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You know those photos of little birds sleeping together on a branch, all cuddled up in a line? This, but its the Order of the Robins from Dark Knights of Steel, high up on some precarious ledge:

(The photos in question:)

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Hand holding with wife🩵💜

Nightwing #83 (2016)

Nightwing #108 (2016)

DC's Crimes of Passion #1

Nightwing #78 (2016)

Not sure I remember;;

Batgirl (2016)

Nightwing Annual #1 (2024)

Nightwing #108 (2016)

Nightwing #118 (2016)

Nightwing #118 (2016) Variant Cover

Nightwing #98 (2016)

Nightwing #100 (2016)

Nightwing #96 (2016)

?

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Nightwing by Jorge Fornés

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Ok back to regularly scheduled antagonism

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New History of the DC Universe #4 cover art by Chris Samnee

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Saw THIS beauty at a thrift store and had to draw it being worn by its rightful owner

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one of the funniest bruce wayne moments of all time. to me. "tim, i would never endanger a child. unless he was really cool and i was super sure he wouldn't die. ignore the mannequin wearing my dead son's combat uniform in the basement btw."

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My toxic trait is believing that Dick is Bruce's favorite batkid. That's not to say Bruce doesn't love the rest of the batfam (I mean he literally became unhinged for a while after Jason died, and went to Hell to get Damian back!), but Bruce has an almost unhealthy attachment to Dick and/or the memory of young Dick/Robin.

Bruce will never admit this fact to anyone, not even himself; to him, Robin/Dick was the light he needed at the time where he was losing himself the most to Batman. That's why Dick is the better and healthier version of Bruce, and is still a beacon of light (at least that's what Bruce believes). Now with all that said, it's not necessarily a good thing that Dick is the favorite lol. Between his massive guilt complex, his need to be perfect, and his wanting to help everyone, Dick feels more of the weight of being someone Bruce depends on

don't worry anon, it's my toxic trait, too<3

Dick parallels Bruce the most. I think Dick also foils him the most, in the sense that he doesn't let his parents' deaths and the trauma from it consume him like Bruce did. Dick has plenty of trauma and plenty of faults, but he still manages to be a beacon of hope for the entire fucking DC universe lmao.

Dick is the blueprint, the success story, the light to Bruce's darkness. I don't give a fuck what anyone else says, Dick is the best Robin. He will always be the best Robin. Because there is no Robin without Dick Grayson. The others are all excellent in their own ways, but Dick defines what it means to be Robin. Robin is his. This is another debate tho and I can feel myself getting carried away so I'm gonna stop this train of thought right here lmao.

But yes I fully believe Dick is Bruce's favorite. They've had the most time together. They're so similar to each other, but Bruce has said before that Nightwing doesn't need to be more like Batman, but Batman needs to be more like Nightwing.

And I do think being Bruce's favorite would absolutely put an insane pressure on Dick's shoulders. Because now he has to prove why he's the favorite, he has to be perfect. I'd believe the two of them have an unhealthy attachment with each other, very codependent. Maybe not in a typical way, but still heavily reliant on each other. And then he'd feel guilty for being the favorite because he loves all his siblings and what if he doesn't actually deserve to be the favorite? Guilt trip of the century.

But also like, without Dick, would he even have taken the others in? Damian probably, because he's his biological son, but without proof that he could in fact raise a child, I can't see him taking any of the others in later down the line. I could see him helping them out, but not actually adopting them, not being responsible for them.

Also I just love their relationship, I love them.

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Me and my emotional support 10 year old

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Dick gets severely injured. Knowing he’s going to die, and not wanting to expose his family to the scene, Dick contacts Jim Gordon in his last moments to deal with the body.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

They weren’t exactly street-level criminals. Frankly, at least a few of the dozen men Nightwing had been fighting were on par with lower level League of Assassin members. Dick wouldn’t be surprised if some had latent strength or agility enhancing meta abilities. But they were no gods. Nothing like what he had faced alongside the Titans or the Justice League.

They were human.

Humans were so fragile.

That made his predicament so much worse.

