I feel like I need to clarify something about the no pack au.
The batkids aren't evil. Bruce isn't evil. All of them are victims in their own way.
(Alfred is essentially the villain but that's beside the point.)
Bruce raised all of his kids, and watched his other partners grow up, believing they didn't consider him their mother. Believing he was a horrible omega, that he didn't deserve the pack he didn't have anyway. But that was an accident.
The kids were saved from various shitty situations by Bruce, and slowly, eventually, began to consider him to be their mother. This was gradual, and there were times in between, where blinded by grief and rage as children that didn't know better, they rejected Bruce. They didn't know he would absorb that rejection, for some of them, it was so small the incident simply blended into the background, and they forgot it. Others were paralysed by their own self-hatred for saying it that they never brought it up to him again.
They were raised by Bruce, who did most things right, raised them with so much love, but didn't scent them. Didn't make them pack. Some of them know the risks to pups of not having a pack, some of them don't, but they all suffered wondering why they weren't good enough, why Bruce didn't love them enough for them to be pack.
All of them are victims, put in that situation by accident.
Bruce isn't to blame.
The kids aren't to blame.
And I know some of these elseworlds are more extreme than the others, but I'm not a fan of all the batkid hate, 'kay? Just because I'm a Bruce Wayne blog doesn't mean I hate the kids, they are not evil irredeemable creatures, just like he isn't.
ASKBOX IS OPEN REQUESTS ARE OPEN (AUG 23, 3PM-10PM EST) HERE ARE THE RULES
ground rules:
1) Funny- the request needs to be humorous, memes usually the most popular but dnd in jokes and other shitpostery is welcome. i abide by the MBMBAM NO BUMMERS rule - there are plenty of sad/deep/beautiful calligraphers out there who’d be happy to work with yall, but this isn’t that sort of channel
2) Length - aim for no more than 75 characters a request, my cue cards are only so big so I can only fit so much on each one and still not look like garbage. There is a little leeway but if you send me smth with like 120 characters it aint getting written
3) Amount of Requests - I am trying to be fair but i am one person running almost the ENTIRE thing, logistics, tech, etc, I have twitch mods and that's it. In order to be fair, please restrict yourselves to 3 requests per person to let everyone have a shot, if you send in more i will ctrl-f your username and pick my favourites
4) Content - I will not do anything I consider under the umbrella of general assholery - this includes racial slurs, edgelord bigotry, exclusionist jackassery etc. Please be kind to each other. Please let me know if I’ve taken a request that is some incredibly obscure piece of bigotry, someone once tried to slip a really obscure antisemetic piece of slang by me once
5) Repeats - I keyword tag EVERY SINGLE piece i’ve ever done on this blog, if you think I might have written smth already but aren’t sure, the /search/[keyword] is your friend, check if i’ve done your request before
the askbox is theshitpostcalligrapher.tumblr.com/ask , not a dm or submission to the blog. I’ll close submissions too so people don’t get the boxes confused. DM me for any actual clarifications, kind words, etc so they don’t get swallowed up by the behemoth of my askbox for months, and if you want to give me live encouragement the twitch link is right there, and the chat is the ideal way to inquire more about any of the day's rules since I'll be staring at that all day.
If you want to jump the ENTIRE queue and get your card done immediately, there are ways to donate on the twitch stream to get your request done with an ink of your choice. You can still submit 3 free requests in addition to what you pay for.
I’ll be streaming the entire time the askbox is open on twitch at twitch.tv/miathcalligrapher, trying to get as many of these done today as possible live. Once 9PM EST hits, the askbox will close but if you get your request into the askbox by then, it will be done eventually as I always have 4 cards up per day.
Here’s the link to my twitch, we’ll start a little after 3 o’clock.
I am NOT a personal trainer: I don’t mind offering tips or discussing physical fitness. I don’t care to offer specific training or diet plans since everyone is different and I don’t feel properly trained to be that guy.
Mental Health Protection: I am a big advocate for mental health. I protect mine as I feel necessary. This may mean I don’t always respond or interact immediately or to any or every question. It’s nothing personal. I also ask to be informed if any of my interaction causes discomfort or anxiety and I’ll stop immediately.
Only here for positive friendly interaction: Happily married and not looking. Don’t mistake my interaction or responses as flirting or teasing. My intent is to offer positive support and encouragement and welcome interaction with anyone who is interested in the same.
