#grayson!concepts

[prlssprfctn]

Imagine in the beginning, before Red Hood's goons figure out that he is a baby, they think he is a single dad of a bunch of kids, instead. And it is not like they are wrong, since he does parent all kids of Crime Alley, but they mean not them. They mean Bats, instead.

No one is sure how old Red Hood is. But they saw a single white streak of the hair once, so he is... old, right? And these Batkids, they always hang around him, whining and asking for something - surely, it is his kids? Right? That gotta be it.

Red Hood: Now, back to- Sorry, I need to take a call. Goons: Sure, sir. Red Hood: What... Oh my god, Red. What do you mean, you don't know how to wash the carpet without- Spoiled brat. Okay, listen to me, you first need to get a really hot water... Goons: That's definitely his son being in troubles.

(It was Tim, who accidentally ruined Alfred's favourite carpet. He was in big troubles that day.)

Robin, appearing on the doorstep of Red Hood's den: Scram. I am here to see Hood. Goons, staring at little Damian: Hm-m. Red Hood, pushing them away: Bad day? (Damian wordlessly raising his arms to be picked up by Jason) Okay. It is fine. Goons: Hm-m-M.

Nightwing, whining: You are so boring. Why don't you want to play Twister with us this Sunday? Red Hood, rolling his eyes: Shut up. Goons, overhearing the conversation: Kids, am I right? Red Hood: Huh?

Goons, watching Batman and Red Hood shouting on each other on the rooftop: Hey, do we think Batman is also his kid?.. Goons: (thoughtful pause) Red Hood, completely pissed off by his dad in the meanwhile: I am TIRED of you. Go back to your stupid ass CAVE and think about your behaviour. I don't want to see you AGAIN. Batman: But- Red Hood: OUT OF MY TURF. NOW!!! Goons, staring at Batman, who walks away sulkily: ...HM-M.

Red Hood, staring at the "Best Dad" merch, given him by his goons on his birthday: I am confused. Do they mean kids from Alley, or they view themselves as my kids... What does it mean? Uh. Whatever. It is kinda sweet. Red Hood, on the next day: Thanks, guys. Very thoughtful of you! Goons, high-fiving each other: Sure, boss!

[marskiiii]

TOOK FOREVER BUT SOOOOOO WORTH IT!

aka mY IDEAL BATFAM UNIVERSE TYVMUCHBYEEE

[mke2nd]

Dynamic Duo Adult Designs, not set on anything and was honestly afraid to touch it, thoughts?

[batsandbirdbrains]

Silly little sort of crack idea for the Justice League who still don’t know who Batman is behind the mask. Like they know nothing about him. A lot of them think he’s a Creature of some sort. They certainly don’t know anything about Dick/Robin, either. But he keeps leaving meetings early or abruptly or just straight up not showing up because, “I have more important obligations.”

So they spy on him. It’s the obvious solution. Because what if he’s really a villain of some sort? Gotham is crazy, they wouldn’t put it past someone from Gotham to pretend to be a hero for some crazy, convoluted plan.

And what they find shocks all of them. Because maybe they snuck a bug on Batman, and it only picks up audio. Batman had just left a meeting early. Again. With no real explanation as to why.

First, they hear mostly static. The sound of since rustling as he moves. Then actual bat noises start echoing, and Barry is convinced that Batman just turned into a bunch of bats.

But then they hear a a tiny little voice shouting, “B! We’re gonna be late!” followed by the sound of something colliding with Batman.

And then Batman chuckles. It scares the crap out of all of them. They didn’t think Batman could have emotions outside of anger and annoyance.

“I know, chum, I’m sorry.”

“You said your dumb meetings were only supposed to be two hours!”

“They are,” Batman huffs. “Flash likes to chitchat.”

Barry scoffs. What’s wrong with chit chatting!

“We’re gonna be late!” the child’s voice whines. “I don’t wanna get in trouble!”

“Alright, alright,” Batman laughs. “We’re leaving now, let’s go. Do you have all your gear together?”

