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[Bruce and Damian on a stakeout mission]

Damian: I have a question.

Bruce, while focusing on the building: Only if it’s important.

Damian: Do owls have eyelashes?



Bruce: *walks to the other side of the roof and calls Alfred*

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Random guy on the street: Hey, did you know that Jesus loves you-

Dick, hasn’t slept in 48 hours, hears ‘Jesus’ as 'Jason’: Hey Jason, lil bro!

Jason, across the street: What?

Dick: Do you love me?

Jason: Nah man I fucking hate you.


The poor random guy:

Dick: *throws his shoe at Jason, hits him right on the nose*

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[After Bruce’s “death”]

Jason: Batman’s dead ohmygoooood

Dick: Jason, it’s not funny-

Tim, looks up from his tablet: I brought that poster for nothing?

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A dumb midnight thought I simply had to type out bc my brain is being a Bastard and not letting me sleep

The only time Bruce Wayne does not care about the poor/disenfranchised is when he is obliterating his family/fellow Justice Leaguers at Monopoly.

At any other point he’s 100% on board with the “tax the rich” and “the upper class exploits the middle class and then tells them it’s the fault of the working class/proletariat in order to incite mistrust and further isolate both classes from one another, thereby keeping their place in society, with their foot on other’s throats” vibes. Ya know?

buT THE SECOND he touches a Monopoly board with a family member/friend,,,,, “Maybe you should try not being poor~~~”

“Oh, you wanted King’s Cross? Too bad, I own it now, and the other three train stations. And also both utilities. And also Mayfair and Park Lane. And also—”

“Oh, you’re bankrupt?” *sips water* “Shame.”

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Damian and Tim bonding through art and photography just makes me so happy. I just love them both so much. If I ever had two favorite batkids it’s probably these two and I can’t explain why. Maybe I should make a rec list with this trope because I have so many bookmarks on ao3 for these two.

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Duke: Someday, in the distant future, humans will once again be capable of hearing the phrase "what is love" without also feeling the primal urge to respond with "baby don't hurt me".
Dick: So at that point, people will say "baby don't hurt me"... no more?
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so i was having some late night feels (angst) aaanddd i’m adding onto the reverse robin au i was playing around with a while ago, which is jason being the oldest of the batkids with dick coming while he’s bruce’s partner aaaand yk i might’ve cried bUt yOU CANT PROVE ANYTHING

