Noah Kahan
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ojovivo
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Stranger Things
tannertan36
Misplaced Lens Cap
โ
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@theartofmadeline
Fai_Ryy
Show & Tell
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
trying on a metaphor
I'd rather be in outer space ๐ธ
Love Begins
todays bird
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
@v00do-d0ll
you know that story about the cheetah that left her babies with a wildlife photographer while she went off and did stuff? That but itโs merman bruce finally trusting fisherman clark and putting merbabies on his boat one by one to Clarkโs increasing anxiety and panicked questions (which bruce doesnโt even acknowledge) so he can go off and hunt for a little while
I need this to be a fic so bad
you know that story about the cheetah that left her babies with a wildlife photographer while she went off and did stuff? That but itโs merman bruce finally trusting fisherman clark and putting merbabies on his boat one by one to Clarkโs increasing anxiety and panicked questions (which bruce doesnโt even acknowledge) so he can go off and hunt for a little while
hello so drawing on some things said to me and making it more extreme for bruce
what if bruce talks about his special interests very passionately but to his kids he rambles and hes embarrassing
so they sit him down and say let's draw up a code to let u know when ur talking too much
maybe its simple 'B' but drawn out or lilting im not sure
and then they tell bruce thats his priot to say "sorry im rambling" or something along those lines and shut up
and bruce views it positively as its something Alfie did for him to train him for society
and hes thankful "I dont know when to stop talking sometimes, I dont pick up when I've become boring, thank you for this"
and maybe it spirals to the JL using it and the kids teaching their teams
maybe its used so often bc bruce was comfortable enough to ramble passionately and now he realises people were finding excuses to leave and were half asleep
maybe bruce goes back to the non verbal state he was in as a child with Alfie's corrections and rules
and no one really notices theyre just grateful he's learned and it was never intended to be cruel it was ignorance
maybe Harvey does or Harley or Khoa im not sure..
I've had half formed ideas about this but im not that coherent with words so if this is something you'd like to build on please do, im always in awe by your writing. but please dont feel any pressure and ignore if not something you're interested in, its very long
I really hate to stray from anon's preferred characters, but can I do Talia? Please? You can't answer before I write this so I'm sorry.
"B."
"Bruce."
"Beeee."
"Bruce."
"B."
It's a sound that is familiar. All the way back in time to when Richard was young, and he would tear around calling beloved's name for attention, full of wonder, and joy, and childish jealousy.
But that is not what she hears now.
No.
It is not a call for attention, but for silence.
A reprimand for daring to express himself.
Her beloved is a quiet man. He has been, ever since they were teens together under her father's watchful eye, but she misses his loudness. Those moments inbetween, where he would laugh, or cry, or make those cherished noises when none of the languages he new would suffice for the emotions he felt.
She understands why his cackle left. Why he hides that away, after she saw him flinch at his own laugh, memories of a white face and stretched red lips stripping the joy from the moment.
She remembers helping him form a new laugh, a muted chuckle that was nothing like the one he had before, one he trained into himself so firmly you would never be able to tell it wasn't his real laugh.
She does not understand why his voice has left. His smile. Him.
She does not recognise the man before her.
She married Bruce Wayne, and has loved every iteration of him, even with their differences. She does not love this man. He makes her heart ache, her stomach twist, her very bones itch from discomfort.
It is like standing toe-to-toe with a mimic. Everything looks right, but it is hollow. Dispassioned. Dead.
She waits, biding her time, until she cannot anymore.
Bruce's bedroom door is not locked when she tries the handle. It never is. He would not deny his children access to him, and she curses his selflessness. He truly has nowhere to be his own space.
She steps in, closing the door behind her, and the figure on the bed slumps back, a shuriken clattering onto the bedside table.
"Tee."
"Bruce."
She locks the door before padding across the soft carpet, sliding onto the bed. He lifts the duvet for her, and she presses close, enveloped in warmth beneath the plush bedding.
"You okay?" he murmurs sleepily, pressing his lips to the side of her head, and she allows him to wrap her in his arms.
That is one thing she cherishes about the two of them. No matter how many times he is shut down, or dismissed, or reshapes his relationship with someone, with everyone, and he pulls back, stops touching, stops talking, stops hugging, and kissing, and being, it does not touch the two of them.
"No, beloved." He tenses beneath her, and she strokes his thigh. "Calm."
He does as she says, relaxing again, through she can still feel the worry in his stare, searching her face in the darkness. "What can I do?"
"You can come back to me." She presses closer, sliding into his lap, cupping his face. "I do not know why you are not allowed to talk anymore, or express excitement, or simply be yourself within your own home, but beloved..." She strokes a hand across his cheeks, tugs almost teasingly on the top of his ear. "You are not yourself. I know the man I married, I know the man I had a son with, and I know the man I love even if we have been separated for longer than our son has been alive. That is not the man I have seen for the past week." She looks into his eyes, imploring. "Where did he go?"
He cries.
He cries, and she holds him, and eventually he tells her about being too much, and not enough, and he knows that he needs it, that he doesn't know how to act right, but their training feels cruel, he cannot make himself welcome it, he feels like an intruder on his own family.
Talia cries.
She cries, and he holds her, because she cannot fathom how he has been living. How he has been believing he acts inherently wrong, and must be corrected and trained like a wild dog. Talia cannot fathom treating an animal like that, let alone a man. A friend. A father.
They cry.