“It’s already in the car!” the child huffs. “Let’s go!”

The noise that follows is muffled, and they can tell that Batman has changed out of his gear and they’re now in a car, driving in the road. The radio is playing, and it’s causing some static in the feed.

“And you promise you won’t yell this time?” the boy’s voice whines.

“So long as they don’t make any shit calls this time,” Batman scoffs.

“Language, sir,” another voice says, and they hear the child giggling.

Hal asks the others if Batman has a henchman. They all shush him so they can keep listening.

The noise that follows soon after is full of other people talking, shouting, and loudspeaker announcements. Everything is muffled together, it’s hard to make out what exactly is being said. But one thing becomes very clear.

Batman is coaching a little league game.

And he’s getting very heated about it.

“YOU CALL THAT A STRIKE?”

“HE WAS SAFE! THAT WASN’T AN OUT! NO, NO, THIS INNING IS NOT OVER.”

“OH COME ON, HE TAGGED HIM! THAT KID’S OUT!”

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ EYES CHECKED, BLUE!”

They hear Batman get ejected. From a little league game. They hear grumbling to himself as he watches from the car in the parking lot.

Then they hear the same little boy whining and complaining when the door opens again an hour later and he slumps into the car.

“You promised you wouldn’t yell!”

“I wouldn’t have had to yell if the umpires opened their damn eyes!”

“Language like that is what got you thrown out of the game, sir. Again.”

“It’s only happened twice!”

“It’s only the fifth game of the season!” the little boy whines. “And you promised me ice cream if we won.”

“Did you win?”

“Duh,” the boy scoffs. “9 to 3!”

“Attaboy,” Batman says, and he sounds so proud.

They stop listening then, because one thing has become very clear. Batman is a dad. And he’s constantly leaving meetings early because of obligations to his kid. And suddenly they all feel like assholes.

A couple months later, they’re all introduced to a little boy called Robin. And they can’t figure out how Batman’s son is so cute and sweet. But they absolutely can tell he’s Batman’s, because he’s also scary as shit.

[neuro-psyche]

I think Dick and Jason would have multiple “what the actual fuck are you saying right now” with Tim and Damian when it comes to quality of life/monetary differences. Sure, Dick and Jason got used to Bruce’s “is $100 a good enough tip on a $30 bill?” shit, but hearing Tim talking about a new laptop he bought for $5000 literally is like a punch in the gut.

If they ever went on a cruise (which they totally wouldn’t because cruises are floating death traps), Jason and Dick would be in awe of the fancy amenities, where as Damian would be unsatisfied with the quality, since he grew up with every single amenity known to man. Tim would just feel like it’s all normal since the Drake’s were extravagant and travelled all over the planet.

Jason : My bedroom is bigger than my fucking apartment.

Dick : I could do a full gymnastics routine with the space in my room.

Tim :

Dick :

Tim : My room is normal sized…

Jason : You grew up in a mega mansion. I hardly think you’re the benchmark of a normal room-

Damian : I must agree with Drake. This room is frankly underwhelming.

Dick, staring wildly at him : What do you mean underwhelming- Dames there’s an aquarium wall in your room.

Damian : Yes. Underwhelming.

Jason :

Dick :

Jason : Do you want to-

Dick : Jump off the boat? Yes.

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Dick: Happy Chrismis!

Damian: What is Happening.

Tim: Is Chrismimth.

Damian: what are you fools-

Steph: Merry Crisis!

Damian: Father, they have lost their minds.

[All four stare at Bruce expectantly]

Bruce, sighing: Merry Crysler.

[nemoredraw]

Family photo

Concept art about my Batfamily ☺️🙏 please don’t be rude.

[theerurishipper]

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First <- Part 17 <- Part 18 -> Part 19

Masterpost

[thesulkycroissant]

Recently I was talking about this panel of Bruce moping around in Dick's room at the Manor -

- and people in the reblogs mentioned that this was after the earthquake that destroyed the Manor and therefore Bruce would have to restore Dick's room, which reminded me after some time of this panel from an earlier issue of this run -

Something so endearing to me about the idea of Dick saying, "This isn't the Wayne Manor I grew up in!" and Bruce then painstakingly recreating his room for him.

