#of funny damian moments and one liners

[daydreamerwonderkid]

More Damian being hilarious moments because his sense of humor speaks to me, pt. 2

pt. 1

[aingeal98]

Thinking of Cass and Damian got me thinking of the New 52 and how the dynamic between Batgirl and Robin there is even more proof of the travesty that was Babsgirl. She's been the longest running Batgirl to Damian's Robin, has witnessed most of the events of his life as Robin and yet their dynamic is just... A nothing burger. She's there in batfamily group reactions in the New 52 as the most heinous use of the Smurfette Principle I've seen in a long while. Tim isn't Tim, Dick isn't fully treated as Bruce's son, Jason exists mostly to say funny one liners, and yet despite the shallow characterisation there are still moments and events you can point to and say look. This happened. They interacted with Damian and it meant something. With Babsgirl? Nothing. How can there be anything when they're shoving a grown woman into a role she's outgrown for years now and forcing her to be the Batgirl of a preteen Robin? Her original Robin gets his own mantle, gets to be an adult with a legacy. She's shoved back into this role she doesn't fit in and because they know damn well she doesn't fit in it and they're just doing it for misogyny, they don't even try to make Batgirl and Robin a thing. Any interaction they had during the new 52 was so unremarkable and flavourless, devoid of character and heart, that I've never seen a single panel of the two of them in my 16 years as a DC fan.

Steph had a 24 issue batgirl run where she interacted with Damian a few times. Cass got even less than that with a six issue miniseries to bond with him. And yet the characterisation, writing and dynamic created in those stories was interesting, entertaining and impactful enough to last in the fandom for YEARS when Cass and Steph got erased. When you think of Damian's big sister you think of Steph, Cass, Maya etc long before you think of Babsgirl.

It's just infuriating to me. All those years of potential Batgirl and Robin stories wasted on a duo with as much cultural impact on the Batgirl and Robin team up as the James Cameron Avatar movies had on the word Avatar. All so they could erase the women of the batfam and reduce the sole one remaining down to The Girl Bat. Yeah whatever she was there in Damian's life when Steph and Cass weren't why am I supposed to care when her standing there gave me nothing to work with emotionally compared to a single conversation Steph or Cass had with Damian back in 2011. Compared with them or even Oracle Babs, I care about Babsgirl and Damian's dynamic and bond as much as DC and it's writers do. Which is to say, not at all.

[faeriekit]

Somewhere in the reblog chain I'm like 50% sure we decided that ghost weed is ghost specific. If the Outlaws tried it, they would have a Bad Time. If the Bats tried it, I think it might be Even Worse, since it's less of a physical substance and more like...how ghosts think weed should affect someone. Ghosts are the embodiments of concepts. Ghost of annoying punk motorist. Ghost of concept of warden. Ghost of storm. Ghost of the literal concept of time. Ghost of weed. Weed archetype, if you will. Trying to absorb that through your human alveoli would probably hurt real, real bad.

I'm honestly unsure what would be funnier, btw; if Jason's gender identity is actually adjusted by ghost weed, if he's having some psychosomatic gender euphoria due to his high/superpowers, or if he was trans in some manner all along and is only realizing it based on the most superficial factors known to man and a decent trip on mediocre ghost weed. I do, however, think it would be really funny if Jason started referring to his siblings with she/her pronouns in the moments when they experience autonomous flight situations, purely because reminding them about this conversation causes +2 Psychic damage.

Dick, who enjoys problems, and Tim, whose gender is determined by level of personal convenience, would probably walk it off. Damian would probably be a little butthurt about it, not specifically because he doesn't respect women, but because he's a kid and that's INCORRECT INFORMATION. Cass would play up whatever "gender" she's been assigned at the moment, because jokes are only funny when you're all in on it. Duke would have So Many Questions, replay the kitchen surveillance footage, and then get it. He's got a pretty dry humor, I think he'd drop some one-liners.

Jason: *wolf whistles* Wow, nice flight. What was it like being a magical girl for ten minutes? Duke, deadpan: I'm a feminist now.