One of them had an explosive. After successfully incapacitating the majority of the crowd, one of the remaining assailants managed to toss it right towards his midsection, taking the opportunity to flee all the while.

Dick wasn’t even sure which of the men did it. One second, he was charging at someone, and the next, he was on the floor, ears ringing and covered in rubble. The bomb had managed to destabilize a nearby building.

He looked down. The amount of red accumulating under him was worrying. The rebar sticking through his stomach was even more so.

His eyes flicked to the side. There was a leg.

It was his leg, costumed and all. And — yes — taking a glance at the lower half of his body, where that leg really ought to be, there was nothing.

Joy.

How Dick had managed to stay conscious up to this point was a miracle in of itself, but the blood loss was quickly draining his remaining seconds. No one would get here on time. He knew that. (He knew that.)

Black dots gathered in the corners of his vision. The remaining light grew harsher, until he was forced to squint at his surroundings. A slippery hand desperately grasped at his phone, heavier than lead and sagging all the while. He couldn’t feel any pain. Maybe his nerves were fried, or maybe his body realized that there wasn’t much use for a defense signal anymore. He wasn’t getting out of this.

(Oh god, he wasn’t getting out of this. He couldn’t do this to his family again.)

In a haze, Dick flicked lazily through his contacts. He could call Bruce, or Damian, or Tim. Maybe Jason or Barbara. Confess his deepest regrets or seek comfort from them; if he was hopeful enough, maybe he could call for backup. Maybe they could try to save him.

He knew it was too late.

No, he wouldn’t. He imagined what a phone call with Damian would be like. ‘Hey there Dami,’ he’d wheeze, ‘I know this is freaky but I love you a lot! Hope you aren’t too traumatized by the death rattle of your big bro.’

He snorted to himself. Blood came up his mouth and out of his nose. Gross.

Shakily, thoughtlessly, he meandered towards the contact of Jim Gordon. His brothers couldn’t see this. His family couldn’t see this. (Images of holding Damian with a sword pierced through his heart still haunted him. He couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t.)

The phone rang once, then twice. Gordon picked up the call.

“Hello, Dick! Great to hear from you again, but I’m working at the moment. Is there something you need?”

Dick let out a raspy chortle in response. “Actually, Commissioner, I could use a hand.” He glanced to the side again. “Or a leg.”

“What do you need?” The voice on the other end was suddenly taut and alert. The rasp must have sounded even worse than he thought. Dick coughed, red splattering on the already-caked screen of his cellphone.

“Could you get a few of your trustworthy men to…” He paused to read out an address listed on the street corner. “Prepare them to collect a body.”

“Dick, is everything alright?”

Was everything alright? His field of view had narrowed to pinpricks. His ears were stuffed with cotton; his torso, with magma. Everything was cold, save for the parts of him submerged in the pool of blood around him. He wanted to cry. He wanted his dad. He wouldn’t get his dad.

His thoughts flowed like oobleck, seeping through his fingers except for what he managed to grasp at in the immediate moment. His family. He needed to protect his family.

(He was supposed to be at Tim’s science fair tomorrow. His project won a statewide competition. He was so proud of it. He kept the subject a surprise. Dick would never get to see it.)

In lieu of a proper response, Dick instead replied, “They can’t see me like this.” He let out wet cough.

“I can get you help, but-“

“They can’t see me like this.” He repeated. “It’s- it’s not good, commissioner. I give myself another few minutes.”

The other end only produced staticky silence. Or perhaps it was completely silent, and the static was the creation of his own brain as it slowly melted onto the pavement. He couldn’t see anymore.

“Please,” Dick’s voice cracked, “they’ve seen enough. They shouldn’t be the ones to find me.” He took a shuttering breath, though the oxygen fled almost immediately. “It’s all I’m asking for, Jim.”

“Alright, kid.”

Dick was hit with a sudden wave of pure, bone-deep exhaustion. He slumped forward further, his eyes closed and his lips parted. “Thanks.” He gasped.

“It’s always a pleasure.” A pause. “You did good, kid.”