[acid-ixx]

why can't we return to what we once were?

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

i know my main trope for the neglected reader series is how never, for once, bruce had ever held them in his arms, but i've been thinking of something which pains me where what if you were never truly neglected as a child, only that, your family's affection for you slowly faded over time?

what if bruce was a good father — always was, you thought to yourself even if it's been years since he last picked you up personally from school — and yet he's slowly been distancing himself from you from the overabundance of his workload, managing both wayne enterprises and his double life as batman?

a pile of tasks, of missions, all stacked up to the point he just couldn't pick a time of his day to schedule at least an hour with his so-called 'treasure', you?

what if the longer you've grown, the more their memories of spending time with you in the manor's garden, buying ice cream from the vendors off the side of the streets, or even quick runs to the grocery store with dick, him buying you your favorite treats, whilst carrying your small, younger form in his all became all but a fading memory?

what if they became too busy after you became older? believing you needed space, and yet all you received is an ever diverging relationship with each individual, a silent excuse, a mutter under their breath that they have things to prioritize, work more important than the time they spent with you all those years ago?

time so precious to you, time you realized you never cherished back in those golden days, where dick and tim would drop anything they're doing just to play board games with you back when you were freshly taken into bruce's arms.

time so slow, now, now that bruce looks at you with those sorry eyes, a gentle promise that feels like empty excuses that he'll be back soon, he'll find time for you.

and he'll cradle you, temporarily, time passing by oh-so quickly when he's with you, time you wish would just stop if it means being with your father for just a longer moment. he holds your sunken cheeks that he never truly gazed at, with calloused hands rubbing softly against the sleepless bags dipping below your eyes. and yet unlike last time, he never looks at you.

unlike last time, he doesn't cherish his hold, doesn't notice the finer details of starvation and utter desperation creeping deep inside your body.

the hasty goodbye hugs feel emptier than the presence of heartache which looms over your hallowed out chest.

his back turned on you as he entered through the hole behind the grandfather clock makes you wish you never hoped for his time in the first place.

their guidance is what led you to your growth, and yet it's what stunted you, forced you to cling into past memories, nostalgic laughter, dick's ridiculous attempts to make you laugh, to distract you from the trauma of watching your mother die. tim's awkward smile churned at you, and yet you once felt his care in the way he'd offer you his favorite energy drinks whilst alfred would snatch it away from his hands, scolding him for tempting a child to drink something unhealthy.

it once felt like the warm kisses of the sun, it once felt like a dream the longer you rest in your empty bed, in your quiet room.

a room once filled with laughter, a room which used to hold quiet sessions with bruce, where he'd read you your favorite bedtime stories, where dick would crash in after another fight with your father, where it used to be tim's favorite napping spot.

bruce loved you enough back then, to even adorn you with gleaming pearl earrings in one of the galas he'd take you with. he used to hold you in just one arm, carrying you off to the tables filled with desserts every time you point at it. he laughs heartily with the fellow rich, tells them of stories of your tantrums, of your achievements, wins their hearts with memories of you he recalls.

it once made you smile so widely it nearly hurt your cheeks, once made you forget what happened in that boxed up apartment, of your mother's corpse, replaced with genuine joy that your presence was held up like a trophy; that you meant something in this big, intimidating world.

now, even rebelling during the galas, masking your desperation for their attention with atrocious behavior. pretending to be all ditzy if it meant to steal your father's gaze for just a second, maybe your new brothers and sisters too— and yet all you're met with is judgement, barely disguised contempt for your inappropriate acts— tim's embarrassed wince, damian — the new youngest member — tsking.

where was it? where was once the light giggles at your clumsiness? where was once dick's gentle scolding and bruce's fuzzing over you?

they say things change. you know it's true, you should've believed it was, but you cling to hope so blindly, so eminently stupid that you think the world revolved around you, that you think you hold even an ember to the burning flames surrounding your weak demeanor.