I feel like the joke would start to make more sense if any of them happened to crash one of Jason's Johnny/Ember/Kitty hangout sessions, and managed to catch about ten minutes of dead people struggling to finish a single round of Just Dance without devolving into a fistfight in the aforementioned conversation pit

I'm not going to lie, there's some sweet, sweet allure in a premise based on "Johnny 13 ends up in Gotham just for shits and giggles only to accidentally settle down there."

This dude just happens to be Haunted as Fuck™️. His vibes are rank and he's rude as shit. Negative rizz. You literally can't pay him to do your goonery for you, but if you phrase it as a bad enough idea he'll do it for free...? But then like the whole building will explode for no reason or something else as equally as catastrophic and improbable?? What the fuck man

Just. This dead dude and his supernatural manifestation of bad luck is completely indecipherable from Gotham's natural toxicity to the point where he just...makes friends. Is a shitty upstairs neighbor. Shops at the corner store. Despite the odds, he's just Some Guy™️. He gets signed up for the Goonion. He reasonably could be any age between 19 and sixty. Two-Face kicked him out of his gang twice.

[anothertimdrakestan]

just wondering who your fav characters are and like your top fav things about them 🥰 i'm an aspiring writer and i like the way your write your characters

ahhh thank you! also you (and any other new writers!) should tag me in your stuff and i'll hype it up!!! i love seeing new writing and my fluff ass will 🥺 at any cliche period!

my fav characters... that's so hard erm okay here are my thoughts:

tim drake: i mean it says it in the user. i like to portray him as kind of shy and dorky (my homies know i'm a simp for dork boys you'll see in my favs) but insanely loving and honest. i find tim drake refreshing and often use him as a character to pull the truth out of others because he is so observant, kind, and understanding but simutainiously often cant say how he specifically feels! i like putting him in social situations and playing with his reactions and we cannot forget his caffine addiction and sleep deprivation for adorable moments. also i mean god damn he's hot af and i stan timkon for clear skin!

damian wayne: i know some people really don't like him but i think there's a lot of room for character growth that WE AS FANFIC WRITERS THAT ARENT ILLERATE ASSHOLE DC WRITERS can add that makes him loveable and soft clashing against his rugged facade. Unlike Tim he uses honesty as snark and sometimes cruelty which makes me love writing the little asshole. I think damian has clear interests in acting, animals, literature, and other ~tasteful~ activities which makes him fun to write for! also damijon/jondami gives me so so so much seratonin

gar logan: i love this boi! as a 2000s teen titans stan he has a special place in my heart and i loved his confidence in young justice season 3! I like portraying him as a little less of a flirt than wally/bart but still goofy, constantly trying to make you laugh! I think bb is the easiest to portray in the media because we see him do so in the comics/shows so i think it's fun to play into him taking the reader on tv or posting tik toks that make you famous and whatnot. i like that he's so happy and upbeat but will go angy tiger mode when his loved ones are in danger!

bart mf allen: idk why because he's so not my type but i'm madly in love with him. i think he carries such a heavy load knowing the impending doom of the future and his own existence that he covers it up in adorable humor and goofy one liners. i like that he's childish to an extent and he's a perfect character for the "he's funny and outgoing on the outside but with you he's soft and honest" and i eat that shit up. sometime soon i want to write a 2000s TT kid flash/jinx relationship style because they're my all time favorite but idk we will see!

stephanie brown: i think she's hilarious and often forgotten and i love to use her in shorts/moments where someone needs to progress the plot because she gets shit done! i think of her as the first to call out her brothers on their bullshit while also defend them with her life if anyone so much as misplaced a hair on their body. she's fiercely fun and can be written with humor based on how random she is. she's also my favorite character to tell bruce to shut up she's just a queen i love her!

raven: again tt 2000s there is nothing better i'm fr. don't @ me with the titans tv show raven she's not my fav. i've never written for her on tumblr but her story and lifestyle are fascinating and i think my inner dark and twisty soul wants to emulate raven's collected demeanor! if anyone writes for her lmk cuz i'd love to read it!

those are my current favs! don't get me wrong jason todd makes my heart flutter and if dick smiled at me i would pass out and that doesn't mean i dislike writing for them! i'll write anything once so send in whomever you'd like and i'll give it a try! thank you to the anon this was rly rly fun i love answering your questions!

