͏ ͏

📍brasil

[beyonce-knowles-carter]

82 YEARS AGO - BATMAN DEBUTED FOR THE FIRST TIME Eighty-two years ago on March 30, 1939, Detective Comics #27 hit newsstands, introducing the Caped Crusader for the very first time in a featured story called “The Case of the Chemical Syndicate.”

“And for all that fierce exterior, I’ve never met anyone who cared as deeply about his fellow man as Bruce Wayne.”  - Amanda Waller, Justice League Unlimited, Season 2 Episode 13 (2005)

[angiesshadow01040]

Notice how in Duskwood it's Jake convincing MC to stay and find Hannah despite their doubts. Jake has his emotional motives of course, it's his half-sister, but he also has valid points not to trust the police and yet at the point I was still hesitant, I thought we were going too far and I really feel like that's how MC really felt, somehow trapped in the situation. And now, back in Moonvale, especially on episode 3, we're the ones convincing them to stay, to find their own friend despite all doubts, because in the end the truth will hurt but it's what must be done and the police is completely oblivious to really care. I just thought that was an amazing arc for MC, to actually have learned and be kind of traumatized by the experience but still so strong they continue to help others and keep forward, determined to find the truth and reconnect with Duskwood and Jake again.

[jellrp]

This is the kind of chemistry my MC has with Charlie and I'm loving it:

---

[perleaore]

ᡣ𐭩 the batboys in bed: an armchair psych analysis (18+) ⸝⸝ .ᐟ

𝓘rene’s notes . . . this is very much for fun I am not a professional I’m just a student who also works in the field part time and I wanted to apply my studies here<3 if anyone wants my sources/more explanations lmk!

Bruce Wayne “Quietly rigid, devastatingly responsive”:

Bruce’s relationship to intimacy is built on two core things that formed him at the same time: the murder of his parents, and a brain that processes the world differently from most people’s.

His (implied) autism means he experiences reality through heightened sensory awareness and delayed emotional labeling. He feels first, understands later. His body reacts long before his mind catches up. So attraction doesn’t arrive as a thought. It arrives as physiological disturbance. Changes in breathing. Muscle tension. Fixation on small sensory details like the warmth of your skin or the sound of your voice.

Then trauma steps in.

His parents died because they were close. Because they were relaxed. Because they let the world touch them. So Bruce’s nervous system learned that intimacy precedes annihilation. That safety is temporary. That attachment is a liability.

Clinically, he lives in chronic hyperarousal. His baseline state is control. Monitoring. Containment. His moral code is part of this too. Not just ethically, but in a structure way too. A way to impose order on a world that once collapsed without warning.

So when he desires someone, it feels wrong in a very literal, bodily way. His system interprets it as risk.

He notices himself becoming distracted by you. His attention pulled off task. His body reacting when you are near. He does not think I want you. He thinks my focus is compromised.

When you touch him, even gently, it overloads him. His body wants it. His mind stalls. He goes very still, eyes dark, breath shallow.

“Slow,” he murmurs, voice low and tight.

You answer softly, “Okay, I’ve got you.”

That’s what breaks him open.

Because Bruce is aroused by co-regulation. By someone else holding the emotional container. By being guided through sensation instead of managing it himself. By permission.

He needs explicit reassurance, not because he lacks desire, but because his brain cannot distinguish pleasure from danger without verbal grounding.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” he admits, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to know.”

And something in him finally gives. Because control is how he survived his parents’ deaths. Control is how he prevented himself from falling apart. So letting go, even slightly, feels intimately dangerous. Like allowing himself to exist in a body instead of a system.

Dick Grayson “Attachment-seeking exhibitionist”:

Dick’s erotic psychology is shaped by being raised in performance.

His parents died in front of an audience, mid-performance, in the same space where love, joy, and attention had always existed. His earliest experiences of love were public, theatrical, something to be watched and consumed. And then that love was stolen in a way the world could see. His grief was spectacle.

That reality didn’t just teach him that grief and love can coexist, it imprinted on him the idea that he himself, too, could be something consumable, that his body, his charm, even his emotions could be for someone else’s gaze or satisfaction.

Clinically, he fits anxious attachment almost perfectly. He regulates through connection. He feels safest when emotional states are mirrored and validated. He needs feedback to know where he stands.

That is why his desire is so interactive.

