.

You recognize this shift. You noticed hints of it since he arrived home, but assumed it was just due to the pain. Now it’s obvious that there’s more. It’s the same shift that comes when the news becomes a circus, or when he stares at his scars in the mirror for too long.

His hands slide up your body slowly, reverently. One stops at your waist while the other continues, blazing a trail up your ribcage, over the side of your breast. He pauses at your shoulder for a split second, squeezing the flesh every so gently before continuing up your neck. His thumb drags across your collarbone, brushing against the spot that always lights up your senses and parts your lips in a breathy sigh. He stops when he reaches your face. He cups your cheek. Your hand covers his and you lean into his hold, the stroke of your small, soft fingers juxtaposing the rough callouses of his knuckles. You stay here for a moment before turning to press your lips to his palm once, twice, thrice, four times, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

“What is it, Jason?” Your hands come to cradle his neck before dragging up to his hair, and his move to wrap around your torso and pull you closer into him. You place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I’m not a hero,” he says again, softer.

“Jay,” you whisper. “You know that’s not true.”

He says nothing, only heaving a heavy sigh and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You’re content to stand like this, to simply hold him and graze your nails against his scalp for as long as he needs while he inhales the comforting scent of your skin.

After what could have been one minute or twenty, he pulls back to look up at you. He looks exhausted. “It was a human trafficking case,” he says. “They knew we were closing in on ‘em, so we had to act fast. They were…trying to…” He trails off, unsure how to put it in words delicate enough to spare you. He breaks eye contact. “Destroy the evidence,” he finishes.

You don’t respond. Despite the heavy silence that follows this admission, you know he’s not done. It takes another several minutes of stroking fingers and feather-light hairline kisses to coax it out of him.

“There was a woman. She…we didn’t—“ His voice cracks. “I didn’t get there in time.”

“Oh, honey.” You run your palm over his forehead, pushing back his thick waves. His eyelids slide down over glassy irises as he sinks into your touch. You lean down to press your lips to his forehead. “You know that’s not your fault,” you whisper. He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“But if I’d just—”

“No, Jason.” You grip his face between your palms. He opens his eyes at the sudden sternness. “But nothing. You did everything you possibly could—”

“You don’t know that,” he interrupts.

“I do know that. I know because you are always doing everything you can. For me, and for everyone in this city. And I know that it wasn’t just you on that mission. Do you blame anyone else for what happened?”

He says nothing, but his eyes are welling with tears.

“You saved so many other people, Jason. You are a hero, and you know that. You have to know that.” Some of his tears spill over, but you brush your thumbs across his cheeks and kiss them away.

He pulls you onto his lap so your legs are straddled over his and rests his head against your sternum. His arms squeeze impossibly tight around your waist, but you don’t say anything. When his shoulders tremble and you feel the dampness on the front of your shirt, you still don’t say anything. And when he places a hand on the back of your head to pull you in for a hard, searing kiss that leaves you both breathless, you don’t say anything. You just look at him, at how pretty he is, and hope that he can hear you.

The sounds of buzzing echo in from the next room. To your dismay, he turns away, towards the direction of your phones. “I should get that,” he says. His voice is hollow. “It’s probably the bats wanting to know where I am. They’ll send a search party if I don’t check in.”

He’s about to move you off his lap, but you stop him. “In a minute, Jay.”

Jason’s forehead crinkles. You use your thumb to smooth it out.

“Please?” You breathe out. “Just let me look at you a little longer. I love looking at you.”

He relaxes back into his seat. And you keep looking at him. At his beautifully rosy cheeks and shining eyes, his puffed lips. The scar that runs diagonally down his slightly crooked nose.

It’s dawn now; the tangerine beginnings of sunrise elicit a soft glow that spills through the window. Jason takes it all in. The two of you together in the home you share, arms around each other, your face all honeyed and beautiful in the light.

And you know he can hear you.

love when you guys leave messages/feedback it really brightens up my day<3

divider is from here

[deadsetobsessions]

DC X DP WRITING PROMPT:

Danny can hear the screams of the dead, the echoes of ghosts- shades of the dead- unpowered by ectoplasm. It’s his right as the High King of the Infinite Realms.

And during his weekly floats through his home planet to de-stress (no one ever attacks during these floats because a cranky and stressed Danny is a bad time for everyone involved), he comes across the Joker, torturing Tim Drake into becoming Joker Junior. More like he was lead there by the vortex of shades screaming at Joker to let the kid go and versions other threats or incoherent screams of pain and hatred.