They cry, and they hold each other all night, until the sun is creeping around the curtains, and their eyes have run dry.
The butler raps on the door and Bruce calls an acknowledgement, so he bustles off again to ready the rest of the morning.
They shower together, not quite ready to part yet, he smears moisturiser on her nose and they giggle together, his electric toothbrush dies halfway through and she chokes on her toothpaste at his indignant expression.
He ties a towel around his waist and lets her borrow his dressing gown, and she closes her eyes as he combs through and blow dries her hair. He signals he's done by inserting a slobbery finger into her ear and the doorway to his walk-in chips as the brass statue on his shelf becomes abruptly airborne.
He locks himself in there and she steals his slippers to return to her own room, but when she exits, he is there with a sheepish grin to press a kiss to her cheek, and she lounges on his bed as he styles his own stubborn hair. Nearly forty years of existence and he still fights with his mother's cowlicks just as fruitlessly, cursing his Kane lineage until she cannot breathe for laughing.
Time ticks on through the morning, and Talia sees the door handle twitch. And again. Bruce does not notice, but she does.
They go down to breakfast at time that has never even heard the word 'punctuality', and all sort of suspicious looks are earned.
Bruce tenses but does not address it, and Talia plucks Damian out of his seat next to Bruce's own, sliding into place. Her son gapes at her, and she presses a kiss to his cheek, stealing his hashbrown before he snaps to and snatches his plate away, kissing her cheek in return before stomping off to the next available seat.
The butler is stiffly silent as he delivers their plates, radiating disapproval, but Talia just thanks him demurely and smacks at Bruce's hand when his fork creeps onto her plate.
Conversation around the room resumes stiffly, and some time in, she sees Bruce's attention snap to Timothy's conversation with Richard.
She pokes his ankle with her toe, and for a moment she thinks he won't do anything, but then he turns to her, a shy smile on his face.
"Do you remember the summer we spent in that conservation centre in Australia?"
She tilts her head. "Yes?"
He launches into an explanation, and she slowly sees the links form between the memories and the conversation across the room.
They give him two minutes.
The rage that fills her as a lilting "Beeee~" comes from further down the table is incandescent, but she contains it within herself.
Bruce falters, but only for a moment, and keeps talking. She twines their ankles together, hoping he can feel her pride in him, and listens.
Another minute.
"B."
Firmer this time.
Bruce swallows, discomfort flickering through his eyes, and keeps going.
His point begins to conclude, but Talia can feel confused, indignant stares coming from her other side, so she asks him how the land formations affect the migratory patterns, and watches his eyes light up.
He launches into the new branch of the topic, and she allows smugness to suffuse her.
She will stay however long it takes for her beloved to be allowed to exist in his own home again. They will not stifle him.
Know what would be interesting Is the night before Bruce leaves to start his training was Alfred sensing that Bruce seemed off so he baked his cookies to help cheer Bruce up and to Bruce Alfredโs is the scent that of his cookies
During Bruceโs training his scent glands and ability to tell others scent were destroyed but he genuinely accepted that it was for the best and believed he shouldnโt have tried to start packs since he wasnโt planning on living past 30
Alfred was shocked and sad at what that these โteachersโ did to his boy when he returned home Bruce tried to share his point of view of why itโs okay to him
Years later after gaining a family and joining the Justice League thereโs a invasion or a fight with the legion of doom and Bruce is brought to a Lazarus pit and there everyone gathers around Bruce as he wakes up
Everyone but Oliver is shocked to actually smell Bruce as an omega and Bruce quickly realizes that for the first time in 15+ years that he could smell everyoneโs scent and it dawns on him that he doesnโt know what his kids smell like but one of them definitely smells like Alfred
Jason wasnโt scented by Alfred he took a handful of cookieโs and shoved them into a pocket before leaving for the mission and forgot about it
Sorry I donโt know how to write fanfic or prompts but thought youโd like this with all this to say is that I hc Alfredโs scent is tea and cookies
@borbsbirbs 15!
Bruce looks around the room, but doesn't see the face he's looking for in the sea of them in front of him.
He feels drugged, almost, suddenly being able to register the scents of his family, but one stands out among all the rest, and he can't see him.
He prowls forward, climbing out of the green waters, and the group backs away from his approach. The stone is smooth, cold under his palms and the soles of his feet, and he clambers closer, sniffing, tracking the scent.
"Bruceโ" someone begins, interrupted by a rush of hushing.
"Where is he?" he growls, and the group shrinks back even more.
"Who?"
Bruce turns his head towards the voice, and stills. There. He starts in that direction, and catches the scent again.
Warm sugar...dark chocolate...
The group tries to move and Bruce leaps through the air. Jason goes down beneath him, trying to fight it, clawing across the stone, but Bruce drops his weight, snarling.
"Where is he?"
He lowers himself, sniffing, that familiar scent stronger than ever.
"Give."
"Do it, Hood!"
"Who the fuck is 'he'?"
"I don't know!"
"Then how am I meant to?!"
Jason twists to yell at his brother, and Bruce snaps his teeth, making him draw back, submitting to Bruce's inspection.
"Empty your pockets, Red Hood," Diana intones, and Bruce rumbles a quiet growl as Jason worms a hand around to reach his pocket, muttering curses.