He wants your reactions. Your voice. Your breath. Your responses to him. He’s aroused by evidence that what he is doing is landing.

He talks during sex. A lot. Checks in. Adjusts himself to your energy. Not really out of insecurity, relational feedback is just how his nervous system stabilizes.

“This okay?” He asks softly.

You answer, “Fuck, yes. Keep going.”

He exhales. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”

What disarms him the most is when you stop reacting and start holding.

When you’r steady instead of responsive. When you touch him without needing him to entertain you.

Because Dick’s deepest fear isn’t abandonment. It is being loved only for what he provides. Being charming, being bright, being the emotional center of the room.

So when he is wanted without performing, something in him goes quiet.

He stays closer. His voice drops. His touch becomes slower, more sincere.

With Dick, intimacy feels like being chosen for who he is when he is not trying to be anything.

Jason Todd “Trauma-wrapped touch-starved body”:

Jason’s relationship to sex is the most tangled, the most bodily, and the most haunted.

He grew up in neglect. Chronic instability. Emotional abandonment. A childhood where affection was inconsistent and safety wasn’t guaranteed. His attachment system formed around scarcity. Love was something you had to chase, steal, or survive.

Then he finds his mother again.

And she betrays him.

And he dies.

And comes back.

Psychologically, Jason’s body becomes a trauma object. Like a lot of victims of trauma, it holds memory. Pain, violence, suffocation, resurrection. His physical self is inseparable from death. He experiences his body as something that has failed to stay dead.

There’s a core belief living in him that shapes all intimacy: No one is supposed to want a body that’s been a corpse.

He’s hyper-aware of scars, stiffness, the sense that his body is wrong. Altered. He often feels like his body is borrowed, or counterfeit, or something that doesn’t really belong in the category of living people. It’s like he’s occupying something that should not exist.

So he leads with roughness. Sexual confidence, reckless flirting, touching first, making everything loud and fast enough that no one can look too closely.

But when you touch him gently, something breaks through.

Not rushed. Not joking. Just slow, deliberate contact. Like you’re not afraid of what you will find.

“Don’t rush me,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “Please.”

You answer, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when he unravels.

Jason uses sex as a way to access parts of himself that never got to grow up properly. The boy who wanted to be held. The boy who wanted someone to stay. The boy who wanted to be loved without having to fight for it.

In intimacy, he softens in a way that feels almost regressive. His voice drops. His movements slow. He becomes sweeter, quieter, more emotionally exposed than he ever allows himself to be.

Because that boy is still there. He just never had a safe place to exist.

His mommy issues aren’t about attraction to older women (though I dont think he’d rule out someone older). They’re more about wanting unconditional bodily acceptance. Someone nurturing, emotionally steady, who can desire him and care for him at the same time.

Because that tells his nervous system something radical.

That his body’s something that can be wanted instead of just being a corpse or a weapon.

And when the moment feels real, when he knows you’re not leaving, something slips out of him without permission.

“I love you,” he says quietly, like he’s surprised he is still capable of it.

After, he clings in small ways. Arm around you. Forehead pressed to yours. Staying physically close like if he holds on long enough, his body might finally believe it belongs in the world of the living.

Tim Drake “Overthinking sweetheart who just wants permission to exist”:

Tim’s desire is built around usefulness.

He grew up emotionally neglected in a quieter way. Parents who were there physically but distant, distracted, unavailable. He learned early that being competent is how you stay connected. That being needed is how you justify your presence.

Clinically, Tim is hyperfunctional. High cognitive control. Emotional restraint. Identity built around productivity and problem-solving.

So intimacy is the only space where his nervous system wants to stop being useful.

He starts careful. Attentive. Trying to read you, trying to do everything right. Checking in constantly.

“Just… tell me what you want,” he says softly.

You smile. “You. Right now. That’s enough.”

That’s what disarms him.

Because Tim’s aroused by being wanted without being evaluated. By being touched without being useful. By being desired without having to provide something in return.

When you take the lead calmly, confidently, without force, his body visibly relaxes. His shoulders drop. His breathing slows. His mind finally stops running scenarios.

He gets quiet, a little flushed, completely focused on you instead of his own thoughts. He melts into closeness. Becomes softer, more present.

After, he’s affectionate in that gentle, slightly clingy kinda way. Stays close. Talks more than usual. Lets himself linger in the space where he doesn’t have to be a tool.

