#gentlegingergiant

[caffeinatedtinyhouseblog]

Throwback to the moment you realise you love your little brofur and are happy just watching him sleep.. So yes lovely ladies, even this tough little lion is a big ginger softie at heart. . . . @crazycatladyclub @catasticworld @cat_delight @kittengag @meowfeature @cat_gag @bestcataward @best.cats.club @cats From Instagram

[flyingdgrayson-blog-blog]

The Kids Are Alright.

It was a quiet afternoon, which Dick was glad for. He'd sustained a few injuries in his failed attempt to give Tim back up. One of the knife wounds had very narrowly escaped being serious. He would need to take it easy for a little bit, stitched up enough that he was worried that should they pop he might lose vitals. Or maybe he was exaggerating.

He came downstairs to the entertainment room with the large TV and the chairs meant for each one of the family members. The TV was already on, and there was Damian and the friend he'd made on the streets of Gotham. Good thing he'd made a lot of popcorn.

"Well, I guess this room is occupied. Mind if I join you? Or am I too old?" He grinned, setting the popcorn down between them. "This is your friend, right?"

Dick grave Damian a look, motioning his head toward Colin. They'd never been formally introduced, but he had met the boy once or twice in the field while wearing the cowl. He knew Bruce had saved this kid from the Scarecrow. He came around and then flopped into his usual seat.

"What are we watching?"

[ofthefittest-blog]

Training, wow! Sounds tough. As long as you promise to grab a milkshake with me first. I missed you!

Eh, it was worth the end result.

Milkshake, hm? Why not. It has been a while, Colin… I look forward to catching up.

[ofthefittest-blog]

Damian! When did you get back?

I’ve been around… These record low crime rates have had me stuck in the manor. Training, studying… more training.

But now it seems some action has returned to the streets! Patrol, sometime? 

[flyingdgrayson-blog-blog]

Little Talks

Dick was sitting on the floor of his childhood bedroom, his back against the end of the bed, in his hand a baseball. He wasn't sure why he had a baseball in his room. Maybe it was some kind of mandatory rule that all kids must have a baseball in their room whether they play or not. He rolled it back and forth on the floor between his legs, and let out a sigh.

His room was a shrine to his youth. They always joked about Bruce's Grayson Shrine as the room was exactly the same as it had been when he was 8 years old. A Robin Hood movie poster hung over the fireplace. A poster from the circus for his family's act above the bed. A telescope face toward the window. These things he never took. He left these for Bruce. For this room. For this place to always be a memory of him, even when his body didn't haunt the hauls of Wayne Manor.

He was making himself sad now. He swallowed hard, then let out a sigh, throwing the ball into the air and catching it. Pictures on the desk of friends: Garth, long since passed, Wally, Donna, Roy. The original team up. Later Kaldur, Artemis, M'gann. Bette Kane. He and Babs in their youth. Kory.

All these people who had made friends of. And those were just his peers. It didn't count the Justice League. His son, Colin. All these people that his mistake was going to hurt.

[ofthefittest-blog]

Damian! We should go get a milkshake sometime. (:

Eugh. Colin, they're filled with a revolting amount of things that are bad for--sigh.

...only if it's chocolate.

[batcass]

Cookies and Kin

Cass could not--for the life of her--read body language when it came to dogs, especially Cerberus. It was like the corgi didn't make decisions; he just... carried them out.

One second he was resting quietly in Cass's lap as she massaged his neck, and literally the next he was bolting out of her room.

Cass sighed, and raised herself off the floor. Maybe Alfred had just finished baking a batch of cookies. Or steak. Or cookie-flavored-steak-kibble. Whatever that dog had been eating to get so rotund..

She walked into the hallway just as Cerberus went galloping down the stairs. Pulling her hair into a short ponytail, she leaned against the railing and began sliding down the smooth banister...

...and nearly crashed into a small figure when she reached the bottom level.

[welcometoourbatcave]

"Cute" may not be the most appropriate term for you, young master Colin. I would rather use "handsome little devil." I do believe the joint combination of : and ) produce a smile of sorts. Ah, here we go. :)

Alfred Pennyworth to Colin Wilkes | Bat Tumblr