Stranger Things
todays bird
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Today's Document
almost home
trying on a metaphor
NASA
No title available
The Bowery Presents
★
Misplaced Lens Cap
Product Placement
official daine visual archive
No title available
Jules of Nature
Love Begins
@theartofmadeline
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Monterey Bay Aquarium
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Philippines
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Estonia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@wutsmymainship
Dick: "Okay, who's the hottest person you could think of right now?"
Clark, in tears: "Your mother."
Dick: "He's not here right now, you can be honest with me."
Clark: "Your mother is a ten."
Dick: "He's a 7 at best!"
Clark: "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
a batfamily fic rec~
By me!
noun; expression of different opinions
Summary:
Quarrel.
Or, a look into the first and most recent argument Bruce Wayne has had with each of his sons.
Each of his sons had given Bruce his fair share of grey hairs, from arguments and other things alike. This is simply a look into a handful of times he and his boys disagreed.
Alternatively titled: batblob and his arguing boys
Bruce still remembers the day of his first argument with Dick.
It was three months, to the day, that his parents had died. Dick was still only legally his ward, and Bruce distinctly remembered being twenty-five and feeling more like a fish out of water every day.
When he thinks back on it now, he can almost laugh.
At the time, though? He could feel his heart breaking and the world coming down around him.
Dick had been training with him for about a month, after quickly figuring out his secret and demanding that he be allowed to help.
On this particular day, Bruce had planned to take a day off from everything and take Dick and Alfred out for a day trip to Metropolis to see a museum that was freshly opened up, watch a ball game, and grab a nice dinner before heading back to Gotham for a rare quiet night in.
At breakfast he shared his ideas with his small family, expecting a cheer of excitement and perhaps even a nod of approval from Alfred.
Instead, Dick threw down the spoon he was mid-bite with, and glared at Bruce.
“Chum, what's wrong?”
Dick, pointedly, didn’t answer.
smth smth battinson has a strength kink (implied nsfw?) 🫦
YOU KNOW WHAT PHOTO IM TALKING ABOUT
https://x.com/thecinesthetic/status/2074581838673408469?s=46
*Sigh* You're lucky you're my youngest. I (unfortunately) do have a soft spot.
-
Bruce can feel the way his throat closes up, saliva building up in his mouth.
There's a growing warmth in his core, an itch between his legs that he highly, highly wants to ignore.
Under the sun, hauling large bales of hay is Clark, working shirtless and glistening with sweat. His biceps bulge with each heft of his arms, his triceps popping when he bends down to pick up another bale. His back on full display as he turns to throw the hay into the stack he's building.
Sweat sliding down the prominent line of his spine and down to where the garter of his boxers are, his jeans sitting lower from the movement.
The sun is beating down, already feeling like it's at its peak at 10 in the morning, and yet it's not the heat that has him feeling warm.
Pressing his thighs together, Bruce is reminded the burn of his skin, that lingering scratch of rough facial hair rubbing his flesh raw until he was shaking, squirting just from feeling the texture of a beard in the crease of his thigh and crotch.
Clark bends down and takes the bale by the straps keeping it all together in its rectangular shape before turning, the movement fluid, natural, routine. Then he throws it, easily, quickly, adding it to the stack, before moving closer to it, reaching up effortlessly to take the reins of the bales and shuffling them around.
His height making it simple to just reach up and fix the structure he's building.
Bruce swallows and crosses his legs, shifts his weight to lean forward, elbow on the table and chin perched on his palm. The weight helps with putting the slightest bit of pressure, his thighs keeping his mass centered to where he wants it to be.
It's not satisfying, but it's enough to keep the pressure building.
Clark ineffectively wipes at the sweat dotting his forehead by sweeping his sweaty forearm across it, but it does have the effect of flexing his arm naturally. A move born out of habit.
The hair on his chest must be drenched now, the hair on his pits sticking to his skin. And Bruce closes his legs tighter as he imagines that body pressing against him, the sweat of their skin mixing, their scents mingling.
Oh, he thinks, Clark musk would be potent. And now he's torn between filling his mouth or letting himself be bent over.
"Hey, doll." He jumps, blinking at the spot where he'd just last seen the man, and lifting his head to see Clark standing by his side, wiping his sweat away with the shirt he'd discarded earlier. "You should go inside, take a nap."
"I'm not tired."
Clark hums, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Bruce's head, "You were spacing out, thought the heat was getting to you."
He turns to the pitcher he'd set out, instead of responding. "Lemonade?"
Dimples pop, mouth stretching into a smile, "Yes, please." Clark leans in then, just enough to loom over Bruce's head as he reaches out to take the pitcher and pour himself a glass.
Like this, Bruce can smell that scent of scent, of Clark's natural musk, and he tilts his head just enough to get the most of it without being obvious.
When Clark takes a step back, glass to his mouth, their eyes meet, locked as Clark drains the lemonade in large, audible gulps—a quick three swallows and he's done.
His Adam's apple bobbing along the line of his moist neck.
When he puts the glass down, he positions himself to stand in front of Bruce instead, his free hand reaching forward and propping up on the back of the chair.
"Got something in your mind, doll?"
