EightyMaiPie

[uhzzurago]

안경 벗으면 미소녀 슈퍼맨

[chaoticbatfam]

so turns out the batfam has accidentally and unknowingly been going viral, and not in the way you’d expect. Nope, their names aren’t even attached to it. Whose fault is this, you might ask? Bruce. Bruce, who has a social media page devoted entirely to shit his children do, and no one realizes that said children are Gotham’s princes and princesses.

Damian paints his room. He spends over two weeks on the murals. Bruce, walking in to ask Damian about patrol, snatches a couple pictures before he leaves and absently posts them. Within the week they’ve gone viral and people are asking for commissions, but Bruce never answers.

Jason’s been annotating his copy of pride and prejudice so hard that there’s more handwriting in the margins than actual text. Bruce thought it was adorable, so he posted a page. There are now literary professors asking if his son has been to college and if he would like to.

Steph and Cas wrote their own song on a dare from Dick. Bruce posts a short audio clip of it and his secretary has to rush to copyright it because people are using it as audio in All The Videos

Bruce doesn’t even realize what’s happening, really. He posts is ‘cause he’s proud, then pretty much doesn’t check the page again. It’s more a blog to him than anything else. He has no idea that he’s become almost an internet celebrity/cryptid. There are Reddit forums dedicated to the “dad with way too many fucking skilled children”. Some people say that there’s no way he has this many kids who are so good at things. Some people think he’s just one really crafty person posting a bunch of his own stuff and claiming to be a proud dad.

Tim Drake, resident Reddit Addict, is LOVING it.

Jason: *lugging a body down the street* dammit, someone took a pic back there. Fuck, this is NOT what I want to go viral for Tim: so being a Jane Austen fangirl was the better option? Jason: *trips* what—

[brucedefender4eva]

Bruce wakes up with the worst headache ever known to man, and all of his children are simultaneously in his room for some odd reason, which, as you can probably guess, does not help him in the slightest. Of course, it had to be today of all days, when he physically couldn’t tell them to shut up or redirect their chaos to something else.

Bruce lets out an inaudible groan as he hears Jason’s voice rise up to an indignant shriek, most likely protesting something that he most definitely did.

“Dickie.” Bruce’s voice crackles quietly, making Bruce wince. “Baby,” Bruce calls again, suppressing the cough that wants to rise up in his throat.

Dick, who is sitting next to him calmly (even though Bruce knows his firstborn is the person who most likely brought the chaos to his room so early in the morning), tilts his head. “Dad?”

“Take my card. Take your siblings. Go get breakfast somewhere, anywhere, and bring me back some food.” Bruce orders, trying to keep how miserable he was feeling out of his voice.

Judging from Dick’s face, he was failing.

“You doing alright?” Dick asked quietly, his eyebrow knit in concern, a look Bruce hates putting there.

“Yes, Birdie. Just a migraine.” Bruce reassures, reaching over and squeezing Dick’s hand lightly, and feeling the tension in his shoulders lessen just a millimeter from seeing Dick’s smile.

Dick rummaged through his bedside drawer, knowing exactly where he kept his wallet, and pocketed one of his many black cards. “Any meds you need me to pick up?”

Bruce tried to think and pull up a mental image of their medicine cabinet, but his head throbbed painfully, leading him to give up. “I trust your judgement.” He said simply, leaving it all in Dick’s hands.

Dick nods and squeezes his hand again, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, just like Bruce had done ever since he was a child and had his own migraines. “We’ll be back, and we’ll be safe,” Dick says.

Bruce knows a promise when he hears one.

“I love you.” Bruce managed to raise his voice enough so all his children could hear as Dick ushered them out of his room, and from the sounds of it, threw Damian over his shoulder.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile as there were murmurs of agreement and scattered ‘love yous’ back before his room was once again plunged into silence and darkness, one of his children turning the lights off just as his door closed.

It’ll probably be a good day.

[haveihitanerve]

Bruce always had trouble raising his voice at people. 

He had the words, all of them, his vocabulary was long and large and educated. But the words would get twisted up inside, curling and knotting in his throat until he could barely breathe, until he had to run, run far away, and let the words out in different ways. Usually through tears. 