Bruce watches as keys and ammo are cast onto the stone floor. Two knives, three shuriken, his phone, andโ
Bruce climbs off Jason, picking up a cookie. It's still slightly warm, sinking on either side of his thumb until gravity triumphs and it falls back to the floor in pieces.
"Do the Pits make you hungry?"
Cookies. Familiar. Want him. He makes cookies. Cookies warm. He's near.
Calls of his name follow him as he bounds into the small tunnel, but he's on a mission, now.
His hunch was right. The underground tunnels evolve into a system he knows well, and as he runs through them the Lazarus' effects slowly ebb as he is grounded by the damp earth beneath his feet, the stale cave air, the distant screeches of bats.
By the time he thunders up the stairs into the manor, his mind is all but his own again, and his base instincts have evolved back into rational thought.
He must find Alfred.
It's two pm according to the grandfather clock he races by, which means Alfred will be doing laundry, so he veers to the left with a sharp turn.
Sure enough, when he tumbles down the steps, Alfred is there, organising piles of laundry. He doesn't have time to turn before Bruce is colliding into him, sending them both tumbling into said piles.
The scents of pack explode around them, but one stands out above all the rest, and Bruce nuzzles close, tucking his head under Alfred's chin, the way a pup does to their parent.
For the first time in twenty years, they scent each other.
"Master Bruceโ" Alfred mutters, shocked, but hugs him close, and Bruce buries his face in him, basking in the smell of warm cookies.
The smell of home.
Love this so much ๐ญ
This is months late, but it's here!
My hybrid!Bruce fic is finally complete! I did cut some extra smut I had planned because it just didn't fit like I wanted it to, but maybe I'll revise one day and include it.
I know the wait on this one was way longer than it was supposed to be, but I kinda stopped knowing what to write towards the end and ended up working on some different fics.
Anyway it's Slow Down(You're Doing Fine) on AO3 by Stygian_Star
Or you can follow this link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/85109836
It's a SuperBat, Sex pollen fic, featuring engaged Clark and Bruce. It also features alien biology and hybrid biology, with implied intersex Bruce! It's about 6.5k words!
It will eventually be part of a bigger series, but when is to be determined.
I hope anyone who chooses to read enjoys and constructive criticism is more than welcomed!
Summary:
Bruce has been overworking himself, Clark doesn't get an opportunity to confront him before their rouges start causing trouble. He might have to thank Poison Ivy later for forcing the man to finally give into his needs, even if it wasn't her intention.
Or tldr;
Batman gets hit with sex pollen meant for Superman, which also triggers a delayed heat and forces him to finally relax.
a character who truly, legitimately goes โbut why does that matter?โ about their feelings when someone who cares about them asks. and the sudden falling of everyone around themโs faces as they realize that this person doesnโt recognize themself as someone who needs or should be taken care of. i want Everyone to hurt. surprise at the idea, worry for them, horror at not having noticed. do you see this person who doesnโt think of themselves as a person?
Clark is 22, when he memorises every single minute detail of his heart.
Clark is 25, when he learns almost all of the medical practices necessary to save his life. It takes him 3 years to learn about it all but he never backs down.
Clark is 27, when he learns about ASL and BSL to understand him better than anyone else, it doesn't take him much time to master both of the languages and understand them clearly.
Clark is 30, when he memorises every single street and tunnel and hidden places in Gotham. The excessive lead makes it exceptionally difficult for him to complete the task but he never gives up. He spends his free time travelling the city on foot to make sure he has it all memorised, so that he can always find him in the case of an emergency.
Clark is 34, drowning in horror and grief as he holds his cold body in his arms unable to think rationally and does the only thing that his soul is screaming at him to do, he throws him in the pit, going against every rule and moral he stood for but he would rather have him angry at Clark them have him dead.
Clark is 37, when he saves his identity from getting revealed to the whole world, the whole ordeal almost killed him and even tho he doesn't like Clark meddling in his business, Clark would not sit still and watch him get ruined in front of the whole world.
Clark is 40, when he gets the complete and unrestricted access to his cave, and Clark understands that it's his way of telling him that he is ready to address and commit to the thing that has been growing between them for decades.
Clark is 43 and Bruce is 45, when they publicly announce their engagement and get married at a remote location. Sealing their fate together forever.
No thoughts but the kids being physical with Bruce. The man is built like a wall, a brick shit house, those kids are constantly pulling at him.
Jason propping himself up on his forearms against on Bruce's back to study something Bruce is showing him on the BatComputer.
Dick was used to climbing all over Bruce, standing on his shoulders, swinging off his arms etc and even though he's grown, he's still bouncing off of Bruce constantly. He will throw himself at Bruce to be caught anytime he can.
Duke will set up camp with his back against Bruce whether he's sat, laying down or standing, Duke just leans against him like he's a wall.
Steph loves to mess up Bruce's hair when he's sat. She will ranting about something or talking to him while he's working, combing his hair to stand up while he's frowning at paperwork or his iPad.
Cass likes to hold Bruce's hand. It doesn't matter what he's doing or where they are, Cass just holds onto Bruce's hand, even if he's having a conversation. Anytime somebody asks whether she's alright, Bruce just nods and says she just likes to hold his hand and she's fine.
Tim constantly collapses next to Bruce, head on his lap, legs over his legs, shoulder to his, tucked up into a tight ball just under Bruce's ribs.
Damian likes being carried by his dad at the start. Nobody but Talia really ever carried him unless they had to be Damian likes just climbing into Bruce's arms, sitting on his hip with his arms locked around Bruce's neck. When he's older, he just loves hugging his dad.