  • dick and jason had a little ritual they would do, whenever jason came back from patrol they would sit together, some reality tv playing as they just talked. it was mundane, and really wasn’t all that special as they debated whether real housewives of beverly hills was better than real housewives of new jersey, but dick found himself desperately yearning for it as he curled underneath jason’s bedsheets, hugging an old sweater that smelled like his older brother, whispering to a pillow, pretending that maybe it was jason
  • the night bruce came back, his heart gutted and carved out, resting heavily in his hollow chest, is not a day they ever talk about, ever. dick claims not to remember much of it, too much confusion and heartache. but he remembers counting every single breath bruce took before uttering the words that sent his world crashing down once again. he remembers the racking sobs that pierced into dicks ribs, as he kept repeating a self assuring mantra of thisisnthappeningthisisnthappeningthisisnthappening. he remembers bruce collapsing onto the caves floors, the weight of the world crushing him with its unrelenting rage. he remembers feeling paralyzed, unable to reach out to bruce and unable to comprehend what was happening, just like how frozen he was when his mother just slipped past his fingers, just brushing against it ever so lightly before crashing into a mess of blood and brain. he remembers running, running up the stairs, running from alfreds call, running from bruce’s shaking hand reaching out for him, running into jason’s room because he was alive, he knew he was alive this was all nightmare constructed in his head, only a nightmare that was bound to end (it never did)
  • bruce was against robin. bruce was against every shred of robin. he was against the idea of robin, the conception of robin, anything that had to do with robin was banned. he wouldn’t hear of it. but dick was always told he was a little bird born with a lions heart, and he proudly displayed it. he fought and fought and fought, because goddamnit bruce you’re killing yourself. bruce never really allowed it, but dick still did it. bruce would be on a constant lecture in patrols that consisted of go home right now or i’m dragging you back cape and all. it never really worked though, no matter how hard bruce tried to suppress it. dick would just come out the next night, ready to fight crime by bruce’s side with too much heart and too much enthusiasm (it was jason all over again.)
  • dick became far better at faking smiles from then on. it was ironic, if he really thought about it. his own performer parents had never taught him to lie so well, to grin so easily when his heart was aching with an immovable weight. but he knew he had to do it. his days were a sacrifice he was willing to give to make bruce content, if he could even do that. he knew bruce never slept, so he would trot into his room and plop onto his bed, and force bruce to read a book to him. dick didn’t really sleep, but he knew it brought bruce some shred of comfort when his son was by his side, safe and present. it was okay, really it was. dick could fake smiles for the rest of his life if it made bruce smile at him one more time.
  • bruce hadn’t been able to stomach looking at jason’s grave ever since the funeral. dick went every other day. he did a similar thing with his parents, because a lesson he had always been taught by them was that the dead while may not be able to talk back, did quite enjoy being talked to. maybe it was a silly childhood reassurance, to sooth dicks worries about death, but it helped. he would sit by jason’s grave and discuss anything and everything. he told him about how he had met this girl barbara who was the commissioners daughter and she was really awesome. he would blather on about how wally has already hit a growth spurt and roy was even taller then both of them which annoyed him to no end. it leaned towards nervous rambling at some point but that was okay, dick liked talking. it helped quiet his mind.
  • it was the small things that dick noticed that were never going to be the same. jason’s “designated” spot at the kitchen table was never touched. the console he had bought when he was around 14 wasn’t touched until a solid year later, but even then dick felt a little weird playing anything without jason’s snarky comments. waking up in the morning to go to school without jason either throwing a pillow at his face or dumping a bottle of water onto him is something he hates. jason’s phone was also kept in its exact spot, inside of the drawer of his nightstand without ever moving. (dick used to call it sometimes, just to hear the voicemail. he would leave a message behind too, but no one knew. no one ever found out about it either.)
  • dick hated how much he missed being called sky monkey. it was such a stupid nickname, from all the plethora of nicknames he had generously given jason the permission to use, he had stuck with baby bird and sky monkey. but jason used to laugh about it, telling him dick would never get a more fitting description of himself.
  • dick and bruce had one of their most heated arguments over that stupid plaque and case. dick remembers spitting out that bruce could stand looking at that good soldier but couldn’t even go see his sons grave. he knows it’s a low blow, but he’s burning with confusion and venom is dripping from his tongue. they (dick) talk about it a few night later, hug it out and what not, but it was a moment dick realized just how emotionally stunted bruce was and it set off a little angry flame in his chest. one that never quite fizzled out, but changed to sadness as the years went on.
  • it was weird reading shakespeare the first time in class for dick. he kept imagining jason’s voice in a midsummer nights dream. he kept closing his eyes and seeing the scene fold out in his head. jason playing lysander as he had his lines memorized the best, pouring every ounce of talent into his grand performance in their bedroom. dick had a little script in hand as he played puck, with each of them swapping out roles as the other characters. they had pranced around the room, hopping onto furniture and climbing onto beds. dick felt sick to his stomach playing lysanders role in a class reading, because he could hear so fucking clearly jason’s voice with his brimming accent come to life in his head. (or maybe it was because he felt an unexplainable feeling of pure guilt, because he lived. he’s playing lysander now. jason isn’t. and dick feels like a fucking thief)


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Dick, walking into the living room: And the lord said, ‘let there be booty’ (Slaps his own ass)

Tim: I will pay you to never speak again

Jason: Oh I can make him do that for free

Damian: Touch a hair in Graysons head and I will end you

Jason, turning to Tim: Only one of them is free, I charge for an extra person

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Roy: Thanks to Duolingo, I can ask people if they are a horse but can't tell people what my name is in French.
Jason: Ask me if I'm a fucking horse. I dare you.
Roy: Tu es un cheval?
Jason: Nay.
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Jason: *pokes his head into Tim's room* hey I'm going downstairs you want anything?
Tim: no
Jason: cool *starts walking away*
Tim: BUT i'd really like to be a clam right now
Jason: Tim. what does that mean
Tim: I don't think I can explain it to you
Jason: ... go the fuck to SLEEP
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Dick, leaving with Jason, Tim, and Damian: Bruce, we’re going out! If we don’t come back, avenge our deaths!
Bruce, from the other room: Alright!
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how meeting Jason went

Young Jason: what’re you lookin’ at, Ya ol’ geezer?!

Batman: a child…

Batman, rushing into the batcave: A CHILD

Jason, confused as to what happened: howdy…?

Alfred: NO!

Dick,with sunglasses on: anotha’ one


A bit of an art dump of my doodles haha, enjoy!

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Stephanie: Every time I have a conversation with you I waste hours of my life. You’re just too interesting.
Cassandra: I can stop being interesting. Watch this.
Cassandra: *freezes*
Stephanie: Hello?
Stephanie: Okay, well now I have to stay here and see how long you can keep this up.
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