© 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐍𝐌𝐔𝐍 ﹒ est 2026

[kyleselinq]

this is so good i love it

[perleaore]

ᡣ𐭩 the batboys in bed: an armchair psych analysis (18+) ⸝⸝ .ᐟ

𝓘rene’s notes . . . this is very much for fun I am not a professional I’m just a student who also works in the field part time and I wanted to apply my studies here<3 if anyone wants my sources/more explanations lmk!

Bruce Wayne “Quietly rigid, devastatingly responsive”:

Bruce’s relationship to intimacy is built on two core things that formed him at the same time: the murder of his parents, and a brain that processes the world differently from most people’s.

His (implied) autism means he experiences reality through heightened sensory awareness and delayed emotional labeling. He feels first, understands later. His body reacts long before his mind catches up. So attraction doesn’t arrive as a thought. It arrives as physiological disturbance. Changes in breathing. Muscle tension. Fixation on small sensory details like the warmth of your skin or the sound of your voice.

Then trauma steps in.

His parents died because they were close. Because they were relaxed. Because they let the world touch them. So Bruce’s nervous system learned that intimacy precedes annihilation. That safety is temporary. That attachment is a liability.

Clinically, he lives in chronic hyperarousal. His baseline state is control. Monitoring. Containment. His moral code is part of this too. Not just ethically, but in a structure way too. A way to impose order on a world that once collapsed without warning.

So when he desires someone, it feels wrong in a very literal, bodily way. His system interprets it as risk.

He notices himself becoming distracted by you. His attention pulled off task. His body reacting when you are near. He does not think I want you. He thinks my focus is compromised.

When you touch him, even gently, it overloads him. His body wants it. His mind stalls. He goes very still, eyes dark, breath shallow.

“Slow,” he murmurs, voice low and tight.

You answer softly, “Okay, I’ve got you.”

That’s what breaks him open.

Because Bruce is aroused by co-regulation. By someone else holding the emotional container. By being guided through sensation instead of managing it himself. By permission.

He needs explicit reassurance, not because he lacks desire, but because his brain cannot distinguish pleasure from danger without verbal grounding.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” he admits, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to know.”

And something in him finally gives. Because control is how he survived his parents’ deaths. Control is how he prevented himself from falling apart. So letting go, even slightly, feels intimately dangerous. Like allowing himself to exist in a body instead of a system.

Dick Grayson “Attachment-seeking exhibitionist”:

Dick’s erotic psychology is shaped by being raised in performance.

His parents died in front of an audience, mid-performance, in the same space where love, joy, and attention had always existed. His earliest experiences of love were public, theatrical, something to be watched and consumed. And then that love was stolen in a way the world could see. His grief was spectacle.

That reality didn’t just teach him that grief and love can coexist, it imprinted on him the idea that he himself, too, could be something consumable, that his body, his charm, even his emotions could be for someone else’s gaze or satisfaction.

Clinically, he fits anxious attachment almost perfectly. He regulates through connection. He feels safest when emotional states are mirrored and validated. He needs feedback to know where he stands.

That is why his desire is so interactive.

He wants your reactions. Your voice. Your breath. Your responses to him. He’s aroused by evidence that what he is doing is landing.

He talks during sex. A lot. Checks in. Adjusts himself to your energy. Not really out of insecurity, relational feedback is just how his nervous system stabilizes.

“This okay?” He asks softly.

You answer, “Fuck, yes. Keep going.”

He exhales. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”

What disarms him the most is when you stop reacting and start holding.

When you’r steady instead of responsive. When you touch him without needing him to entertain you.

Because Dick’s deepest fear isn’t abandonment. It is being loved only for what he provides. Being charming, being bright, being the emotional center of the room.

So when he is wanted without performing, something in him goes quiet.

He stays closer. His voice drops. His touch becomes slower, more sincere.

With Dick, intimacy feels like being chosen for who he is when he is not trying to be anything.

Jason Todd “Trauma-wrapped touch-starved body”:

Jason’s relationship to sex is the most tangled, the most bodily, and the most haunted.

He grew up in neglect. Chronic instability. Emotional abandonment. A childhood where affection was inconsistent and safety wasn’t guaranteed. His attachment system formed around scarcity. Love was something you had to chase, steal, or survive.

