redisrobinhearts

[redisrobinhearts]

TW EATING DISORDERS!! weight, numbers, anorexia

It was never about control, not really. Not the kind the media would suggest, not the way those tired, melodramatic movies tried to frame it. They always got it wrong, anyway. They called it a cry for attention, a plea for control, a side effect of perfectionism. But Tim didn’t want control.

If you asked him, really asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what he wanted. Maybe that was the point.

He didn’t want to feel powerful. He wanted to feel nothing.

And so he chased emptiness like it was salvation.

Hunger wasn’t suffering. It was purity. It was silence. It was the loudest scream of existence he could offer to a world that wouldn’t stop looking at him.

He was addicted to the feeling. To the dull, knifing pangs in his gut. To the dizzy haze behind his eyes, the slow fade of vision when he stood too quickly.

It wasn’t control.

It was surrender.

Every morning he’d wake up, his room a mess and every morning followed the same rhythm, a ritual practiced so often it had long since ceased to feel like a choice.

Wake.

Drag himself out of bed, each joint stiff, each movement an effort.

Stretch. What if his limbs had thickened in the night?

Bathroom. Strip. Use the toilet.

Step onto the scale.

Wait.

Step off. Pace in tight, restless circles.

Step back on the scale.

Compare. Judge. Repeat.

Redress.

Go downstairs.

Smile.

A daily devotion.

Each time he’d glance to his rosary hung lovingly next to his mother’s, send a small prayer that the number on the scale wouldn’t ruin his day.

Because that’s what his days were based on.

Numbers.

That number on the scale was the first and most important verdict of the day.

If it went up? The day was ruined.

If it dropped? A good day. A small victory.

If he binged? Complicated. A good number could soften the blow. But if he binged and the number went up?

He didn’t have words for the way his chest would compress, his head would ring, his body would buzz with hatred.

It was as simple as that.

He couldn’t purge, not anymore at least. His gag reflex was gone, whisked away from years of fingers stuffed down his throat whilst he hunched over a pristine toilet seat.

Despite this, the schedule never changed. The ritual, never changed. He was fully aware it wasn’t normal, but it was necessary, sacred.

Looking at the sweet, expensive rosaries hung on his wall, he thought about if God was needed for his own little shrine of numbers.

But he knew God, or any, wasn’t needed to build a shrine, his existence was a monument to numbers.

In place of mass or communion he’d go downstairs, family already awake. He’d smile at Alfred and playfully roll his eyes at the man’s tutting to his habit of drinking so much diet soda while his first move in the kitchen was to retrieve a Pepsi max.

“Alfred, you know eating when I wake up makes me feel sick.”

It didn’t, but that same line was said every day. Like a prayer.

Damian, always around, would roll his eyes and comment about how unhealthy diet sodas were. Tim almost envied his younger brother, as tall - maybe even taller, than himself and only 14. Tim was 17. Bruce said he’d grow more, Tim knew he wouldn’t.

Tim knew his family knew there was something wrong with him. Tim knew they thought it was PTSD. Well.. he has PTSD, but, that wasn’t what was wrong with him.

He wouldn’t speak it out loud, never, though it had a name. A clinical one. It didn’t fit with a detective, the genius, a bat. Anorexic.

The word felt foreign, medical, clinical. But it was the truth. A truth that lived in his bloodstream, behind his ribs, inside the hollowness he carved into himself each day.

It’s weird to think, that he has this disorder, but he won’t speak of it to anyone. It’s weird that a family of detectives don’t recognise it. But, if Tim can lie to Batman, he can lie to anyone. And lie he will. 

Tim loves his little brother. And even if Damian shows it in this weird way, he knows Damian loves him too. It’s the cups of tea Damian brings him, it’s the attacks that are never to kill anymore - just to test his strength. Tim saves his strength for those, he knows it’s mostly Damian reassuring himself that his older brother is safe. That he can take care of himself.

He knows all of his siblings love him. He knows his whole family loves him.

It’s the way dick will always return home with a soft smile and warm eyes for him, ignoring the deep cutting insults, accusations and whatever else Tim had screamed at him the last time he was there. The way he’d ignore the next ones Tim would throw his way.

It’s the way Jason would tease him, the way he’d always bring a bit extra food for him. The way Jason would get him things related to his special interests. The way he’d pick up evidence for Tim, the way he’d place bugs and interrogate for him.

It’s the way Cassandra would step a bit louder when approaching him. It’s the way Cass would ask if he’d like to join her on walks. it’s the way Cass would sincerely ask about his special interests. The way Cass would happily listen to him for hours.

Tim knew his family loved him. Tim knew Bruce loved him. He knew his dad loved him.

It’s the way Bruce would stockpile Tim’s favourite (safe) foods and wouldn’t ask Alfred to get them. It’s the way he’d indulge Tim and let him sleep in the bed with him on bad nights. It’s the way he learned about Catholicism despite being non practicing Jewish. It’s the way he had a Catholic Church built in Gotham in Tim’s mother’s name. Tim never asked for it, but the gesture carved something sharp and sacred into his heart.

