supersecretbatblog

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Brucie can Crash Out sometimes

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Being carried swiftly by mama

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“Bruce doesn’t know how to cook” “Bruce doesn’t make his own bed” have you considered the possibility that Bruce knows how to do all of those things but lets Alfred do them anyway because if he doesn’t, the whole Manor falls apart?

Bruce lets Alfred make the bed because after the close call with Killer Croc last night it’s either crisp folded sheets pressed to perfection OR Alfred goes deep into the Gotham sewers with a rifle, a belt of flash-bangs, and 30 years of unresolved overprotectiveness.

let the man cook. literally, please let him cook something.

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I need Dr. Damian Wayne except he’s literally just Dr. house. He’s constantly fed up with everyone’s bs and is popping advil like candies.

———

Tim: hey Damian, so great to see my FAVORITE brother ever!!

Damian done with ts: alright what’d you do this time?

Tim: *pulls cape back to show a gun wound* I was shot.

Damian: *sigh* why do I even try

———

Damian’s coworkers: so the patient is having sharp pains, fever, fatigue, and ulcers

One of the doctors: it could be-

Damian: if I hear you suggest lupus one more time I will hit you

———

Bruce: Damian what the hell are you doing?

Damian very obviously playing solitaire on his computer: hm? I’m working duh.

Bruce: I did not pay for ten years of med school for you to play solitaire

Damian: *side eyes bruce* you spend most your days dressed as a bat and solving jigsaw puzzles of cats

Bruce: touché.

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I know the popular take is that Jason responds to familial affection by going ew fuck you gtf off me or whatever but to be honest I think if someone actually tried it he's ending up weeping wailing face red sniffling coughing collapsing to his knees in the rain type of reaction just completely sopping pathetic. his eyes are so swollen he can't see shit and falls off a cliff

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lunch? lunch.

-

Bruce, packing lunch for his kids (+ the freeloaders), muttering: grape juice for cassie and stephanie, orange for dick...and i think damian likes mango more than apple now...

Alfred, getting up late since it was his day-off: master bruce? what are you doing?

Bruce, distracted: packing lunch. it’s been a while since the kids all spent the night here, so i figured i’d make them something special to celebrate.

Alfred, eyeing the hero-themed lunch boxes based on every kid’s favorite superhero: ...hm. and are you aware that they have already left?

Bruce: ye— what?

Alfred: master dick needed to go to work early, and the rest rode with him since they did not want to travel on public transportation today.

Bruce:

Bruce, looking forlornly at the food he spent hours making: oh.

Alfred: ahem, if i may suggest...

At the Watchtower

Flash: and. um. you made these?

Batman: *nods*

Green Lantern: is it poisoned

Wonder Woman: bruce would never do that, hal

Green Lantern, suspiciously: sure

Superman, holding up a superman-shaped egg, sobbing: i’m making this our family heirloom

Batman: maybe don’t do that

Martian Manhunter, munching on green oreos with red cream for eyes and purple for the cape: this is a wonderful creation. i must request for more, if you happen to make them again

Batman, not expecting them to like it so much: ...i’ll think about it

Green Arrow: *gently placing the octupus hotdogs of him and dinah together*

Black Canary: *takes a picture*

Aquaman: where is mine

Batman, not having the heart to tell him that he was not any of his kids’ favorite hero: joker stole it

At the Manor, hours later

Steph, heatbroken: you— you gave away our lunch boxes? that you made? for us?? to the justice league??

Bruce: well um, you see—

Damian, with actual tears in his eyes: baba...you know i look forward to those...

Bruce, panicking: oh habibi, i’m sorry

Dick, sobbing, rolling around the floor: I WANT MY LUNCH BOXXX

Bruce: i swear ill make you one again, just stop PULLING AT MY SHIRT YOURE THIRTY YEARS OLD

Cass: 😭😭😭

Bruce: 😟😟😟

Jason, having dropped his phone when he heard the news: i already missed out on years’ worth of lunch boxes...how could you do this to me dad?

Bruce, reluctantly tearing up too: jaylad, i’ll make you one everyday. i promise

Barbara: *eating the food her dad made her* you need to up your game bruce, youll lose your favorite adult privileges

Bruce, still beefing with selina for the title: it will be by your desk at 12

Duke: my parents would not approve of you starving me, bruce

Bruce: i just saw you finish five plates of pasta...

Tim, just coming home, hiding something behind his back:

Bruce: what’s that, tim?

Tim: nothing

Ace, sniffing behind him:

Tim: no, ace—!

Jason, screaming: he has a lunchbox!!

Tim, screaming back: it’s mine! i paid green lantern fair and square for this!!

Batkids: *begins to fight*

Bruce:

Bruce: kids, i can just make more...

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The Batcave has a “Do Not Talk To Me” couch. It’s sacred. It’s unspoken. It’s real.

okay so. picture this:

the batcave has one couch. it's in the corner. it’s hideous. it’s like beige or green or something equally offensive to every one of their aesthetics. no one likes the couch.

and that is exactly why it became sacred.

because one night jason just. drops onto it. full gear. bleeding. absolutely done with life. says nothing. doesn’t even take off the helmet. sits there in silence for 3 hours and then leaves.

next week tim uses it. sits there post-mission. face in hands. someone tries to ask if he’s okay and jason throws a batarang at them.

and thus it began.

Rules of the Do Not Talk To Me Couch:

You sit there? No one speaks to you.

You cry? No you didn’t.

You eat cold noodles off your chest at 4 a.m.? That’s sacred time.

If someone tries to comfort you? They are excommunicated for 12 hours.

