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incorrectbatfam · 2 days ago
Damian: Todd, where are you going?
Jason: Well, that depends, Damian. When I die again, probably Hell, but right now I’m going to the bathroom.
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incorrectbatfcm · 13 days ago
Damian: I've never actually been in a snowball fight.
Jon: Really?
Damian: I don't even know the rules. Is there like a point system, or is it... to the death?
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havenbrightknight · 8 months ago
Jason: If you get in trouble I’m gonna be like, a lawyer to you. Ok?
Tim: Yeah.
Bruce: Tim!!!!!
Tim: Yes B?
Bruce: Sit down on the chair. You’re in trouble.
Jason: (whispering) Deny everything.
Tim: [loudly] That isn’t a chair.
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solivigantkaiba · 4 months ago
I want more, Bruce " If I Can Still Carry You, You're Still My Baby" Wayne fics and fanart.
Me, now staring at this 100% canon BatDad fact : Ok Mr. Strong Enough to Routinely Bench Press a 2,000lb Maintenence.
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camsthisky · 2 months ago
"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?
“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”
“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”
Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”
“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.
“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.
Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”
Dick scowls. “The light.”
“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”
Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.
That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.
“Crap,” Jason breathes.
“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”
“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”
“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.
The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.
Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.
“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.
“Breathe,” Cass says.
Dick breathes.
He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.
When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).
On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.
“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”
Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”
Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”
They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.
With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.
(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)
While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”
Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.
Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.
Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”
Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.
“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.
Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”
Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”
“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”
“I am awake.”
“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”
The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”
“Not sure,” Cass answers.
“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”
Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”
“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”
“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”
Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.
Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.
Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.
When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.
“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.
“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”
“Huh,” is all Jason says.
“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.
“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”
“What do you remember?”
Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.
Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”
He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.
“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”
That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.
Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”
“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.
They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”
Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.
“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.
He only manages to come back to himself in increments.
There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.
“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.
As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.
Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.
He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.
“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”
“Why do they—”
“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”
“Enough. Car. Now.”
There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.
And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).
To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.
Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.
“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”
“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.
Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”
“How do you feel?”
Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”
“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”
Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”
“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”
“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”
Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”
“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”
“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”
Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.
“Then sleep,” Bruce says.
Dick sleeps.
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frostbittenbucky · 6 months ago
Bruce after catching his kids trying to build an indoor water slide on the stairs
Bruce: “they’re horrible. Absolutely awful, Alfred. What did I ever do to end up with kids who stress me out so much?”
Flashback to Alfred bailing 19 year old Bruce Wayne out jail after he smashed all the windows in a paparazzis car with a baseball bat
Alfred: “I have no idea, sir”
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not-back-to-this · 6 months ago
Tim: The problem with me is I have the depression of Eeyore the Donkey from winnie the Poo and the god complex of Gordon Ramsey and they're always fighting
Tim: I suppose I'll just have to live the rest of my life not knowing if I'm gonna wake up feeling on top of the world or wanting to throw myself in front of the batmobile
The rest of the Batfam: *Obviously Very concerned*
Jason: Cheers, I'll drink to that
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arsenalroyharper · 5 months ago
Damian: you won't die without coffee
Tim: no. But you might
Damian: FATHER! he's threatning me!!!
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ediwdsuperlover · 26 days ago
(I'm doing this because I just got my second dose of the vaccine)
Bruce: vaccinated doesn't wear a mask
Dick: vaccinated wears a mask but when he forget doesn't worry
Tim:vaccinated laughs at the nanochip theory wears a mask to avoid being thought as an anti-masker
Stephanie: vaccinated wears a mask for everyone to feel safe
Cassandra: mask and vaccine
Damian: vaccinated doesn't wear a mask unless he has to
Duke: mask and vaccine
Jason:mask and vaccine hands out mask to poor kids and helps the get vaccinated
Alfred: mask and vaccine
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havenbrightknight · 9 months ago
My favourite Batfam quotes as of right now.
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“You’ll never know if you can fly unless you take the risk of falling.” -Dick
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“There’s room in our line of work for hope too.” -Steph
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“I knew it. Napkin Man. He’s the worst.” -Dick, moments before disaster
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“Because we’re gonna play this “Bad Cop, Worse Cop.”” -Steph
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“Kill you Abraham Lincoln.” -Steph
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“Expecting to see a clown? Well, I’ve got one of those down here too.” -Jason
And of course...