[beyondflashpoint]

Prologue 3: World’s Finest:

It was a quiet night, for Gotham. Quiet for Gotham still meant a surplus of muggers, purse snatchers, and various other petty criminals, who more often than not fled at the sight of any one of the city’s resident costumed vigilantes. That was fine by Damian. In the four years since he had assumed the mantle of Robin, donning the colorful tights to aid in his father’s nightly crusade, he’d experienced a fair number of not so quiet nights in Gotham.

In the early days he’d longed for the next complex caper, the next shadowy plot, the next Arkham breakout. But as time wore on he came more and more to appreciate the quiet nights. The mission wore on endlessly, and for Damian, and all those who fought by he and his father’s side, the quiet nights were the closest thing to rest.

Father was on one of his interstellar escapades with the Justice League. Damian had seen their work, and thought it mostly ineffectual grandstanding, so he understood the necessity of Batman’s presence among them. They needed someone who could get the job done. What he couldn’t understand was the necessity for him to have a chaperone.

Grayson had accompanied him on patrols every night since father’s departure, as if without constant supervision Damian might decide to go on a killing spree, or blow up a bank. Not that he minded Grayson’s company. He was an effective combatant, and contrary to Damian’s first impression he was actually competent with strategy and detective work. Unfortunately he also talked. A lot. Beyond the pithy one liners and snarky banter he fired off in combat, which could have been excused as psychological warfare, Grayson wanted to talk about everything. Was he reading anything good lately, had he made any new friends, what music was he listening to, did he have a life outside of the mission, when was the last time he’d washed the uniform? It was incessant. Countless tedious questions fired off in rapid succession, as if Grayson had a pathological fear of silence.

At least he’d finally stopped trying to set Damian up on play dates with the other teenaged vigilantes. That had been beyond frustrating. For a time Grayson had pitched a different cooperative mission, which he’d pestilently referred to as “team-ups”, every week. The last and least unbearable had been with the Kent boy, though he had ended up roped into irregular interactions with the child, outside of uniform, and preforming menial tasks unrelated to the crusade.

Blessedly, Jonathan was currently grounded, due to poor performance in mathematics. Perhaps he should have mercy and tutor the boy. He would consider broaching the offer after he slept.

“Mushroom swiss, extra onions, and large mocha, triple espresso. You know you really should cut back of the caffeine, Lil’ D. It’ll stunt your growth.”

Damian snatched the bag and beverage. “And you should cut back on the pizza. It’s starting to look like Pennyworth needs to let out your uniform again.”

“Very funny, brat.” Grayson ruffled his hair, before plopping down on the ledge beside him and settling into what looked like an overstuffed breakfast burrito, though he did pull at the fabric clinging to his abs when he thought Damian wasn’t looking.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” Grayson asked as he chased an exceptionally large bite with his own coffee.

“B-and-E on 18th, but GCPD was close enough to respond, so I let them handle it.”

“Why Damian, I didn’t know you were capable of sharing. How generous of you.” Grayson punctuated his feigned surprise with a dainty hand against his face. Damian narrowed his eyes, and returned his attention to his own meal.

“Tt”

“Jason and his ‘Outlaws’ got back to Blüdhaven this morning. I think they were doing something about the Lexcorp drilling operation in Smallville. The facilities definitely exploded, and explosions usually involve Jason. Surprisingly there were no casualties.”

“Jason has never broken father’s code, despite every opportunity to do so. His methods might be a bit extreme, but they are effective, and non-lethal.”

Grayson paused. “But I’m still your favorite brother, right?”

Damian smirked. “I’m no longer wishing you dead.”

Grayson laughed, then the two ate in silence. While Damian was washing down the last vestiges of his meal, Grayson stood and stretched. “So, I’m thinking we move towards the bay area. Seems like theirs always something to do there.”

“If you’re eager to stay busy, we could consult Oracle.”

Grayson shuffled awkwardly, then cleared his throat. “That won’t be necessary. Between the police scanner and Al manning the bat-computer, we’ll know where we’re needed, when we’re needed.”

Damian got to his feet and stretched himself. It seemed there was some awkwardness between Grayson and the Gordon girl, probably stemming from a failed romance. Grayson didn’t talk about it, and neither did Oracle. He could probably ask Jason, but he didn’t care that much. So long as it didn’t effect the mission.