Then he finds his mother again.

And she betrays him.

And he dies.

And comes back.

Psychologically, Jason’s body becomes a trauma object. Like a lot of victims of trauma, it holds memory. Pain, violence, suffocation, resurrection. His physical self is inseparable from death. He experiences his body as something that has failed to stay dead.

There’s a core belief living in him that shapes all intimacy: No one is supposed to want a body that’s been a corpse.

He’s hyper-aware of scars, stiffness, the sense that his body is wrong. Altered. He often feels like his body is borrowed, or counterfeit, or something that doesn’t really belong in the category of living people. It’s like he’s occupying something that should not exist.

So he leads with roughness. Sexual confidence, reckless flirting, touching first, making everything loud and fast enough that no one can look too closely.

But when you touch him gently, something breaks through.

Not rushed. Not joking. Just slow, deliberate contact. Like you’re not afraid of what you will find.

“Don’t rush me,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “Please.”

You answer, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when he unravels.

Jason uses sex as a way to access parts of himself that never got to grow up properly. The boy who wanted to be held. The boy who wanted someone to stay. The boy who wanted to be loved without having to fight for it.

In intimacy, he softens in a way that feels almost regressive. His voice drops. His movements slow. He becomes sweeter, quieter, more emotionally exposed than he ever allows himself to be.

Because that boy is still there. He just never had a safe place to exist.

His mommy issues aren’t about attraction to older women (though I dont think he’d rule out someone older). They’re more about wanting unconditional bodily acceptance. Someone nurturing, emotionally steady, who can desire him and care for him at the same time.

Because that tells his nervous system something radical.

That his body’s something that can be wanted instead of just being a corpse or a weapon.

And when the moment feels real, when he knows you’re not leaving, something slips out of him without permission.

“I love you,” he says quietly, like he’s surprised he is still capable of it.

After, he clings in small ways. Arm around you. Forehead pressed to yours. Staying physically close like if he holds on long enough, his body might finally believe it belongs in the world of the living.

Tim Drake “Overthinking sweetheart who just wants permission to exist”:

Tim’s desire is built around usefulness.

He grew up emotionally neglected in a quieter way. Parents who were there physically but distant, distracted, unavailable. He learned early that being competent is how you stay connected. That being needed is how you justify your presence.

Clinically, Tim is hyperfunctional. High cognitive control. Emotional restraint. Identity built around productivity and problem-solving.

So intimacy is the only space where his nervous system wants to stop being useful.

He starts careful. Attentive. Trying to read you, trying to do everything right. Checking in constantly.

“Just… tell me what you want,” he says softly.

You smile. “You. Right now. That’s enough.”

That’s what disarms him.

Because Tim’s aroused by being wanted without being evaluated. By being touched without being useful. By being desired without having to provide something in return.

When you take the lead calmly, confidently, without force, his body visibly relaxes. His shoulders drop. His breathing slows. His mind finally stops running scenarios.

He gets quiet, a little flushed, completely focused on you instead of his own thoughts. He melts into closeness. Becomes softer, more present.

After, he’s affectionate in that gentle, slightly clingy kinda way. Stays close. Talks more than usual. Lets himself linger in the space where he doesn’t have to be a tool.

© 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐍𝐌𝐔𝐍 ﹒ est 2026

[lovingyoulovinme]

childhood lovers clark kent x reader who have been together since they were 15 but when clark gets accepted to metropolis university and the reader doesn't they end up trying to do long distance but it just doesn't work and years later clark is seeing lois and reader is dating bruce wayne

during clark and y/n's relationship

her being spotted for the first time with bruce

[maria-taiwin]

"For our characters to move on and for the story of Hawkins and the Upside Down to come to a close, Eleven had to go away." - Duffer Brothers

This implies that El was a burden and an obstacle to their happiness, that she has no place in Hawkins or the world. Her character literally came off as a weapon, and after the war it's no use. She can just fuck off alone and being sacrificed for other people's happiness. Because her suffering was never enough

And they are doing this shit after reassuring for all the 5 seasons that NO SHE WASN'T A TOOL, and that SHE DESERVED HAPPINESS! This is just pure evil

[lunamonchtuna]

cruel how loving someone rewires you permanently.