Alfred loved him. The closest he’d ever had as a grandfather. Alfred loved him. It’s the way Alfred wouldn’t clean or enter Tim’s room when Tim had asked. It’s the way Alfred would cook entirely separate things for him. It’s the way Alfred would sometimes not cook for Tim at all and allow Tim to make his own meals. It’s the way he never really stopped Tim from drinking diet soda or energy drinks.

His family loved him. They loved him with all of their hearts. But they never figured it out.

How could they have? Tim went through a lot of effort hiding it. He certainly didn’t want them to.

It was back to his bedroom for him, to sit at his desk and browse edtumblr or edtwt or any forum that fit his fancy.

“Would you like to walk through the gardens with me?”

Cass’ voice was soft. It was kind. It was sweet. She would always ask even though every time Tim would say no.

Each time she would smile, nod and tell him he can join her later if he wants.

He never would.

He’d spend the next few hours browsing, sipping from his rapidly going flat Pepsi max. His stomach clawing and consuming the carbonated fluid while it screamed for nutrients that it wasn’t sure it would get that day.

The hunger. This was how he worshipped nothingness. The gnawing feeling like his stomach was trying to digest itself. The pain. A penance indistinguishable from divine grace.

Tim knew he was pretty at least, if the media were telling the truth he was gorgeous. Likely to be named the most attractive man in Gotham to dick’s disappointment and Jason’s amusement.

He knew people thought he was beautiful. The magazines said so. The tabloids. The comments.

But Tim didn’t think he was pretty in the way he did.

He would stand in the mirror, minutes on minutes. The dark circles, sunken eyes, pointy hip bones, exposed ribs, concave stomach, air between his thighs. His image in the reflection is a reflection of the discipline he’d exuded. The pain a graceful reward for the numbers he’d sacrificed for divinity.

In the mirror, he saw bones. Sharp hips. Ribs like piano keys. A stomach sunken beneath skin that barely held shape.

Each pang of hunger was akin to a code, etching words beneath his ribs: Beauty. Divinity. Grace. Each pulse of hunger a compliment to the cavernous void of where his stomach resided.

His body akin to a temple, he wondered if it were a sort of blasphemy each time he bowed his head. Praying to God for lower numbers felt more like he prayed to the numbers for less, more divinity, the weightlessness would bring him closer to heaven, to God.

While floating in divinity, he floated closer to death.

Like when a morbidly obese bed ridden person continues to eat, they inch closer to death but don’t even realise they’re doing so.

He wasn’t even skinny he’d claim when reading about the dangers. He was smart, he took his vitamins and sure he was underweight but it was hardly skin and bones.

At 5’6” and 99 pounds, he told himself he wasn’t that bad. Not sick enough. Not thin enough. Not dying.

He was careful. Obsessively so. Ankle weights hidden beneath baggy sweats for monthly health check-ups. Protein water before blood draws. Vitamins taken religiously. The illusion of health preserved with surgical precision.

It took him to a swift bmi 16 to a bmi 20.3, Bruce didn’t suspect a thing.

It happened each month and like clock work he would apply the same methods to ensure his safety.

He’d say he wasn’t dying. But he was wrong.

Each day was built around numbers: grams, pounds, calories, steps. Each hour sectioned by rules only he knew. If the number was right, the day was blessed. If it was wrong, the day was punishment.

He lived in a shrine of numbers. His body, the altar. His rituals, prayers. His pain, penance.

Sometimes, in moments of clarity—or maybe just exhaustion—he wondered what he was worshipping. Was it God? Was it perfection? Emptiness? Was it the void itself?

Was he offering his body to a deity that didn’t exist?

He didn’t know.

He only knew that hunger felt like grace.

That the ache in his stomach was the only thing he could trust.

That the hollowness made him feel holy.

He wasn’t suicidal. He didn’t want to die. He just didn’t realize he was dying. But death took the form of a beatific void, inching closer with each number.

Not actively. Not with intent. But slowly. Quietly. Faithfully. Like a monk fasting for salvation that would never come.

Because you cannot eat beauty with a spoon. And you cannot fill a body that’s learned to worship its own starvation.

But the beauty he chased wasn’t for them. It was a private religion, one only he understood.

In the stillness of his room, surrounded by the glow of a laptop screen and forums filled with others like him—edtumblr, edtwt, anonymous boards full of hunger—he felt less alone. But never whole.

Each day he had a schedule.

Each day began with a number, each day was built from continuing numbers. These numbers symbolised who he was. His worth. His divinity.

It has nothing to do with controlling himself. For he could do just that. It was a matter of it controlling him.

Each day it had a schedule.

But for now, in this sole moment, there was the pain.

There were the numbers.

There was the shrine.

And he would keep worshipping.

[redisrobinhearts]

Sometimes, Tim calls Bruce daddy.

And while nobody except him and Bruce knows this, it’s something Bruce cherishes so, SO deeply.

The first time it happens is when Bruce comes back from the time stream - they hug, like normal. Neither wanted to pull away, it was the first time Tim felt grounded, like he was coming out from a haze or when a rollercoaster slowed to a stop after a near heart stopping ride.

