letgraysonsheart

[letgraysonsheart]

[letgraysonsheart]

Dark Crisis #2

[letgraysonsheart]

Non-speaking Cass joins the fray (Tim is confused)

[letgraysonsheart]

Dick grayson

Fallen bird

[letgraysonsheart]

It was one of those tough love things.

[letgraysonsheart]

like people forget that weird girls grow into weird adult women. it doesn't just go away. and no you don't perish when you turn 25 or automatically turn into a nonweird wife and mother like some kind of Pokémon end evolution, you end up like me.

[letgraysonsheart]

the thing about dickroy is it’s at this delicious little cross section where roy harper loves dick grayson so much his chest is going to explode one of these days AND ALSO is physically incapable of taking any of dick’s bullshit.

[letgraysonsheart]

Gothamite voice: At least our billionaire isn't a super villain

[letgraysonsheart]

Hey i posted a new part of my f1 au it only took two years<3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65980987

[letgraysonsheart]

my favorite thing about navigating fanfiction is finding a really good one and being all “oh boy this was good, I hope they have more!” and literally every other story they’ve ever written was for like Miami Vice 

[letgraysonsheart]

Roy putting pressure on Dick's neck... anyway.

Outsiders #23

[letgraysonsheart]

dickie has a nightmare and clark can sleep through anything

[letgraysonsheart]

It's not: "Dick wanted to kill Zucco and Bruce decided to make him Robin to stop him from being a murderer"

It's "Dick would have still gone out in the streets as Robin by himself regardless of what Bruce said but he was also 8 to 13 (depending on which comics we are talking about) and being with Bruce means Batman could give him some protection and they could teach each other".

[letgraysonsheart]

[letgraysonsheart]

21. “Oh my god, this is not just a scratch!” + Jason and siblings of your choice?

thank you all for being here with me for seven literal years holy gosh. also, i know you probably were thinking the whump for jason but my brain wanted to whump dick, so here we are. emjoy!

ao3

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Jason Todd. You can leave a message, but since I’ve been dead for years, good luck trying to get me to call back. Unless this is Alfred. Alfred has tea privileges.”

Beeeep.

“Shit,” Dick murmurs, hanging up. His head thumps against the wall of his apartment bathroom, and he closes his eyes against the bright lights. A headache pulses unhappily against his temple.  “Why does this only seem to happen to me when Jason is the only one in town?”

He sits there for maybe a minute or two. It’s hard to say how much time passes. Enough that Dick has the thought to get up, get moving.

He doesn’t.

His phone vibrates. He reluctantly peels his eyes open to peer down at his phone.

A text. From Jason.

What

Dick sighs. Texts back, Busy?

He snorts when Jason’s response is, If you ask me to help you build a table I will find you and throw you in the harbor.

That was years ago. Stop bringing it up.

I’d rather die again. And then, The lack of emojis in your messages will not butter me up fyi.

Dick squints, his headache sharpening enough to make looking at his phone screen painful. Ignoring Jason’s last message, he asks, Can I call you?

Jason, of course, beats him to it.

“What?” Jason snaps the moment Dick picks up.

“Hello to you, too,” Dick mutters.

“Hi,” Jason says. “What do you want?”

Dick closes his eyes again and his head thanks him for shielding them from the stupid bathroom lights. Hell, why did his bathroom have to be all white. It made everything ten times worse to look at when stuff like this happened.

“Are you on patrol?”

Jason pauses. “No,”  he says carefully. “I thought you were.”

There’s an accusation in Jason’s tone that Dick doesn’t have the energy to address. He doesn’t know if it’s because Dick is supposed to be on patrol and he obviously isn’t, or if it’s for something else.

“I was,” Dick says. “A guy managed to scratch me before I took a dip in the river and I came home to clean it out.”

“Okaaaaay,” Jason drawls. “And that involves me, how?”

“Can you bring me some antibiotics?” Dick asks. “I think one of the kids was here and forgot to tell me to restock after they used the last of mine.”

Jason is quiet for another beat. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be there in fifteen. Don’t die from river-based infection until I get there.”

Dick snorts. “Until you get here?”

“If I’m making the trip, I might as well get a spectacle out of it,” Jason says. “Seriously, if you haven’t yet, disinfect it. I know that you like to be dramatic, but I also know that you’re a lazy ass who ignores injuries like they’ll go away if you don’t look at it and we both know that Gotham River is nasty.”