Heavily pregnant omega Bruce Wayne locking himself in his and Clark's bedroom to cry because Clark ate the last marzipan bonbon in the house. It doesn't matter that Bruce hates marzipan, he still wanted to have a choice to eat it but Clark took it from him.
Now Clark is in front of the bedroom door, kneeling and begging Bruce to forgive him, promising to buy more marzipan bonbons.
Which only makes Bruce cry harder because he hates marzipan, how could Clark suggest buying it for him?! He's suppose to love Bruce!
Clark with a pregnancy/breeding kink is genuinely one of the best things ever.
Amen.
Especially if it's his hidden, deeply repressed Kryptonian instinct and he goes all caveman on Bruce. Doesn't matter if Bruce can get pregnant or not, he'll fill that man with his cum - grunting and snarling because he lost the ability to speak.
The whole world could be ending and the only thought on Clark's mind will be "mate, breed, mate".
I love the fics where Bruce is in a coma or โdiesโ during a mission and Clark goes absolutely ballistic. His eyes just constantly red, his anger contained by a single loose string.
Itโs so satisfying to see him go after everyone involved while going back to bed-ridden Bruce and being so gentle to him. His hands shaking as his fingertips grazed the cut on his cheekbone.
Dick, walking into kitchen: hey guys , any idea where Tim is? i need his help with this case.
Steph,painting Jasons nails (lost a bet): i saw him on the cave couch when i was down there, that what about an hour ago so idk if hes still there.
Dick: yeah but i was just down there and Bruce was napping there.
Jason: where else would he be? have you tried calling his phone?
Dick: he never answers his phone, he has some freaky mind powers for knowing when something is an actual emergency .
they sit in silence for a minute
Cass: wait you said Bruce was napping on the couch? didnt he just get off patrol with a heavy concussion?
more silence
Steph realsing: OMG
Jason,also realising : rip Timmy, concussed 210 pound Bruce decides when the hug ends
.
in the cave on the cave couch.
Alfred: you alirght in there master Tim?
Tim: its like a really heavy ,slightly bloody ,weighted blanket.
Part 29 of de aged Bruce part 1
Bruce's mood was weird. It was like his normal older self, his expression being almost entirely blank, simply keeping neutral and responding like he's 'supposed to', smiling when talked to, looking directly into the eyes. Something taught. He wheeled around slowly in the greenhouse, the food on his plate looking like a bird would've barely been full, he let his hands glide over the fragile petals of the various flowers and plants.
The image looked like a painting, the pale and beautiful child, dressed in comfortable sleepwear hiding his casts, surrounded by brightly colored flowers and embraced by the light of the sun from the windows, it was like he was in his own little world.
"Have you ever thought about your future Bruce?"
The question broke the tranquil.
"What do you mean?"
"You ever thought about what your future will look like?"
"Steph." Tim's voice was tight, spoken with a smile but said with a warning.
"Hm? You ever wonder what you want to do?" She continued, never turning her head.
"My future," Bruce's eyes didn't leave her's either. "...is as the head of Wayne enterpr-"
"No no no, what do you think your future looks like," Steph moved to crouch in front of a big pot, finally breaking their staring contest to inspect the flowers. "what does the future of little Bruce entail?"
The pot was filled with small blue five pedal flowers. The shade was just a little darker than the glacier blue of Bruce's eyes. The little pot didn't really fit the rest of the aesthetic, maybe that's why it caught her eye so much, a crack in the ceramic made it look like lightning had been painted across it. No way it was- "Alfred allowed it because it was Mother's idea."
A shift. "Her idea for what?"
"I wanted a dog, so she proposed that I take care of a plant for a six months, to show I was capable of it." Though now it had no doubt grown a lot bigger than when he took care of it himself. "Its called myosotis or scorpion grass," He reached out, bending awkwardly in the wheelchair, the tips of his fingers grazing the small blooms, "it's almost the same color as Mother's eyes."
The same as his own.
"They're beautiful."
"I want to continue my Mother's dream of improving the city, and I'll follow my Father's wishes and make the company better. I'll make it grow, like these little flowers."
Steph sighed, that was their hopes of him, not his own. โIโm sure that youโll do great.โ Bruceโs eyes were fixed on the flowers, it was like they were trying to overcome the confinements of the smaller pot, reaching out over the edges, towards freedom. Never quite being able to reach it. "You got any other cool flowers in here you could tell me about?"
"You're looking extra distracted, Dick." Duke commented, making the other people at the table's eyes turn sharply towards him. "Got something you wanna say?"
He had returned from his rather abrupt run off towards the cave without saying anything, and refusing to say anything when he finally did return.
A tight smile formed on his face, his go-to when he knew he had to talk, but also didn't want to ruin whatever happy atmosphere was there. His hand raised to give a small wave as Bruce's eyes sought him out from the other side of the room. "Not here."
The glass door of the greenhouse clicked shut.
Dick did a vague gesture towards the sky, nervous energy slowly building up under the skin. He really didn't want be the one to reveal this information.
"The ones up there, might have found a solution to the baby Bruce problem." Good news first. Like they always said they hated. "They've said they need something of a week to check the safety of the procedure, but it's looking good for the moment."