Bruce clung to Tim, his son, like if he let go he ran the risk of disappearing all over again and Tim held on even tighter. He could feel how Tim had clearly lost weight, his hair oily and long, pale skin impossibly paler. Tim’s whole body trembled with how he held onto Bruce, his father.

It was in that sole moment, where Tim was no longer just Bruce’s from a few documents, but his son. Unequivocally his boy.

He knew Tim knew it too because only seconds after that his body buckled and he broke into shuddering sobs, his voice raspy from lack of use as he cried out for Bruce, his father.

Bruce followed him to the ground, cradling him the same way he had when he had found Tim wailing over jack’s body and scooping the blood back onto his father in a delusional attempt to try save him.

Tim had always called Jack ‘daddy’. He referred to the man as his father to others but when speaking to him he called him daddy. He had just never grown out of it and Jack had never told him to stop, because that was his boy, his sweet Timothy.

It was so innocent and Tim’s childhood had been subpar at the best of times so why would he ask his little boy to stop? After the coma he near cried the first time he heard Timothy’s voice, deeper than the last time he heard it yet sweet and while Tim may have looked different that was still his son, his little boy, despite Tim’s groaning at him calling him that.

So when Tim had sobbed into Bruce’s chest and cried out one choked little

“Dad.. daddy..”

Bruce nearly shed tears himself. He squeezed Tim closer, vowing to never let his little boy have to experience this ever again. His heart ached, whole body pained from the knowledge and lack of knowledge of what Tim had went through while he was gone.

After that it didn’t happen too often.

Tim had PTSD, that much was for sure. While Tim wouldn’t talk about it, Bruce knew about the screaming of kon’s name out on the balcony from Tim’s room, the teleportations to Kent farm and the desperate calls in the middle of the night after nightmares or bouts of paranoia and episodes.. but Tim never mentioned it.

As much as Bruce hated supers in Gotham unannounced, especially the manor. He’d let this slide, he had to. If anything kon never got upset or mad at Tim for this, always on his balcony in mere seconds, picking up the calls on the first few rings..

He’d woken to Tim standing over him in the dark or peaking through his only opened an inch bedroom door, all wide eyed and uncanny. It was terrifying the first few times he could admit.

He’d almost immediately know it was nightmares, sometimes he’d walk Tim back to bed, sometimes he’d let tim stay in bed with him - he knew Tim wouldn’t sleep.

But sometimes Tim would break into sobs after Bruce wakes - like suddenly snapping into it and clinging to him, crying for his daddy, like he thought Bruce was dead or gone or god knows what.

Tim won’t talk about it.

Sometimes, Tim calls Bruce daddy.

Tim won’t talk about it.

It’s a horrible tension in the manor.

Nobody will talk about it.

Sometimes, dick comes and visits.

Tim and dick have screaming matches - it reminds Bruce of his own with his eldest.

Neither will talk about it.

Jason accuses Tim of being crazy.

Tim accuses dick of thinking he’s crazy every fight.

Tim won’t talk about it.

Jason cracks an unsavoury joke about asking if Tim had to steal some of Lex’s cum for his science experiment.

The ensuing screaming match was more Tim screaming almost incoherently at Jason until he could barely speak - Jason, shockingly, was stunned by Tim’s reaction and sudden mood swing to what he had thought was a harmless joke.

Tim won’t talk about it.

Damian says dick should’ve just sent Tim to Arkham instead of recommending some moronic therapist from Metropolis.

Dick actually seemed angry at Damian’s words, which was different to the normal exasperation.

Tim won’t talk about it.

Tim doesn’t eat much. Alfred claims master Timothy has suddenly found he dislikes many foods than before.

Tim won’t talk about it.

Cass and Tim don’t seem nearly as close as before - or rather, Tim has shut himself away.

Neither will talk about it.

Tim mostly eats alone in his bedroom - or not at all.

Tim won’t talk about it.

Sometimes, Tim calls Bruce daddy.

Sometimes, Tim gets into screaming matches with the man he once looked at like he hung the stars in the sky.

Sometimes, Tim seems normal and then has mood swings so heavy it stuns his second eldest brother who himself has rollercoaster level mood swings.

Sometimes, Tim pushes out his big sister.

Sometimes, Tim changes entirely.

Sometimes, Tim calls Bruce daddy.

But Tim won’t talk about it.

[redisrobinhearts]

I keep saying this and most of the time I’m met with backlash or ignored despite a Romani person telling them 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

As someone who is partially Roma/Romani, I feel the need to give my pov on how Dick is usually portrayed:

There is nothing wrong with being Roma and having light skin and/or light eyes. I see so many fans screaming about making Dick representative of Roma through his skin colour and so many people talking about giving him "roma features", but Roma people don't have a singular look (just like every other race and ethnic group), so insisting he be consistently portrayed as having "ethnic" features can sometimes overshadow the point of fighting for an "accurate roma dick grayson" within the fandom. The point is that the culture and heritage that dick would have experienced and grown up in until Bruce took him in isn't erased or neglected, and yes that can include racial discrimination based on looks, but in my opinion- he could be blonde with the brightest blue/gray eyes and as long as he's still accurately portrayed as being culturally roma, it's a good representation.