[lunamonchtuna]

— Ivan Yan (source)

[throathole]

Part of getting older is realizing how absolutely insane it is that basically every form of media is constantly trying to convince us that the most interesting moments of the lived human experience are happening in HIGH SCHOOL…… girl who gives a flying fuck what 16 year olds are doing.

[vargamornight]

free my girl she did all that but can you fucking blame her

[xtinedancefit]

Accidentally clicking on an AI assistant feels like clicking on a link that’s going to give you a virus.

[gothmikewheeler]

"eyes on me" "eyes on me remember" and suddenly he's 13 years old watching men with guns get torn apart by demodogs and he doesnt want these kids to see that. he doesnt want these kids to remember that the way he does. holy shit. mike wheeler.

[seleneprince]

Okay, I know Neglected! Daughter looking like Martha Wayne is an overused headcanon that we all love, and i personally never get tired of it bc it offers so much angst/drama potential (bruce having trauma response when seeing her, society treating her one way or another for resembling her grandmother, etc). I just love it. i'm a basic bitch

And thinking about it, it reminded me..Martha Wayne was Martha Kane first, and you know who was her older brother?

Jacob Kane. Kate Kane aka Batwoman's father. One of the few people who knows Bruce is Batman.

There's not much known about his relationship with Martha, because she's supposed to be a stepping stone along with Thomas for Batman's story. She's a ghost, haunting the narrative with her husband, but little is known about them as people. Obviously, Bruce sees them as wonderful, because he was a child when they died and they'll be forever idealised in his mind.

But how did everyone else reacted to the couple's death? We know Bruce, we know Alfred, we know the whole city gave them the Lady Di treatment, we even know a bit of Philip Kane, Martha's other brother, who was clearly sad but that's it.

What about Jacob, tho? And it made me think. We know all about Martha Wayne, but what of Martha Kane and those close to her?

Imagine being Jacob Kane, born in a prestigious family from Gotham and growing up there along with your siblings, Martha being the only girl. You love her, you protect her, you teach her how to be strong just like you'll teach your daughter a bunch of years later. Maybe you and your brothers have to be stern sometimes because Martha is a wild little thing that doesn't listen to rules and defies high society with her carefree attitude and idealist views of Gotham.

Imagine being Jacob Kane and seeing Gotham for what it is, a cursed hellish city, but your sister loves it and strives to make it better, and eventually meets a guy who shares her beliefs. You watch her grow up, fall in love and get married with the richest man in Gotham. It pushes your own family's status up, so it's happy news.

Imagine being Jacob Kane and meeting your nephew, holding him in your arms and noticing he has Martha's eyes, reminding you of the first time you held her like this too. They name him Bruce Thomas Wayne, and even thought you wish he looked more like Martha instead of taking after Thomas so much, you congratulate them. Despite being busy in the army, you send them gifts for the boy's birthday and check on them every here now and then.

Imagine being Jacob Kane when you receive news that your sister was murdered. Shot to death by a man who wanted to steal their money. In front of her son, no less.

By the time you arrive is too late. You only get to see her body in the coffin, and you watch her get buried with a mass of people watching her too. You barely process your nephew is there, an orphan now, and muster just enough energy to say you're sorry for him.

He's not there for Bruce. He can't. He won't. He tells himself the butler will take care of him and do everything and anything to ignore the pain. To come to terms with the loss, and the gawning grief. He focuses on his job more than ever, trying to drown these feelings.

He grows to hate Gotham, resent the wretched city for killing his sister. For doing that to someone who spent her life loving Gotham and fighting for it. There's an underlining sense of guilt and shame too, part of him thinking he could've done more. He should've been there and protect her, like a brother is supposed to.

Many years pass. He has his own family, his priorities, and his relationship with Bruce is cordial but not close enough to be considered family. He's not going to try and change it now, it's been too long. He finds out he's Batman and why he chose it, and seeing his eyes (so much like Martha's) shine with that unshakeable will and loyalty to Gotham, makes something in his heart clench a bit.

He decides he has moved on, that his sister is probably resting in peace watching over her boy, now a man, who's going to keep defending the city and try to improve it, just like she and Thomas wanted to.

He also hears of his sons, the boys he takes under his wing and calls his own in public. He doesn't pay too much attention, only seeing them briefly from afar in the few times he and Bruce cross paths.

He hears about his biological kids too, a girl born from a scandalous affair, and a boy dropped at his door that's widely regarded as the blood son of Wayne and his heir.