A sigh of relief rippled through the group, and the stone in Dick's stomach got heavier. "That's good news at least." Tim said, the tenseness in his shoulders seemed to lift a little. He'd been hovering around Bruce like a hawk, and if he wasn't physically present, then he was most likely watching on his tablet. He was the go-to to calm the anxious child down. Most likely because he was also used to the weird pressure of being thrust into the spotlight before being actually ready for it. He saw himself a little too much in the little guy. Maybe that was what big Bruce always saw in little Tim.
"We just have to keep him calm and happy for a week, and then we can handle whatever the after effects are afterwards." Jason said, the bags under his eyes making it clear how much more work he'd have to put in the last few days. Constantly in a debate of having to leave to take care of his crime empire in person, but not wanting to leave Bruce alone either. The joker's death had slowly been spreading between rumors and hushed voices, it would only be a matter of time before it was released to the public that the Clown Prince of Gotham had finally died.
Duke gave a sigh of relief for a second time. "Maybe he won't remember at all, I honestly think that'll be for the best." Duke always had it hardest with dealing with traumatized children, and more than a few of his siblings had seen the pile of books from the library about 'childhood trauma' and 'how to deal with a traumatized child' that had begun to line the nightstand in his room.
Time to break the happy bubble then...
"That's not all..." He hesitated. A grimace that couldn't quite decide if it was a frown or a strained smile. "Alfred... is coming back, maybe tomorrow."
A quiet utterance of curses sounded. Better reaction than expected.
โWhat do you mean? I thought he said he wasnโt coming.โ
โI donโt know why, he just suddenly said he was returning.โ
โHe canโt return now, not while Bruceโs emotional state is unstable and recovery is slow, he looks like heโs just barely able to eat properly.โ
โMaybe he needs it-โ
โI seriously doubt it-โ
"Alfred can't come anywhere near Bruce when he's like this."
Fluttering wings sounded in the distance as the loud voice had surprised them.
"...Tim?"
The teen froze for a second, seemingly having surprised even himself with his objection. "They really can't come near each other right now, Bruce can't know he's coming back, he'll never trust anything we do again."
"You know something don't you?" A second passed, it was enough. "There's something you're not telling us, something about Bruce."
"I'm not even really sure."
"You sounded pretty damn sure." The younger bit his lower lip hard enough to make the small scar whiten, a tell-tale of his old habit of biting too hard when concentrating or too stressed. "Damn it, Tim. We're on the same side."
Jason sighed, but took a step back, knowing his looming most likely wasn't helping the situation, but also refusing to hide his frustration with being left out of what could be valuable information.
"Timbers," Dick shifted into his space, making sure his body blocked most of the other's view of the other, he was already stressed enough, the amount of eyes wouldn't help. "Is there something you know?"
"I haven't confirmed anything, Bruce didn't want me to, I just kind of came to the conclusion by myself. I'm not sure. I also only remembered it now, so it might not even be anything." He was rambling, he could hear it himself. He wasn't making any sense. He would have to spill the beans sooner or later now, a family of detectives would never let this go even if he tried to hide it afterwards now.
His teeth broke skin. "When my dad died," Jason's leather jacket creaked as he tightened his hold around himself, Duke moved even further away, giving space, and Dick sunk even lower to the ground, giving space, unnecessarily if Tim had to say himself. He didn't. "I was all alone, like Bruce had been, and since I didn't really have anywhere to go I was usually at the manor here. He tried his best to be there for me and all that. It wasn't surprising that he knew what to say and what to do, since he had literally been through the same."
He paused, suspense none of them had the time or patience for.
"What was weird, was how much he tried to keep Alfred away from me the first few months."
"What do you mean?"
"He always made sure we didn't have solo conversations, and whenever he brought up therapy or anything like that he always made sure that Alfred wasn't anywhere near us. He tested anything I ate and drank that Alfred gave us-"
"Taste testing. Alfred's food?" Alfred might have, surprisingly, been a less than suitable parental figure, but messing with a grieving kid's food for no reason... wait. "Testing for what?"
Tim's eyes shifted, the blood on his lip smeared around as he pressed them together. Words falling short.
"Testing for what, Tim?"
"It was a different time back then. It was even seen as normal to deal with it like... like that. We don't even really know for sure."
"You think he was drugging Bruce?" Jason spat through clenched teeth, his eyes wandering towards the child on the other side of the glass. His eyes were slightly crinkled as he had a small smile as Damian and Steph were talking animatedly by his side, no doubt arguing about something meaningless. He was so small.
"Drugging Bruce?" Dick echoed.
Flashes of sceptical eyes following the plate, hesitation in the hands as utensils simply pushed the food around, and even while he was wheezing after taking the heavy armor off, he still didn't rush to take the bottle prepared by the butler.
He had thought it was the tense emotions of a still hormonal almost-adult. The moody emotions fit the heavy eye bags and oversized clothes he used to wear in the first year of their knowing each other. Bruce letting his whims win over him and taking in a sad child before he was over his own grief. The last streaks of rebellion showing through the cracks before the near uncrackable shell formed over the legacy of Bruce Wayne, new CEO and head of Wayne Enterprises, fully formed.
And little Bruce. Even shortly after waking up, he spent more time simply swirling his spoon around in the soup than actually eating anything. When they made that large feast, he would eat last, never taking a bit of anything before he had seen someone else try it first. Like he was scared something was wrong with it. Scared something might be in it.
"Do you know what he was drugging him with?"
