I am no longer affiliated with the Bat Tumblr Roleplay, however, I am keeping this account as an independent, freelance Batman Roleplay blog.

*Sigh*

certifiednutzo:

Oh hey school starts soon. I’m gonna be the best damn counselor those kids will ever have.

Heck I might even make a difference in the little brats lives.

This is a terrible idea.

gentlegingergiant:

sonofcrimealley:

gentlegingergiant:

sonofcrimealley:

gentlegingergiant:

sonofcrimealley:

gentlegingergiant:

sonofcrimealley:

gentlegingergiant:

sonofcrimealley:

gentlegingergiant:

Colin sped through the room, running in circles as he held Rory up like an airplane. “It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Rory!” He cried, spinning crazily before accidentally throwing his teddy bear across the room. Colin briefly froze before hurrying over and brushing Rory off with a grin. 

He was back the mansion for the time being, with, of course, his chaperon’s permission. It was such an empty place. Even when Colin had lived here, he never really ran into anyone except for Zitka, his mum, or his Dad. Since he had spent most of his time exploring the ginormous building, he was confident enough to run around the place without getting lost. 

Based on all his previous experiences, Colin assumed that the building was empty (besides Alfred the Butler, but Colin had never actually seen him before). Savoring the quiet, huge house that was currently his playground, Colin tore through the halls, speeding up and down the stairs with his teddy ear flying behind him.

Bruce, having taken the time to actually do some paperwork, was startled by the sound of the pitter-patter of little feet in his house. He poked his head out of his office door and surveyed the hallway. Either his mild, unmedicated Bat-schizophrenia was kicking in, or someone was playing in his house. It couldn’t be Damian, could it? Bruce was pretty sure the boy was attending private school at this hour and didn’t typically play around the house anyway. He ignored the tiny lurch in his heart at the thought of another child an infant daughter making a jungle gym of Wayne Manor.

Wait. Barbara and Dick’s son, ColinAbuse. Surely someone would have told him if he was to be supervising a child today. He certainly wasn’t dressed for it. Bruce hadn’t even shaved or showered yet. He was still in his slippers and house coat. Still, best to go and investigate. He was a detective after all.

Bruce padded to the top of the stairs to watch the redheaded boy go charging up and down the stairs with his toy bear. The child looked much happier now then the last time he saw him. To be fair, the boy was given large doses of Scarecrow’s Nightmare toxin. Bruce just hoped that he wouldn’t startle the kid and be pounded into a red stain like he almost was last time.

“Um, hi.”

At the sound of a voice, Colin skidded to a stop in the middle of the staircase, nearly tripping down the staircase. Who? He thought quickly, trying to figure out whether to freak out and run or turn around. Not Alfred, the voice wasn’t “sophisticated butler” enough. A burglar? Who was he kidding; this was Batman’s house, and no one broke into Batman’s house. So probably a friend of Batman’s? He would love to meet Batman’s friends. Colin slowly turned to face the mystery man, clutching Rory to his chest with wide eyes.

 At the top of the stairs was a whiskery, tired-looking man squinting down at him. Instantly, he made the connection. No one would look like that unless they slept here and no one slept here except for…”B-B-B-B-Batman.” He sputtered, eyes fixed on the pair of fluffy slippers that reminded him of plump rabbits. Colin tried to think of something cool to say to the man who had saved him, but he drew a blank. “Nice slippers.” He added lamely, inwardly smacking his forehead into a wall.

“Anyways, er, Mr. Wayne, uh, Batman, er, Mr. Batman,” Colin muttered, eyes the size of English muffins as he stared up at Bruce. “N-Nice to meet you. I’m Colin.” The volume of his voice dwindled as he spoke. He was talking to Batman.

The kid was cute and it made Bruce’s mouth twitch into something resembling a frown-smile. The boy seemed a little awkward, but Bruce was glad that none of the psychological damage inflicted by Crane surfaced at his appearance. Then again, he knew personally how well a young boy could hide that.

“Hi Colin, I think we might have met before. You can call me any variation of that. Bruce Man, Bat Wayne, Pop-pop, just so long as there are no non secret-keepers around.” Bruce put a shushing finger to his lips and flicked his eyes suspiciously, “Also, thank you. I like your bear, Rory was it?”

The stairs creaked a little as he took a few steps downwards toward his… grandson? Now he felt old. Woah, that must screw with Damian’s head. His nephew was his age.

