#no batman

[writingishellandiamhereforit]

For @iamlituhrallybatman and their fun post about the kids all becoming protective murderers with Bruce not noticing a thing(Which you can find here!). Mild violence(Not descriptive but it's still described and it is about murdery children soo)

---

Bruce: I'm sorry, I can't give you that prescription, sir.

Random Gothamite, trying to hit Bruce: Fucking bastard!

Bruce, taking the punch because it wasn't going to hurt too much: ...

Dick, appearing from the back room where he was helping some of the nurses: Dad! Are you okay?

Random Gothamite, walking out of the clinic: Fuck you.

--

Dick took a breath. The night was creeping on, the moon buried in clouds above him, the streets dark. The man from earlier, who had hurt his dad for no reason, was smoking outside an apartment building, a beer in his free hand. He only had a little while before dinner, and he had to read to Jason for bed tonight.

Dick, walking up to the man: Hey there!

Gothamite, flicking his cigarette at Dick: What do you want?

Dick lifted the bottle of prescription meds: I heard you were asking for these.

Gothamite: So what?

Dick walks closer: Why don't you take some?

Gothamite: What's the catch?

Dick: None at all.

As the Gothamite reached for the bottle, Dick grabbed him, shoving him to the ground. He stole the beer bottle, half empty, wrapped his gloved hand around the neck of the bottle and slammed it into the back of the man's head, hard enough for it to break. Dick dragged the man to the harbor, luckily it wasn't too far away from where they were at the time, and he rolled the body into the water without a second thought, tossing what was left of the bottle in after him.

---

Alfred: Master Dick, you're just in time for dinner.

Dick: Great, sorry I was out so late.

Bruce: It's alright, Chum, how were your friends?

Dick: They're doing good!

---

Jason, peaking into Bruce's office: Pops, are you okay?

Bruce, blinking, sighing: Ye- Yeah, Jaylad, I'm alright.

Jason, walking into the office: What's going on?

Bruce: Nothing, lad. Is it time for dinner already?

Jason: Yeah.

After Bruce went down for dinner, Jason took his chair and started clicking around through his emails. Finding a woman trying to blackmail Bruce made him growl under his breath.

---

The next day, Jason had already told Bruce some friends wanted to hang out after school. Of course there were no friends, and in this instance he was hunting. Jason had found the woman, in a pretty dress Jason wanted to see covered in blood. Kidnapping the woman wasn't hard at all.

---

Woman, waking up: Wh- where am...

Jason: You woke up quickly.

Woman: What? What's going on? Who are you?

Jason: You don't need to know that.

Woman: What's going on? What do you want from me?

Jason, grabbing the metal bat that was leaning against the warehouse walls: Oh, you know. I saw you were blackmailing a certain someone.

Woman, leaning back: I have no idea what you're talking about!

Jason: You can play innocent all you want, lady, I'm not letting you leave here alive.

Blood splattered against his skin as he swung. He didn't want to draw this out, his head was killing him. After a few minutes, though, he got bored. The woman was screaming, sure, in pain and begging for her life, but he really wanted to get home. Good thing an easy killer was an overdose, medicine is such a fickle thing, oh well if he 'accidentally' gave her too many sleeping pills before leaving her tied up in the warehouse.

---

Jason: I'm home!

Bruce: Hey, Jaylad, how was hanging out with your friends?

Jason: It was fun. Say, B?

Bruce: Whats up?

Jason: Would taking two panadols for my headache kill me?

Bruce, sputtering: What? No, Jay, of course they wouldn't. Want me to get you some?

Jason: Yes please.

---

Dick was out of town, and Jason was currently taking a sabbatical with Alfred for a few weeks, so that left only Tim in the house with Bruce. During that week they had a gala to attend, and even if Tim wasn't supposed to, he had long since learned how to quietly trail behind Bruce unperceived by most others, including Bruce himself.

Socialite, walking up to Bruce: It's been so long, Bruce! How have you been?

Bruce, smiling politely: I've been quite alright, how have you been?

Socialite, sliding a hand around Bruce's waist: I've been lovely, even better after seeing you here tonight.

It made Tim's blood boil, the sight of this man touching Bruce like that.

Bruce, carefully trying to step away: I'm sorry, I need to go find my son.