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“Oh, my goodness gracious! I’ve been bamboozled!” -Jason
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bookobsessed1412 · 3 months ago
I read a Danny Phantom/Marvel fic where Danny was referred as a Tutelary/guardian spirit and that his very being is driven to protect people, and I came up with this idea.
Danny Phantom/Batman fic
As a guardian spirit, Danny is instinctively driven to protect people, especially the ones he claims as ‘His’. Something happens and he gets captured and tortured/experimented on/etc. for years by bad guys(the GIW? The Light?) until he’s gone pretty much feral and doesn’t trust humans anymore. He somehow manages to escape and ends up in Gotham where he sees the Batclan(who have good relationships with each other for the most part, though it took awhile to get there) and can instinctively tell that their good and that they protect, etc. and he decides that they are his now and he will protect them. He starts living in the mansion but he stays invisible cause he’s still wary of humans even if he has decided he likes them, and the batfam have like no clue what’s going on.
Addition: the feralness is due to brain damage making him fall onto his ghost core for thinking, thus leaning a whole lot more into his ghostly instincts and obsession. Normally this wouldn’t last long. His core has blueprint copies that it uses to regenerate the body, including the brain, extremely fast. However, his core is damaged as well and needs to heal before healing what is essentially considered something like an extension to itself by ghostly standards. Core damage takes a very long time to heal naturally. The ghosts have found ways to make the healing process faster, but Danny has no way of contacting the others to help him.
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just-evil · 13 days ago
Everyday I think about the fact that Damian would have lost both his front teeth and would have had a lisp... My day just gets better.
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myfriendsneedtostop · 26 days ago
Okay so could not tell you whether it's even canon or not (though I think it is) but you know how Cassandra got really into ballet because it's requires total focus on the body and she really resonated with it. And it's so lovely and awesome that she has that as her passion.
So surely she would have gone home and tried to teach her siblings what she was learning.
I just imagine that they'd all really enjoy it, learning to dance ballet for one (with varying difficulty, but you know they'd all end up being moderately competent if not really skilled(Damian would be fantastic at ballet I think)), learning it with their siblings, being taught by Cass (which I think she'd make fun), competing with each other and probably doing proper dances with each other. (Also it counts as training (they might have used this point to convince Bruce to join so they could challenge him to pirouette offs (is that a thing? who knows they made it one) Bruce was more willing to join in with his kids than he is ever allowed to show)
So yeah they end up having a great couple of months where the entire fam becomes obsessed with ballet. (does it hurt because none of them have used their feet muscles this way ever. Yes. Does this stop them. No.)
But it doesn't stop there.
So the entire Batclan are high achievers. Many of them may not have any tertiary qualifications, so may be highschool drop outs in fact. That does not matter. If they aren't one of the genius's, they are still pretty damn close.
Knowing multiple languages. Multiple doctorate/masters degree levels of expertise (without the Doctorates or Masters - yet) in obvious and peculiar areas. Multiple martial arts and weapons training. Many illegal skills. Their own differing interests which they somehow manage to be so invested in on so little sleep.
Anyway. Point is they are high achievers. Constantly learning, practising and exploring new things, for work, for night time work, for school, for friends, for fun, etc.
Why wouldn't they share them and try to teach some of them to their siblings?
So just the Batfam having regular bonding session where they just have fun learning a new code, voice throwing, clog making, constellations, how to spin a basket ball on your finger (they all try to use Hoods helmets, and it becomes more of a challenge the longer it goes on because he keeps getting more paranoid and putting better security in his safe houses to keep his siblings out), bottle flipping, toe painting, origami, bottle flipping, javelin, speaking backwards, play writing (more acting from most of them, when they decide to put on the play for Alfred, Bruce and Selina), etc.
The possibilities are endless!
Just the Batfam in their free time and family time getting hyper involved in learning the new thing presented to the family.
Competitions, shenanigans, becoming experts in really obscure stuff and bonding ❤
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