It was a short trip by rooftop to the bay area docks, and the two were in no real rush. This was a simple patrol, mostly for the sake of reminding Gotham that it’s guardians were constantly vigilant. Across the bay, the shining beacon of metropolis lit the sky as if to starkly contrast the shadowy gloom of Gotham. Damian had often wondered if property was cheaper on the Gotham-facing side of Metropolis. He knew from father that the reverse was true of Metropolis facing property in Gotham. On the other side of the Bay Bridge, the Hights loomed like towering castles, housing those of Gotham’s elite who preferred high rises to mansions. One of those buildings held a penthouse suite belonging to Father and housing a substitute Batcave far better outfitted than the many bunkers father had across the city. Damian had toured each of these facilities in his first week as Robin, and given them each a monthly inspection since. In recent months he’d taken to sleeping in the penthouse when he and father had one of their frequent disagreements. Before that he’d mostly gone to Jason’s Blüdhaven bunker, but a particularly awkward incident had put a stop to that.

Grayson was right about the frequency of criminal activity in the area, and the two had barely began their loop around the docks when they came upon a group of thugs brazenly unloading pallets of cocaine. The two separated wordlessly, each seeking a vantage point from which to survey the scene before acting.

Grayson went high, perching on top of a crane, Damian went low silently positioning himself on a shipping container right above the scum.

“I count six men, two in the truck, two in the container, and two patrolling. The guards have automatic weapons, but I’d be willing to bet all six are packing. How do you want to proceed?” Grayson spoke in a determined whisper, and Damian replied in the same hushed tones.

“I see five. One of the guards is heading your way. Advise pattern Gamma-12. Move at your command.” Damian never enjoyed handing over control, but Grayson had the best view of the battlefield, and would make the right call.

“Acknowledged. Guard two is on your 8:15. You may proceed with pattern G-12.”

Damian dropped onto the unsuspecting guard, who was exactly where Grayson had said he’d be. Before the man could make a sound, Damian clapped a hand over his mouth and struck key pressure points in rapid succession, rendering the man unconscious. With silent precision he moved towards the container and his next targets.

The truck was shaking as he stepped from the corridor into the loading area, and he knew Grayson was doing his part. When his targets moved into the container to start on another pallet he stepped in behind them and slowly shut the door. The thump of metal and frightened, agonized screams were the only indication of what was happening inside, and they faded into silence quickly enough.

When Damian emerged, Grayson was standing with his hands on his hips, no doubt preparing some quip or other. Before he could say anything though, a brilliant radiance lit the sky like daybreak come several hours to soon. And with a deafening crash, the meteor smashed into the bay, sending a wave far enough inland that puddles formed around their feet. The two locked eyes, wordlessly agreeing that it was within their responsibilities to respond, and made their way toward the crash site.

The scene was tranquil, if one could ignore the floating debris and wreckage of personal water craft that had congregated to the bay’s center, ringing the impact zone like the epicenter of a child’s temper tantrum. Damian and Grayson stood in silent awe, until Damian pulled the Geiger-counter out of his belt and set the device ticking.

“Al, how fast could you get us a boat to Gotham Bay, pier 19?”

“I’m picking up radiation, if minor. Our space rock is so lukewarm it’s practically cold.” Damian returned the device to his belt.

“I’ve dispatched the bat-boat you your location, Nightwing. Happy sailing sir.”

The two glanced at each other as the din of distant sirens and alarms died down. The cities on both sides of the bay were wide awake now, and they wouldn’t have long to investigate before the authorities moved in. The boat took just long enough for Grayson to become antsy, tapping his foot and drumming his fingers over his crossed arms. When the visor slid back to open the vessels empty cockpit, Grayson boarded without a moment’s hesitation.

Damian moved to join him.

“Hope Al packed some trunks. We might be getting wet Lil’D.” Grayson opined as Damian fastened himself in.

In leu of a response, Damian rolled his eyes, and the duo started across the bay to the epicenter of the crash. They had just reached their goal when the boat heaved and rolled over, flipped like a child’s plaything. Moments later a heavy thump resounded from the skyward facing underside of the vessel. Damian and Grayson situated their respirators, exchanging an understanding glance and Grayson opened the visor and the boat’s interior flooded with the oily bay water. At the last minute, Damian released the clasp on his cape, cutting the resistance he’d face cutting through the water.