Imagine being Jacob Kane again, casually going over the news...and suddenly being hit in the chest with a picture of your sister walking down the streets with friends, smiling without a care in the world.

Except she's much younger than last time you saw her, and she's not really your sister. She's Bruce's daughter, who's turning eighteen in a few weeks and the media is itching to finally be legally accepted to invade her privacy.

His heart is beating so fast it threatens to shatter his ribs and choke him. His breath itches as he looks closer, making sure his eyes aren't deceiving him. That the photo isn't manipulated.

And when he sees her in person, he's shaken to the core. He doesn't just resemble Martha. She's identical. A breathing image of his dead sister standing before him, looking exactly like when she was a teenager. Same face, same mannerisms, even the same damn voice. It's haunting. It's terrifying. It's beautiful. He doesn't understand why isn't more people noticing it. Why doesn't Bruce see it.

For a moment, he can almost believe Martha is still there. He's taken back to when they were younger and things were simple, and his sister had her whole life ahead of her while he watched her with a fond, exasperated smile.

He's not happy at all to know this girl is neglected and left in the dark by her own family, those supposed to be there for her (if he had been there more for Martha, maybe she would've lived). He's annoyed by Bruce's excuse of "keeping her safe" (like Thomas kept Martha safe?). He can see the girl's potential, beyond her ghostly resemblance, and can't stand seeing her wasting away in the shadows, lonely and vulnerable at the dangerous claws of Gotham.

Jacob Kane takes one more look at his sister's granddaughter, who moves and smiles like the woman used to, and is resolved to not let history repeat itself. He decides this girl is going to live, no matter what, and he'll make sure of it.

And hopefully, he'll get to see how Martha would've looked like if she got the chance.

[bornindarkparadise]

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Bruce Wayne would never call you his wife before you were truly his wife.

He's not one to say "look at my wife" or "this is my wife" when you're just dating.

No. To him, that title is important, too important.

He remembers his father putting a beautiful pearl necklace on Martha's neck, remembers how his fingers would brush the skin of her neck while his mother's gaze was fixed on the mirror in front of them.

Thomas would only look at her, and when he fastened the necklace and she turned to look at him, he remembers how their eyes would meet and his father would always smile and say "my beautiful wife" in the softest tone he'd ever heard.

So no, Bruce doesn't take the title lightly, because marriage means you choose him forever, with all his virtues and despite all his hundreds of flaws, despite his stubbornness and his difficulty showing emotion.

Having Martha Wayne's ring on your finger means to him that you'll wake up next to him every day, that you'll kiss his scars and be there to hold his hand in his worst moments.

It's devotion, it's giving your all, it's loyalty.

Eternal love.

Because no matter how complicated it gets, when he's standing in front of you looking into your eyes, when he says "I do," he says it forever.

He won't even say those words at the wedding reception.

He'll call you "the love of my life" or "the queen of my heart," but not "my wife." Not yet.

He only says it after the confetti has already fallen, the champagne glasses are empty, your shoes are on the floor, and his tie is lying somewhere.

He says it when no one else is around, when it's just the two of you with happy smiles on your faces despite the tiredness from hours of dancing, laughing, and drinking with your closest friends. He takes your hand, caresses your knuckles, and brings it to his lips.

Lingering longer than necessary as he softly kisses your skin, which to him is more valuable than diamonds and more delicate than porcelain.

He looks into your eyes and smiles with such truth on his face, a twinkle in his eyes.

"My wife."

He tucks one of your wild strands of hair behind your ear even though his hair is a complete mess.

He brings his face close to yours, so close that your noses touch and you can feel his warm breath on your lips as he looks at you as if your eyes contained stars.

"My dear wife" his husky voice, so cold and intimidating to others, was now, to you, the definition of love, of affection, and warmth.

So no, Bruce Wayne is not the kind of man who would call you his wife before you are officially his.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

My dear husband, how much I love you.

English is not my native language. Requests are open. Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated.

Kisses from Lena.

—Helena the witch📖🔮🦇

[toastbutteregg]

[edwardskhakipants]

I’ve never seen anything so Edward Cullen in my life

[frownyalfred]

he is NOT beating the eldritch accusations whatsoever

[frownyalfred]

how dare you leave this in the tags

[kentbot]

bruce wayne x controversially young socialite gf