damian wayne dead

One crystal clear night when patrol was about to start, Jason whistled and signaled at Damian to come with him like his little brother was a freaking dog, then stole the Batmobile. The two of them bonded a bit over beating up bad guys, until the end of patrol, when he took Dami to arkham. Damian sat on the roof as Jason did something in the back, when he was done he started singing. Into a microphone. It was so loud the entirety of arkham could hear it. It took a while but he got Damian to sing some ‘jailhouse rock’ with him, the rest of the night they sang to arkham and screamed when they heard shouts of 'shut up’ and 'please leave!’ (Occasionally Harley’s cheers too) their misery fuels them, Damian’s never been so happy than to bond and sing with Jason, it gets his anger out and he gets to have so much fun bouncing around.

Steph found out about the late-night singing. She’s the only one who knows, so she joined in, naturally. They call themselves 'the dead robins club.’


The Dead Robin Club 2016: Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne

Artist: JBadgr


I drew this one last year, so why not do one for 2016? Grumpy teen!angst Dami is still grumpy as fuq. Hope you all enjoy! <33 Jess

Eh- eh– and none of this ‘technically derp derp didn’t die cuz canonical backtrack bullshit. They’re the dead robins club.Founding members. Membership card. Discount at local paper supply stores. 10% off gas. Member members.

“See?” said Damian. “I told you I heard footsteps. He didn’t go to sleep.”
Which was impressive enough, honestly, given the amount of pain medication that Jason had literally seen Tim take— he should have been out for hours. But what was even more impressive was the mess he’d made of his room.
Tim’s walls were papered with pictures and notes. There was barely any blank wall left, but extra pages were still spilling out of Tim’s printer. He’d run a spool of yarn through a set of thumbtacks, movie style, until it crisscrossed around the entire space in a spiderweb of connections— Jason had to duck underneath it to fit inside the door.
Tim was sitting at his desk, surrounded by stacks of paper and rolls of tape. He didn’t seem to notice either one of them until Jason tapped on his corner.
“Hey. Everything okay in here?”
“Shut up,” Tim told him. “I’m working.”
“Oh, that’s what this is,” said Jason, gesturing to the walls, “Work. You sure about that?”
“Obviously.” Tim pulled a sheet of text from one of his piles and moved over to the wall, searching for a place to hang it. He settled on an empty bit of space and tacked it on— Jason was pretty sure he was leaving tiny holes in the paint. Alfred wouldn’t be happy. “I’m making a network.”
Jason pointed to the center of the mess. “This is a picture of a slice of pizza.”
“I was hungry.”
“It’s connected to a drawing of me.” At least, Jason assumed it was a drawing of him— in reality it was a stick figure wearing an oversized red helmet, complete with tiny guns and “pew pew” written out beneath it, but Jason was willing to be generous.
“I was asking you to bring me pizza.” Tim said, like it was obvious, and he looked around his room like he was hoping Jason had actually brought him one.
“Oh, okay. So instead of texting me like a normal person…” Jason trailed off, waving a hand in Tim’s direction— Tim frowned at him for a few seconds, clearly concentrating, before he sighed and walked back to his desk.
“You’re right. I can do that now, if I can find my phone. Where did I put my—” He started digging through his piles of notes, knocking stacks of them off the desk. After twenty seconds of silence, Damian tapped out a text on his own phone and followed the tone to Tim’s mini-fridge. He pulled open the door: an alarming selection of Red Bull products and Tim’s cell phone, laying across the shelf. He passed it over to Jason with his text still on the screen (Just when I thought you could sink no lower).
“I can’t believe he’s the one that survived,” Jason told him. He was pretty sure it violated natural law. “This is embarrassing. Hey, Tim? You don’t have to text me. I’m standing right here.”
Tim was busy straightening out his yarn, so he didn’t answer.
“Just out of curiosity, how many of these things do you drink every day?” Jason pulled an empty can from the carpet and tossed it at Tim— it bounced off his chest and fell back to the ground. “More than one?”
“One. Five. I don’t know.”
“You skipped a couple of numbers there.”
“Hm.” Tim dropped his voice into an imitation of a GPS. “Recalculating.”
“Oh my god.” Really, Bruce? Jason thought. You replaced me with this? Whatever. Didn’t matter.
“Pass me the post-it notes.”
“Fine.” Jason grabbed the stack off Tim’s desk, read the top, and handed them over. “What is ‘Theseus’ supposed to mean?”
“The Court of Owls has a labyrinth beneath the city.”
“Why didn’t you just write that?”
“Because it’s a code.” Tim stuck his post-it to the corner of the pizza slice and wandered back towards his desk. “I don’t want Damian to read my stuff.”
“Okay, Damian is also standing right here.” Jason pointed behind him. “See? Try to focus. I really don’t think you want to start a fight right now.” Damian didn’t look mad— more amused than anything— but who knew how long that would last? Jason was surprised Tim could walk at this point. He definitely couldn’t defend himself.
“Damian?” Tim asked. He looked shocked, like he really hadn’t seen Damian before Jason pointed him out.
“You’re alive?”
“Yes.” Damian raised an eyebrow in Jason’s direction. “Really, Drake, try to— No. Drake no do NOT—” He tried to duck away, but he was too late; Tim grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into a hug.
For the first few seconds, Damian stood frozen in shock— mouth open, arms at his sides— and Jason was frozen too. Then he remembered that he was still holding Tim’s phone, so he snapped a picture and ran, out the door and down the hall, as fast as he could. He was halfway down the staircase when he heard a thud behind him (presumably Tim hitting the floor) and Damian’s steps on the landing.
But really, with that kind of lead, there was no way he could catch up.