Likes and Comments are OK: From men or women, I appreciate positive feedback/encouragement. I ask to refrain from overly sexual comments such as what you’d do to me or what you want me to do to you. Those are quick ways to get blocked.
Interaction is not an invite: i have will not share any pics beyond what i already post. Nor do i want anyone to send or share pics with me. I also will not engage in private chats or messages of an explicit or sexual nature.
Zero Judgement: I don’t care what you post, you’re likes or interests so long as you can respect my space I’ll respect yours. No judgments here, everyone is free to be themselves.
Some Reblogs are OFF: For personal posts I feel may be abused reblogs are turned off. I don’t mind other posts being reblogged if they are able to be.
Thanks for visiting and or following my journey!
A couple pics from Jan 1st 2026 for progress reference.
supreme leader, would you ever write a sequel to ‘ground rules’ where our baby with joe is here and it’s just a cutesy dad!joe moment? (also wouldn’t be opposed to some smutty times as well bc i just can’t go past gotta-be-quiet-cause-the-baby’s-sleeping-but-fuck-i-want-you-right-now-new-parent-smut) heart you, as always!!
we're switching gears, everyone! sorry for the whiplash!
Wordcount: 3K
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Only Have Eyes For You
(read Ground Rules here)
Joe has yet to stop staring at her.
It’s either eyes on her, or eyes on you, and even though you’re gorgeous and make his chest swell beyond what he thought his ribs could ever manage, looking at her is different.
New.
“Will you keep an eye on her?”
“Yea, of course I will. Go get some rest, please, baby.”
It’s been over an hour, and he still needs to raise a thumb up to wipe a tear from an inner corner about every thirty seconds. For several reasons, too.
It’s been five hours since you’ve given birth, and both sets of grandparents – grandparents, that sounds so fucking wild – have left evidence of their visit all over the room. There’s balloons, cards, flowers, bags with gifts in for you and for the newborn baby girl and Joe feels like they brought too much and too little. Were there for too long but left too soon. Should’ve been there right after instead of two hours later, but also maybe should’ve come to meet the baby tomorrow instead of today.
He wants to protect and hide this little girl from the world, but also needs everyone to see how gorgeous she is.
Five-hour old baby, fast asleep in her clear plastic bed that’s been placed right next to your hospital bed where you’re asleep even faster.
He’s got no idea how much sleep he’s gotten over this weekend. Doesn’t care, either. Just knows that he’s staring at perfection no matter which way he turns, and that the small of his lower back aches because he’s been sitting in his chair weird, but this is the only way he can both touch you and see her little face.
Her perfect little face.
Joe’s got a hand around your ankle as you lie passed out in your hospital bed, finally in what seems to be a deeper sleep rather than just a quick nap, and he wishes you could stay like that for at least the next ten hours. He knows it doesn’t work like that with a newborn, and you’re obviously in a hospital which doesn’t help, but God, you deserve to sleep for a fucking lifetime.
Everything that surrounds you looks and sounds normal, so he guesses your blood pressure must be okay, but he keeps his ears pricked, just to be sure.
The birth was a long one. Almost everything you had tried preparing for hadn’t happened in the way you’d expected, which is what everyone kept telling you was going to happen, but it was still frustrating. It did however feel very fitting with how the two of you had even gotten together.
It was a good thing you managed to pull through most of the labour with humour.
Doctors and nurses had started making jokes of you becoming permanent residents when your dilation had halted at six centimeters for ages, and in return, you had started making jokes that they were going to have to start knocking before coming in, because you knew of a way to induce the labour that Joe would feel more comfortable about if he had some privacy.
“No, no, I do not–” Joe had immediately protested the first time you’d cracked the joke, and the lack of laughter coming from him plus your weird eyebrow wiggle had only made the nurses laugh louder.
“Sorry to inform you,” the doctor said in the middle of giving you another check. “But having sex will not cause labour to begin before your body is ready for delivery.”
“It won’t?” You’d acted all heartbroken. Made Joe mutter, “Jesus Christ!” under his breath, because, you were six centimeters dilated for fuck’s sake. Of course he wasn’t going to have sex with you.
“We’re still not in labour, are we?” the doctor said, insinuating that he thought you had probably tried it at home already.
“Ask him how many times we’ve had sex...” you’d challenged immediately, making Joe groan from the corner of the room where he was sort of pacing around, facing the wall more than the room, because there was another man with fingers deep inside of your vagina, talking to you about sex.
