AN: Hey guys! These are some shorts that I started writing, and I want to know which ones you guys are interested in so that I can make them into full length stories. Please review and list the numbers of the shorts you think are worthwhile. This will make writing a lot faster because I'll know what to focus on. Thanks so much!

UPDATE: Prompt #3 Chapter 1 is posted! It's called "Time is a Real Killer." Go check it out and let me know what you think!

As I publish stories with these prompts, the prompts themselves will be removed from this document.

Not in any order pertaining to time or canon and some AUs.

#1. "You aren't listening to me! You never listen!"

"Damian, you cannot and will not go on patrol tonight. If you continue to argue I'll extend it to tomorrow night as well."

"But why, Father? You never tell me why! I've been good, no detentions, my grades are where they should be, and I haven't argued with Drake in three days!"

#2. Damian was at the limit of Tim's tolerance. The little demon was living up to his nickname even more than usual by relentlessly destroying Tim's things and playing numerous cruel pranks. Tim's orange juice had been mixed with laxative, there was a bucket of stinging jellyfish above his door (fortunately deftly avoided; how did he even get those?), and finally there were knife blades hidden in the seat of his car.

Then Tim came home to his destroyed, sopping wet laptop, with the pieces scattered all over the lawn. "DAMIAN!" he roared, swearing he could hear an evil snicker somewhere in the vicinity.

Dick jumped as Tim slammed open the door to his room. "If you don't get rid of him, I'm leaving."

His older brother looked up, startled. "Tim, what?" He sighed. "What happened this time?"

#4. Stephanie tucked herself into the smallest, darkest corner she could find. Dinner parties were awful, especially the Wayne Foundation ones.

#5. Bruce stood, unmoving, in front of the cave's gym doors. He stared down his son, hoping to deter him from once again training himself into the ground.

As Damian approached, Bruce took a breath, readied himself for extensive argument, and said, "No."

"Father, I need to train!"

"Killing yourself every day in the gym does not qualify as training, Damian. You want to exercise? Fine. Go outside and play fetch with Titus."

Damian crossed his arms and Bruce knew that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Damian, you're hurting yourself. And no one hurts my sons, including themselves."

"You don't understand!" Damian yelled and threw his hands up in the air. "I wasn't good enough, and I strive for that to never happen again."

Bruce's concern shifter from his son's physical well-being to his mental. "Dick's death wasn't your fault," he tried to say consolingly, but it came out like more of a command.

"It was an error on my part that will not be repeated. Now move out of my way or I will be forced to use physical coercion."

"Damian-"

#6. "Don't...don't leave. Please. I need you."

"You don't need me Damian, you've proved that a thousand times over. Haven't you always claimed that I'm incompetent and undeserving of your respect?"

Damian winced.

#7. "Damian, MOVE!" Just as the boy looked up, his world went black.

He came to with a groan, then a curse as he recognized his predicament.

#8. "C'mere kid."

Damian darted into his brother's arms and curled up into a ball. Dick ran his hands through his little brother's hair, murmuring softly as he did so. "I love you so much, D. Don't ever forget that. Even if we're fighting, even if you feel like the world is against you, if you need me, I will always be there for you. Don't bottle it up inside like Bruce, or else you'll end up hurting yourself."

Damian burrowed deeper into Dick's embrace, unwilling to face the world just yet. The two were silent for a few minutes.

After a while, a small voice piped up, "But what if you're not here?" Damian looked up with uncharacteristically big eyes. His cheeks were damp, Dick realized. Damian had never looked more like a 10 year old child than he did right now.

Dick looked at him sadly, then pulled him back into another hug. "You're strong." he said simply.

#9. What hurt so much? Pain, pain, pain...but no. Pain is weakness. Damian was not weak. His mother made sure of that. But the pain...he couldn't focus, couldn't think. It was everywhere. In his right leg, ribs, back, but especially his head. The world was fuzzy and nothing made sense. Then suddenly, a dark figure loomed over him. Damian shot backwards, scrambling over the...rubble? There was an explosion...JOKER! Damian's mind came speeding back to the present. Images flashed by as his brain caught up with the rest of the world. He looked up, seeing a familiar cowl. "B'man?" he slurred. "You came f'me."

Batman gently picked up his battered protégé and whispered, "Of course."

The Batmobile sped into the cave, still in motion when Batman jumped out with Robin in his arms. "ALFRED!" he roared. The butler came quickly down the stairs, age not seeming to be a factor in his speed.