Until he adopted a little eight year old orphan. 

Dick was everything Bruce wasn't. Loud and fun and rambunctious, he always knew what to say and how to say it. He always had the words. But sometimes those words got him in trouble. 

Bruce’s heart was beating a mile a minute when he got the call from the school. 

“Is Dick hurt? Is he alright?” He demanded, but the lady at the front desk merely ordered him to Dick’s classroom. 

His son was sitting on the floor, completely at ease, unharmed, but there was a tightness to his shoulders, a shadow in his eyes. 

Bruce knelt before his son, completely ignoring the teacher. 

“What happened?” He asked quietly, brushing Dick’s hair from his face. 

“I got angry.” Dick whispered, hands twisting in his lap. “She was saying things about my Mom, and Dad.” Dick’s voice was shaking. Bruce looked at the teacher. 

She smiled pleasantly, shaking her head. “No, Mr. Wayne, I was merely discussing with the children the intricacies of lower class versus upper class, and how some acts done by upper classmen are viewed as charity work and shouldn’t be taken seriously-” 

Bruce was standing before he knew what was going on. 

And that was the day he learned how to raise his voice. 

[broosepayne]

Evacuation

[shiny-snek]

hold on this is the third time I’m dying over thai post but

TWITTER FOR TEXAS INSTRUMENTS CALCULATOR Ti-84???????? JASON 😭

[heist-family-content]

8 year old Dick, sitting on top of Bruce's shoulders and giggling: Do I weigh anything to you?

Bruce, in his mid-twenties: No.

22 year old Dick, sitting on top of Bruce's shoulders with a mix of confusion, concern, and astonishment: Do I... weigh anything to you?

Bruce, in his early forties, slightly smiling despite his 4 hidden broken ribs: No.

[heist-family-content]

While Batman is the sternest mentor in the world because he has to be, Bruce Wayne spoils his children on a scale bordering insanity, and the only force on earth that can stop him is Alfred.

For all of the batkids, one of the most jarring aspects of being adopted by Bruce was the overwhelming whiplash between the utilitarian, practical "I've calculated exactly how many gummy bears you need and the answer is zero" vigilante they work with, and the endless shower of nonchallant gifts and praise that comes from their father the moment his mask is off.

When Duke casually mentions that he likes the baklava from that one Mediterranean bakery on 7th, Bruce has the bakery cater to their dinner table for a month. All Cassandra did was point at a sketchbook in a museum gala, and within two weeks, she had a fully equipped art studio in the west wing of the manor. Damian knows that all he has to do is gently tug on his father's sleeve and say "Baba, the electronics at the school are completely inadequate for my studies," and Bruce will pick him up and nod knowlingly, "Of course, Damian, I'll have Alfred drive you to Best Buy tomorrow."

No one in the entire Justice League has the gumption to try and quell this monstrosity. They sit helplessly as Nightwing interrupts a JL meeting and catches Bruce right before he slips into his Batman persona, innocently mentioning how sorry he is for barging in but he's just absolutely craving- and Bruce's credit card is already in his hand. Clark, once, tried to softly plead with Bruce to just not spoil the kids quite so much, and Bruce respectfully acknowledged his concern while actively wrapping Tim in eight heated alpaca fur weighted blankets. God help them when Steph wants a car.

Alfred is the only one who can restrain Bruce, but it's painful. "Master Bruce," he says in a firm, gentle tone, "Master Jason certainly does not require this many brand new motorcycle jackets," and Bruce just pouts- pouts, ladies and gentlemen- as he's actively sewing new patches onto an $1,100 leather jacket. "But he asked for it Alfred, and he never asks me for things, and I only got him eighteen of them, you know he runs through them so quickly..."

[uhzzurago]

바보세마리

[hannrum]

Cowboy superbat AU🫵

I love designing au fits so much and the cowboy au has been pride and joy fr.

The other designs are on my tiktok and insta but I might post them here too, gotta keep this active

[papayafromtv]

conversations overheard through the batkid com lines pt 1

Jason: yeah me and B are on ok terms now,

Dick: oh you guys are getting along-?

Jason: well we’re doing ok, I’m not mad at him anymore.