“Can we please focus on—” Joe started, equally as embarrassed as he was humoured by you.
“Once.” You answered your own question and gestured at your stomach. “One time! All it took!”
It had become a running joke between the two of you that Joe didn’t think you were going to involve so many other people in. Joe had gotten you pregnant and then hadn’t touched you since.
Not true. There had been plenty of touching. But you were super pregnant when you’d gotten together and it never felt right for Joe to insert parts of himself into parts of you that felt like they belonged to a whole different person for the time being.
Which actually made a lot of sense to you.
It was just unfortunate that hormones had made you super horny for half the pregnancy.
Hence why it had become a running joke.
One that really annoyed Joe. You were lucky that he loved to hear you laugh and to see you smile so much.
When the two of you were left alone again, Joe scolded you through a smile and pressed kisses to your temple, because you were being funny and entertaining even though you’d just gotten bad news. Again.
Joe lovingly touched your stomach, and pressed his cheek to yours as he looked down at it and said, “You’ve made it too nice in there. She doesn’t want to come out.”
“Remember when we were like, let’s do this as friends...” you joked, but Joe could hardly focus on your light tone of voice when you grabbed hold of his bicep with a strong grip.
“Idiots.” Joe commented, finding your hand and covering it with his.
“I think we would’ve been able to do it, but—”
“You think so?”
“Yea. I was very determined. But, this is nicer.” You smiled and made eye-contact with Joe. He was quick with a tissue, to dab at your wet eyes. He’d learnt to be ready for every and any emotion over the past few days; everything and anything could bring you to tears.
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Joe said, smiling too. “I was already sort of head over heels if I’m honest. You were determined for two, I think.”
That had made you burst into actual sobs.
The last hour of giving birth, you’d cried non-stop. A weird silent steady leaking of water from your eyes as you struggled through the delivery. Joe guessed it was the pain – had to be, because, what the fuck was even going on? How the fuck had nature decided that this was meant to be normal? But then finally, when soft baby cries filled the room, one of the nurses said, “You’re there, you’re done. Relax, we’ll take it from here.” He’d realized then that it they were tears of exhaustion over anything else.
You’d been going for hours, and then your blood pressure did something funny after the placenta got removed, so now they wanted to keep you for a bit, which was scary. But going home with a newborn sounded even scarier, if he was honest... so he wasn’t going to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was.
Or how tired he felt.
He’d been going for hours too, but his tired was different from your tired. He could feel it in his bones, sure, but it was easy to keep his eyes open. Easy to keep staring at her. Easy to do jobs whenever someone asked him to do one.
“Mum’s done. Now, dad, come here. Pay attention.”
And he has not been able to stop paying attention yet. He’s listening to your breathing, paying close attention to the rhythm because you’re the priority after all that’s happened. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of his baby.
There’s a baby next to your bed.
The one he watched you gave birth to.
Your baby.
His baby.
He thumbs another tear from the corner of his eye before it leaves a wet trail down his face and uses his sleeve to dry both his eyes as he pushes his nose into his elbow for a second, not letting go of your ankle.
Life is ridiculous.
He still feels emotional over seeing you scream and cry, in pain and all sweaty. You’d performed a miracle, but it was no fun to witness how difficult the whole thing was on you. Had he not already convinced you to be with him, he would have started that quest today and would’ve likely never stopped.
When he blinks his eyes back into focus, it’s to you stirring in the white sheets of your hospital bed.
He freezes.
Maybe if he holds his breath and doesn’t make a single noise, you won’t wake up. He’s not sure how easy it’ll be to fall back asleep if you pull from your unconscious state completely. He wasn’t there when it happened – had gotten hauled off to help wash and dress his baby (the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen still too big on her, he was pouring tears as he tried to put the socks on and hated how you weren’t there to see it) – but he was informed that you lost a lot of blood and needed a lot of stitching.
After going through all of that, you’d needed stitching.
Your baby had been taken to get cleaned up, and you’d told Joe to go with her. To watch her. To stay with her and to not lose her out of his sight.
He’d listened.
Knew better than to tell you no.
But then you were left on your own, and you’d needed stitching.
You can’t move without wincing now, and Joe could probably jog home if he really wanted to. How is that fair?
Joe holds his breath, and watches you stretch your spine in your sleep before you relax again.
But then suddenly, your slow movements turn jumpy as you jolt awake with a gasp. It makes Joe jump almost just as much, and he narrowly avoids your knee to his face.
