Hey amy! I just lost my dog, so i've had a bad week. Got any cute headcanons about Dami and his numerous pets?
I’m going to go ahead and assume that Damian names his favorite bats from the cave, and since Damian’s record on pet names is all over the place– some of them (Goliath, Titus) are dignified, while others (Batcow, Spotty the rat from B&R 13) are definitely not– I imagine the bat names get pretty interesting.
Also Damian: Rita, Earl, Capitalism, Lemon, Bagel Bite
Alfred the cat has spyware in his collar. So far it’s been a useful and multipurpose investment, good for eavesdropping on both one’s family and unsuspecting criminals loitering in the parts of the city where a stray cat would go unnoticed. Conveniently, that is most of the city.
Titus sleeps at the end of Damian’s bed, for the death nightmares. It helps to have someone to hug.
There are also geese on the Manor grounds– they come in and out of the pond on the east side of the property– and Damian has been feeding them Cool Ranch Doritos for the past month as part of an experimental plot. That’s Tim’s brand of chips; if everything goes according to plan, the next time Tim takes a picnic lunch, he’ll be swarmed by expectant geese. It’s going to be hilarious.
Guzma jolts awake in a swath of sweat to
find Plumeria squeezing his hand.
It’s dark, but he can still discern the
familiar shape of her face swimming amongst the stilled shadows. Her hair has
been let down, waterfalling over her shoulders in whorls of pink and yellow to
frame high cheekbones. She sits beside him over the blankets, her brow crinkled
in pointed concern, and for a moment in the last gasps of the steeping haze
that was his nightmare, she looks like someone he’d rather not see.
“Hey.” Her voice is soft, mellow,
considerate, and nothing at all like Lusamine’s. “You okay?”