That being said- representing him as having darker skin and phenotypically common features (such as a large/longer sloped nose and semi-slanted eyes) isn't an awful way of acknowledging his ancestry. Fanart is an amazing thing and if you feel that Dick looks better with these features, that's great! But it's also important to remember that just making him brown doesn't represent much, so it's important to recognize ethnic characters while keeping the things that make them ethnic.

So tldr:

Brown doesn't always equal good ethnic representation, especially if the culture surrounding that character's story is ignored.

[redisrobinhearts]

No I agree with you ! I think the fandom focuses far too entirely on making mixed characters look the furthest thing from white in the name of “acknowledging their identity” when in reality they’re unintentionally erasing other parts of their identity

Like with Damian - people mostly focus on the fact he’s 1/4 Arab and tend to make that a focal point of his character while ignoring almost entirely that he’s 1/4 Asian also

He’s mixed! Damian could pop out of talia looking more Asian, more Arab or more white! Or even a MIX of all, it doesn’t matter what because he is all of those things

In my own self imagined version of Damian I’ve always conjured him up in my mind as being tan while sharing some of Bruce’s features such as eyebrow shape, jaw shape, hairline whilst having talia’s eyes and lips

I think majority of non white characters get washed down to the fact that they’re “non white” as the fandom will set that as the focal point of their character in a misguided attempt to acknowledge their identity (tldr non white character are “not white” before they’re anything else to people)

And I think even though most of the time it’s unintentional and usually in good faith it’s still damaging and should be acknowledged more

(Also the first tag confused me until I read the rest silly me 😓)

Dick Grayson is drawn fine the way he is and claiming he isn’t is colourist. I’ll tell you why

First and foremost I would like to specify there will be mistakes in this rant as English is my third language and I am also Romani so obviously this gives me grounds to speak on this matter

In this fandom there are a lot of misguided beliefs that dick Grayson is drawn “wrong” or that he is “white washed” in comics or fan arts which has resulted in harassment to people who haven’t done anything wrong

Roma don’t have a “look” there are millions of Roma world wide who look vastly different - there will never be a specific wrong way to draw dick Grayson because there is no right way to look Romani.

There are blond haired blue eyes entirely Roma just as there are dark skinned textured hair Roma

This leads me to: why do Romani people have such varying looks?

Romani people come from India and left India roughly 1,000 years ago and then settled all over the world but most of which went to Europe - where you will find the most variant subgroups of Roma.

European Roma faced slavery and attempts of ethnic cleansing for almost 5 centuries in which women were raped and Roma were killed - then almost 100 years later the holocaust happened which was the largest on scale genocide and ethnic cleansing of Roma there was.

This caused overtime majority of Western and northern European Roma to become paler and more white passing while today Roma from Far Eastern and southern Europe usually tend to be darker skinned

During American slavery it wasn’t just Africans who were taken forcefully to America but also Roma who had settled in Africa - along with Europe sending European settled Roma to America for the same purpose.

In the modern day Romani descendants of that are darker skinned as opposed to European Roma being lighter skinned

Of course - tragedies don’t dictate how Roma will look in the modern day, you can imagine when your ethnic group and your community has stayed in one place for hundreds of years you will at least start to look a little of like the people of the place you are.

Roma don’t throw people out of their community for not looking “Romani enough” white passing Roma are considered light skinned Roma and darker skinned Roma are considered dark skinned Roma - we are all Romani and we all belong to our Romani communities.

Claiming a Romani character or person doesn’t look right or is white blatantly ignores the tragedies Roma faced which caused communities of Roma to look the way they do - there is no such thing as not looking right as Roma and the level of how Romani you are is not dictated by the colour of your skin.

And while we never know what subgroup of Roma dick Grayson it is safe to assume he is romanichal (subgroup of Roma from the uk and other English speaking countries) of course until dc ever specifies otherwise.

His subgroup isn’t important but it could shed light on the struggles his community faced in the current and in the past.

Dick Grayson’s Romani identity isn’t decided by his skin it is decided by who he is and who he is is Rrom.

I could go into more intricate detail of Romani culture which is seemingly always butchered in fandom (especially in relation to language) but I will save that for another post

[redisrobinhearts]

idk this ones abt pet names i guess

[redisrobinhearts]

The angst potential for the act of Bruce taking dick in is amazing

While it’s an action full of love - a deep care and sympathy for the little boy whom he saw himself in.. it’s a parallel to the hate filled action of the real life problem of Romani kids being removed from their family and culture by white people

For hundreds of years Romani kids have been forcibly taken from their family and culture to whitewash them and while this action was from love not hate, Bruce unknowingly did just that.

A cycle born from hate unbroken by Bruce’s hands through an act of love

This is even mentioned in a comic

[redisrobinhearts]

I just looked at some of your dick stuff and he’s beautiful!!!! Your art is great btw I love it!