Dick: thought you wanted him to kill the Joker?

Jason: i did, but then like last week i went to the manor and i saw him smash the coffee machine with a hammer because it didn’t fill his mug enough; and i just don’t think he’d be a good killer.

Dick: *light wheeze* because he broke the coffee machine?

Jason: well it was just- *cracked grin* he gets- he gets angry, you know? and he’s not good at self control? like that machine did nothing and he just destroyed it. and i was just thinking about how, like, he decided that adopting kids was an acceptable thing to do, and now he has like eleven of us,

Dick: *silent cackles*

Jason: like he can’t see a kid without thinking ‘wonder if i can draft this one’. i think if we managed to convince him killing was ok it wouldn’t go well. he’d just keep doing it.

Dick: *through laughter* because of no self control?

Jason: yeah, like once he crosses that line he’d probably step over it at any minor inconvenience. he gets addicted and he gets mad at a lot of things.

Dick: so B shouldn’t kill?

Jason: no.

Dick: but you can?

Jason: well i- *wheeze* i have practice honing the rage, i don’t kill for stupid reasons. *pause* apart from that one time.

Dick, audibly amused: what time?

Jason: i sneezed and accidentially pressed the trigger.

Dick: *loud cackles*

Jason: i felt bad, man, like his cat was there-

Dick: *falls off his chair*

Jason: how are you this apathetic.

Dick: is that where Damian’s new cat came from?

Jason: it’s not like i could just leave it there!

Dick: i thought i saw trauma in it’s eyes. it had that wartime stare.

Jason: the blood spattered right across its fur. i had to bathe it.

Dick: Damian thinks it has anxiety

Jason: anxiet- dude it has more than anxiety, it has fucking PTSD-

Dick: *wheezes harder*

[uhzzurago]

크악

[chacarro]

Gotham media is collectively thirsty for Bruce Wayne.

This is an established fact. Magazines post yearly “Best Gotham Bachelor” covers with Bruce front and center, sleeves rolled up, shirt just tight enough to cause a city-wide spike in thirst tweets. He smiles politely. He waves. He completely misses the point.

But his kids?

Oh, the kids see everything.

—

Dick has mastered the art of photobombing paparazzi shots. Any attempt at a flattering Bruce Wayne candid is inevitably ruined by Dick, perfectly positioned in the background, dramatically fake-gagging or making heart-shaped gestures behind Bruce’s head.

"Don’t sexualize my father," he says cheerfully. "He’s too old to date."

"He’s forty-two," Jason points out, bored. "And loaded. They're gonna sexualize."

"No."

—

Jason officially joins the family, and he isn’t subtle. He doesn’t photobomb—he glares.

Paparazzi tremble under his stare. Journalists who ask Bruce about his dating life mysteriously lose their notes. Occasionally, a camera or three ends up “accidentally” broken. Steph calls it the “Jason Todd Protection Program.”

Bruce distantly remains confused as to why the local media keeps a twenty-foot distance whenever Jason’s nearby.

—

Tim weaponizes social media. The moment Bruce’s name trends with thirsty hashtags, Tim is there, flooding timelines with deeply embarrassing candid pictures of Bruce spilling coffee on himself, falling asleep mid-charity gala, or getting startled by pigeons.

It’s incredibly ineffective. Gotham’s thirst for Bruce Wayne skyrockets significantly whenever #BruceWaynePigeonIncident starts trending again.

They love a silly man.

—

Stephanie starts actual arguments in comment sections.

"That's my gfs dad you're talking about," she types furiously under a post titled "Bruce Wayne: Gotham's Hottest Billionaire."

When a random Gothamite responds with, "he’s literally hot though," Stephanie replies simply:

"Blocked, reported, told Batman."

—

Cass is silent and terrifying. She just stares. Directly into cameras. Directly into the souls of interviewers who dare ask Bruce about romantic relationships.

No one can maintain thirst under the soul-piercing gaze of Cassandra Cain. No one.

—

Damian simply starts calling the thirstiest journalists at three a.m. to give them long, detailed lectures about moral degradation and ethical journalism.