Bruce's gaze flickers downward then, from his wet chest up to the where he can see the short texture of stubble around his neck, to the thicker bush currently growing on his chin and jaw, then further up to where Clark's look at him, eyes half-lidded but inquiring. Prominent eyebrow raised.
"No." He says with a subtle shake of his head.
"No?" Clark repeats back to Bruce with a tilt of his head, just before leaning down to breathe against a pink-tipped ear. "So, if I do this—" The hand that he'd had gripping the glass comes down, laying flat on a taut thigh, feeling the tension there and the way Bruce squeezes his legs harder together, his fingers are just about skimming along the crotch line, "You don't get any ideas?"
"No," Bruce breathes out with a barely contained shudder, shifting his weight just a bit further forward now to use the fabric of his underwear to run along the seam of him.
Leaning back swiftly, Clark grins, "A'ight, if you say so." With that accent of his, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek.
Just as he's about to think that Clark would go back to lifting his bales of hay, his chair is tilted, pushing to lean on its two back legs, and the gravity has his stomach in knots, and his thighs pressing so firmly together that the muscles are starting to ache.
Clark looms above him with a smirk, making a show of his one hand sitting on his hip while the other remains on the back of the chair, pushing him down.
Hands gripping the chair, Bruce tries to glare in admonishment even if he knows it won't work, if the smugness on the other man's face is anything to go by. "Put me down."
He makes a thoughtful face, then leans the chair further backward. He can feel himself shaking, trying to keep himself still. "Clark!"
"Care to tell me what goes on in that pretty little head o' your's?"
"I wasn't—" Clark leans the chair even more and at this point, Bruce fears that he's almost parallel to the porch floor. He lets go of the chair in favour of wrapping his fingers around a strong wrist, digging his nails into skin as he holds on. "Clark, put me down!"
Then, his eyes dart down, and Bruce knows the moment their gazes lock once again. "I can cross my legs whenever I please."
"I ain't seein' you opening them either."
He lays his hand down on Bruce's thigh again, subtly, carefully shifting his left foot to lean it against one of the teetering chair legs, a anchor just in case. And uses himself to keep Bruce's attention solely on him. "You hidin' somethin' from me now, pretty?" He leans in, presses his jaw and nuzzles it along a flushed cheek, "Don't r'member you keepin' them this hidden from me last night."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh?" He dips down to give Bruce's neck a kiss, right over where a bruise is black and purple now. "Always so cute when you're coy."
"You're within kicking distance."
"Can you even kick me?"
Then, Clark puts the chair back down, taking Bruce's momentary gasp of breath to spread his legs open, pulling him to the edge easily, swiftly, just before he shoves his hands on the underside of each thigh and hefts Bruce up with a few bounces for added effect.
"Nice and open. Was that so hard?"
"Shut up." Bruce wraps his arms around broad shoulders, tucking his face against sweaty skin. And doesn't pay mind to the small little hitches of his hips rubbing against the man.
"Needy little doll."
Conservative beauty standards are back with a vengeance which means it's especially important to go out this summer with bellies out and bodies unshaved. Also be unapologetically disabled with mobility aids and wearable medical devices and stim toys and ear defenders and all that stuff. You need it. People need to see it. Everyone needs to be reminded that life is unquestioningly more enjoyable when you're not living inside an arbitrary set of rules created by people who are offended by all the wrong things.
YOU CAN ONLY REBLOG THIS ONCE A YEAR
ive had this queued for exactly one year
Queuing this for next year as I’m writing this
It is time!
hi little batsibling <3
...this is @bruciebatsyy asking from my main lol, i swear i'm not a rando, and now i'm just glad i immediately remembered to clarify that just in case😭
anyways i'm in a weird mood bc i have a bunch of exams this week and can't seem to stop myself from continuing to passively let my grades fall apart, and also have a new fandom hyperfixation that i've written 3.3k words for in about 24 hours (i'm a very slow writer, as you probably already could have guessed from the speed of i have borne hellfire updates💀), so ofc my brain's conclusion to this state of things is to start spawning new angst prompts, and given that no pack au has been perpetually making me insane since its inception, 2/? are related to it so far and i think you'd enjoy the rest anyways—
so unfortunately i am going to ask you to prepare for a metric fuck-ton of asks to appear in ur inbox over the next like, hour-to-week depending on how many i get through writing out in this one session
(jfc, i literally have been taking my meds i swear, but that sentence was way excessively run-on even compared to my usual, something really is wrong with me rn huh. ANYWAYS)
so, idea #1, drumroll please...
platonic hanahaki omegaverse AU!!!!