they are heroes, you are not.

they hold double lives, you do not.

they are family, and sometimes, you feel like you are not.

not part of it, at least, not anymore.

and you don't know when it started, don't know why it feels like you're slowly slipping away from them, or rather, like it's them who throws you out of their circle.

but what you do know, what you always noticed, was that it hurts you all the same.

the same searing pain, the familiar ache against your chest once you've realized that they've always had time. that bruce always had time for the newer people living in the manor. he was always there for cass' ballet recitals, he was always there for duke even during his day shifts, he was always there for damian's football, for dick whom he'll drive away to bludhaven to care for if anything happens, for jason who works in the crime alley, for barbara constantly looming in the batcave, for alfred, for steph, for everyone but you.

just you.

the mundane little child who he used to easily pick up with just one arm, the kid whom he knew he cherished back then, who he proudly showed off to everyone during galas, who he used to match clothes with, watch movies with, helped silence their cries with hushed comfort, held them close to his chest.

to his heart which was always closed off, open just for you to hear the paced heartbeats if it meant help calming yours.

to his heart that held no more space for you after all these years.

seemingly forgetting you, seemingly rendering you restless, broken with all these questions on why, just why did this happen? just what caused all this sudden anguish, this sudden silence, this aching pain.

pain which held you in a vice grip, pain which forced you to smile at alfred as you pretending like all these— these attempts at restoring past memories never once hurt you, never once made you doubt if all the love they once had given you was all false.

pretenses, lies, deceit and manipulation which almost made you believe: that you're the problem, that they hate you, that your inherent choice, your eminent mistake at not choosing the vigilante life is what led you to your downfall; to this neverending pain.

and you almost believed, almost succumbed to the same paths if you were confident enough to believe in yourself.

after all, all you wanted was their presence.

all you wanted was to be cradled, no matter how childish you'd be called, no matter what it takes—

you cling to that hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd hold you once more.

maybe, just maybe, dick would swarm you in a pile of blankets like last time, bring home some junk food exclusive to bludhaven. that tim would sleep in your room, rest his head against your shoulder for just a sliver of rest. that bruce would just fucking hold you, console you when the tears become too heavy, when the weight of the world becomes too restricting against you.

maybe you wouldn't be alone anymore.

because after all, even if the hands that cradled you were calloused, blistering skin, scabbed and sullied. even if it held the weight of gotham's expectations for their saviors. even if it were stained with blood, and years of heavy combat.

even if it were unfamiliar now, even if you'll never know what it'd feel like anymore—

— it was still the same hands which cradled you all along.

and you could only hope it would cradle you once more.

you could only hope they care just enough to find you once you leave for an entirely different country, once you permanently erase traces which leads back to you.

you, just the mundane, useless child you once were.

a/n: wow, sorry for suddenly disappearing teehee <3 two things: i think i forgot how to properly write angst and i temporarily lost interest in the fandom (it felt too suffocating at some point), hence the sudden silence. everything felt utterly boring for me and i started to fixate on 10 other fandoms whilst trying to restore my love for this one. but hey! lookie here, a little concept i decided to post. it's my sorry attempt at regaining the spark of writing, and i'd rather not force myself to write for chapter 6 or else i'd end up losing more of my fixation for dc comics 😭

[lemonada-fritada]

“I miss william”

came back after a long break due to suffering from Not being able to finish a single damn drawing disease, and now im pumping art for entirely different fandom! Terrific.

[snoozyfruit]

🌙🪽✨✨

[marskiiii]

dick's been thru some stuff....

also,,, is it canon that dick has a stuffed elephant doll named after zitka...? or is that fanon?

[mke2nd]

Trick or treat with Tim was an experience

[batsandbirdbrains]

I need an au where Batman doesn’t reveal his identity to the Justice League until after Nightwing joins. But it’s just Bruce who takes off the cowl, maybe during a meeting where Nightwing was busy with Blüdhaven or Titans things and couldn’t attend.