He punts the clown into the sun (or in a ditch because Gotham is not known for her love of the thing called “sunlight”) and gathers up a sobbing Tim (JJ) who’s cackling through his tears like the laugh is being torn out of him, and flies away. Danny figures out his own personal ectoplasm shots help the insanity because Tim’s died before (and got brought back) via electro therapy shocks. Danny sees so much of himself in Tim and the potential for both immense good and immense evil and realizing they’re both choosing to seclude themselves to not harm others (Tim locks himself in his room to stop throwing things at Danny when he slips into insanity- which, it doesn’t actually affect Danny because he can turn intangible). Danny realizes that it’s not healthy and it doesn’t make anyone happy, so he works with himself and Tim to heal. Basically, Tim and Danny finds family in each other and heals while Batman, Nightwing, and Alfred loses their shit searching for Tim (“YOU LET JOKER KILL ANOTHER ONE OF MY BROTHERS, B!) (I WON’T LET YOU SHOULDER THE WEIGHT OF KILLING SOMEONE.) (I WOULD SHOULDER ANYTHING IF IT MEANT KEEPING TIM SAFE FROM THE JOKER!!!) (I can’t lose another son, Alfred) (I know, master Bruce. I know.)

Anyways, they find themselves back and Jason’s like hey I’m gonna kill the next Robin- oh wait Joker’s dead huh how’d that happen and then he’s like wtf do you mean “joker junior” wtf wtf wtf

Aunt Harley gets some of her own therapy and tracks Danny down to apologize to Tim, but stays away just in case she triggers an attack. She’s a villain, she’s done some horrible things and felt no guilt for it, but Tim was a line she thought she’d never cross and it kills her

[blackbatcass]

not to be back on my bullshit but as it stands I think cass and dick’s relationship has the potential to contain soooo much resentment and discomfort. two people who are not used to being meaningfully perceived are now being deeply understood by another person who is NOT their first choice for this. they know each other Too Well and are both uncomfortable by this. there is so much resentment wariness and tension to be found in their shared proximity to bruce and babs, their thought processes, personalities, etc. HOWEVER. i do think that throwing them into the emotional pressure cooker that is the bruce-is-dead era together could fix them. being forced to share the cowl and wrestling with differing ideas of batman’s legacy, family, morality, etc would end SO well actually. they would have so many screaming matches and would come out of it bonded to all hell.

[inkpotsprite]

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

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt

Bruce is so caught up in his grief that he… misses Jason coming home.

Jason, fresh out of his grave and confused (and traumatized) as all hell is just wondering where the hell Alfred is (“I gave him a lengthy vacation, Jaylad.” “And he agreed!?!?!?”) and why Bruce is acting like everything Jason says and does is some kind of tear jerker and good gods, B, are you trying to die you can’t just drop down in the middle of a gun fight with no plan Jesus Christ and why haven’t you eaten the spaghetti I made you dad!?!

Bruce is just happy his mind is kind enough to create such a vivid hallucination of his dead son.

(Tim is… confused.)

[bruciemilf]

I wonder how many times Clark and the batkids + Alfred revived Bruce with the Lazarus Pit and just never told him abt it

[motleyfam]

Smudge

“I received another call from the boy’s school today.”

Bruce sighs heavily. “Is he still not eating?”

“According to his teacher, at lunch today Master Richard consumed six potato chips, discarded his sandwich and carrot sticks entirely, spent a few minutes attempting to balance the orange on the end of his nose, and then traded his cheese stick for a classmate’s novelty eraser—which I am told is shaped like a crocodile.”

It’s an alligator, actually. Dick can tell from the flatness of the creature’s snout. He’s holding it right now, flipping the little rubber animal over and over between his fingers as he sits perched on the very top of the bookcase in the hall outside Bruce’s study.

His new guardian lets out a low, bitter laugh. “Well, that’s three more chips than he had yesterday.”

Alfred’s tone is stern. “Master Bruce, need I remind you that the social worker will be paying us a visit this weekend?”

“And what exactly do you suggest I do, Alf? Tie the kid to a chair and force him to eat?”

“Certainly not,” Alfred says coolly. “But perhaps a little more involvement on your part might encourage your young charge to actually consume a full meal.”