(which i am already imagining as one of the no pack 'verse spinoffs, but i am excited to see whether you'd approve of it)
basically i was reading a hanahaki fic in the aforementioned new fandom hyperfixation, realized i hadn't read one of those in quite a while before this one, and then quite literally had one of those like cartoon lightbulb-over-the-head flash-of-genius moments where i skipped the train of thought through all of the other associations and teleported straight to the last station of the line, which IS: hanahaki as a platonic, romantic, and/or any other kind of love there is thing in an omegaverse, where the kind of flower(s)/plant(s) that grow in your lungs is determined by what scent the person you love will enjoy, literally trying to adapt you to become more pleasing to them so that they'll love you back— and bruce, over the years, ends up accumulating a whole garden's worth of species in his chest, a bouquet that perfectly resembles a summation of each and every member of his family
of course, this requires a few tweaks to both your, like, prototype no pack au that spawns all the others, and the like "regular" hanahaki au concept, but i literally thought of this halfway through the 15-minute walk back to my hostel and immediately starting adjusting as necessary until i could get to my room and get my laptop out and now i am SO excited to tell you about it.
so, to make it work w no pack au: basically the one modification we need for my flower-choice au-intersecting twist to actually hit is for bruce to not be using scent blockers, so that at some point his kids can casually notice his scent changing, obliviously comment on how they like it better this way, cue angst about how they love the thing that's killing him much more easily than they've ever loved him etc etc. but i figure this isn't actually that hard— i'd just make it so that it's widely known that wearing blockers all the time is unhealthy to a point where bruce never would have been allowed by the people around him to start doing that in his own house, even if dick did act bothered by the entire existence of his scent when he was first adopted. BUT to keep that aspect of the whole denying-him-any-role-as-an-omega thing, we can say the kids have specifically blown up at him for (a) actively trying to put his base scent on them or (b) "projecting" his concern for them through his scent when something happens to them while he's around, bc those things remind them of what their parents used to do. but ofc in-universe it's most likely part of the culture for older very close friends or family members to do those things too anyways, so when the kids have been with him for awhile and assumed they're past the early stages of their relationship/have possibly forgotten it was something they ever stopped him from doing in the first place, they tend to take bruce fully abstaining from those things as a sign that he really doesn't feel as much emotion towards them as they would like him to, even though it's him just doing his best to be what he thinks they want him to be.
also, while (a) is probably not an unheard-of request from kids who go into foster type situations, etc., bruce actively learning to hold back his natural emotional pheromone responses for (b) might be considered an unreasonable boundary and too self-sacrificial of him even by most people in-universe, but the problem is that alfred has almost constantly worn a kind of blocker that mutes specifically the emotion-shifting-scent-patterns bc it was considered "proper" for "the help" to do that to make themselves minimally attention-catching without fully hiding their scent-presence, so bruce ends up seeing it as a reasonable thing for a pseudo-parent to do. (wow, i even managed to work in minor alfred's-parenting slander, do i get an occa bingo?) and he notices that dick (as a kid in the early days) responds well to having his baseline and happy/milder emotional scents around, bc otherwise he gets lonely, so instead of wearing the feeling-scent-blockers like alfred, he decides to learn/perfect the active suppression his feeling-scents at specific moments, so that dick(and the rest of his kids later, implied) gets the parts of bruce's scent he likes and isn't "forced to put up with" the scent of him being too proud, worried, disappointed, anything that can be interpreted as parental. (hmm, this also nicely sets up a long-running trend for some of the smaller fights he gets into with individual batkids along the line, because they all have different scent-reactions they associate with their individual parents to different degrees, so he learns which scents a new kid will tolerate in the early days and tailors his insane self-restraint to each of them individually, PLUS once there's enough kids they get to start misunderstanding why some kids get some scents and not others and it makes them jealous + makes them distrust ALL of his genuine emotions he does try to show them that little bit more... oh wait this entire thing is also basically just the scent version of the "jl learns that batman taught himself to subvocally purr" post you made a while ago...... oops?) <- and THAT was a whole tangent from what i originally meant to say abt him specifically learning to suppress his scent-reactions/emotions, which is that it would have been clocked as an unreasonable and even harmful ask of him by some of his friends, except that he truly just happened to be particularly isolated in those early batman days/early days w dick, bc this is too soon after his training for him to be reconciled w people he had to "move on from" during it, and just before his partnerships w jl people start, so by the time he makes/reconnects with friends again they think it's just how his scent works, or even if old friends do realize he's completely internally suppressing his emotion-scents somehow, they don't realize he's doing it FOR somebody (let alone the kids who seem to want more from him at this point) so they don't think to intervene to tell him that he shouldn't be policing his own truly instinctual bodily functions for the sake of not "inconveniencing" someone else.