“We did?” Colin said, eyes growing wider before realizing that Bruce was referring to his rescue mission. “Oh, well— I mean, we did but that was… different.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg, eyes downcast. Their meeting wasn’t the most pleasant memory, but on the bright side, look where he was now. 

As Bruce went through the list of possible names, Colin’s lopsided smile twitched back onto his face. Immediately, he opened his mouth to suggest a different name, but closed it as he reconsidered. “I like Rory too.” He hesitated slightly before continuing, unsure of how Bruce would react. Swallowing loudly, he watched the man approach gently down the stairs towards him, slowly reaching out to tug on Bruce’s sleeve as soon as he was within reach.

“I… Can I call you Granddad?” Colin blushed furiously and he averted his eyes once more, fiddling with Rory’s ears.

Bruce looked down at the flushing child and did his best to suppress the noise he reserved for videos of kittens. Instead a squeaky cough escaped.

“Hem—I haven’t been called Granddad yet. So, yes, go right ahead.”

Bruce wondered how long the boy had been here unsupervised. Where was Alfred? Probably out back watering the plants or something equally shady. Shady silver polishing, shady flower arranging.

Colin. Right.

“Have you had breakfast… lunch yet?” He asked.

Colin gave his grandfather an awkward half-smile before saying “Well, you’re my first granddad too, Granddad!” He quickly gave Bruce another brief once-over, and Colin realized that if he wanted to be like Batman, he should dress like Batman. He added fluffy bunny-like slippers, a house coat, an unshaven face (not that he needed to shave), and eye-bags to his mental list of future need-to-haves. 

“I think it’s called brunch nowadays,” Colin replied. “And I haven’t, yet.” Ruffling his hair and gently stuffing Rory into a jacket pocket, he offered a suggestion. “You want some coffee?” He knew from experience that coffee was a must for superhero adults. “We can make some peanut butter banana sandwiches too!” 

Colin took Bruce’s hand in his and tugged him towards the kitchen, eager to spend time with his grandfather.

Bruce let himself be led through the mansion by his grandson. His eyes kept skittering to Rory’s head sticking out of Colin’s jacket. It seemed as if the bear was glowering at him and it was a little unnerving.

“Coffee would be nice. You’re going to have to be the Head Chef when it comes to sandwich making. I’m not the best at cooking.”

Unbidden, a memory of sitting on the floor sobbing and clutching some bread came into his mind. He could only find pumpernickel and jam for his sandwich and that combination didn’t work. Alfred found him about an hour later with blackberry spread on his chin.

He was still wide-eyed and in a flashback when they made it to the kitchen. Bruce would make coffee. That he could do.

Colin gave Bruce a concerned look, eyebrows raised. “Um… It’s a peanut butter banana sandwich? You don’t need to cook anything.” 

As they entered the kitchen, Colin immediately made for the familiar cabinets where he could find plates and glasses, carefully setting them out on the table. He then bustled over to the pantry to find some bread, peanut butter, and banana. “Watch and learn,” He said, grinning widely and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Usually kids weren’t supposed to use knives, but Colin had made himself enough meals that he knew how to handle himself in the kitchen. He gently spread a layer of creamy peanut butter on top of each piece of bread and then plopped some sliced banana on top before smooshing the two bread slices together. He absentmindedly cut off the crusts and also cut each sandwich into two uniform triangles. 

Colin unceremoniously placed the sandwiches onto their plates, crying “Tada!”

Bruce watched the boy assemble their sandwiches with a face torn between amusement and amazement. He scratched at his chin while waiting for the coffee to boil. He typically used an espresso pot to make coffee. He learned at the knee of his girlfriend, who was something of a closeted coffee snob. The idea of introducing Selina to a boy who called him Granddad felt like a wonderful, awful idea.

He pulled the milk out for his coffee and thought to pour a glass for Colin. Bruce doubted the dairy industry’s claims of their calcium-neutral beverage making children have stronger bones, but he knew it went great with peanut butter. Proud of their joint accomplishment, Bruce put the milk down next to Colin’s plate. He held up a hand for a high-five at the young boy’s ‘Tada’.

Enthusiastically smacking Bruce’s hand, Colin sat himself down on a stool and murmured his thanks for the milk, which just so happened to be his favorite drink (Milkshakes were a close second). He nervously patted the stool next to him, thinking about how cool but awkward it would be if they sat next to each other and ate. What would they talk about, anyways?