Dick Grayson is drawn fine the way he is and claiming he isn’t is colourist. I’ll tell you why

First and foremost I would like to specify there will be mistakes in this rant as English is my third language and I am also Romani so obviously this gives me grounds to speak on this matter

Onto the rant I will start this by saying no matter how the Romani person appears - Roma are not white no matter how white passing a Romani person may look. Romani is also not specifically a race it is an ethnic group which depending on the subgroup can vary but most Roma simply consider ourself brown or will forego that and just state that they’re Romani

In this fandom there are a lot of misguided beliefs that dick Grayson is drawn “wrong” or that he is “white washed” in comics or fan arts which has resulted in harassment to people who haven’t done anything wrong

Roma don’t have a “look” there are millions of Roma world wide who look vastly different - there will never be a specific wrong way to draw dick Grayson because there is no right way to look Romani.

There are blond haired blue eyes entirely Roma just as there are dark skinned textured hair Roma

This leads me to: why do Romani people have such varying looks?

Romani people come from India and left India roughly 1,000 years ago and then settled all over the world but most of which went to Europe - where you will find the most variant subgroups of Roma.

European Roma faced slavery and attempts of ethnic cleansing for almost 5 centuries in which women were raped and Roma were killed - then almost 100 years later the holocaust happened which was the largest on scale genocide and ethnic cleansing of Roma there was.

This caused overtime majority of Western and northern European Roma to become paler and more white passing while today Roma from Far Eastern and southern Europe usually tend to be darker skinned

During American slavery it wasn’t just Africans who were taken forcefully to America but also Roma who had settled in Africa - along with Europe sending European settled Roma to America for the same purpose.

In the modern day Romani descendants of that are darker skinned as opposed to European Roma being lighter skinned

Of course - tragedies don’t dictate how Roma will look in the modern day, you can imagine when your ethnic group and your community has stayed in one place for hundreds of years you will at least start to look a little of like the people of the place you are.

Roma don’t throw people out of their community for not looking “Romani enough” white passing Roma are considered light skinned Roma and darker skinned Roma are considered dark skinned Roma - we are all Romani and we all belong to our Romani communities.

Claiming a Romani character or person doesn’t look right or is white blatantly ignores the tragedies Roma faced which caused communities of Roma to look the way they do - there is no such thing as not looking right as Roma and the level of how Romani you are is not dictated by the colour of your skin.

And while we never know what subgroup of Roma dick Grayson it is safe to assume he is romanichal (subgroup of Roma from the uk and other English speaking countries) of course until dc ever specifies otherwise.

His subgroup isn’t important but it could shed light on the struggles his community faced in the current and in the past.

Dick Grayson’s Romani identity isn’t decided by his skin it is decided by who he is and who he is is Rrom.

I could go into more intricate detail of Romani culture which is seemingly always butchered in fandom (especially in relation to language) but I will save that for another post

[redisrobinhearts]

This is your friendly reminder that Romani ≠ Romanian.

They are not interchangeable.

I am very tired.

Thank you very much.

[redisrobinhearts]

Dick Grayson is drawn fine the way he is and claiming he isn’t is colourist. I’ll tell you why

First and foremost I would like to specify there will be mistakes in this rant as English is my third language and I am also Romani so obviously this gives me grounds to speak on this matter

Onto the rant I will start this by saying no matter how the Romani person appears - Roma are not white no matter how white passing a Romani person may look. Romani is also not specifically a race it is an ethnic group which depending on the subgroup can vary but most Roma simply consider ourself brown or will forego that and just state that they’re Romani

In this fandom there are a lot of misguided beliefs that dick Grayson is drawn “wrong” or that he is “white washed” in comics or fan arts which has resulted in harassment to people who haven’t done anything wrong

Roma don’t have a “look” there are millions of Roma world wide who look vastly different - there will never be a specific wrong way to draw dick Grayson because there is no right way to look Romani.

There are blond haired blue eyes entirely Roma just as there are dark skinned textured hair Roma

This leads me to: why do Romani people have such varying looks?

Romani people come from India and left India roughly 1,000 years ago and then settled all over the world but most of which went to Europe - where you will find the most variant subgroups of Roma.

European Roma faced slavery and attempts of ethnic cleansing for almost 5 centuries in which women were raped and Roma were killed - then almost 100 years later the holocaust happened which was the largest on scale genocide and ethnic cleansing of Roma there was.

This caused overtime majority of Western and northern European Roma to become paler and more white passing while today Roma from Far Eastern and southern Europe usually tend to be darker skinned

During American slavery it wasn’t just Africans who were taken forcefully to America but also Roma who had settled in Africa - along with Europe sending European settled Roma to America for the same purpose.

In the modern day Romani descendants of that are darker skinned as opposed to European Roma being lighter skinned

Of course - tragedies don’t dictate how Roma will look in the modern day, you can imagine when your ethnic group and your community has stayed in one place for hundreds of years you will at least start to look a little of like the people of the place you are.