<- and it took me until i was almost done with that entire paragraph to realize that this is also just a perfectly plausible tweak/addendum to regular no pack au to up/detail the angst even WITHOUT the hanahaki bit, so... that's fun, i guess? i'm a little proud of that, but anyways, speaking of the hanahaki of it all, let's get into that side of things:
so here, the main thing is that we want the hanahaki to be serious enough to actually affect bruce and therefore make him suffer, but also to persist throughout the entire timeline of him acquiring his kids without wearing him down enough to kill him, or even actually being noticeable enough for the kids or any close person to find out when one of them is living with him/they're in a good period of their relationship w him, and also for him to not need like noticeable accommodations that would be discovered in his stuff when he "died"/got lost in the timestream. BUT i realized that bruce's emotional/physical situation is actually, when you think about it, so fucking weird that i think it's possible to justify hanahaki as the classic "very serious disease that is very hard to hide and also fatal in its end stages, which tend to be reached within a few years" situation in this AU, and yet bruce specifically ends up with a low-level but multiple-people-at-once but also still discreet long-term chronic hanahaki situation— because let's be real, he's ALWAYS special. so for the physical specifics: the disease's usual progression starts with small petals/leaves/pieces etc, and the longer you go on loving someone unrequited, the bigger the plant in your lungs gets, the bigger the pieces you cough up, and eventually once everything gets too big you choke, right? but in bruce's case, a few years into fostering dick, he starts getting individual petals and leaves for the first time, and immediately starts mentally preparing for the full terminal progression. but as they fight more throughout dick's older teenage years, he makes it to coughing up small fully-formed buds, maybe also small saplings — but no further. small enough that he, with his insane pain tolerance, can withstand the urge to cough/choke/get them out during tough conversations until the other person (only dick, at this stage) storms off, and small enough that in the mouthpiece of the suit, he installs a sort of tubing system that only opens when an obstruction near/in his mouth and throat is detected, sucks up his small petals and buds and gets them into even smaller less recognizable pieces, and moves that remaining debris away into one of many hidden compartments that he can then empty periodically. specifically because it only has to deal with small pieces, the whole thing is small and inconspicuous enough to barely be noticeable from the outside, and the fact that it only engages when there's an obstruction means that on the rare occasion someone else might wear one of his suits, they should still only discover it in a situation where it was needed for something anyways, and then he can pass it off as just another one of his many regular insanely-thorough safety contingencies.
and as for WHY bruce in particular gets this weird rare plateauing form of hanahaki: well, probably by the time tim enters the picture, he's formed his best guess, which is that he's in a weird position of being ruthlessly objective and self-aware enough that even his own depression/self-hate never fully manage to convince him that his family doesn't care about him when there's evidence to the contrary for him to notice, whereas most people with the kind of unrequited-love-related mental health issues who are in a position to develop hanahaki don't usually have the objective self-awareness to realize that, so the disease has become known as always getting worse and worse because it follows their mental state/self perception even in cases of people whose affection is returned to different degrees by the objects of their hanahaki cases. so for regular people with long-term hanahaki-causing feelings of being unloved and no outside intervention, either your mental state spirals, your feeling of isolation and being unloved spirals, and the disease worsens to terminal illness, OR you're like, a person with depression who feels isolated and alone, but DOES recognize that you have people who care for you, and your feelings of isolation and lack of connection become a separate thing from the amount of love you feel you're getting, so your hanahaki heals naturally and you're just stuck with the regular mental illness. bruce's situation, where the people he loves are often ping-ponging between expressing some care and love for him AND hurting him or making it seem like they don't love him, AND his personal mental/emotional response in the long term acknowledges both of those things as they happen rather than focusing on accepting one as the truth, as many people's minds understandably would, results in this chronic thing: never fully healing, but not unstoppably progressing either.
and because there's essentially a limit on how big the individual plants for each person can grow when they're part of the family, bruce ends up being able to host an individual hanahaki infection for so many people, more than any recorded case because for most people who've felt unloved by more than one person at a time, those plants grow steadily as normal and take up X times more space than the infection for just one person at that stage, causing X times as much damage to the patient/their lung capacity in the same timespan so they die that much quicker. but not bruce — the batfam is so damn messy that half the time, his relationship with one of the kids worsening is directly caused by a good relationship with one of the other kids anyways, so those tend to cancel out. and then each of the individual people's plants caps out small enough that it's only around the time that damian shows up that the total obstruction to his lungs is reaching the size of a regular mid-stage hanahaki case.
and finally, for the omegaverse-specific bit, notice that i specified that bruce's infections stay in the early stages, so he gets petals, leaves, saplings, and at most buds. flowers don't properly release their scent until they bloom — so with multiple early-stage hanahaki infections stacked on top of each other, bruce basically maxes out on the physical impediment of the disease, while minimizing the one side effect that would otherwise be too suspiciously tuned to a specific person in his life, and also too constant to hide entirely from anybody he's living in the same house with.
and now that i've covered all this wildly excessive background/setup, the actual fic i'd want to write: the "boiling point" of the whole non-pack situation here would be a tipping point where his infections progress to the point where his flowers start blooming and his scent does change. and the kids still don't get it, because the idea of hanahaki would have crossed their mind if there was just one note added to his scent suddenly, and one person who really liked it — but instead, one day bruce suddenly has this whole floral-herbal layer to this scent, and all of them like it, sure, but to different degrees for different reasons, and none are like, obsessed. it's just different enough from what anybody could possibly know as the hanahaki disease presentation that they don't think to question the explanation of bruce randomly finding a particularly flattering cologne/perfume... except that with many/all of the infections suddenly progressing at once, it's an astonishingly short amount of time, no more than a couple weeks, before someone sees him succumb to it and finds out about the garden in his chest... and then the fallout/catharsis happens accordingly i have no specifics there
i'm inclined to say that the boiling point here is shortly after he comes back from the timestream—or maybe within like a year or two afterwards—when he gets in a fight with a teenaged damian, he runs off to one of his siblings' apartments to vent/sulk, and then lets one of his siblings scent him for the first time. the first person who gets to scent damian since he first came to gotham. and then he comes back to the manor, with that pack-family-claim on him... and after all these years, the piled-up rejections have finally become too much for bruce.
okay, this is truly ridiculously long at this point and also has taken me like an hour to write on it's own, so, uh, i hope you enjoyed lol, there will almost certainly be a part two
have a happy timezone occa🫶🏽
skies I feel the need to remind you we met on ao3 where this is your handle, of course I know who you are ☺️
There's this thing I encountered once on a long lost tumblr post on pinterest on hanahaki au, where it's seasonal, and I feel this would track for this au. I built on the idea for a now abandoned fic plan for an old fandom, so I'll be using that lore. Dear readers of this post if I say something that doesn't make sense please know there is a second ask in my inbox I have read on this so they might blend in my mind but I'll try not to.