He watches you wince in pain, clearly uncomfortable, but then you immediately sink back into the mattress when your eyes find the clear plastic baby bed that holds your child, and you release a relieved breath.
“My God,” Joe whispers, already humoured by what just happened. “She’s still here, calm down.”
“Sorry,” you croak, curling a hand around the edge of the hard plastic and Joe watches your knuckles go white.
“You okay?” Joe’s already up on his feet, hand on your face to wipe your hair back.
With your eyes still closed and head slumped to the side, you softly answer, “Hmm. My vagina hurts.”
“Yea, of course.” Joe nods, unable to look at you without all the sympathy in the world displayed on his forehead. “Do you need anything for the pain?”
“I need to pee, but I don’t want to. It’s already burning.”
“I’ll go get someone.”
“Please.”
Joe gets a nurse in, and he helps you get out of the bed before you’re helped over to the toilet. Not before you tell Joe to watch her. Watch the baby.
“I’ll keep an eye,” Joe says, because he’s already found it’s his new favourite thing to do. To stare at her. “Go pee.”
The door to the bathroom is left open, and Joe listens to your conversation as he does as he’s told.
It’s a lot of, “Careful, mum. Careful. Slow movements.” coming from her, and a lot of hissing in between your teeth from you. A lot of, “Is this normal?” questions coming from you, and a lot of “If you feel this, it’s probably for this reason, which is totally normal.” answers from the nurse.
Joe gets the room and the fresh new little person all to himself for a second, and he leans all the way over your bed, feet still on the floor, his head resting in both hands as he slowly blinks at what you’ve created together.
He can’t get over how you’ve made this.
Two people have just gone and accidentally made a whole new person... it’s legitimately insane, Joe thinks.
The peeing takes longer than Joe thought it would take. He doesn’t blame you for taking your time, but he hopes that you figure out how to do it without being in pain or needing any help before you get to go home.
Joe hears a shocked gasp coming from you before you softly ask, “That’s a lot of blood. Is that a lot of blood?” followed by a toilet flushing and a reassuring, “Absolutely totally normal. Don’t worry.”
Baby is still asleep. Soundly and so peacefully, small tiny nose doing a perfect job at breathing, Joe’s already so proud of her it’s stupid.
“Well done, mum! First bathroom visit!” the nurse claps her hands together and laughs when you give a sarcastic yay in faux celebration.
You’re miserable, but Joe can hear your smile through everything and it makes his heart swell even more with pride. For you. For urinating. He’s proud because you peed, what the hell.
He shares his first secret smile with his daughter. “Mummy peed!”
You get helped back into your underwear and joggers, and Joe lets his view distract him enough that he almost doesn’t hear what you ask just before you step back into the room.
“Six weeks before sex, right?”
You’re joking, but Joe hears the serious confusion when the nurse asks, “Oh, have you not been talked through—”
“We have. Don’t listen to her.” Joe interrupts, and when he looks over his shoulder to see you shuffle back over to the bed, he catches the cheeky smile you’re trying to hide.
Before he can say anything else about how he’ll have you wait twelve weeks if you keep bringing it up, he catches your eyes flash in pain, just from your small shuffling steps, and he’s up in an instant. Pushes himself from your bed and turns to place both hands under your arms to make sure you’re safe and supported.
You hold onto him like a lifeline and pause in place for a moment.
God, the labour is done. Can you have a single second without any uncomfortable sharp pulling down there? Jesus.
You don’t see how Joe and the nurse share a look over your shoulder. The nurse is smiling at him, and Joe gives her a tired shake of his head as he rolls his eyes, quietly communicating that the girl he’s chosen to have a baby with is an actual menace.
“Maybe eight weeks?” Joe carefully jokes, hoping it’ll get you to laugh and forget about how sore you’re feeling for a second. Instead you just sigh and go, “Yea, maybe.”
You’re helped back into bed by four hands, shuffle slowly into position and leave enough room for Joe to join you.
You’re sore and tired and in a weird emotional state, and it’s simply much nicer to be all of those things squeezed tightly up against him. Joe knows to curl into you with his whole body and lays an arm over your pillow for you to place your head on. It gives the both of you the perfect view of your baby.
Your baby.
You feel a flash of want for her. To have her in your arms. Against your chest. To hold and hug and keep her close. But she’s asleep and you’re not quite sure what to do when she wakes up. What if she cries and you can’t get her to stop? This is safer.