The duo surfaced to a strange sight. Standing on wobbly legs on the slowly submerging underside of the bat-boat, was a young woman, soaked from head to toe, and wearing what looked like a silver and white wet-suit. Grayson, who had surfaced and disengaged his respirator first, cautiously joined her on the slowly sinking makeshift island.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” She jerked her head towards him, panicked, fearful. Damian was all to familiar with such mannerisms. He propped his arms on the boat.In response, the young woman muttered something Damian couldn’t quite make out.

“Miss, it’s okay. We’re here to help.” Grayson took a cautious step towards the young woman, who responded with a frightened shout and a shove at Grayson, who hadn’t even finished shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Soaked to the bone, and standing on precarious, slippery footing, a slip or stumble would have been expected, even from one with the lithe grace of Grayson. Instead, he jettisoned a pained grunt and flew from the vessel, skipping twice across the water’s surface like a stone. Damian watched in shocked awe, and turning his eyes on the aggressor, saw the same look in her own eyes. They were blue. She met his gaze and shouted something else in that gibberish that was starting to sound vaguely familiar to Damian. Then she jumped as if to dive into the Gotham facing side of the bay. But instead launched at least fifty feet into the air, sailing in a clear arch to the docks he and Grayson had left moments ago.

“Grayson-“

“Still breathing Lil’D. Get after her. I’ll catch up.” Grayson sounded winded, and was barely suppressing what Damian was guessing to be intense pain, but he kicked off the boat and swam towards the docks nonetheless. Even at the brisk pace he set, it still took way too long to reach the shore. Luckily the young woman left a trail. Wet footprints and cracked pavement made the pursuit easy as following a hare though fresh snow. She was moving eastward, and inland.

Damian’s pursuit showed all the telltale signs of a frightened, if powerful, meta-human, just coming into her abilities. She needed to be stopped before she hurt anyone, before she hurt herself. Anyone else, Damian mentally corrected. He’d passed a few would be thugs or helping hands with significant (though fortunately non-lethal) injuries in an alley a few blocks back. Beams of crimson light shot skyward from the next street over. Damian hip-fired his line launcher and took the rooftop in time to catch a glimpse of the chaos on the street below, and the young woman illuminated by police flashlights as she floated gracelessly skyward. With very little time for mental calculations, Damian took a running start and dove across the gap between buildings.

He collided with the girl in mid air, directly above the middle of the crowded street, with thirty stories of open air between him and unforgiving concrete. His gamble paid off. Whatever method granted the girl flight had slowed their decent, and coupled with Damian’s momentum they came down in a slow arch, landing on the rooftop on the other side of the street. For his part Damian had to roll to disperse the excess momentum. The girl immediately rose from her knees to her feet with stony determination. She shouted at him in what he realized was an alien language.

“Tired of running, I take it. Come then.” Damian pulled the sword from his belt. It was blunted, had been for almost three years now, a concession made to ease father’s mind. But even without an edge it could break bones, bruise bodies, and dissuade antagonists. Before he had taken a ready stance, the girl launched forward at speeds that would even give Allen pause. The blade bounced and rattled on the rooftop, useless. Clearing thirty feet in less than a second, the girl had pinned Damian to the wall by his wrists. The impact had knocked the breath from him, and might have broken both of his wrists, had they not been cushioned by the meta’s fingers. As it was, her vice like grip was already bruising bone deep. A horrific crimson light radiated menacingly from her previously arctic blue eyes. Damian narrowed his own eyes, scowling. Mentally he was running through every possible counter, every potential method of escape. Then, she spoke again, and the nagging familiarity clicked.

“Where the hell am I? What the hell is going on?”

Damian mentally thanked Jon for the Kryptonian lessons, and formulated his plan. It would have to be fast.

“Welcome to earth.” He spat, smirking. The glow faded from her eyes, replaced by shock. Her grip on his wrists loosened, and Damian moved to the second step of his plan. He pushed forward as hard and fast as he could, planting his lips on hers. The Selina Kyle method. As expected, confusion, shock, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment caused the Kryptonian to fully release her grip and stagger backwards, giving Damian enough time to pull the aerosolized kryptonite/ knockout gas concoction from the led-lined pouch on his belt and spritz the girl with a healthy dose.