Okay so seasonal hanahaki is exactly as it sounds. The spring season is when people are calling out of work, bets are placed on who's not coming into work this spring, it's scandalous and completely normalised all at once. Chronic hanahaki havers keep their plants all year long, they don't die come summer/autumn like those seasonally affected.
Bruce doesn't lose his plants. They stop growing, but sit in his lungs. They start small, then grow over time, so the point that it's seriously infiltrating Bruce's respiratory pathways is far in the future, when the entire family is established. The times of the year where most people lose their plants/have them extracted, come the end of spring, is when Bruce's stop growing until the season starts again.
Thus your point about Bruce's particular plateuing edition of the disease, sorted. There's only a few months out of the year where Bruce's relationships with his children can affect the flower's growth.
By the time Damian is in the picture Bruce has been stop-starting a disease most people speedrun for over a decade. His rationality stops him from getting sick at the same accelerated rate of normal hanahaki patients, so it's a slow, agonising progression over the years until he is at that point where his scent changes.
But hanahaki is seasonal, so it can't be that. Bruce must have just found a nice cologne. He smells better now, anyway, they shouldn't question it. Except Bruce can smell it on his belongings, can tell he's hit the 'moderate' progression stage of the disease, and everyone seems to be glad for it.
Maybe it's Clark, who finds him passed out of the floor. He has a keener nose, he can smell the specific chemicals of hanahaki flowers in Bruce's scent. Breaks his promise to not x-ray teammates without permission and finds the infestation filling Bruce's lungs. Outside of season. And he finally realises something is deeply, intrinsically wrong.
Ask 2
fyi
this post has been up for five hours and has two notes. i think tumblr shitcanned it because it has pictures of women wearing bras on it. very cool. no censorship message, just vanishing it
AHHHHHH someone put all the info from the now-extremely-hard-to-read, 10+ year old bra post into one nice infograph! THAT POST WAS MY BOOB BIBLE. Yay Boob New Testament!
@aspect-rei
OP didn't link this for some reason so I'm linking it here: this is the bra measuring calculator from r/ABraThatFits. It uses all the measurements described in the first infographic to calculate your actual bra size much better and more accurately than the classic "take two measurements and look at a chart" method.
If you use this measurement tool (which you should), you'll likely get a bra size significantly larger than what you currently wear. This is not a mistake, this is because you have been wearing a bra that's too small for you the whole time.
"But I can't be a DD cup I've been wearing B cups my whole life!" yes you have and that's why your back hurts. Because that's the wrong size. Try the size the calculator actually tells you first, and then you can bitch about it if it doesn't work.
Still doesn't fit? Figure out what kinds of titties you have (wide root, projected, etc etc etc), go to that subreddit r/ABraThatFits, and make a post with your measurements and breast details and ask if anyone has recommendations. I swear the people on that sub have PhDs in titties, they WILL be able to help you (and they will want to help you! Lovely people over there).
As this weekend ends with June 7th and it's been nearly a year since the end of the series and as I miss our centennial husbands, I put together three fanfiction rec lists with some tropes that are old favorites, hope you enjoy
For the first: Hob saves Dream from Burgess
A Canvas For Revenge by Sam_Salami (3.6k): Hob Gadling is a man of devotion and of loyalty. While saving his oldest friend from Roderick Burgess, he takes his time to turn the Nightmare King's torturer into a a blood-offering with methods he learned in his youth.
thinking 'bout you by Kyra_Maximoff (3.9k): Hob takes a job at the old Burgess house, and comes across the one thing he wasn't expecting to find.
A Dark Familiar Stranger by PH03N1X_360 (4.2k): It’s a wonder how strangled a man can feel if he cannot breathe, but he cannot die. In which the lack of air in the cage causes Dream to hallucinate and Hob breaks his Stranger out of the Burgess Mansion.
A Smart Man by meblogname (4.5k): Hob hears of one Roderick Burgess and suspects that the old man might have some skeletons hidden in his closet... or his basement.
his heart, beneath the floorboards by imnotcryingipromise (5.2k): Lieutenant Robin Stone attends an end of war celebration at the Burgess mansion in hopes of forgetting his ghosts for an evening, unaware of the familiar face entrapped beneath the floorboards.
Provenance by MeridianGrimm (6k): Hob likes to keep an eye on the occult community, and when he spots a familiar ruby at a party in 1926, he decides to investigate.
Poker face by fellshish (6k): Hob gets invited to a super secret exclusive poker game. At the Burgess manor.
The Love in Waiting by imnotcryingipromise (6.8k): In which Hob Gadling attends a summoning at the behest of a lady friend and ends up with more than he bargained for.
a lucky break(out) by cuubism (9.8k): Hob acquires a familiar ruby at an antiquities sale. Said ruby summons something else into his home as well.