Roma don’t throw people out of their community for not looking “Romani enough” white passing Roma are considered light skinned Roma and darker skinned Roma are considered dark skinned Roma - we are all Romani and we all belong to our Romani communities.

Claiming a Romani character or person doesn’t look right or is white blatantly ignores the tragedies Roma faced which caused communities of Roma to look the way they do - there is no such thing as not looking right as Roma and the level of how Romani you are is not dictated by the colour of your skin.

And while we never know what subgroup of Roma dick Grayson it is safe to assume he is romanichal (subgroup of Roma from the uk and other English speaking countries) of course until dc ever specifies otherwise.

His subgroup isn’t important but it could shed light on the struggles his community faced in the current and in the past.

Dick Grayson’s Romani identity isn’t decided by his skin it is decided by who he is and who he is is Rrom.

I could go into more intricate detail of Romani culture which is seemingly always butchered in fandom (especially in relation to language) but I will save that for another post

[redisrobinhearts]

I’ve noticed most Americans don’t understand culture and think giving a character a cultural identity means changing their race - so here’s my personal hcs of the batfamily’s (and co) cultural identity (some don’t change haha)

Tim: Slavic. The country can vary depending on how I feel but I usually settle on Russian

Damian: literally nothing changes with him he’s still 1/4 arab, 1/4 Chinese, 1/2 white for me

Dick: romani and his subgroup is Romanichal ❤️

Jason: white American

Cassandra: 1/2 Chinese 1/2 English

Duke: African American

Bruce: white Jewish (non practicing)

Alfred: English

Kate kane: white Jewish

(Non batfam)

Babs: 1/2 Scottish from her father 1/2 white American from her mom

Steph: Irish traveler on her moms side white American on her dads side

James Gordon: Scottish

Catwoman: Afro Cuban Roma

[redisrobinhearts]

Timkon!! Cheating with referenced timber! Because I hate Bernard

(I typed this all out in one go in 25 minutes so I’m 90% sure it’s rushed and bad)

Tim stood in the shadows of the Gotham rooftop, his gaze fixed on the distant skyline. The city was quiet, but his mind? It was anything but. His thoughts were a blur of conflicting emotions, but through it all, one thing remained clear: He was done pretending.

The sound of boots landing softly behind him broke his concentration. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Tim,” Kon’s voice was gruff, a hint of something darker behind it. He was always like that lately, distant, possessive, and far more impatient than usual.

Tim didn’t turn around, not immediately. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the skyline, his thoughts scattered. “Hey, Kon,” he said, his voice casual, even though he knew the tension between them was palpable. “What’s up?”

Kon didn’t answer right away. He just moved closer, his steps quiet but deliberate. When he finally spoke, there was no mistaking the irritation in his voice.

“Are you really going to keep lying to yourself?” Kon’s words cut through the air like a blade. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched as if trying to hold back something he didn’t want to say. “You think I don’t notice?”

Tim’s lip curled into a smirk as he leaned back against the ledge, crossing his arms. “Notice what?” he asked, not even pretending to be clueless. He knew exactly what Kon meant, but he didn’t care. The truth was, he didn’t feel guilty about it. Not at all.

Kon took a step forward, eyes narrowing with barely contained frustration. “That guy, Bernard… you’re still playing the ‘happy boyfriend’ act, but you and I both know you’re not really happy with him, Tim.”

Tim didn’t flinch. He just gave Kon a look that could have melted steel. “Bernard’s fine,” he said, his voice unbothered. “But it’s not like you care, right?” There was a hint of mockery in his tone, though.

Kon’s expression darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Don’t pretend,” he hissed. “You’re with him because it’s easy. It’s safe. You don’t have to face what’s actually going on between us. But don’t lie to me, Tim. I know you feel it too.”

Tim’s eyes glinted with something that wasn’t quite amusement. He had always loved the power play, the tension, the danger in their relationship. The fact that Kon had always been there a constant presence in the background of his life only made it more thrilling. And Bernard? He was just a distraction. A temporary safety net.

“You’re jealous,” Tim said it without hesitation, his voice like a challenge. “Admit it.”

Kon’s fists twitched, his breath coming out in quick bursts. The jealousy was so obvious now, it almost made Tim smile. Almost.

“I’m not jealous,” Kon spat, voice tight with barely-controlled anger. “I hate him, Tim. He doesn’t deserve you. He never has.”

Tim finally turned to face him, their eyes locking. “You’re wrong,” he said, though his tone was far from apologetic. “He’s not the problem. You are.”

Kon’s jaw tightened. “I am?” His voice was dangerously low, and Tim could feel the heat of his gaze burning into him.

“Yeah,” Tim said, his smirk widening. “Because while you’re standing here, pouting like a little kid, he’s the one who actually cares about me. He’s the one who-”

“Who what?” Kon interrupted, stepping forward, closing the gap between them with a speed that made Tim’s pulse spike. “Who holds your hand while you’re too busy dreaming about someone else?”

Tim didn’t back down. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “Exactly. I don’t need someone constantly hovering over me. Bernard’s fine with being second place. But you… you can’t stand that, can you?”