Dick grimaces. The worst part is, Jason isn’t exactly wrong. Dick still hasn’t managed to clean out the wound.

“I’ll unlock the door,” Dick tells him.

“Don’t bother. I’ll come in through the window.”

Click.

“Amazing conversationalist, as always,” Dick murmurs, dropping his phone onto his bath mat.

Somehow, Alfred is the only one who has gotten Jason to actually sit down and have a conversation that didn’t involve sarcastic comments and responses that referenced his death every fifth sentence.

Sighing, Dick musters up the strength and pushes himself to his feet. Time to get his suit off and treat this wound before he actually does die of nasty river water infections.

–

Jason comes in while Dick is sitting in the bathtub with the showerhead running, the top half of his suit bunched around his waist. Unfortunately, he also comes in when Dick is sitting in a puddle of his own blood, diluted by shower water.

Dick only notices Jason’s in the room because Jason explodes into a flurry of dumb insults, ending it all by dropping the antibiotics on the bathroom counter and kneeling by the tub to turn off the water. 

“Shit, that is not a scratch, you piece of used tinfoil.”

Dick blinks. “That’s a new one.”

He gets slapped in the back of the head for that. “Will you fucking focus on the gash in your side?!”

“You distracted me,” Dick huffs. He’s feeling a bit dizzy. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with him actively bleeding out in the bathtub.

“Shit,” Jason says. Dick watches dully as his younger brother scoops up some supplies from Dick’s mess of a first aid kit, and thinks he’s probably underreacting if Jason’s so freaked out. “I can’t believe you would–actually, you know what? I can believe you wouldn’t say anything. I don’t know how you’re a functioning human adult.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, faintly. “Me either.”

Jason shoves a few towels at him and presses.

That brings Dick back to reality.

“Fuck!” Dick cries out, arms aborting their movement halfway to where Jason’s probably actively saving his life.

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood,” Jason tells him as they watch the first towel start to soak through. “Why the hell did you turn on the shower, you idiot?”

Dick groans, the initial pain from the pressure starting to fade back into dizziness. He does manage to joke, “I was cold.”

“God, I hope you aren’t concussed,” Jason grumbles. “I do not get paid enough to deal with this.”

“You get paid?”

Jason presses down harder. “How deep is it?”

Dick grunts. “Muscular. I was stupid. My suit was caught in the clot and I was using the water to get it off. I didn’t realize it was this deep.”

“Were you standing up?”

“Yes,” Dick says. “I sat down when I realized what was going on.”

Jason blows out a breath. “Okay, fine. We need to get you on the floor. Do you think you can stand up?”

“Absolutely,” Dick says with far more confidence than he feels.

“So, no,” Jason says. Dick doesn’t move as Jason uses a foot to drag the med kit closer, pulling out a compression bandage once it’s close enough. Once it’s wrapped around Dick’s torso and the towels currently sopping up his blood, Jason gathers him under the armpits. “One, two, three, up.”

Of course, this is when Dick blacks out.

–

“I hate it here,” Dick hears Jason saying as the fuzziness fades from his vision to reveal his white, white bathroom ceiling. He thinks that maybe Jason is stitching him up or something, because there’s a faint tugging on his side. Local anesthetic? “I swear, this always seems to happen when no one else is in town. Next time, Tim can deal with the Dick Grayson drama.”

Dick blinks. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“I’m talking to you, you absolutely useless walking lawn mower.” 

“Pretty sure I was just passed out,” Dick says.

“It was subliminal,” Jason bites out. “Maybe I can get through to your subconscious so you’ll stop being such a dumbass. God, I’m angry at you.”

“Sorry,” Dick says tiredly.

“The worst part is that you don’t even mean to do it,” Jason continues. “You’re such a disaster, how do you even function?”

Dick hums. “I was raised by human disaster Bruce Wayne.”

“Yeah, but you also had Alfred.”

“I was the emotionally mature one in the manor and I was eight. Alfred learned that from me, not the other way around.”

Jason huffs an amused breath. “Sure, whatever you need to make yourself feel better. I’m almost done, by the way.”

Dick closes his eyes again. “Not gonna die, then?”

“Unfortunately not,” Jason says. “No dramatics today. Now take these antibiotics and go to sleep.”

[letgraysonsheart]

trying out some brushes and sketched dick grayson in the process

[letgraysonsheart]