Dreams are Reality in Waiting by Lalaith_Quetzalli (10.3k): Hob is a simple man, a man of principles, of convictions, with a simple life… except for where said life has lasted for several centuries now, he’s met beings that are both older and more powerful than any god, and is married to one of them! So maybe his life isn’t simple at all. Still, he’s the kind of man whose word means something; even when the person he gave his word to clearly never expected him to remember it…
That Old Witch Sleep by im_not-Corrupted (11.6k): In 1916, Roderick Burgess, intending to summon and imprison the Angel of Death, accidentally summoned Dream of the Endless to his basement. Though this was not what he intended, he constructs a cage of glass and iron with the intention of gaining something for his efforts, if not his son. There is one problem, though: Dream of the Endless does not wake up.
Broken Glass by Aria_Lerendeair (12.5k): Ever since their missed meeting four months prior, Hob has been seeing his Stranger in his dreams - trapped behind endless walls of glass. Hob has steadily been breaking the walls down, but he doesn't know what any of it means, or what it is doing. Until he finds his Stranger able to see him, standing on the other side of a single pane of glass, where he is trapped. This leaves him with only one possible option and way forward - rescue!
A Different Kind of Burn by Ruby_Casablanca (14.1k): Wherein Hob dreams of war, Morpheus dreams of an escape from his prison, and over the span of many years, they fall into dreams that blur the lines between friendship and something more.
Bloodhound by Moorishflower (15.7k): In 1989, drunk and heartsore and stumbling home from the soon-to-be-destroyed White Horse, Hob Gadling -- world's most loyal hound -- comes across a familiar-looking ruby in a pawn shop window.
For Want of Caution by mayanpaw (20.6k): Hob Gadling was not by nature a cautious man but even he knew the value of keeping track of those who would be too… intrigued by his condition. In 1926, a chance conversation in a bar alerts Hob to the fact that Roderick Burgess has captured another immortal, one that sounds eerily similar to his friend.
This Rough Magic by Avelera (36.6k, unfinished): After the disastrous 1889 meeting, Hob Gadling turned to the occult to find a way to contact his stranger and apologize. Yet despite becoming a fairly adept occultist in the process, Hob ultimately lost his nerve and never cast a single spell to contact Dream. Unfortunately, that was not the end of the matter, when Hob's dabbling brought him to the attention of Roderick Burgess, who is now convinced that Hob is a fellow Magus, capable of convincing Dream to give Burgess the gift he gave to Hob all those centuries ago: immortality. Now, Hob must use wits, magic, and a great deal of charm to convince Roderick Burgess he is indeed an ancient, powerful Magus who wants nothing more than to help Burgess become immortal too, if he is to get himself and Dream out of Fawney Rig.
In Waking Dreams by cuubism (49.3k, unfinished): In 1389, Hob married a man in his dreams, a lover conjured only by his imagination -- or so he thought. Five hundred years later, a mysterious ransom letter has Hob questioning everything he knew about his dream husband, who coincidentally disappeared from his dreams seventy years ago. Several miles away, trapped in a glass bowl, said husband is really regretting letting his marriage be only a story in dreams.
The Uses of Adversity by MonstrousRegiment (65.8k): What led Hob Gadling — at the time known as Robert Stranger, because he’d been in a permanent state of pettiness from 1889 to about 1904 and now he was stuck with it — to the dank, cold, and dark basement of the Burgess house on March of 1957 was not so much coincidence or fate as it was curiosity.
Edit: Now with links to the other two - Part two and part three
mmm omega bruce getting sick w the flu and then getting his heat a day later while everyone is out of the planet/country for various reasons 🫣 he’s feverish, in pain, and can’t think straight. he keeps calling for his pack but no one answers or comes. he’s all alone in his nest, the scents of his pups and pack is slowly fading due to the his overpowering scent that is screaming pain, fear, help.
he spends days in his nest. he’s so out of it and so weak that he can’t feed himself, can’t take medicine for his illness, can barely bring himself to go to the restroom the small times he actually needs to go. his inner omega is no help at all. it’s whining and crying for their pack. it tells him to rebuild his nest, maybe that’s why they haven’t come. or or maybe he could provide food for them and be useful so he can be rewarded for being good. and he gets so frustrated bc nothing he does works and why is he so bad. why does he keep doing this. why does everyone always go away why does he have to be so lonely all the time why can’t he ever be enough why why why
ughhhhhh and and and clark coming back from being off planet and being able to hear bruce’s heart makes him realize something is wrong. he goes to the manor and finds him dissociated, in a ruined nest. hes so flushed w a high fever, his cheeks lightly sunken in since he hasn’t eaten in how many days, and his bottom lip bitten raw whenever he experienced a really painful cramp.