Taking a bite of his sandwich, Colin thought about how many times he’d eaten meals here with his parents. He worried about them, with their mysterious mission and all. Colin wished he could help them, but they were being so careful and Gotham… Well, Gotham was quiet. He didn’t what was going on but he was sure they had something to do with it. Anyways, he missed everything about them, even his Dad’s cereal frenzy. 

He quietly pondered, chewing slowly to take up time. Colin hoped Bruce would say something.

Bruce sat and ate his sandwich in relative silence. He was used to the quiet. However, the little background noises of the cave had ingrained themselves into his mind. Bats squeaking, Alfred’s polished steps, the hum of machines, or one of five Robins climbing the walls at any given time. Up stairs the quiet seemed so much heavier.

“When I was about your age, my favourite thing to do was watch The Grey Ghost on TV and then re-enact episodes with either my twin cousins or my best friends, Tommy and Zee. What do you like to do Colin?”

By “about” Colin’s age, he meant a few years younger. Bruce didn’t remember much of his life in the ages of nine to twelve years. He sleepwalked through life. School, and travel mostly occupied his time. His cousins moved for Uncle Jake’s work and Zatanna never lived in Gotham too long. Tommy was locked up looking after his sick mother.

Bruce smiled at the boy. He clearly went through a life of hardships, but he still knew how to be a child. How to play.

twicenamedkane:

sonofcrimealley:

twicenamedkane:

Kate watched her ball roll into the hole, smirking with satisfaction. She strutted up to Bruce, once again taking the bottle from his hand, a bit disappointed to find it half-empty. She patiently sipped on it as she waited for Bruce to finish his turn.

Once his ball fell through the hole, the two cousins locked arms, boringly strolling back to the golf cart. “So ‘cuz,” Kate drawled out, “What’s next on the agenda? It seems as if our bird-brained target a bit far ahead.”

“Mayhem?” Bruce suggests with a shrug. They could crash the cart and go streaking, or start playing Marco Polo in one of the ponds. Or they could hurry up their game and go after Penguin. He packed up their clubs and balls before sidling in the passenger seat. Kate drove this time as to avoid flipping the small vehicle.

Kate screeched the golf cart to a stop abruptly as the two reached the next course, causing the two to lurch forward. Maybe Bruce shouldn’t have let Kate drive this time. Kate turned towards Bruce with a curious expression. Her eyes flickered mischievously towards the pond in the middle of the lake and then at the Penguin who was squawking away loudly.

“Well, how much do you think one of these golf carts are worth?” Kate asked nonchalantly.   

Bruce pursed his lips and stroked his jaw in contemplation. He didn’t buy normal things often and his purchases were often somewhat meaningless to him. Being rich left him ignorant to the value of money much of the time.

“I don’t know, a thousand dollars? Hardly a dent if you’re scheming what I’m scheming.”

Bruce rubbed his hands together menacingly. Being a good guy was his night job, doing ‘harmless’ mischief and graffiti was what kept him sane a lot of the time. Little things like stealing pens or hitting golf balls out his office window at strangers below.

Ew. Your friends are gross.

We aren’t friends, but yeah, he’s gross.

Remember when “my pussy cat” stole all your money and assets.

Because that was hilarious.

My family fortune is much safer, because unlike other members of the “1%” I actually like paying taxes for infrastructure, jobs, and schools. My assets are in the very foundations of this city. Yours were in a crappy newspaper and then pilfered away to the mafia by your dear old dad.

welcometoourbatcave:

We have recently accepted an Alfred Pennyworth, a Maggie Sawyer and a Cricket for the Bat Tumblr RP. If you had applied for these characters PLEASE check your email to see if you were accepted and get back with us. Otherwise we’ll have to reopen the slots.

~Joyous

Said the man who used plastic surgery to make himself look like the man who collects teenage boys. Really Tommy, imitation is the biggest form of flattery.

I’m not choosing just one. You’re not going to hurt my family anymore. I’ll make sure of that. I don’t have to kill you. Tell me, which leg do you like more?

I’m telling Jason you have a crush on him.

Didn’t you learn anything from going after Selina last time, Elliott? Or do you just enjoy having to wear bandages?

If you go near her, I swear to my angry bat-god…