"You're believing this shit, Dick?" Jason said, outrage clear in his tone, a crack was starting to form under his fingers against the glass panels.
"He was crap at handling young Bruce sure, that much is obvious, but drugging him to keep him down is another level of psycho parenting." Duke said, but not leaving the possibility out either.
Tim began chewing the skin on his finger, as his mind began working, trying his best to remember details he had almost forced himself to forget, for Bruce's sake and his own. Bruce clearly never wanted the family to know, and Tim wanted to finally feel the love of a family, even if it was flawed. Maybe a biproduct of the family he had come from, he chose to ignore what his new dad desperately didn't want him to see.
"I never found out for sure, but sometimes when he was out on patrol and I was left alone in the manor, he would question if I was feeling more sleepy, if my mind felt cloudy or if I felt more lethargic than usual. I'm thinking it was a relaxant, or something similar."
"This is fucking crazy." Duke uttered.
Dick had turned quiet, while Jason was just barely forcing himself to stay still.
"I think I know what you're talking about."
~~~~
*Takes over 3 months instead* I'm the fucking worst I know, been real busy, and I'm sorry for the delay again again again, I can say now tho that I passed my firefighter exam, so I'm now officially a firefighter and will do my best to help people, and use my knowledge to traumatize people with my writing, now coupled with real life knowledge. Tag, youโre it. @suzzettemirunette @lwklillies @sluttyspicystem @sanctum-1993 @wubbie-1 @spikysilhouette @6xofim @wishiwaswritingrn @occasionalauthoring @nugget-72 @thefandomlifechoseus @6xofim @kira-nightingale @ace-wuz-here @nikiexe0 @lilacswraith @treymeow @bi-all-known-laws-of-aviation @banenaz @gimm3storie5 @cajogi @yoopsity @cyraniadebergerac @elemen0pe-blog @flamingfeathers98 @superblyscentedflower @ryudenzu @bat-potato @purplederpleghost @generousnightfury @teamfoods1 @rebobinarte @1am-headcannons @j4yyyz @artisticmindsunite-blog @morallygrayi @amante-de-gays-psicopatas @beentheredonewithlife @czarpaul
Clark is obsessed with Batman.
Older Superman who sees this younger superhero running around Gotham. Inexperienced in vigilantism, desperate and naive, in need of support. The first time he saves the man, Batman glares at him, and tells him to stay out of Gotham.
Does Clark listen? Of course not. It becomes his nightly routine to tune into Gotham, keeping an ear out for crime. Trying to guess if Batman will stop it, or if the criminals will get away. He even conceals his identity and explores Gotham, hoping to be caught up in a crime that requires Batman.
After a year, Superman approaches Batman to invite him to the Justice League. He's rejected immediately. But if there's one thing journalism has taught him, it's that you have to appeal to people's weak spot, persuade them to give up their reluctance to satisfy their morals. All it took was one intergalactic conflict that affected Earth, including Gotham. With no choice but to protect his city, Batman joins force with the League. If Clark might've instigated the conflict, well, that's no one's business but his.
After that, Batman admits having the Justice League would be nothing short of an advantage. But he doesn't exactly know how to approach them. They're all older, experienced heroes, he's still a relatively new vigilante. He can't expect them to just accept him. Except, there's a certain Superman willing to help.
Maybe Clark creates situations to make Batman dependent on him. Maybe he starts a rumor. Maybe Batman's history get revealed. Maybe Bruce's identity is at risk. Maybe Batman's plans are being sabotaged. Maybe Batman needs to be voted into thee team, or needs his plan to be taken seriously. Clark uses his seniority and founding member status to help integrate Bruce. Maybe other heroes who aren't allowed into the League as easily hate Batman for pulling strings (strings he didn't even know existed). So many situations of Clark's own making that have Bruce turning to him for help.
The first time Bruce shows up at his apartment, drenched in rain, begging Clark to help him find Green Lantern because an unknown element in his plan was tampered with, and Hal in injured in an unknown location, Clark's heart goes wild and blood rushes through his body. The first time Bruce shows up to his quarters in the Watchtower with food to discuss a case, he smiles to himself. His plan was working.
-- Insert picture of Clark giggling while staring at his bulletin board of all his plans and pictures and sticky notes with random things he's learned about Bruce --
I just know that Clark would have the biggest biting kink ever.
Heโd bite Bruceโs nipples, leave lovebites along his throat and chest, bite his earlobe when heโs whispering filthy things into it, nip at his lips.
Heโs definitely bitten hard enough to draw blood, particularly on Bruceโs thick thighs. And Bruce, like the freak that he is, adores every permanent mark that Clark leaves on his body.
Bruce: The next agenda itemโ
(His phone buzzes.)
Bruce: ...
(He silences it.)
Diana: Everything alright?
Bruce: Yes.
Hal: You're lying.
Bruce: I am.
Barry: Who's calling Batman during a Justice League meeting?
Bruce: It's nothing.
(The phone immediately starts ringing again.)
Bruce: ...
Clark: You should probably answer it.
Bruce: They'll stop.
(The phone stops ringing.)
Bruce: See?
(It starts ringing a third time.)
Bruce: ...
Arthur: That sounds urgent.
Bruce: It isn't.
J'onn: Batman.
Bruce: J'onn.
J'onn: Your heartbeat indicates resignation, not concern.
Bruce: Correct.
Hal: Oh, now I really want to know who's calling.