Once she had collapsed into a heap and Damian was sure that she was fully unconscious, he called Grayson.

It was just before sunrise when father returned, and on Damian’s insistence, brought the elder Kryptonian with him. Unlikely as it was, Kara Zor-El was his cousin, sent to earth from Kandor, the capital city of Krypton moments before the planet’s destruction. She was uncertain what had set her off course by nearly four decades, but she had finally arrived.

Within six months, she was fluent in English. In ten she was versed enough in her powers to earn Superman’s approval to shadow him in metropolis. After some convincing Bruce set her up in an unused apartment he kept in National City with an established civilian identity and all the paperwork that required. Before the end of her first year, Kara had blended almost seamlessly into earthling society, though under constant supervision from the Justice League. By that time even Batman’s considerable scrutiny waned. But Damian remained cautious.

Eventually, Supergirl’s fame and reverence grew to match that of her well established cousin, and the world mostly came to accept the new heroically inclined visitor from a strange world.

But the clock was ticking, and had been long before the alien child set foot of the strange new world. Events were already in motion that would call to question the meaning of the word hero, and the line that separates good and evil.

Tick

Tock

Tick

[ravenwithaknife-blog]

Embellished: Ep. 7

“Alright Sertia, what’s the plan?”

“Main I don’t know! I’d tell you too be yourself, but you’re definitely thinking about this too much for that advice to be useful. Look, just wing it, play it by ear. I’m sure you’ll be fine as long as you keep your cool and don’t say anything stupid.”

“Gotcha, thanks.”

                                                         • • •

Salvador had been sitting in bio for the past hour in the dark, listening to the teacher’s boring lecture. All she ever did was sit there and go through powerpoint presentations and have her students take notes. 

Salvador sat in the back at one of the lab tables, primarily because it was in the back near the window and it had a little fish tank on it. The fish tank contained a few guppies and some crabs, who all had names given to them by Salvador and his friends. 

He found it hard to pay attention to the class sometimes, because his friends, Felix, Lucas, and Damian. Felix was a very close friend of Salvador’s, an Irish boy almost a year older than him. He was pudgy, and had always reminded Salvador of Samwise Gamgee. He had a hairy face and legs, which was known by his friends because he always wore basketball shorts. Lucas was a sporty boy, who played in futból clubs outside of the school. He was very cold, yet always funny. He simply had little to no regards for others, and even if he did, he never showed it. He had a quality about him that made everything he did inexplicably hilarious to Salvador. Damian had been present in Salvador’s groups of friends for years, but they had never become that close. He was more someone that Salvador could kinda idly laugh at, but not usually talk to. He was a known troublemaker, and Salvador would never, but he could see that deep down, Damian was a good kid who only wanted to feel the validation of his peers.

With all of his things packed and ready for home, Salvador put on his backpack, and looked at Soorja from his table in the back. She sat pretty much dead center of the three rows of tables in the front, only a bit to the right. As she made her way to the door, Salvador realized that this was his opportunity to walk out with her and get closer to her. 

He quickened his pace a bit, and caught up with her right as she got out of the doorway. 

“hey,” he said, coming up behind her.

She turned her head to him, as if surprised to see him. 

“Oh hey, what’s up?”

“Oh nothing, I was just behind you and decided to say hi.”

“oh, well then hi,” she said,  with a smile that melted his heart and shattered all the emotional armor he had forged over the years. 

“So uh, where are you off to then?”

“Well, Salvador, I’m off to the Metro, where are you off to?”

“The bus, but I’m sure I could spare a moment to walk with you. How far is it?”

“Too far, trust me, you’d miss the bus. I can get home safely myself, thank you very much.  I may be a princess, but I don’t need a knight in shining armor.” 

Yeah, you certainly are a princess, and I’d give anything to be your knight. Though he. 