Kon’s eyes flashed with something darker. “I don’t need to be second place,” he growled. His voice dropped to a whisper, a dangerous one. “I should be first, Tim. I always should have been.”

The words hit Tim like a jolt of electricity. For a moment, he wondered if this was the point of no return. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about Bernard’s feelings or what anyone thought. This was what he wanted, and Kon was the only one who truly understood that.

“I’m not in a relationship with you, Kon,” Tim said, leaning in so close that their noses nearly touched. “But if you want to keep pretending that you’re not exactly what I need, go ahead. You’re the one who can’t handle that I’m not going to fall into your arms at the drop of a hat.”

Kon’s face contorted with fury. But instead of pulling away, he kissed Tim. It wasn’t gentle or tentative. It was desperate. A sharp, passionate clash of lips that conveyed everything they’d been avoiding for far too long.

Tim didn’t pull away. He kissed Kon back, equally as fierce, the weight of everything he had been holding inside breaking loose. In that moment, there was no Bernard, no guilt. Just the raw, reckless desire that had been simmering for far too long.

When they broke apart, Kon’s chest was heaving, his hands gripping Tim’s shoulders with a possessiveness that made Tim’s heart race. “I don’t care what you do with him,” Kon whispered, his voice low and threatening. “But you better remember who you belong to, Tim. You’ll always come back to me.”

Tim stared into Kon’s eyes, feeling a rush of exhilaration. “You don’t scare me,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “But you’re right about one thing.”

Kon raised an eyebrow, his expression darkening further.

“I will always come back to you.”

/\

The next day, Tim stood in the Wayne Tower office, his phone buzzing with messages from Bernard. Tim stared at the screen, his mind on the argument from the night before, the intensity of it still fresh in his thoughts. His thumb hovered over the reply button, but instead of answering Bernard, he tossed the phone aside and looked out the window.

The truth was, Bernard didn’t own him. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop pretending.

Kon had never stopped fighting for him. And for the first time in a long while, Tim was ready to stop fighting what he wanted.

[redisrobinhearts]

TW!!! EATING DISORDERS! Bulimia/purging! Tim drake angst

Tim had always been the smart one, the one who could figure out the puzzles before anyone else, who could balance being Robin and a teenager with grace.. well, at least on the outside. To anyone who knew him, Tim was the reliable one, the calm strategist who always had a plan. But beneath his calculated demeanor, there was a cavernous abyss, an endless depth of what felt like lava bubbling and threatening to boil over.

The constant weight of expectations never stopped pressing on him. His mother’s death, his father’s comatose state, the pressure of taking up the Robin mantle after Jason, living up to Dick’s legacy and constantly fighting for Bruce’s approval. it never stopped. But it wasn’t just the fight against the criminals or the dangers that took a toll on him. it was something more insidious, something he kept hidden beneath layers of fabric and empty smiles.

Tim stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his lips pressed together tightly. His hand trembled as he gripped the edge of the sink, the marble cold beneath his fingers. The flush of shame crept up his neck as his eyes fell on the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He could feel the heat rise within him, his stomach a battleground. His entire body felt foreign to him, as though the control he prided himself on had slipped away, leaving only chaos in its wake.

The lunch he’d shovelled down only half an hour ago was now sat heavy in his stomach. A sick fullness he knew all too well.

“You’re weak. You can’t even keep yourself together. Look at what you’ve done to yourself.”

The voice was a constant companion these days. A quiet whisper in the back of his mind, urging him to push harder, to be better, to be perfect. But perfection was a lie he knew that. The food, the empty calories, they were a betrayal, and his body had to atone for it.

Tim closed his eyes briefly, his breathing shallow. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to feel like this. But his body was already betraying him, already showing signs of weakness, the fullness in his stomach making him feel like he was going to break. There was only one way to fix it, only one way to make it stop.

Only one way to be perfect. To be clean.

He leaned forward, his hands trembling more now, barely able to hold himself upright. His mind screamed at him, but his body was already moving on its own. He had to purge. Had to rid himself of the food. Had to cleanse, just like he’d always done.

It wasn’t rational. He knew that. The voice in his head told him it wasn’t rational, but that didn’t stop him.

He forced himself to breathe, trying to steady his shaky hands. “You don’t need this,” he told himself. “Just do it, and everything will go back to normal.”

His vision blurred slightly as his stomach clenched in protest. It felt like his entire existence was wrapped up in this one action, this one, terrible action that was supposed to provide relief but only brought more pain.

His fingers tickled the back of his throat, nails scratching the sensation membrane and making his pale hand slick with saliva.

He knew he had to stop, to stop purging. Not for his well being because he knew he was sick, although he knew he was. But for the fact his gag reflex would weaken until he couldn’t purge the food any longer and then he would be forced to sit with his disgust, his unclean, undisciplined, fat body.

There was a sharp gag that sounded out in the otherwise quiet bathroom and another before the sound of vomit hit the toilet bowl and water.