Socialite: The little Drake boy? I heard what happened to his parents, truly tragic. I'm sure he'll be fine alone for just a few minutes, if you want to get out of here for a bit.

His hand slid lower, and Tim had just about enough of this man.

Tim: Dad!

The man startled off Bruce, and Bruce turned, hugging Tim quickly before taking his hand.

Bruce: There you are, chum. Having a good night?

Tim: Yeah! Lets go get snacks, I saw they had a white chocolate fountain!

Bruce: Lead the way.

---

Tim took his time tying the rope around the lamppost. The man was still unconscious, and Tim's small body might have had problems trying to heave him up after he was already tied to the rope. Tim tugged a few times to make sure it was secure before hopping off the crates he had used to climb up there, heaving the man upright enough to get him on the stacked crates. Tying the rope was easy after that.

Removing the crates underneath made the man fall, and the rope strain, as the man woke with a gasp. Tim just waved a gloved hand at the man with a vicious grin before leaving him there, in front of Lex Luthor's hospital, where he would die a painful death, a warning to Luthor and a punishment to the man.

---

Bruce's drink had been spiked, a bartender did most of the work. Tim had found out first, and knew he would need help to deal with it, so he hired another hand, and a getaway driver. What he wasn't expecting was Jason to walk around the corner, crowbar in hand, and Dick to pull up with a van.

Jason: Whoa, okay. Hi there.

Tim: What are you two doing here?

Dick: What am I doing here? What about you?

Tim: I'm taking care of business.

Jason: Like a certain bartender, perhaps?

Tim nodded.

Dick: Oh, shit. We better get moving then, we can't waste the night like this.

Tim: Agreed. We're talking about this later though.

Jason: Damn straight we are, for now though, we've got a target to take care of.

---

News: The number of suspicious and unexplained murders has continued, the police have no updates as of now-

Bruce: Oh my, I hope the boys are alright.

Alfred: They have Master Dick with them, Master Bruce, I'm sure they're quite alright. Here's your tea, sir.

Bruce, taking the cup with a heavy sigh: Thank you, Alfred.

Alfred: Of course, Master Bruce.

------

Thinking of doing a part two with the other kids and Clark, but for right now this is it, I hope you liked it <3.

[lacroix-son]