Dick (sitting on the couch):

Damian: Grayson, are you—

Jason (from across the cave): HE’S ON THE COUCH.

Jason: I don’t make the rules.

Steph: You LITERALLY made the rules.

Jason: And I am the defender of the rules. There’s a difference.

one time damian storms in. covered in blood. absolutely furious. 10/10 rage goblin energy. throws his sword. marches to the couch. sits. arms crossed. steaming.

tim takes one look at him and goes: “i’m making tea.”

jason: “that’s acceptable. tea is allowed. talking is not.”

bonus:

once bruce sits on it.

and the ENTIRE CAVE goes silent.

tim literally freezes mid-typing. cass stops mid-flip. jason just mutters “oh shit.”

they all leave. immediately.

the couch is not ready for bruce.

extra bonus:

alfred vacuums around the couch. never says a word. leaves snacks in a silent offering. once placed a weighted blanket gently on jason’s shoulder. that’s different. he’s allowed.

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I refuse to let DC reboot their way out of a warped timeline. No explaining it away, lean into it.

Tim drake is a 90s kid. He is seventeen, he grew up alongside computers and listens to terrible rock rap. Jason, one year older than him, is from the 80s and the height of the AIDs epidemic. Dick, maybe six years older than Jason, is from the 40s. Babs, five years older than dick, is from the 50s. The year is 2025. Bruce Wayne has just turned 40.

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What a bunch of weebs RIP to Bruce's Yacht tho it did not make it home

Tip jar

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Being carried swiftly by mama

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Well, yes.

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Interviewer, catching Damian in costume: Robin! Can you explain the process of picking up Robin or passing on the mantle?

Damian, mildly annoyed at Bruce at the moment: It's quite simple. Batmam steals young children from their bed, usually nine or ten or so. Then he takes you to his lair and give you a deal.

Damian: If you can beat him in a game of your choosing, he will train you to be Robin. If you lose, you are eaten. I beat him in a classic fencing game. He's quite good with swords, but he wasn't very good with the sport itself.

Tim, standing next to him: Yeah, I beat him at a memory card game. I like totally cheated, but I'm too old for him to eat now, so ot doesn't matter.

Damian, nodding: Yes. The worst part of the job is disposing of failed Robins bones. He usually sucks them clean and leaves them all over the floor.

Tim: Yeah, its messy. But after you hit, like 15 he stops trying to eat you, so that's cool.

Damian: I have not yet reached 15. I'm still in danger. If you have more questions, ask Nightwing, as he was the first to avoid being eaten.

-

Same interviewer, at a different date: Mr. Nightwing. Is it true Batman tries to eat potential Robins?

Dick, who has no idea what she's taking about: Yeah, it's really scary. His jaw unhinges like a snake.

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Damian, with red puffy eyes: You too?

Tim, with red puffy eyes: *raises a brow* Yes?

Damian has severe pollen allergies. Tim was high.

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The Bat kids definitely all know each others' most embarrassing moments and leverage this knowledge mercilessly.

They have an unspoken rule that these stories never leave the family, but within Wayne Manor, everything is fair game.

Tim can't live down the time he sleepwalked into a Justice League meeting and gave a twenty-minute presentation on why hotdogs are basically a taco before anyone woke him up.

Dick is still haunted by the security footage of him practicing pickup lines in the Batcave mirror while wearing the Nightwing suit. ("Hey there, they call me Nightwing, but you can call me... anytime." finger guns)

Jason refuses to acknowledge the existence of his teenage poetry journal that Damian found and distributed to everyone. No one is allowed to mention the phrase "darkness of my bleeding soul" in his presence.

Damian pretends he doesn't know about the video of him baby-talking to a kitten for forty-five minutes straight while thinking no one was home.

Bruce has no embarrassing moments because he's Batman. Except for the time he got his cape stuck in the Batmobile door and dragged himself halfway across Gotham before realizing.

The only person with no embarrassing stories is Alfred, because Alfred has never done anything embarrassing in his entire life. He does, however, have a comprehensive file of everyone else's moments that he threatens to show at galas when they misbehave.

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I just realised how convenient it would be for Damian to become a doctor, because you can't convince me his siblings wouldn't use that fact for their own fun. They don't even need his medical services, unless it's something serious enough, they just barge into his workplace. They wait a few months for the sake of decency, just to make sure Damian has a solid reputation and the hospital administration isn't stupid enough to throw out a specialist like him, but then.

Jason, bursting into the hospital lobby, falling to his knees, screaming in agony with tears in his eyes: I NEED A DOCTOR.

The closest doctor, landing next to him, five nurses already pushing a gurney from afar: sir, how can i help you?

Jason, immediately stopping the infernal howls: not you. where's damian?

Doctor, flabbergasted: dr. wayne is unavailable right now. sir, let me assist you—

Jason, already getting to his feet: nah don't bother

Doctor:

—

LPN, opening the door to Damian's office: dr. wayne, I came to inform you that your last patient for today is ready for examinati—

Tim, putting packages of sterile scalpels from a glass cabinet into a comically large bag:

LPN:

Tim: ...you can deduct it from his salary

LPN:

—

Dick, lounging on a hospital couch: you still haven't told me how your date with Jon went

Damian, finishing his work day: because there's nothing to tell. i don't owe you anything, and i'm going home.

Dick, gasping: but you can't leave until your last patient is healed!

Damian: and i assume you're the patient in this case?

Dick: of course! a patient suffering from dreadful disease — a lack of information about the love life of his dear young brother! i need the best medicine at your disposal, dr. wayne

Dick, grinning: and you can't go until we're done

Damian, sighing:

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DONT TALK TO ME