#batman is sleep deprived

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

The Wayne boys most days without sleep before they finally crashed (two manage to beat out Batman)

Tim Drake - 12 days

Tim fidgets with his hands while staring at a wall.

Tim: All around the mulberry the monkey chased the weasel da da da da-

An alarm goes off a second later.

Tim: POP GOES THE WEASEL!

Kara, Kon and Bernard look on concerned.

Kara: Hey, Tim how long you been awake?

Tim, rocking back and forth: 288 hours.

Kara: 200 and what?

Kon: You've been awake for 12 days?!

Bernard: Again Tim?

Kara & Kon: Again?!

Bernard: I've seen it before.

Tim: Seen it before and I can go longer. The first record holder stayed up for 12 days. I can go longer. I can go longer. I can. Batman can't even do that!

Tim cackles rocking back and forth.

Tim: Coffee helps especially when you replace it with all other liquids.

Tim grabs a large cup of coffee as his hands shake vigorously.

Bernard, rubs his boyfriend's back.

Bernard: Timmy, let's take you home okay?

Tim: Home, no home. I fall sleep. Sleep for the weak... Did you know if you look at the walls long enough, new people appear.

Tim waves, laughing nervously then tenses horrified.

Tim: Their face is contorting again!

Bernard: Let's take you away from the scary... Invisible person and get you home to rest.

Bernard takes Tim's hand and takes him out of the Dunkin donuts.

Kara: I could not handle dating a batkid.

Kon nods.

Kon: I dated him for a while, I agree.

...

Dick Grayson - 18 days and 15 minutes

Kori and Beast Boy walk into the titans living room. Raven is meditating.

Kori: Where's Dick at?

Raven: Outside counting blades of grass.

Kori: Counting blades of grass?

Beast boy: Oh Jesus, has he been staying awake for days at a time again?

Raven nods with her eyes closed.

Raven: He'll crash at any second, but he thought being outside with the sun would 'revitalize' him.

Beast Boy: That's not- I'll be back.

Beast Boy goes outside where Grayson is actually counting blades of grass. BB walks over to him. He taps his foot. Grayson looks up, his eyes widen and one twitching.

Dick: Hey- Hey- Hey buddy. Did you know we have one hundred thousand blades of grass. I- Did you change colors?

BB: What color do you think I am?

Grayson squits his eyes.

Dick: Blue.

BB: All right we're on that color, how long you been awake for buddy?

Dick: I stopped sleeping last Wednesday... Then a week passed... Then another, that was 14, now it's Saturday of the second week.

Beast Boy arms crossed, sighs and walks off to re-enter the tower.

BB: 18 days this time.

Beast Boy walks away as Kori is shocked.

Raven: He's surpassing the world record holder. Also his brain might be dying.

Kori: Might be?!

Raven: He's a batkids, their brains are made of steel or something.

Kori: I have one trick that usually knocks him out-

Raven: I know it's sex.

Kori, giggles: Yes, but he falls asleep on top of me every time.

Raven sighs shaking her head while Beast Boy leaves the house with a water bottle.

Beast Boy: Right, I'm going to give him this sleep juice Alfred sent us. He says it knocks them out in a few seconds.

Raven: Smart choice.

Beast Boy: Thanks.

...

Jason Todd - 4 days

Jason: I can't sleep.

Roy: How long have you been awake?

Jason: About four days. Man I tried to go to sleep, but my body physically won't let me sleep!

Roy: Well you have been drinking Red Bulls every other hour. You're too focused on the mission. Just go to sleep.

Jason shakes his head while rocking back and forth.

Jason: Can't sleep... Won't sleep... No sleep.

Roy thinks about a way to get him to sleep then smiles.

Roy: You know you're becoming just like your dad. That's good, he can go six days without sleep, maybe you'll-

Jason stands up and goes to another room, closes his door and falls into his bed to sleep.

Roy: Works every time.

