"Yeah. Thanks. Just what I need. Black lipstick."

"You're fucking with me." Tim blinks up at his uncle – and he's never seen his uncle in full armor before, not in person. It's kind of daunting. "Please tell me you're fucking with me, spawn."

"This is the fortieth time." Jason says, "Just to point that out. I'm not complaining, or anything."

tim drake’s snapchat is 90% him making bruce wayne do normal middle-class american things and filming the results.

"On the bright side," Dick says as he shimmies down the building, "You didn't raise a group of homicidal, raging, vengeful killers and sociopaths so much as you raised a group of emotionally-volatile, obsessive, spiteful vigilantes and paper pushers."

Hardison is 100% certain that there is no way Bruce Wayne could possibly be Batman. But maybe they should check it out, just in case.

Dick pulled a face at the new paperwork. “Why do we gotta lie on this stuff, anyway? People aren’t gonna know what I can do exactly when I’m Robin...” “But they’ll suspect,” Bruce answered, typing something on his computer. “This way, if they think Richard Grayson isn’t all that impressive of a metahuman, it’s more cover for Robin flying through Gotham.” “Hmph.” --- In an AU where small, token superpowers are common enough to have their own optional line on forms alongside name and age, it's totally coincidence for Batman to have picked up a circus kid capable of flight. And a tire thief with super strength. And a- well, alright, the pint-sized photographer with not-actual-invisibility makes for a pattern, but even so. (He still tells the Justice League he doesn't allow metahumans in Gotham, though. Somehow with a straight face.) Series

Maybe it was because he didn’t have time to read the gossip columns; maybe it was because he seriously underestimated the audience’s power to “Ship It”, but Bruce didn’t *immediately* cotton onto the fact that his scheme made half the country think that his son was in love with, well, his *other* son.

“Repeat that,” Tim says slowly. Kon gives him a defensive look. “I panicked, okay?” he repeats. “And ‘panicking’ meant you decided to kidnap . . . how many kids, exactly?”

"Crap!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!" Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from the kid that he is currently pinning into the street as said kid struggles underneath him. "'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer. . . . um. Whoops. "Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin. "Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before.