“Tell them I love them?” He should be telling them that himself. He should be talking to Bruce right now, or whoever was surrounded by the most family at the moment to be put on speaker. But Dick was selfish, and the thought of his last moments spent listening to the tears of his siblings was too much to bear.

“Always, Dick. They know.”

The blackness around him became whiteness. He couldn’t find it in himself to suck in another breath.

“Good.” He managed, and then he was gone.

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Sum

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the bat and the bird

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(4+1) 4 times Grayson has almost died and one time he actually did🗣️

This looked cooler in my head ngl, and you can tell I lost motivation time to time.

All of these moments are canon but slightly made more dramatic:

Forever evil #1

Nightwing (2016) #40

Grayson #5

Nightwing (2016) #25

Forever evil #6

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Given everything that is going on in the states, I have almost fully turned to buying in trade, and I am very much looking forward to these two Dick Grayson stories getting their due in late summer and fall. 💕

Batman: Year Three is one of the best Dick Grayson origins ever told and does not get enough attention even though it is written by Marv Wolfman as a reintroduction of Dick as a main player in the Bat mythos.

Batman: The Brave and the Bold: Across the Universe collects the spectacular "Down the Road" story by Tim Seeley, which features Nightwing and Deadman in a supernatural circus folk tale story.

Also, shoutout to the affordable Compact Edition of New Frontier, which has a few small Dick appearances in it as well!

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it’s so funny to me that in a lot of fics after Tim’s parents die and he’s adopted and moved into Wayne manor, he still just… owns the mansion next door. like Drake manor is just right there, fully furnished and empty, fully inherited by Tim. and he just kinda leaves it there. probably forgets he owns it. how much do you wanna bet the others absolutely do NOT forget that next door is also owned by the family?

how much do you wanna bet that at least twice a month Bruce freaks the fuck out because Damian’s been missing for two days and eventually they track him down to find that he’d just walked over to Drake manor to avoid being told to help Alfred dust and then… couldn’t be bothered to walk back. figured that technically Drake manor could also be ‘home’ and made himself comfortable. is napping in Tim’s childhood bedroom when they find him and is completely unapologetic about eating the food in his kitchen.

how much do you wanna bet that Tim gets a call from the weekly cleaner that he totally forgot was being paid from his bank account to maintain Drake manor, only to be told by a slightly terrified cleaner that she tried to go in to mop the kitchen and found a fucking crime lord in nothing but sweatpants and his helmet, ranting to an ‘oracle’ about some kind of ‘drug drop off’ that he ‘needed off Batman’s radar’, because Jason was too tired to motorcycle all the way back to Crime Alley after a debrief but didn’t want to have to be around Bruce so he just kinda broke into Tim’s old house and has been casually chilling there for the past week while he worked on a case.

how much do you wanna bet that one time Bruce grounded Tim for two weeks and Tim was so annoyed about it that to be petty he snuck out and went back to Drake manor. Bruce was so fucking mad because Tim directly ignored his orders and he couldn’t even do anything about it because every time he brought it up he got loud claims of ‘yOU TOLD ME TO GO TO MY ROOM SO I WENT TO MY FUCKING ROOM, B, I DON’T WANNA HEAR SHIT FROM YOU-!’

how much do you wanna bet when eventually Tim can’t be bothered to deal with the insurance forms and he sells Drake manor, he mentions having to hand over his keys and instantly every single batkid starts digging around in their pockets and producing two or three keys to Drake manor because over the years they’ve all just kinda. been using it. whenever. Tim had no fucking clue they’d made keys. he’s so confused. it gets so much funnier when the next day Tim shows up to the estate agents to drop off his plastic tub of keys for the new owner and he fucking finds Jason Todd there ready to receive them.

“I make a lot of money in my line of work,” he says. “figured it was time for a summer house.”

“you hate being close to Bruce.”

“not as much as Bruce hates shoddy neighbours. i’m going to make his life hell.”

“you made me carry this box of keys for nothing.”

“yeah you can hand those back out actually, i really don’t care who goes in there.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t be rude to your new neighbour.”