...

Damien - 1 day

Damien: I don't want to go to sleep! No!

Damien kicks his feet as Bruce drags him to bed.

Bruce: Nope, you stayed awake for 24 hours. That's it. Go to bed!

Damien: You're so unfair!

Bruce: You're not depriving yourself of valuable sleep- Alfred shut up!

Alfred, who is reading a book about sleep disorders, smirks and then walks away.

[maybe-in-another-universe]

i hear your constantly sleep deprived tim drake. allow me to raise you one sleep deprived BUT prone to napping/passing out tim drake.

after a 72 hour mission, with no sleep, tim finishes up his report at the bat computer, stands up, takes three steps to the left, and curls into a ball on the floor and sleeps right there. Bruce finds him and moves him to somewhere more comfy.

alternatively, when he’s stressed and doesn’t want anyone to bother him, Tim finds the most inconvenient, out of sight place to nap so he can get back to work once he’s done. unfortunately sometimes he gets caught.

Jason: Why is Tim in the tea cabinet?

Dick: He’s tired, leave him be. I think this is the first time he’s slept in like two days.

———

Damian: Father, why is Drake currently unconscious in the cave under the medical gurneys?

Bruce: He likes it there.

———

i just like the idea that the family just rolls with it and accepts it as one of his many quirks. maybe even young justice gang gets in on it and is like oh yeah that’s tim for ya.

[rainpunk07]

hear me out, danny speaking russian (dc x dp hc)

so i was just watching a video about space, right? allegedly, turns out if you (an american) wanna board the international space station you must speak russian fluently since the only way to get there is by a russian shuttle and pilot (nasa apparently ended their own shuttle program way back when??) (don’t quote me on this)

so picture danny learning russian at a relatively young age for the sole hope of going to space and such, and it coming out every once in a while when he’s mumbling or something like that (it’s basically second nature to him)

so danny ends up at gotham for whatever reason (demon twins, reveal gone wrong, idc, they’re all cool) and he wants to start anew, so he pretends to only speak russian?? ig?? it’d make for some funny/interesting BatFam interactions i suppose

i don’t know where i was going with this but i want to read prompts of danny speaking russian

[theaceofarrows]

The Justice League meeting Jason for the first time

Robin Jason: Come on, you egg sucking piece of gutter trash! You like pushing people around who are smaller than you? Well, I'm smaller. Try pushing me!

Lex Luthor: What did you just call me?! Egg sucking-

Robin Jason: [launches all 4ft of his feral self at Lex]

Superman: Uhh, should we help him?

Batman: [shakes his head]

[Jason running circles around Lex while mocking him]

Wonder Woman: Are you certain we shouldn't assist him?

Nightwing: Nah, don't worry he's fine. He just has a case of crime fighting zoomies to work out

[Jason, knocks Lex down after throwing as many smokebombs and batarangs as he can]

Jason: Learn your place you Mr. Clean looking B-lister lump of trash!

Everyone other than Batman and Nightwing: ...

Green Lantern: I really like this little dude! Let's keep him!

[robinsleeping]

Tim “the cowl ages me 20 years” Drake

[frownyalfred]

one of the Batfamily's protocols for someone going suddenly evil actually is what they jokingly call a percussive reset (slamming the evil person's head into the wall just hard enough to scramble any potential mind control but not enough to cause serious brain damage) and Bruce absolutely hates that they call it that. does that stop him from doing it? absolutely not, but he tends to default to throwing an explosive device close to the evil person's head instead (make that brain jiggle like Jell-o) and plays it off as a "distraction." this is step 6 on his potential mind control protocol/checklist, immediately preceding step 7 (calling Diana) and step 8 ("this isn't you, don't do this").

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 41

Hear me out, DP and DC crossover where Scarecrow is cousins with the Fentons. 