(The phone rings a fourth time.)
Bruce: Excuse me.
(He answers.)
Bruce: What.
Seven voices at once: BRUCE!!
Bruce: Why are you yelling?
Dick: JASON STARTED A FIRE!
Jason: I DID NOT!
Steph: HE ABSOLUTELY DID!
Jason: IT'S BARELY A FIRE!
Tim: THAT IS NOT HOW FIRES WORK!
Damian: Todd has committed arson.
Jason: IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!
Cass: Big fire.
Duke: Like... really big fire.
Bruce: ...
Bruce: Define "big."
Jason: That's subjective.
Bruce: Jason.
Jason: Bigger than a toaster.
Tim: It's in the kitchen.
Bruce: Jason.
Jason: The old kitchen.
Bruce: ...
Bruce: What happened to the kitchen?
Jason: Depends who you ask.
Steph: IT EXPLODED.
Jason: "Exploded" is a strong word.
Tim: THE OVEN IS IN THE POOL.
Arthur: ...How?
Bruce: I don't know, Arthur.
Dick: Bruce, don't be mad.
Bruce: Richard.
Dick: Jasonโ
Jason: Don't throw me under the bus!
Dick: You drove the bus into the house!
Bruce: Stop.
Everyone: ...
Bruce: One person speaks.
Everyone: ...
Bruce: Now.
Everyone: ...
Bruce: Fine. Damian.
Damian: Todd attempted to prepare garlic bread.
Bruce: ...
Bruce: Jason.
Jason: In my defenseโ
Bruce: No.
Jason: Fair.
Damian: He neglected to remove the packaging.
Jason: I forgot.
Steph: IT WAS PLASTIC.
Jason: I KNOW THAT NOW.
Tim: Then he panicked.
Duke: Then Dick panicked because Jason panicked.
Dick: Jason was yelling "IT'S FINE!"
Jason: It WAS fine.
Cass: Wasn't.
Tim: Then Steph grabbed the fire extinguisher.
Steph: Like a responsible adult.
Tim: She sprayed Jason.
Steph: He was closest.
Jason: I WAS NOT THE FIRE!
Steph: You were emotionally the fire.
Clark: *snorts*
Bruce: Clark.
Clark: Sorry.
Hal: Don't apologize. This is incredible.
Barry: Wait, is that everyone?
Bruce: Unfortunately.
Dick: Hi, League!
Steph: Is this on speaker?!
Bruce: No.
Hal: It is now.
(Hal taps the speaker button before Bruce can stop him.)
Bruce: Hal.
Hal: You're welcome, Spooky.
Dick: Hi, Hal!
Hal: Hi, Dick!
Barry: Hey, is Wally there?
Dick: Yeah, he's helping Alfred.
Barry: Can I say hi?
Bruce: Barryโ
Dick: WALLY! YOUR UNCLE IS ON THE PHONE!
Wally, somewhere in the distance: TELL HIM I'M BUSY TRYING TO SAVE JASON FROM ALFRED!
Jason: SAVE ME!
Alfred, faintly: You are not escaping, Master Jason.
Jason: BRUCE, HELP.
Bruce: No.
Clark: That's fair.
Jason: YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY FATHER.
Bruce: I am.
Jason: ACT LIKE IT.
Bruce: I am.
Jason: THIS ISN'T SUPPORTIVE.
Bruce: Neither was the kitchen.
Barry: I'm crying.
Hal: Bruce has seven children and somehow none of them know how to cook.
Tim: Excuse me.
Hal: You know how?
Tim: No.
Hal: Thought so.
Damian: Pennyworth forbids us from entering the kitchen unattended.
Arthur: That's... concerning.
Steph: We have color-coded privilege levels.
Diana: Color-coded?
Cass: Green. Can cook.
Duke: Yellow. Can make sandwiches.
Dick: Orange. Supervised cooking.
Tim: Red. Absolutely not.
Barry: Which one is Jason?
Everyone on the phone: BLACK.
Jason: RUDE.
Steph: It literally says "If Jason enters the kitchen, notify Alfred immediately."
Hal: There's a sign?
Dick: Laminated.
Clark: Bruce..?
Bruce: I didn't make the sign.
Alfred, louder now: I did.
League: ...
Alfred: It has significantly reduced insurance claims.
Arthur: Insurance claims?!
Tim: You'd be amazed.
Jason: ONE TIME.
Cass: Nine.
Jason: Details.
Hal: This is the funniest thing I've ever heard.
Bruce: I fail to see the humor.
Clark: I don't.
Bruce: Of course you don't.
Clark: They're adorable.
Bruce: They are committing property damage.
Clark: Together.
Bruce: Clark.
Clark: Listen to them. They're calling you because they trust you.
Bruce: They're calling me because the oven is in the pool.
Clark: Still counts.
Barry: Aww.
Hal: Oh my God.
Arthur: He's smiling.
Diana: He absolutely is.
Clark: I'm not.
J'onn: You are.
Clark: Fine. Maybe a little.
Hal: Superman thinks Batman's disaster children are cute.
Barry: Write that down.
Clark: They are cute.
Bruce: They are twenty-five percent cute and seventy-five percent expensive.
Dick: We heard that!
Bruce: Good.
Steph: Rude!
Jason: I think we're at least forty percent cute.
Damian: I refuse to be categorized with these barbarians.
Cass: Cute.
Damian: ...