One of the grossest things about it was that he never pulled his fingers out to clean before continuing, his throat would go still and his stomach would settle once again and it would only prolong the process and make it harder to get up.

With vomit coating his fingers and tongue he tried again. More vomit. Again. Again. Again and again. Until his stomach empty and aching with the feeling of brutal regurgitation. His throat stung, his eyes stung, vomit ran down his chin and coated his lips and hand.

And although he ended up dirtier than before, vomit coating his mouth, face and hand. he felt clean and euphoric.

A toilet flush and a tap running signalled the ending of his little ritual.

[redisrobinhearts]

@punkeropercyjackson sorry I have no clue why it won’t let me send you a dm but I thought I’d just tag you in this

Don’t worry about making a mistake it’s common for Romani inclusivity to backfire into racism in this fandom especially it’s just important to review and change them— when it comes to appearance and features not much exactly because Roma can look wildly different in any part of the world (as in Roma communities who look south Asian, black, Latina/latino, and white) depending on the subgroup Roma typically share pieces of features and culture with the part of the world they settled in (since you can imagine after hundreds up to 1000 years of being settled in a different part of the world you’d adopt some of their culture alongside your own)

If we knew what subgroup dick was part of that would make it worlds easier to give you some tips and pointers but he’s just generally Romani so it’s a little harder

However what I can tell you is Romani culture, in a general sense, places a lot of importance on golden jewellery especially European Roma I’ll find some pictures of the type of jewellery people in my community and my family wear but stuff like solid gold bangles, chunky necklaces and earrings are important to us because they also symbolise prosperity and luck

You can see they’re reminiscent of south Asian jewellery - Because of Romani history and its culture and the lack of subgroup mentioned with him it’s near impossible to give you any pointers to how he could look but honestly his current look in canon resembles a large percentage of Roma in English speaking countries

This doesn’t mean he has to look how he looks in canon when you draw him I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with how he currently looks — my advice would just be pick any subgroup (or easier pick a country and research Romani people/roma of _____ and go from there) the good thing about him being Romani without really any hints to his subgroup is that it’s really fluid and you can hc him to be any subgroup

So tldr there isn’t much I’m able to tell you other that slap a country/subgroup to him for a fun little hc and go ahead with that

(I personally enjoy Afro-Roma or romanichal but that’s my own little taste)

[redisrobinhearts]

The dick one is straight up racist/antiroma

There is no such thing as romani features nor do Roma have to be “brown skinned because of colourism”

Making the statement that all Roma have to/ should be brown in itself is colourism it actively erases the hundreds of years of slavery and ethnic cleansing that caused a large chunk of Romani people to be pale/white passing or better known to Romani people as “light skinned Roma”

Romani people are extremely diverse with different subgroups all around the world so no there is no “Romani features” there are Roma who look completely white and Roma who look black (more than just Afro-roma)

Im not saying you HAVE to draw nightwing like anything im saying to not spread ignorant and harmful misinformation because being Romani has nothing to do with how you look - an actual Romani person

I’m reblogging it with this because op limited replies which I’m assuming is because of this exact reason

How to best design the Batkids

Dick:Romani features(including significantly brown skin!!Very important because of colorism!!!),wolfcut and dress transgender(in which direction is irrelevant,Dick Grayson is like Link)

Jason:Afrolatino punk dilf who's visibly autistic(if he can't pass for Percy Jackson you're doing it wrong)

Tim:Biracial swag,ska punk and nonthreatning goofy friend vibes

Cass:Chinese features,butch as fuck and big naturals but from estrogen instead of dudebro shit

Stephanie:Darkskin jamaican-korean,pastel punk and fat flat queen because us small tiddied femmes deserve rep

Duke:Faggy ass black punk dude with dreads(He's literally og Hobie Brown)

Damian:Arab-chinese slay,shortie and undoubtable gender fuckery

[redisrobinhearts]

Considered from a Romani perspective, these panels from Nightwing (2016) #8 just hit a little different.

Raptor, who has been a morally grey mentor to Dick up to this point, isn't speaking to Bruce here as a villain or an antihero, but as a Rom.

Nightwing (2016) #8

Here he's talking to Dick, trying to convince him to leave Bruce (and to let Bruce die which, yeah, Dick isn't going to allow, lbr).

But. He kind of has a point? Because his anger against Bruce "who took a son that wasn't his to raise...from his home, from his people" touches on a very real world issue.

Romani kids are taken by authorities from their families all the time, often for the flimsiest of reasons, all over the world (x) (x) (x). They're either placed for adoption, put in foster homes, or even state care facilities. And often, those families can never get these children back.

Tim Seeley's run, and this storyline in particular, has a number of problems, but he comes so CLOSE here to addressing this issue (but inevitably skirts around it). I've yet to see any other Dick Grayson writer do so at all.

[redisrobinhearts]

Bruce Wayne except he texts like an ominous boomer

wdym you can't tell if he's threatening them?

Based on this post by @mysterycitrus :)

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Bonus:

Happy birthday, Tim 🥰

[redisrobinhearts]

Happy birthday king