 His mother was siblings with Jack’s father, and both Jazz and Danny met ‘Uncle Jonathan’ during one of the many Fenton-Nightingale family reunions that happens every few years. Honestly, perhaps it’s what gets Jazz interested in psychology, hearing from her ‘uncle’ about fear and its effects.

 And honestly once they start having to deal with ghosts and having had to deal with their parents for years it’s not really hard to talk with their uncle. Crane still doesn’t know how he became these kids’ favorite uncle, or even all of the family kids’ favorite uncle-cousin, but that’s just how the family is. 

 Really he’s not even the only villain of the family, with both Jack and Maddie being close but not quite, even if they’re definitely mad scientists. Their son becoming a local hero, even if they’re not aware of that fact, is just ironic. 

 John knows. The two kids told him when they found out that Danny may or may not need to feed on fear now that he’s half ghost, and well he’s the specialist about the emotion so…

 At least they have someone to stay with when Jazz goes to Gotham university and brings Danny with her, even if the local vigilantes are concerned as to why Scarecrow attacks have suddenly took a nosedive…

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

ya know what i think a better (let’s be honest i mean funnier) version of jason’s attack on the titans tower would be? if tim had already somehow figured out who the red hood was and instead of jason wearing that god awful robin costume he just came as red hood.

tim (playing along with the drama of it all): who are you??

jason: i’m the red hood

tim: close enough welcome back, jason todd

jason:..what?!

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

Bruce: There’s my little babies!! Do you guys want some cookies?? I love you all so so much!!

Bruce’s children, covered in blood and all holding multiple weapons that are also covered in blood: Yeah!

[firerose18991]

College is kicking my ass, have a batfam:

Jason:  (on the stairs) And if I'm lying then may the devil himself strike me down.

*immediately trips and falls down screaming*

Bruce: *un bothered, reading a book* Stop summoning things the mansion is haunted enough.

Duke:  Haunted? *eye roll*

Bruce:  Half my family is buried in the backyard. Of course this place is haunted.

[bruciemilf]

I wonder how many times Clark and the batkids + Alfred revived Bruce with the Lazarus Pit and just never told him abt it

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Six days without sleep?!

Apparently in the comics it's explained that Bruce Wayne makes up for lost hours by ‘micro sleeping’. Which isn't recommended for normal humans… I honestly think Superman needs a proper sleep.

I headcanon that he goes days without sleep and then crashes randomly (usually Alfred spiking his drink sleep meds so he can get some good sleep) and sleeps for like eighteen hours and pretends he didn't fall asleep at a stop sign.

Superman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern are waiting at the Justice League headquarters for Batman to enter. They have planned an intervention for the man.

Wonder Woman (checking her phone for a text): He'll be up here soon.

Superman: All right, when he comes in here we have to be understanding and not attack him.

Green Lantern: We're like that to him almost all the time. He will threaten us with a contingency plan for the most minor critique. He just weaves it into the conversation at random.

Wonder Woman (nods): He's not wrong. He told Aquaman he'd use plan 50 on him because the man told him to sit down to rest his injured leg… Such a cruel and strange contingency plan.

Superman: That was weeks ago. In the past, we just have to talk to him calm and kind because he's our friend.

Green Lantern: Co-worker.

Superman: Friend! A friend intervention is what he needs. He'll hear us out.

Hal (Green Lantern) shakes his head with doubt. The elevator door opens and Batman walks out.

Superman: Hey buddy, pal ol mine. How you doing?

Batman slowly turns to Superman.

Batman: I'm not going to sleep!

Superman: How did you know we were going to ask that?

Batman: Because you've asked it… two hundred times in the past. I'm fine... my body is stronger than your fortress of solitude!

Wonder Woman: You're really not fine. You poured coffee on your hand yesterday.

Batman: That was a simple accident... that woke me up when I did it.

Green lantern (frustrated): Dude, you have been awake for SIX days! Your mind has not had one minute to rest, you have a stream of consciousness that hasn’t been turned off and- Batman!