“Well alright then, you get safely then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Until then, ‘Prince Charming’”

She smiled at him again, with the same power that she had just moments before. Salvador just stood there looking at her, completely dumbfounded. Had she meant it? No, the undertones of sarcasm were too strong. She was just joshing me. Salvador realized that he was just standing there bug-eyed, so he shook his head to snap out of it, smiled at her, and waved. She was standing a bit in front of him, half turned and looking at him smiling. Proud of her work, she smiled at him and turned, leaving the boy lovestruck for the first time in his life.

                                                         • • •

That night, as Salvador slowly worked his way through his math homework, his phone lit up with a message. It was from Soorja. Salvador’s heart skipped a beat. All day her had been thinking about her, but he was too afraid to message her. 

The message was nothing special, she had just slid into his DMs with a meme about a dog. It was a cute dog, a good dog, so that’s what Salvador said about it. 

“You know normally I despise being interrupted in my work, but this dog is worth it.”

“Oh so you like animals then?”

“Like them? I love them! Hell, I have a dog myself. HIs name’s Fenrir.”

“Fenrir... what a cool name.”

Salvador was pleased that she was showing interest, so he decided to ride the wave as far as he could.

“Yeah, he’s a 9-year-old Chihuahua/Daschund mix.”

“Oh that sounds adorable! Can I see him?”

Salvado called his dog over to him, and sent a picture of the lad to Soorja. He retook the photo at least eighteen times, because of something in the background that he was overthinking. As expected, she reacted with lots of praise for Fenrir’s adorability. Salvador realized that there was nowhere left to go with Fenrir, so he inquired as to whether Soorja had any pets.

“No, but I’ve always wanted one. It’s just that my parents won’t let me.”

“Not even a fish or something?”

“No. But besides, a fish isn’t the same as a dog.”

“Oh well that sucks.” 

“I’ve noticed.”

Most people, when texting their crush, expect an answer immediately, and believe that they also have to answer within seconds of receiving a text. Although he would have done this normally, Salvador was too busy trying to do his math homework to be able to think too hard about his dying conversation with Soorja. 

After about a minute and a half had passed, Salvador had the sudden realization that the conversation had died. He wasn’t sure if he had to say goodbye or something, so he came up with a plan that would either revive the conversation or give him the opportunity to say goodnight. 

“So whatcha doin’,” was his genius solution.

“ah yes, a brilliant one-liner to rekindle the flame,”

“y’know Soorja, you see right through me.”

“Of course I do. Nonetheless, I’m working on that Spanish project from before”

“Oh the earthquake one?”

“that’s right.”

“Well I speak Spanish, maybe I can help you out. What’s this project of yours about?”

“Mostly vocabulary and stuff. Do you have any idea how to say ‘mall’?”

“oh for sure, that’s ‘centro comercial’”

“oh duh, thanks”

“yeah for sure”

There was a short pause as Salvador closed his books and prepared his backpack for the next day of school. Once he was finished. he messaged her once more.

“Hey man, it’s already ten o’clock, you should go to bed”

“ok DAD”

“um... what?”

“well cause that’s just such a dad thing to say.”

“fair enough, but I am honestly quite tired, and you should be too. If you need anymore help with Spanish, feel free to hit me up anytime, goodnight.”

“thanks, and I will. goodnight!”

Salvador sat there at his desk for a good fifteen seconds, considering how her face must’ve looked during their conversation. He noticed she was very sarcastic, but not in a bad way; in a cheerful, joking, light-hearted kind of way. The kind of sarcasm that requires finger guns, playful winks, stuck-out tongues, and happiness. He thought about that as he prepared for bed, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. She was already in the process of stealing his heart, and he didn’t even know that much about her. What a wild thought. He thought to himself as he got under the sheets. But I still hope it works out.

[renecdote]

Dick and Tim dealing with Bruce's death, and Tim not being the Robin to Dick's Batman, if it's not too complicated. Some parallels or compare/contrasts in fic form could be fun, though

I finally managed to write something!! This prompt was a bit hard because I can’t really remember canon for the aftermath of Bruce “dying” but I tried. Heavily inspired by these lyrics:

Have you ever been a part of something

That you thought would never end?

And then of course it did

from the song Everchanging by Rise Against (a very Tim Drake song imo). 

Also because the literary nerd in me cannot chill, this one is written in fragmented style to reflected the fragmentation of Tim’s life/world/self after Bruce’s “death” and Robin being given to Damian.