Damian: Acceptable.
Clark: See?
Bruce: Don't encourage them.
Clark: I can't help it.
Hal: Dude, you're whipped.
Clark: Am not.
Barry: You absolutely are.
Clark: Bruce is a great dad.
Hal: Bruce's children just called him because one of them accidentally launched an oven into a swimming pool.
Clark: Exactly.
Barry: Explain.
Clark: They knew he'd know what to do.
Bruce: I do know what to do.
Dick: Really?
Bruce: Yes.
Dick: Great, what do we do?
Bruce: Put Alfred on the phone.
(A brief shuffle.)
Alfred: Good afternoon, sir.
Bruce: Is everyone alive?
Alfred: Miraculously.
Bruce: Is the Manor still standing?
Alfred: Mostly.
Bruce: Is anyone seriously injured?
Alfred: Master Jason's pride has suffered catastrophic damage.
Jason: ALFRED!
Alfred: Other than that, no.
Bruce: Excellent. Handle it however you see fit.
Jason: WAIT, NOโ
Bruce: I'll be home in an hour.
Alfred: Very good, sir.
(The call disconnects.)
The meeting room is completely silent.
Hal: I have one question.
Bruce: No.
Hal: How does this happen every week?
Bruce: Practice.
Barry: I want to come over sometime.
Bruce: No.
Clark: Can I?
Bruce: You already do.
Clark: True.
Hal: Seriously, Supes, you find that endearing?
Clark: Absolutely.
Barry: They called Bats like kids calling their dad because they broke something.
Clark: Exactly.
Arthur: They are all highly trained vigilantes.
Clark: Who still call B when they accidentally destroy the kitchen.
Diana: It is rather sweet.
Bruce: It is not sweet.
Clark: Bruce.
Bruce: Clark.
Clark: You answered on the fourth call.
Bruce: Because they only call that many times if it's important.
Hal: Or if Jason's cooking.
Bruce: Those are the same thing.
Clark: You didn't even ask if they were telling the truth.
Bruce: Because I already knew exactly who did it.
Barry: Without evidence?
Bruce: Jason said "in my defense" before I asked a single question.
Hal: Fair.
Clark, smiling at Bruce: You're a really good dad.
Bruce: ...
Hal: THERE'S THE SMILE.
Bruce: There is no smile.
Barry: Supes broke Batman.
Clark: I didn't break him.
Bruce, very quietly: We still need a new oven.
Clark: I'll buy you one.
Bruce: I know.
Hal: Oh, that's disgustingly domestic.
Barry: They're impossible.
Diana: They really are.
J'onn: It is, however, objectively adorable.
Bruce: The meeting is over.
Hal: We still have four agenda items.
Bruce: Not anymore.
back to that post abt bruce wayneโs luscious long hair, except superbat.
bruce comes back from a mission in space where he'd been with aliens who looked down on modifying appearances in any way, claiming it was untruthful. so bruce didn't touch his hair. he was able to get away with shaving for whatever reason, but his hair had to be left alone.
he's not the biggest fan. it gets in the way, makes his head hot under the cowl, and becomes a pain to maintain after a while, lengthening his time in what should be efficient showers.
so when he arrives back in the watchtower, he's eager to make an appointment for a haircut, even sends a message down to alfred to pencil it in while he's debriefing the league on how his mission went.
he doesn't think anything of it until he's back in the cave with clark, who's being all smiley and clingy now that they're alone.
bruce manages to get clark to give him enough space to take off the suit, at least. he hooks his thumb into the cowl and tugs it over his head to hang at his back, running his hand through the long hair that tumbles into his face after being freed from the cowl.
he has to do it more than once as he pulls off his belt and plate armour, enough that he makes an irritated noise in his throat and grabs the makeshift headband he'd crafted for himself on the mission. it's enough to keep most of it back, but a few strands still fall into his eyes. bruce just sighs and tugs off his boots.
he doesn't realize clark has stopped moving until he's already in his undersuit.
bruce freezes, one hand halfway to the zipper on his front. "clark?"
clark's eyes snap to his, widening, but they keep darting upwards. "your hair," he says, sounding surprised as he steps closer.
bruce relaxes, returning to his task. "oh, that. i've already made an appointment for a cut. normally i'd trim it myself, but this is too much, andโclark, what are you doing?"
clark, who had sunk one hand into bruce's curls and grabbed bruce's wrist with the other, blinks owlishly at him. "you can't cut it," he says, sounding genuinely distressed. he tugs on it lightly before dragging his nails along bruce's scalp and dislodging the headband.
bruce suppresses a shiver as hair falls into his face again. he frowns. "it's nothing but a bother, clark," he tries to reason. "i don't have time to maintain it at this length."
"i'll take care of it for you!" clark insists.
"it's not a wig. would you justโ" bruce pulls clark's hand out of his hair and ignores the soft noise of protest, glaring at him. "why do you care so much?"
clark visibly gulps. "you look good," he says in a rush, his voice gravelly. "really good."
bruce opens his mouth. closes it. he runs a hand through his hair, observing how clark tracks the movement, his pupils dilating. liquid heat pools in bruce's gut.
"hm." bruce lets his hand fall. he grabs clark's wrist and slowly brings it higher, guiding clark's fingers into the thick hair at the base of his skull.
clark grins and moves closer, scratching at his scalp in a long, slow drag. this time, bruce doesn't suppress his shiver.