—

Bruce, oblivious, wonders vaguely why Gotham media’s latest headline is:

"BRUCE WAYNE STILL SINGLE: HIS CHILDREN DEMAND RESPECTFUL DISTANCE."

“Strange,” he mutters. “They’ve never cared before.”

Meanwhile, his kids exchange glances behind his back.

Gotham media can thirst all they want—but his kids are always watching. Always protective.

Their dad might not notice the world thirsting after him, but they do. And they’ve collectively decided Gotham needs to stay at least six feet away.

[ananasinus]

Bruce Wayne has been secretly joining all the tea parties thrown by the mothers in Dick's class. He just woke up yesterday with an injured child acrobat in the next room and he needs some guidance. So he's taking this on as part of his new routine. The ladies of the tea party? absolutely adore him.

Linda: Yeah, so I said "No, honey, you can't break the rules we've set. I have to keep my word and you have to keep yours." So I had to ground him for a week.

Bruce, writing down intently: And what did he say?

Linda, fully aware that she is raising the parent in this man: He got upset and slammed doors and threw a bit of a tantrum, but then that evening he apologized for his behavior and we cuddled on the couch and talked about our feelings.

Bruce: Oh.

(Fifteen years later, when Damian enters the academy, he is the head of the tea party and he is the one giving the advice. His children will never know.)

[thinkmarkthink-deactivated20250]

Clark: “How many kids do you have?”

Bruce: -tired sigh- “Biological or operational?”

Hal: “Operational?!”

Diana: “They multiply in the dark. Like shadows.”

J’onn, blinking slowly: “The little one threatened me with a sword because I said Batman looked a little bit emotional.”

Barry: “Okay but like—he is, right?”

Clark: “He absolutely is. I’ve seen him cry at dog commercials.”

Bruce: “We are done here.”

[thinkmarkthink-deactivated20250]

It starts with an alert in the Cave.

Not a villain. Not an Arkham breakout. Not even Gotham on fire.

Just:

[ALERT: CASSANDRA INITIATED PANCAKE PROTOCOL]

Everyone drops what they’re doing.

Dick swings in from Blüdhaven. Tim cancels a WayneTech board meeting mid-sentence. Jason, halfway into dismantling a gunrunner’s warehouse, leaves a sticky note that just says “Rain check. Family sht.”

Even Damian shows up. Scowling, but in pajamas.

By the time Bruce walks into the kitchen—bleary, still suited up from patrol—the griddle is hot, Alfred is already flipping, and Cass is at the counter making pancake faces with chocolate chips and blueberries.

One has a little bat symbol. One has blue, one has red—the whole deal.

No one says anything for a while.

Then Jason mutters, “She only does this when something’s wrong.”

Tim nods. “Or when Bruce looks like he hasn’t slept in four days.”

“Which is always,” Damian adds.

Cass just slides a plate toward Bruce. Pancake-Batman. The blueberries are frowning.

Bruce stares at it, then at all of them. And, without a word, sits down.

He doesn’t say thank you.

But he eats every bite.

[thinkmarkthink-deactivated20250]

A grainy video emerges online of Bruce Wayne in the Wayne Enterprises gym, lifting a steel support beam off the ground with the ease of a forklift.

“CEO strength 💪💰” the caption reads. It gets 3.2M likes in a day.

The theories range from “he’s juicing” to “WayneTech developed exoskeletons” to “this is CGI.” The correct answer (decades of trauma, sleepless nights, and lifting 180lb vigilante sons out of danger on the regular) is not considered.

Meanwhile, Bruce reads the article Clark writes about it for The Planet, titled “The Weight of It All,” and mutters, “You think you’re clever.”

Clark kisses his cheek and says, “You’re the strongest man I know.”

[thinkmarkthink-deactivated20250]

The Batkids have a theory: Bruce is weirdly normal when no one’s watching.

They set up a covert operation. Night-vision cameras. Cass in the ventilation system. Tim pretending to nap in the Cave.

They catch:

• Bruce petting the Batcow and calling her “ma’am”

• Bruce singing Sinatra softly while filing case notes

• Bruce staring at a picture of the whole family with the softest expression ever seen in Gotham

Bruce holding a shred of red cape to his chest

Jason deletes the footage.

They never speak of it again.