* dicks the only adopted one. * the rest aren’t. he can’t say he’s proud of some of his... rapports. * he met jason’s mom when she worked for wayne enterprises. she was sober at the time, interested in him, and he was young and needed something to do. he didn’t know she was pregnant. he thought he’d been careful. * cass’s mom he met at his martial arts classes. they sparred together, and he admired how she was better, stronger, and faster than him. one thing led to another. he’d been careful then too. * tim’s mom was more an accident than anything. they’d been drinking at a fancy party, ended up talking, talked their way into a private room, and oops. he was a little less careful that time. * damian came later. his mom drugged him. he doesn’t like to think about that one. * dicks parents were murdered when he was 8. he didn’t even talk to him that night, just stared into his reddened eyes. he began fostering him 4 months later. * jason, after his mother od’d, found notes his mother wrote detailing who his real father was. he showed up at WE, all however tall 9 years olds are, waving letters in faces until he got an audience with him. he didn’t even take a paternity test before he claimed custody. * tim, bless his 4 year old little heart, walked up to him proclaiming the man was his father. no one genuinely knows how he figured it out. he was 4. how did he know. no one knows. not even tim. * cass was taken into cps after workers at her daycare reported bruises on her legs to the cops. no one knew where her mom was, and literally some random dude was watching over her, apparently doing a terrible job. bruce w. was listed on her birth certificate as her father. no idea how that got past the hospital, but he claimed custody of her as soon as he was informed of her existence. * damian’s mother dropped him off at the doorstep. literally. she rang the doorbell after he was born, placed him on the steps, and drove away. he didn’t even see her go. * dicks 13 now. he’s a freshman in high school, since he started 5th grade a year early, and he does competitive gymnastics. he’s very talented, and everyone’s very proud of him. he’s got too many friends to keep count of. they’re all “the redhead.” * jason’s 11 now, in 6th grade. he does soccer and gotham theatre. he can’t sing for shit, but he’s a cute little actor. he’s a little too aggressive at soccer. his room is basically made of books at this point. * cass is 6 now. she likes first grade, and he’s got her in ballet. she’s very quiet, but not shy. extremely cute. * tim’s 6 too. he’s in the same grade as cass, but not the same class. tim was very upset about that. cass really didn’t care. he does some computer stuff in his room a lot. no one knows what hes really doing. he should probably go outside. * dami’s a baby, like a year and a half or something. he just sits. sometimes he cries. he’s already speaking words, so turns out he’s ahead of the game. good for him. * tim and jason have tried to murder each other multiple times before. that’s important to note. * dick and dami are best friends. Also important to note. * cass is too cool for the rest of them. she just kinda gives them a look and they shut up. very useful. * dicks starting to dress like a softboy. he doesnt know what that is, but jason does, so he’s very concerned. * somehow they all ended up with brown eyes except for dick, who isn’t even biologically related. weird. * tim’s met this new boy, duke, who he’s pretty sure spends more time at their house than at home. he’ll have to look into that. also, he doesn’t have a dad, so he’s a little bit suspicious about that. who knows. * he’s pretty sure dick is bi. he keeps talking about boys in a way he’s never heard a straight person talk about boys, or are teenage boys just like that. he should probably give him the talk soon, or is it too late for that. * jason does cass’s hair. his specialty is little pigtails. adorable. * dami won’t wear anything that doesn’t have footies. * tim keeps trying to steal his coffee. that can’t be healthy. * dick seems to think it’s fun to steal the golf cart and give him a heart attack. * there is never a time where jason is not wearing a bandaid. he might have an infinite supply of bandaids. * he really needs to shave. * why does tim thinks it’s cool to wear his socks. some of them go up to his thighs. it is not fashionable. * damian is disgusted by bananas. cass loves bananas. it works out. * also damian refuses to eat the mcdonald’s provided to him. it’s getting annoying. * cass has cut her own hair. not with scissors. but with a knife. guess what movie inspired that. * dick grew his hair out once. now no one in the family is allowed to have hair past their shoulders. * jason keeps making fun of his all black wardrobe. * cass and damian will both roll across the floor completely unprompted. it’s almost as annoying as dicks random flips down the hallways. * tim refuses to go to bed before 10. he might actually be a 16 year old trapped in a 6 year olds body. * jason’s proud that he’s only almost burned the house down one time. one is already too many. * he has been ganged up on before. cass dropped dami on his face, tim pulled the covers off his feet, dick pulled his socks off, and jason licked his foot. he still doesn’t know what they were trying to accomplish with that. * dick seems to be anti-park now? * cass and tim took the door off jason’s room. he probably deserved it. he’ll put it back on eventually. * dick tried to swing dami on the chandelier. he’s not allowed to babysit anymore. * jason stabbed tim with a pencil for throwing his copy of where the wild things are. tim’s forearm will never be the same. * dick and jason incorporate walls into their games of ping pong. the sound will never leave his head. * cass decided she was going to build her own pool in their backyard. like they didn’t already have one. * jason is almost as tall as dick. he’s pretty sure dick cries about that. * damian has and will attack with chubby baby hands. they can perform serious damage. yet another thing tim will never recover from. * he’s never having sex again. he’s too scared to at this point.

[00-tricycle-0]

I think Tumblr needs to know that when I search for Superman

I just want Superman

He's my favorite

[medicsandmurderchildren]

Dr Bruce Thomas Wayne

Bruce grew up well adjusted. Despite the terror that occurred during his 8-9th year of life, his mother got him into therapy very quickly to work through any issues that might have arisen from the experience.

Bruce follows in his father’s footsteps and enters the field of medicine. But unlike his father, he is not a surgeon. He’s a physician, specialised both in diagnostic medicine and pathology.

Without pressure to keep up the ‘playboy persona’ Bruce actually focused on his career and giving back to Gotham (subscribing to his parent’s philosophy of prevention is the best cure). As such, Gotham’s ‘premier bachelor’ had never actually shown interest in either sex.

One day though (a fortnight before Dick breaks out of the Court), he does get tipsy enough to ‘see why everyone around me is so obsessed about sex’ aka he sleeps with a woman he considers pretty aesthetically pleasing. He comes away from the experience still confused about the big deal about sex - not necessarily repulsed, but still indifferent and confused.

About 6 months after he experimented, a teenaged boy takes a bullet for him. His name? Dick Grayson.