Dick sets the alligator on his thumbnail and flips it into the air like a coin. It lands on his open palm, bottom-side up. He flips it again.

There’s more conversation in the study, but Dick lets the words wash over him, flipping the gator over and over between his fingers. He’s not trying to be difficult—really—it’s just that ever since that night at the circus, nothing tastes quite the same.

It’s fine though; he’s not that hungry anyway.

“Dick.”

The nine-year-old startles, suddenly aware that Bruce is standing below him. “What are you doing up there, chum.”

“Sitting,” Dick says simply. “Wanna see what I got?” He holds up the eraser.

“How about you come down and show me at the dinner table?” Bruce suggests. “Alfred made meatloaf.”

Dick makes a face. “I’d rather stay up here.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugs. “I like being up high.”

“Hn.” Bruce hesitates a moment, mulling this one over. Then he places his hands behind him on the file cabinet and hoists himself up to sit cross-legged on top. “Let’s see the crocodile.”

“It’s an alligator,” Dick corrects, passing it to him.

“No, it’s an eraser,” Bruce says, turning it over in his fingers to examine each side. He rubs at the dark smudge where Dick tried to use it to erase a smiley face he’d doodled on his math sheet earlier. It hadn’t worked very well.

Dick rolls his eyes. “You sound like my dad.”

“Hn,” is all Bruce says.

Neither of them say anything for a while.

“...You like McDonalds?” Bruce finally asks.

Dick shrugs. “It’s alright.”

Bruce hums. He pushes off from the file cabinet, hopping down and reaching back up to take Dick’s hand.

“C’mon,” he says. “We can have Alfred’s meatloaf tomorrow.”

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[littlefankingdom]

I don't believe the Batfam could believe Dick to be dead when he and Bruce faked his death after Forever Evil. I don't care about canon, they never should have believed it.

Why? Bruce. Bruce, when he loses a child, loses a bit of sanity and cannot stop talking about his dead baby. He would be devastated if he actually lost Dick. But, because he hasn't lost Dick, he doesn't act like his world has ended. And even if the rest of the fam would not pick up on that, Tim, who knows very well how Bruce is when he lost a child, would never fucking believe it.

[yes-im-a-simpp]

LET'S DISCUSS DICK GRAYSON AND THE WAY HE DEALS WITH THE DEATH OF LOVED ONES

Disclaimer : most informations can be fanon, canon or just headcanon

The guy obviously lost a LOT of people in his life, his parents, Jason, Donna, Bruce, Wally, Damian..., and even if some came back to life, the pain never go away. I have a few headcanons about the way he deals with that, so here we go ✨

The death of his parents :

(I'm not sure how many years old Dick was canonically when they died, but I'm going to go with eight.)

At first, he felt shock. This couldn't be happening. He didn't just saw his parents fall. It wasn't true.

Then, he felt sick. His parents dead bodies were lying right in front of him and the only thing he could do was throwing up.

After that, the tears. No one could make him stop crying. He was shaking and whenever he felt a little better, horrible images came to haunt his mind.

And suddenly, numbness. Just nothing. He was silent and he felt empty.

The first two weeks after Bruce took him in Dick stayed incredibly silent. To be honest, he only spoke once. ''Why do I always eat alone?'' he asked Alfred while taking his breakfast. The butler felt his heart breaking as the little boy ask that question. He tried to explain that Bruce was busy, but he knew that it wasn't an excuse.

He then asked Bruce to stay more with his new ward knowing that loneliness wasn't going to help him grieving.

The third week, he started talking, to Alfred, only, short sentences without looking in the eyes, but, still, it was progress.

The fourth week, he was able to talk to Bruce, and to even laugh with Alfred.

And the fifth week Dick felt happy for the first time. Bruce took two days off to spend time with him. Alfred gave him a few piano lessons, and the nightmares started to fade, even that horrible feeling inside his stomach started to disappeared. And it felt weird. His parents died. How could he feel happy. He wasn't supposed to be happy.

Dick felt guilty a lot. He felt guilty because he didn't save them. He felt guilty because he survived and they didn't. He felt guilty because sometimes, just sometimes, he felt happy without them.

Even when he grew up guilt was still an important part of him.

He feels guilty to be happy with Bruce.

With his new family.

Part two (coming soon)

[hood-ex]

I think that maybe life would've been better if Bruce had just broken down after telling Dick, "I trained you to live, and I watched you die." Y'know, instead of continuing to fight Dick.