for the anon that requested another round of Tim (very high) on pain meds

“bring ur lil brother to work” day is a lot less fun when he’s still trying to usurp ur position as ceo

(stop. filing. injunctions. brat.)

Dick and Dami
Jason and Dami
Steph and Dami
Cass and Dami
Alfred and Dami
Titus, Alfred the Cat, and Dami

Okay, so after four scratched stories, I’ve settled on something cute and fluffy and not complicated and multichaptered as @lexiconallie ‘s Christmas present. It’s very late; thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!! <333

Also, thanks to @minchen0897 for saying she liked it and I trust her so now I actually feel like I might have written something nice once again <33

Dead Robins Society

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and Damian is perched on a roof instead of celebrating at home

[Read on AO3]

“Okay kid, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back at the manor, celebrating?”

“I don’t like Christmas.” Damian shrugged as Jason sat down beside him on the roof top. “I have to be nice to everyone - including Drake.”

Jason knew a joke when he heard one. The little bean had been getting along with the family for quite some time now. He was a good kid but he did like teasing Jason. Rubbing his neck, Jason bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“Okay, fine,” Damian whined, not suppressing his own smile. “Tell me what you got him.”

Chuckling, he pushed his hands into his pockets, grabbing hold of the lighter inside. “Naa, you’re just gonna make fun of me.”

“Of course I will,” the kid amended. “It’s my prerogative as your younger brother, isn’t it?”

“Brother?” Jason grabbed the lighter tightly, glancing at the kid from the corner of his eyes.

Damian’s face was flushing, a faint dusting of red on his dark cheeks that wasn’t just from the cold. “You’ve been adopted into my family for years now, Todd. Get with the program.” After a beat, the kid huffed, straightening his spine and looking anywhere but Jason. “It has come to my attention that people give presents to those they care about during these holidays.”

“Astute observation, bean bag. What gave it away, the noisy TV ads or Pennyworth asking for your wishes since the season started?”

Keep reading


The Dead Robin Club: Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne

Artist: JBadgr


These three give me life. 16-yr-old Damian is not pleased to be a part of this photo op. I imagine he would be the tallest of the lot when he finishes growing.

**Edited colours

“Okay, so you’re dressed like me…what about guns?”

“B says no guns, so I brought….finger guns.


“The both of you are pathetic.”

“Yeah, but you’re still dressed like me!”

“Yeah, I could make this work.”

“Maybe, but you can’t out-fab me, the actual Batgirl.”

“You can force me to dress as Todd, but you cannot force me to dress in a girl’s outfit.” 

“I don’t actually care, D, because I got you back in that hoodie.”

“Tt. I don’t own a Batgirl hoodie.”


“Now this is my true costume!”

“This is so familiar, but so…not familiar.”

“I know right?”

“I miss my skirt.”

“I’m so glad there’s no more pixie boots.” 

a bunch of crap doodles about the Dead Robins Club wearing each others clothes. 

aka the continuing saga of Damian’s Batgirl hoodie.