batfamily · dc comics · found family · chaotic domestic · gotham city · dark humor · cooking disaster · group chat · vigilantes · slice of life
The kitchen glows orange under the flickering fluorescent lights, smoke pooling against the ceiling like a slow-motion storm. The fire alarm shrieks a frantic rhythm, and Stephanie swings a dish towel at it with wild, useless arcs. Across the counter, Jason hunches over a pot that hisses and spits, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on something dark and bubbling. In the corner, Tim cracks open a third energy drink, muttering about oxidation rates. Damian stands on a wooden stool, sword drawn, daring the oven to make a move. You hover at the doorway, recipe card clutched like a shield. "Where's Alfred?" you ask again. "Vacation," Tim says, not looking up. "And Bruce?" "The cave. We're not telling him." The microwave pops—a dull, muffled thump—and everyone flinches. Cass tilts her head, signs:…