Dick: On A Scale From Damn Daniel To Fre Sha Vaca Do, How Are You Feeling?

Dick: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Tim: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Jason?

Jason: Probably “road work ahead”.

Damian: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

jason couldn’t quite wrap his head around it when you told him. you hadn’t been on a museum date, not even once. never hiked with someone, no quiet walks up hills, no sharing the weight of silence and breath between trees.

he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, staring at you like you were the punchline to some bad joke. “wait, so… no one’s ever taken you to a museum? or on some lazy hike through the woods? not even to pretend like they’re deep?”

you smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “mediocre romance,” you said, almost offhand, like it was just a fact of your life. “i’ve been romanced, sure. just… nothing like that.”

jason exhaled, shaking his head slowly, a flicker of something like frustration sparking in his gaze. “unbelievable,” he muttered, then, after a beat, softer, “i don’t do half-assed.”

he pushed himself off the counter, taking a step toward you, his presence always heavier than his footsteps. “museum on saturday. hike on sunday,” he said, his voice low, but with that rough edge of certainty. “and i promise, it won’t be like anything you’ve had before.”

you felt the weight of his words, not in the grandness of them, but in their simplicity. jason didn’t need to try too hard. it was the promise in his voice, the way he made you feel seen in ways that didn’t demand the spotlight, just the quiet recognition that you deserved more than ‘just enough.’ and with him, somehow, you believed it.

This man and his bad ass dog :,^)

Prompt:

Brucie Wayne gets into a mild accident in public (read-got hit by a car). And Batman would just walk it off (“it’s barely a bruise”), but Brucie obviously… can’t.

So he has to suffer the ordeal of having civilians call paramedics, getting fussed over, and having-

Having his dead son get into the back of the ambulance with him.

Oh- oh no. He must have hit his head worse than he thought. He thought he was past this…

Dinner is too late 😡😠