"Definitely fractured ribs, probable concussion, a stab wound in the lower right thigh, and Leslie is on her way here."

As Dick lay Damian quickly but carefully on the med-bay bed, he looked up at Alfred. "I thought he was dead." He moved away from his brother and Alfred took his place, efficiently hooking Damian up to several machines. "I mean I know there was nothing I could do but I just keep thinking that if I had accepted Tim's offer of a duel patrol tonight, or sent a message to Barbara, or made him stay home, I knew he wasn't feeling well, and I-" By this time, Dick was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands and starting to hyperventilate.

#10 "Leave me alone Todd! I do not require your assistance!"

"Look Demon child, I'm not doing this for you. I owe Dick, so just shut up and let me help." Jason carefully removed the child's bloodstained hands from the bullet wound in Damian's shoulder.

#11 The gun's safety clicked off. "Damian, I will not ask again. I was willing to keep Grayson alive only because he was your father's choice of successor, but his usefulness is beginning to run out. Soon you will be old enough to take the mantle, and we will no longer need the stand-in. So, I need an answer and I need it now, or he will die."

Damian's eyes flicked from his mother to his mentor. Grayson looked at him with fear in his stricken blue eyes. Not, Damian knew, for Grayson's own safety, but for the safety of his Robin. Damian mentally reviewed his options: fight back (which would probably kill Grayson) or comply (which would mean the end of his partnership as Robin).

He wouldn't risk Grayson's life for his own. Not now, not ever. He was the only one who gave Damian a chance to have a real family, to be loved for the first time in his life.

#12 "Talia, don't do this. You're not just hurting me, but you're hurting our son as well." Bruce was furious, but he kept his emotions under control as he tried to reason with the proud, obstinate Talia al Ghul. He wouldn't allow her to take Damian away from him. Losing another Robin, even if it wasn't to death, would still be unbearable.

"I don't think you understand, Beloved. I am taking Damian and returning him to the life where he belongs. In time, he will acquire the League of Assassins and take his rightful place as leader. I would rather you not resist me; I would hate for this meeting to turn bloody, but I will not hesitate to make it so." Talia leveled her head at Bruce, daring him to argue further.

Bruce knew she wasn't bluffing. He had detected her hidden ninja in the room the minute he entered.

#13 "I fail to see the point of these asinine activities." Damian picked up the dripping spoon out of the half-melted ice cream carton and stared at it in disgust. "This sugar filled container of diabetes will surely kill you within the year. Not that I'm complaining about you eating it, but I will not partake in an activity that will jeopardize my effectiveness as Robin."

"C'mon Lil' D, lighten up!" Dick grabbed his spoon from the carton, licked it, and sighed with content. "Ice cream solves all the world's problems!"

#14 Damian swallowed. "Batman, what is going to happen to them?"

Dick put an arm around Damian's shoulders, trying to comfort his protégé. "I don't know, Robin.

"They can't go back to the detention center!" Robin looked at Batman, a little frightened. "Right?"

"Some people," Dick began, "feel that these kids don't deserve a second chance at life. Others aren't willing to contribute funds to get them out of places like the Center. These kids don't have anyone who is willing to help them out. That's why it's up to you and me to stick up for them."

"So what is Batman going to do?"

"You'll see."

#15 "C'mon Damian, it'll be fun! We'll eat cotton candy, meet the clowns, and pet the elephants!"

"You and your stupid circus," Damian scoffed. "I have no wish to participate in such activities." He crossed his arms, and along with the petulant look on his boyish face, he looked exactly like a miniature Bruce.

#16 His head pounded. The world spun. Concentration was nearly impossible. Yet Damian pushed through his discomfort because it was expected. Talia did not accept anything but the best from him; she never had. Sickness was frowned upon in the League of Assassins. Sickness meant weakness and weakness meant death. Besides, Damian was engineered to ensure his strength and perfection, and he never became sick. Except when he did.

#17 The cave was dark and silent, reflecting the mood and actions (or lack thereof) of the four heroes plodding back from their nightly patrol. Tonight had been especially grueling; shutting down mob boss and million dollar drug dealer Bugsy Fowler was taking more time than any of them had previously anticipated. As days passed, more and more innocent civilians at the wrong place at the wrong time met unfortunate ends. Bugsy destroyed anyone who got in his way. Even with Tim and Bruce putting their heads together (arguably the most intelligent people in Gotham), progress was minimal. Dick and Damian helped where they could, but neither possessed the sleuthing skills of Bruce or Tim. The injuries had also increased, both in number and severity. Broken ribs became as common as paper cuts and concussions as bruises.