[puppetmaker40]

This happened today

[beabaseball]

potential start for a one-shot for Roadtrip Vigilantes (au where Bruce spent years with the League before becoming Batman) . Mostly just my weakness for a certain duo/upcoming trio. Yay Gordon. Yaaaay.

Gordon had lived in Gotham for a very, very long time.

Gordon wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed that, all things considered.

It seemed like nothing lived in Gotham except the thing that made it Gotham. The strange and ugly and terrifying things that filled the streets, and—

—and there he went again.

There he went again.

Because Gotham, see, she wasn’t a city in the most sense. He’d lived in a few places and seen a few things, but Gotham was alive in a way most cities weren’t, and she… well.

Gordon had told a lot of lies to himself in the last few minutes.

He knew how he’d survived. 

He’d survived by keeping it in his head that Gotham needed respect. He’d survived by forcing himself to remember that Gotham was still, somehow, more than the murders in back-allies and the break-ins and Park Row and the kids that ran into the streets and the adults that followed them, the monsters that were taking inspiration from that new breed of ‘hero’ who had powers, except half these criminals didn’t have powers at all, just a need for money or violence and the right sort of mind that decided the best way to go about getting it involved several freeze rays, or toxic gas, or in at least one case, wooden masks that got burned pretty badly and ended up fully disfiguring one’s face, and then deciding it was a livin’, and using all your money to try and dance with the big boys rather than spend a bit on reconstructive surgery.

And he survived by remembering they were criminals. They were people. Not monsters.

Just as Gotham was a city, not a hellpit.

If you just could keep your head up and your eye on the sense in it, if you could remember the world was irrational and you were just going with the flow, then it was an awful lot harder for those myths and legends to choke you down.

After all. What was fear toxin if you had already faced your greatest fears?

…well. It was a bitch on PTSD is what it was. But it was also something familiar, at least, in that. Once you knew what you were dealing with—just an air-borne hallucinogenic, and not some hideous magical evil raising the dead you’d failed to come up and drag you down with them, or your children’s dead bodies, or swarms of human-sized bees with stingers for eyes and stingers for mouths and stingers for fingers who wanted to suck your blood—it was an awful lot easier to sigh, hold your breathe long enough to get your gas mask properly in place, and page the hospital to let them know there was going to be another full ward tonight, so don’t run over me when you bring in the ambulances, alright? I’m gonna just lie down under some cover until the affects are over.

Yeah.

It was all a lot easier to survive once you remembered you were just as likely to be shot on the street as Police Commissioner as you were to be caught in the line of fire when, say, Victor Fries decided it was time to go on another spree and you had to tell the hospital to get the antifreeze solution and hairdryers out (it was just as important to be on good terms with the local hospital as it was to keep it in mind that it wasn’t that the city was alive and mad, per-say, it was just that it was a very high, very creative, crime rate you had here.)

Once he and Harvey realized that on their first day of partnership, once they’d sort of quietly met  at a stoplight one night and stared up at the starless sky, sighing deeply—

and Gordon had broken the silence by sighing again and watching his breath rise up in the air. He hadn’t had as many wrinkles, then, somehow, and his hair wasn’t quite as gray, but he’d smoked like a chimney and he pulled one out and offered it to Harvey while they were waiting for the light to change, and Harvey said:

“No, thank you, though. I’m trying to avoid that sort of stuff.”

“In this city?” Gordon said, pausing to light up and blow some smoke out towards the other direction. “Good luck.”

“Well,” Harvey said, huffing, because as much as Gordon insisted this was where it started, the D.A. office and the police weren’t exactly on good terms, especially back then, “Someone in this city has to try to stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Good luck,” Gordon said again, wondering why he wasted his own time.

“Bit fatalist, huh,” said Harvey, sounding like he wanted someone to prod.

“Lived here long?” Gordon asked, not bothering to look at him, blowing out more smoke.

“All my life,” said Dent.

“Funny, then, for a Gotham kid,” said Gordon.

“Funny, too, for Gotham’s chief of police. Would’ve thought you’d have more faith in the city you’re meant to serve.”

Three months and several corruption charges later, and they’d…

They’d had coffee, late one night, and wondered what this city might look like, with all her myth and magic cleared away.

—

[nothisismarcus]

W.S.A.T.

Where She At Tho