clark accidentally raising his voice at bruce bc he’s so worried abt him and he’s saying “what happened? why didn’t u call anyone? how long have u been sick for? why didn’t u ask for help?? you should’ve called someone and it wouldn’t have gotten this bad!!!!” and he’s not even looking at bruce cause he’s scrambling around trying to gather things to lower his fever down. he doesn’t stop until he hears a sniffle and a whine. When he looks, he sees bruce looking at him, crying softly w shame written all over his face. and then AND THEN bruce bares his neck, tryna appease his alpha bc all he can process is that his alpha was gone, and now he’s here and the nest is a mess, and he’s a mess which must be the reason why his alpha is so mad at him. that he’s such a bad and terrible omega. he shouldn’t have let himself get sick, he shouldn’t have let himself go into heat w/o his alpha, etc. tears are falling down his face, his scent sours, and he’s whispering out sorry over n over again.
hehehe and clark’s heart literally shatters cuz omg bruce really is not feeling good. and he feels so bad too cause it feels like he just kicked a puppy. he rushes over to b and just wraps him in a hug, rubbing his wrist over bruce’s scent glands to cover him in his alpha’s scent. he pulls away to wipe bruce’s tears away n says that its ok, there’s nothing to be sorry for, that he’s sorry, alpha’s so sorry for yelling, alpha is gonna fix it. and clark tries so hard to hold back his own tears cuz he’s a bit of a crybaby when it comes to his mate being in pain and hurt bc of his words UGHHHJ.
and bruce just collapses in his arms, tryna rub his face in clark’s neck and sink into his skin. while he tries to do that, a cramp begins to emerge n he feels so nauseous that he whines again. he grabs clark’s hand and places it over his stomach n says “alpha, i don’t feel good.”
clark shushes him again and says it’s okay, alpha’s gonna make it all better, alpha will take care of you
AHHHH GUYS i’ve been thinking abt this ALL DAY OMG if only yall can see it in my brain, it’s a fully written fic and animation in there GOSH
Fuck it...BK this is your fault. :)
Pet Bruce, birth kink
Brucie could barely move. His stomach was obscene, rippling with the restless movements from his master's offspring within. His breasts had swollen nearly 4 sizes, nipples so sensitive that even the softest support bras left him whining pathetically, constantly dripping the beginnings of milk. His pussy pulsated with slick need constantly, always entertained by his masters or a toy.
What started this morning as a deep ache was turning into regular cramping pain. Master Clark is rubbing his stomach, telling Brucie it's almost time. As he's picked up something pops, a flood of fluids soaking his joyful Master. Master Bruce is waiting in the delivery room, efficiently getting Brucie in the stirrups.
Master Bruce kneels over his face, presenting Brucie with his Pussy. A warm mouth is sucking and licking up his soaked legs, cleaning up the water break and teasing his needy cunt by messing with the vibrator still stubbornly stuck inside him.
Brucie buries his face between Master Bruce's legs, desperately releasing the confusing mix of pain and pleasure. He focuses on his Masters moans of pleasure as he firmly licks at his clit and digs deep as he can with his tongue.
Brucie yelps into Bruce's clit as Master Clark laps at his sensitive bud, ordering him to push.
He's being stretched open from the inside out, cervix stretch both familiar and unfamiliar. His cunt locks around the mass as he cums, gagging his whimpers into Master Bruce's quivering lower lips.
The three of them are coated with sweat as Master Clark excitedly proclaims, "You're crowning! Such a good pet for your masters. Such a good bitch. Just another push."
Brucie sucks Bruce's clit harder as his cunt is stretched to the limits, pulsing around air as the Baby slides free. A bot moves in to help with the newborn.
For a moment, Brucie feels relieved, but another spike of pain rips through him. Clark and Bruce grin. "Time for round 2."
Birth kink is spreading fast 😌
I just had this idea that Bruce dies thinking his children hate him and perished after their big fight. But, I'm not sure how I can start writing it. I don't know if I should pass this up as an Omega verse.
Anyways... Somehow, he finds himself turned back in time. But, instead of adopting all of them again.
He didn't.
He changed the course of their fate by calling Superman to save Richard and his parents. Hunting Sheila and getting the help she needs, thus preventing Jason from stealing his tires. Befriending Drake's and slowly steered their parenting skills (He didn't think he was a good parent either. Why would the kids hate him so much, if he did.) and swooping down to save them from their deaths. Letting Barbara and her father adopt Cassandra. And saving Duke's parents from Joker.
The only left was Damian. He infiltrates the LoA and takes him. He nearly gave him up but had a second thought and decided against it. He raised Damian as his only son.
But then, he found a mate (if this is an Omegaverse. This can be a Superbat as well. Dunno) have a child with the said mate and took this as a second chance to become a great parent.
But, the former Wayne kids someday opened their eyes and remembered their former life. Heartbroken, they saw how happy Bruce and Damian were with their new Family.
I don't know if I should let them reconcile? Or leave the angsty - angst.
Pps. I'm the one who wrote the hand movement and eye movement thingy. Thank you for being nice.
Anon baby you are breaking my heart why would I not be nice?
- i lowk want endgame brutalia but you said superbat, so
"He looks happy," Dick murmurs, closing his eyes and turning away. Jason puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning into the touch to take comfort from it himself. Catherine got shunted into rehab years ago, Willis got a job at Wayne Enterprises, and he grew up in a stable home. He doesn't have quite the same bulk as before, even if he took after Willis' large frame. Blue eyes water as he too turns away from the manor.