Damian was sporting a black and blue shiner on his right eye, courtesy of a baseball-bat-wielding goon. Alfred had recommended at least a week off patrol for the concussion that accompanied it, but with Damian being Damian, he was in training the very next day. The most important thing was apprehending Bugsy and ending his reign of bloodshed and murder; trivial hurts could wait.

#18 For a moment, it seemed all of Gotham was silent. Then everything blew up at once.

Robin swung into action after Batman, aiming for a group of gun-wielding thugs. He came down hard, immediately knocking one man out and pivoting gracefully into a left hook, catching another directly on his nose. He ducked under a baseball bat and swept a leg into the knees of the thug with the bat, causing him to fall on his face.

The gang was at least 20 strong. More than half were armed with guns, and constant fire rang out in the alley. Batman was a dark force in the shadows, taking thugs out swiftly and silently. Robin pounced on the last remaining gang member, taking him down with a flying kick to the chest followed by a knockout blow to the head.

Robin straightened and turned towards Batman. "That was almost too easy. It seems there are no longer any worthy opponents-" A shot rang out and Robin immediately somersaulted into the shadow of a nearby building. Batman crouched in front of his partner, whipping a batarang towards the head of the sniper on top of the building opposite, knocking his gun down into the center of the alley.

The sniper turned and ran, a smart decision considering the fate of his friends at the hand of t Batman and Robin. Batman turned towards his brightly-colored boy, deciding the health of Robin was more important at the moment than the arrest of the sniper.

Robin had remained in a crouch from his roll into the shadow of the dingy apartment building. Half of his face was hidden in shadow, and the other visible half showed a tightness around his eyes. He stood with a slight grimace and a hand on his right shoulder. Blood seeped from beneath his green glove, dripping onto the pavement.

"I am alright Batman. It is a light graze, nothing that requires immediate treatment." He met his father's eyes. Batman returned his gaze, the two faces eerily similar in look and intensity. "If you think you're going to get away with an unexamined gunshot wound, you obviously don't know me very well."

Robin rolled his eyes and stared to walk back to the Batmobile.

"Robin, stop. If you wish to continue patrol, you must let me see your wound."

Robin froze, considered his options, and stomped back over to Batman, rarely acting his youthful age. He thrust his arm out for examination. "See? It is nothing worthy of note."

#19 "We don't quit, Grayson. Life may become unbearable and the entire world may explode, but we never give up." Damian glanced up at the Batcave computer screen, staring for a moment at the blinking red word 'deceased' that appeared next to 'Bruce Wayne.' Returning his gaze to his brother, he said "Robins don't quit. You taught me that."

Dick stayed curled in a fetal position, finding comfort in burrowing into Batman's large chair. E stayed silent and uncharacteristically still.

Emotions fought for dominance on Damian's face as he struggled to remain stoic and unaffected. He had just lost his father in body and was beginning to lose his brother in mind. As an al Ghul, he was prepared to sever any and all emotional ties to survive. As a Wayne, however, humanity was constantly breaking down the strong al Ghul barriers.

Damian shook himself and worked to focus on the present.

#20 "Ughhhh…" Wally groaned and banged his head on his notebook. "This-" Bang. "-doesn't-" Bang. "-make-" Bang. "-any-" Bang. "-sense!" Bang.

Dick snickered from across the room. "Still having no luck with antiderivatives, huh? Want some help?"

Wally's head shot up and he forcefully jabbed his pencil in Dick's direction. "NO. I know you're a friggin' math genius but I am going to figure this out myself if it kills me." With renewed energy, Wally sat up straight, cracked his knuckles, and wrote 1. on his paper.

"Ok snack break!" There was a sudden gust of wind, and Wally vanished from the room. Dick rolled his eyes and went back to his advanced calculus.

Not even two minutes later, a high-pitched beeping sounded from Dick's cellphone. He hopped up and jogged over to the stairs yelling, "Walls! B needs up downstairs!"

Wally yelled back from the vicinity of the kitchen, "I'm already downstairs!"

"No, you idiot, downstairs downstairs!"

"Ohhhh…"

#21 "That R represents so much more than me, than Jason and Tim. It's a symbol of light, of strength, of tragedy, of renewal. Robin so many things, Damian. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you'll understand what it means to wear that uniform. Until then, you're off active duty."