Batman has stared off at the side as he silently zones out. Wonder Woman claps her hands in front of Batman’s face snapping him back to reality.

Green lantern: You should not be alive! How the actual hell are you alive?

Batman: Simple answer… I am built different from all of you! I can go months without sleep if I want to! I am the strongest one here and...

Batman steps back, blinks and falls to the ground.

Superman: Oh my God!

GL (expecting this): Give him five seconds.

Five seconds pass. Batman springs to his feet.

Batman: Blacked out for a second... Where was I? I can withstand months without sleep cause I am the one!

Superman (shocked): What the fuck was that?!

Batman: What was what?

WW: You just fell unconscious for like five seconds!

Batman: It was five this time? Nice.

GL (crossing his arms with a smirk): Guys, he’s right we should just leave it alone.

Superman: What the heck are you talking about?

GL: I’m speaking for Batman, cuz clearly the dude is showing us that he has the will power, the machismo if you will, to take micronaps and wake up with ease. Ain't that right, Batman?

Batman's head dip down as he stares at the floor. Wonder Woman walks over to him and claps her hands in his face again. His head shoots back up.

Batman(exhaling): Yup, yup, yup! I'm going to go outside and get sunlight. I'll be back!

Batman runs out of the room taking the stairs.

Wonder Woman and Superman glare at Hal. He chuckles with a shrug.

Green Lantern: I told you he wasn’t going to listen. At least he didn't bring up a contingency plan although the zoning out he’s having is definitely affecting his critical thinking.

Wonder Woman: Astute assessment.

Green Lantern: Thanks, dude.

Superman groans.

Superman: How are we going to fix this. I can’t let my best buddy go insane or worse.

Wonder Woman: You realize your friendship with him is one sided and he sees you as a colleague?

Superman: Not true. Not true. Our sons are friends so that means we are friends.

Wonder Woman rolls her eyes.

WW: Back to the main point, what are we going to do next?

GL: Not worry about it? Yeah, that. He's about to crash at any second.

Arrow runs into the room frantic.

Arrow: Batman just fell down the stairs and is knocked out!

GL: And there's the crash. I'll drag him back up.

WW (raising her eyebrow): You've dealt with this, haven't you?

GL: Duh. I’ll be back.

Wonder Woman turns to Superman.

WW: Unaware your buddy has a shut down eventually?

Superman (sheepishly): It may have escaped my mind.

[deadsetobsessions]

Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

[violent138]

Clark: "Huh, I wonder if Barry's okay, he looks a little down."

Bruce: "There was a chain of custody error with some DNA evidence in a case he worked for three months and it's probable that the killer will go free."

Clark, smiling a little: "Right, you spoke to him. You know, Bruce, that's so--"

Bruce: "Don't be ridiculous, you don't think I keep tabs on all of you?"

Clark:...

Clark, breathing in deeply: "You know I have superhearing, right?"

Bruce: "I considered that, and it would be unfair for me to ask you to keep tabs on all of--"

Clark: "So that means I heard you ask Barry earlier today, I don't know why you lied about that."

[theaceofarrows]

Red Hood: [punches Riddler goon]

Red Hood: Call me boughs of holly, the way I be decking peoples halls

Batman: Hood-

Nightwing: Call me Christmas cookie, the way I be looking like a snack

Batman: Nightwing-

Nightwing: [kicks another goon before striking a pose]

Batman: I thought asked you both not to say that on patrol

Red Hood: You did

Nightwing: But Spoiler had a very strong argument on why we should say it

Batman: Which was?

Red Hood: She said "but it would really annoy Batman If you DID say it"

Nightwing: So obviously, we had too

Spoiler: [whose recording everything] Smile for the camera boys! This is about to become the most viewed piece of footage at the Watchtower!

Batman: [under his breath] this is why I tell everyone I work alone

[robinsleeping]

Tim Drake once said:

(Part 2)