You can both just watch her.
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” the nurse says after checking a file, and you ask, “To help me feed her?”
The nurse smiles, says, “Yea sure, that too.” and leaves.
You make a funny face, confused, and look at Joe like you think she was being rude.
“To check on you.” Joe softly says, and your face drops immediately.
“Oh. Yea. But I feel fine, now.” your focus is barely on yourself. There’s this whole other brand new human to be worried about.
“Hmm. Okay. Think you can sneak a little more sleep before she’s back?”
“Probably not.” you say, but Joe sees how you close your eyes anyway. Feels how you carefully move your hips back a little to feel more of Joe against your body. Feels how you grab onto his arm and firmly press it into your stomach that’s still big and round, but all soft and squishy now.
“Can you try?” Joe whispers, lips touching the shell of your ear.
“Will you watch her?” you’re already sinking away. Joe’s body heat is pulling you under quicker than he’d anticipated.
“Of course I will,” Joe says, but lies, and watches you for a moment instead. You’re his priority. Thinks it’s silly how you wouldn’t accept that if he told you. “I’ll watch her.” he confirms, not lying then, because he’s talking to his daughter as he says it.
Joe watches you until he feels you drop of the deep end. Feels you relax in a way he’s not felt you relax in ages.
After a while Joe repeats, “I’ll watch her.” in a barely-there whisper before he places a barely-there kiss against your cheek as you sleep.
His gaze moves back to the small baby girl in the room, and Joe’s eyes immediately well up again.
It’s stupid how even just the sight of her feels new and unexpected again. Like he’s seeing her for the first time once more.
And he simply finds that, once again, it’s so easy to stare.
Finds he can’t stop staring.
“Yea, I’ll keep an eye,” Joe whispers to himself. Thumbs another tear from his inner corner before it can run down his face and bother you.
I believe I was tagged by @nine-one-wanton and @bangpop91 but tis possible there are others. here's some more of Ground Rules which is at 5k and climbing
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"Sorry I'm so bad at this." Tommy's skin is uncharacteristically pale, and he's eating the salad more like a junkie that needs a fix than a man that needs a meal.
Buck shrugs, resists the urge to tap Tommy's foot with his. "New things are hard." He uses his fork to point at his ex. "But it is so your turn."
Tommy huffs and wipes his mouth with the nice napkins Buck had splurged on. Just because they're keeping their physical distance, just because they shouldn't touch, it doesn't mean Tommy doesn't still deserve the best.
"Ok I have an idea." Buck fishes. "You were talking about when we ran into Lucy at Harbor. There's something you said that day I always meant to ask you about. That thing about saving someone's life and then dating them, what did you mean by that?"
Tommy's posture goes rigid and it's as if a wall of ice springs up in his hawkish blue eyes.
Yeah, there's a landmine for sure.
"You don't have to talk about it now." Buck couches immediately, holding his hands up to show he won't shoot. Getting to know Tommy feels a bit like the belly crawling drills they did back in his SEAL training days, barbed wire and hazards everywhere.
But he really can't think of a better hill to die on.
He realizes he's bouncing his knee and grabs his leg to steady it.
Tommy finally blinks, exhales.
"There's a couple stories there. None of which I'm really ready to talk about." His eyes flutter down like he's trying to x-ray vision his way through the table.
"I guess there's one I'm the least not ready for though? It's ummm. It's heavy." Tommy's voice is soft and gentle, like he's talking to a spooked horse. Or more like he is the spooked horse.
So lately I have been seeing on my TikTok timeline about paypigs. So since I am a natural born bitch I might as well out that shit to use as a findom. Here are some grounding rules if you wanna be my paypig;
1. Do not come to me with some bullshit that involves with downloading shit, I am not going to download stuff when I have Cashapp, Apple Pay, and PayPal as my payment methods.
2. If you wanna have a conversation with me come to my DMs very respectfully and stating your business with me so we can form a relationship together.
3. Do not come to my DMs talking to me disrespectfully because I will most definitely go off on you, that’s just me as a person naturally.
4. I do not fall for common scams, I cannot be fooled by your stupidity cause I have experienced them before and will not repeat them again.
5. If you want to already drop money off to me, that’s completely fine with me. I have no issues with that.
6. If you are more into 18+ content I would most likely give you my menu and my deal package for my 18+ content and will send you a link to my twitter (X) page.
If you’ve read this to the very end congratulations, I hope to do this findom business with you 🩷