[occasionalsnippets]

Okay I'm so very curious on what would happen in case fd!mc died. I've not caught up on all the lore but the idea that they'd focus on everyone elses tragedies, only to forget they're now a character too with their own problems and enemies and that (or something else) being their end. Like the angst potential just calls to me.

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream

Asdlaskjdh I would love to kill them off, maybe like a bit after Jason comes to the manor. I just know that everyone is going to be trapped in the shadow of the pedestal they built for you!!!

Like, Bruce is perpetual longing to make things right by you. He forever catches himself thinking “what would you do” and “what would you tell him to do”, but never able to rely on your guidance to fix things again. Even though you acted essentially as his emotional crutch and translator and the initial impression of you basically being a (not) adult in his life, he’s eternally going to wish he could’ve done better for you. He isn’t your father and you weren’t his daughter. But, maybe you could’ve been something. It’s too late now, regardless.

Even though you’re six feet under, you’re no farther than you were in life. Dick remembers the distance between you and him more than anything else. Be it the distance he placed between himself and the manor or the ravine you dug yourself. He had always been more focussed on Tim than you and in many ways, you had orchestrated things so that it would be that way. You didn’t need him. Not like everyone else. And that leaves him with nothing of you but distant text messages and memories of you, dancing just out of his reach.

Jason remembers you amidst fluttering fabrics and blurry faces, shutters of a past he can barely recall. Your face in childhood is smeared in washes of green, blending with the images of the you of now that blares with every headline of your death. He’s never gotten to know who you are now when you aren’t hidden behind velvet curtains, in dresses covered in rhinestones worth more than an apartment complex. It haunts him. Just a bit. The same way he knows the memory of who he was before his death haunts Bruce.

Tim mourns in the Drake manor that has always been filled with more you than either of his parents. You’re gone now, just like them. It hits him harder than anyone he’s ever lost. Unlike everyone else, he almost had a surplus of memories of you, the good, the bad, the annoying and kind. It casts a daunting shadow of a role he’ll never be able to fulfil. A role that you, his perfect, unfailing, older sister, have left behind. The lingering warmth will kill him someday he thinks as he traces your path and follows in your footsteps.

Damian only knows you from stories and photographs and the half-aborted actions that the rest of the family takes. They are all trying to be something good for him and in the depths of the records his father keeps, he knows that it is your doing. You have always been larger than life to him. An idol-like figure he can never reach or know. There are millions of photos of you, thousands of angles, all of which he has learned to draw. He can imagine the gentle curve of your smile, mimic the posture when you stood, count the number of lashes on each of your eyes. But, he can only grasp at the ghost you left behind, unable to reach who you truly were.

The family will grieve. They will mourn. But, they will collect themselves eventually. You did not spend the last years of your life forcing them to communicate only for them to fall apart after you’re gone, after all.

[blackbatcass]

Dick Grayson and Cassandra Cain

(or: an exploration of grief, resentment, understanding, and eventual siblinghood)

Marie Howe, The Affliction / C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed / Schuyler Peck, Horoscope for the Heartbroken / Heidi Priebe, As Long As There Is Love, There Will Be Grief / The 1975, If I Believe You / Richard Siken, Wishbone / ? / Janelle V, The Angry Daughter / Florence + the Machine, Various Storms and Saints / Richard Siken, The Long and the Short of It

[fantastic-nonsense]

"Maybe I needed it once. But I trained here, with The Flying Graysons, before I trained with you, Bruce. You know what the key is to a good trapeze act? Letting go...trusting that there's someone on the other side to catch you. You taught me a lot. But I learned from them to leap into the light. We're not the same, don't you see, Bruce? I had you." -Detective Comics #1074

hang on a minute y'all, I need to go scream into the abyss

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

It’s turning out to be a bad day when Jason finds himself stabbed during a drug bust.

It’s turning out to be a very bad day when he starts to feel woozy (seriously, what the hell? It was just a little stabbing) and promptly collapses.

It’s turning out to be a monumentally bad day when the batfamily drop in on his drug bust.

And then the night takes a hard nose dive into catastrophically bad, because whatever toxin that blade was laced with? It’s making his heartbeat slow down into near flatline, paralyzing Jason in the process.

And now he’s stuck listening to his family lose it completely upon finding his “dead” body.

… shit.