It had been after a huge family meeting. A series of family meetings, really, held in the Batcave. Because the batkids want everyone to know (several select friends on their respective teams already knew but were sworn to secrecy), and they were tired of wearing masks all the time (both figuratively and literally, especially during downtime team bonding sort of situations).

So Bruce Wayne is revealed to the Justice League. And the whole Batfamily relaxes, because Bruce has insisted, always insisted, that if one of them revealed their identities, the rest would follow like dominoes. It was so obvious, Bruce insisted. They didn’t work with complete morons, he said.

Then one day an abrupt meeting is called, they received urgent intel on a case they’d been tracking for months now. But Bruce and Dick had been at a charity event, so they decided to just show up in civvies since most others would no doubt be arriving in a similar fashion. It was an abrupt meeting, yes, but as of now there was no plan to immediately head out and act on the intel. Besides, they can always use the spare suits the keep on the Watchtower.

But then when they arrive in the meeting room (last, unfortunately, because they’d been held up by reporters), the whole room goes stiff.

“I know you told us your identity,” Green Lantern huffs, muttering and it’s still really weird under his breath, “but you can’t just bring your kid up to our headquarters!”

There are many murmurs of agreement, and Bruce scoffs while Dick lets out a snort of a laugh.

Bruce is so offended that:

Hal Jordan thinks he has any right to try and scold him

Hal Jordan is trying to tell him where he can and cannot bring his kids when Bruce funds damn near the entire Justice League out of his own pocket

And that Dick is now looking at him with the smuggest smirk he’s had on his face in years.

“So you were wrong,” Dick says in a sing-song voice. “What have you been telling me for YEARS now? You can’t tell your friends, Dick, it’s not just your secret! You said. You can’t tell anyone or else the whole family will be found out, Dick! You said. We don’t work with a bunch of complete morons, Dick! You said. Puh-lease.”

Dick is smirking at him, and Bruce covers his eyes with a palm, resisting the urge to groan.

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m gonna say it!”

“Don’t say it, Dick.”

“I told you so!” Dick says in his snottiest voice. “I told you so, I told you so, I told you so! Jay and Timmy both owe me two-hundred bucks! I’ve been telling you so since I was eight years old!”

“The Justice League didn’t even form until you were ten.”

“That’s beside the point!” Dick says flippantly, then skips over to the pair of chairs Batman and Nightwing usually sit in. He plops down in Nightwing’s usual seat, still smirking, and throws his feet up on the table while the gaggle of superheroes watches him with their eyes bugging out of their heads. “Nice to formally meet’cha, without the mask of course. I’m Dick Grayson, but you all know me as Nightwing.”

Bruce lets out the most exhausted sigh they’ve ever heard, and he sits down heavily in his usual seat.

“Please tell me Damian was not included in your little betting ring.”

“Oh of course he was. Jason and Tim both owe him a hundred dollars. I get double since I’m the one who got to prove you wrong.” Dick is already texting Damian to get the security footage as proof. They have to keep it separate so Tim can’t delete it.

“Wait a minute,” Flash says, “are all the Waynes vigilantes?”

Dick snorts, then giggles, then looks at the constipated look on Bruce’s face and giggles some more.

“It’s a family tradition!” Dick says. “Gotta train your pre-pubescent kids to follow after the Bat, after all.”

“That’s enough,” Bruce grunts, and it’s so jarring for them all to see him use Batman’s tone with Brucie’s face. “Don’t we have intel to discuss?”

“Right, right,” someone says, then clears their throat. “So our inside source got us these documents…”

The meeting continues as normal, but Dick looks over at Bruce after a couple minutes and wiggles his eyebrows. Bruce slaps him upside the head and tells him in a hushed whisper to pay attention.

“How did we not know that was his dad?” Hal whispers to Barry.

Barry just shrugs. Bruce glares at both of them, and they shut up instantly and turn back to whoever’s presenting. Dick is practically giddy.

[luca-is-a-pengu]

the styleframe for my animation class