–

Dick is so caught up in helping Damian deal with Bruce’s death, he barely spends time dealing with it himself, let alone finding the time to check in on Tim as well. Tim gets it, honestly he does, the brat is Bruce’s son and he’s just… whatever he is these days.

(Nothing. You’re nothing.)

It’s not like he needs someone to hold his hand, to tell him everything is going to be okay.

(To lie.)

But… maybe it would be nice? Those things? Tim wouldn’t know; he’s never had that kind of special treatment before.

–

It’s just a glass case. It’s not even a shrine, like Jason’s is. No memorable words because that wasn’t Bruce’s style. Batman is silent and deadly; Robin is the one with the clever quips and witty one-liners.

Tim wonders why he wasn’t fired earlier. He’s never been funny. Never been clever or witty or good with his words.

He factors hindsight into the formula of his life and decided that Bruce was just taking pity on him. (One more broken child in a long line of slightly-less-broken children.)

But pity has never been Dick’s style.

–

“I’m telling you - he’s not dead!”

“Tim… I think you should talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“No, I mean. A professional. Someone who can help you.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

“No, Timmy, of course I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think… well you haven’t been handling Bruce’s death very well-”

“That’s because he isn’t dead, Dick! Why won’t you believe me?”

–

It’s funny, that Dick wants to replace everything, everyone, except Batman. Even when someone else, someone who breaks the code, takes up the mantle. It’s only when the rest of them start squabbling over the cowl, fighting like children, like angry little chicks scrapping for mama bird’s attention, that he steps up to the job.

And he starts it off in true Batman fashion: choosing a new Robin.

–

(Bruce is going to come back, Bruce is going to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, Dick is going to roll his eyes and turn it in a hug. Bruce is going to say, “I’m proud of you, chum.”)

(Damian is going to interrupt the moment by showing up in Robin garb, ready for patrol.)

(Tim is going to be sitting alone in his apartment wondering who else he needs a contingency plan for.)

–

“Did Dickiebird put you up to this?”

“No. We’re not really, um. I haven’t spoken to him in… I don’t know, a few days.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I am not going to play sympathetic ear to whatever dumbass squabble you two have had.”

“If you’d just listen-”

“Get out.”

“Jason, please-”

“Get the fuck out before I make you.”

–

Red Robin’s suit is skintight, but it still feels ill-fitting the first time he puts it on. It’s not his suit after all, not really, just like Robin wasn’t really his. He was just a placeholder. A poor substitute. A second-rate replacement.

He feels like a child playing dress-up.

(He snuck into his parents closet, once, when he was very young. Slipped his tiny feet into his father’s fancy shoes and wrapped his mother’s second favourite shawl around his shoulders. Clomped around their bedroom and pretended they were just behind the door of the en suite bathroom, getting ready for a night out as a family.

His nanny had found him trying to knot one of his father’s ties around his neck. She’d yelled at him, smacked him and sent him to his room. It was the first and last time Tim had tried to play dress-up.

Well. Until now.

He feels the same nervous thrill he felt then; knowing he was doing something he probably shouldn’t but doing it anyway.)

–

Dick - no, Batman - tries to stop him from leaving. Tries to coax him into coming home (wherever the hell that is these days) and talking about his feelings or some shit. Tim doesn’t listen. Doesn’t care.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” His voice is eerily calm even to his own ears. Not really that surprised at being used and abandoned and tossed aside since that’s all his life has ever been. “I’m not Robin anymore, I don’t have to take orders from Batman.”

“Tim…”

Tim shrugs his hand off. “Goodbye, Dick.”

(He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Bruce. Didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Robin before it was ripped out of his hands.

Shouldn’t have gotten so complacent. Stupid. Stupid. Basic training: always be alert.

You never know when an ally is going to stab you in the back.)

–

Bruce’s arms are tight across his shoulders and Tim wants nothing more than to melt agains this chest, fist his hands in Batman’s billowing cape and hide his face against his adoptive father’s neck. Close his eyes and pretend that his costume is still red, green and yellow, that this is just a normal moment on a normal patrol. That his life didn’t get turned upside down and inside out just when he was starting to think it could be good.

Tim’s had a lot of practice at pretending. Pretending to be the perfect son, pretending to be the perfect heir