Tim plucks the binoculars from Dick's slack grip, and steps up next to Cass, peering through the gates to the manor.
Damian, only ten, and so much more a child than he was the first time around, howls with laughter between Bruce and Clark, standing on Bruce's shoulders to duel Clark as he walks upside down on the ceiling, their wooden swords coming together over and over. Smiles abound, and it makes a weight settle in the stomachs of their spectators.
Their spectators that three weeks ago, regained memories of the previous timeline, before Bruce was sent back, before it diverged, before their dad decided not to be their dad anymore.
"Why are we here?" Cass asks, turning her back on the manor. "He doesn't want us anymore."
Dick stands abruptly, and Haley's Circus' best aerialist clears the tall fence in one bound, and stalks off down the driveway.
None of them are vigilantes, in this life.
All of them find a way over that fence.
Dick pounds his fist on the door, and the laughter drifting out the open windows ceases. The lock clicks. The door creaks.
Clark Kent stands in the foyer of his home, and the smile drops from his face. In a flash, they're all back outside the gates, which he's easing closed behind them.
"Supes--"
"No, Timothy," Clark says. There is no familiarity in his voice. "Bruce tried so hard to keep you away from him in this life. Please. He-- He tried so hard to give you the lives you deserve, please don't tell me it failed."
"Three weeks ago," Jason explains tersely. "We got our memories from the last life. We're not sure why."
"CLARK!"
Clark flinches, and twitches in place. "Why are you here?"
"He's our father," Jason growls. Clark pinches his nose.
"But he's not. He made sure of that. And you guys-- you being here, he'll think he failed. He won't be able to cope with failing you all again."
"He didn't fail us the first time!" There is no love lost between this Dick Grayson, and this Superman. Uncle Supes is a ghost of a memory. "He is ours."
"He is my husband," Clark counters. "And he has spent his whole life devoted to you kids. Please don't make it in vain."
"CLARK!"
Closer.
Bruce is coming.
"PAPA!"
"Damian," Cass breathes.
Clark flinches again, but stays steadfast.
"Does he know about us?" Tim whispers, gazing towards the manor.
Clark nods. "Bruce... he couldn't keep you a secret. He didn't try. Damian has met you all, over time. He wanted to see what you were like."
"Please, Clark. He's our brother."
Clark wavers. "He never wanted this. He wanted...from afar. To be unknown."
"He's our father."
Clark strokes a hand over his face. "Not here! That was the whole point! You remember, right? So you remember cursing at him, and pushing him away, and telling him he wasn't your father! He listened, like you begged him to, and stopped. He did what you wanted, and now I am begging you." Clark swallows. "I am begging you kids. Please don't make him think that he failed you all over again."
"Clark!" Bruce yells again. More cautious, and Cass watches a glimpse of his silhouette through the trees, carefully advancing. "Honey?" A smaller figure stalks through the underbrush, approaching from the other side, and Dick can't take his eyes off it.
"Please."
This is their chance. If they race for the bend in the lane now, Bruce and Damian won't see them.
But...
Can they give this up?
Can they say goodbye to their old life for good?
a cute drabble of heavily pregnant bruce whose waddling around everywhere with everyone getting hit w cuteness aggression cuz it’s just SO cute. he’s so soft and glowy with his little maternity clothes on and his hand on his belly ughhhh.
or a drabble about the kids doing a tiktok trend w bruce and they end up crashing out over people thirsting over their mom LOL. they’re so possessive and protective of their mom they won’t tolerate anything even jokes (they know it’s not jokes, people are genuinely thirsty for him)
you can choose which one to write! i just thought of the second one while typing the first lol!!!! could make it into superbat too!!!
I went with the first one, It may not be exactly what you were thinking, but I hope you like it! <3
Bruce paused midway down the corridor, exhaling slowly as a particularly vigorous kick sent a ripple through his abdomen. He rested his palm against the curve of his belly, stroking his thumb over it slowly to soothe the relentless Kryptonian baby within; one who particularly favoured doing gymnastics at all hours of the day. Bruce couldn’t help but smile softly as his hand was kicked.
“Settle down, little one,” He murmured, stroking slowly as he continued his slow waddle. “Mama’s trying to walk here.”
Day by day, he felt even larger than the day before.
It was usually at this time of day when he started questioning the choices he’s made throughout his life. Especially the ones that led him to marry a 6’5” Kryptonian. He should have foreseen that their baby would somehow be huge, and just as energetic as their father.
He should have. But he didn’t.
With a deep sigh, he continued waddling forward on swollen ankles, ignoring his uneven gait. Clark had been increasingly vocal about bedrest, and even threatened to revoke his zeta privileges if he didn’t start taking it easier. But Bruce Wayne-Kent was determined to make himself useful until his world shrank to the size of the manor’s nursery.
The meeting room doors opened with a soft woosh, and all eyes shifted toward him, widening in unison. Bruce fought the urge to cover himself, to hide his garish attire. He had thought of donning the batsuit, but there was no way any part of it would fit these days, not to mention how stifling the kevlar would be. So, instead he opted for the only clothes that he could find that would fit: Clark’s hideous red and black plaid shirt, and a loose-fitting pair of sweatpants.
In a heartbeat, Clark was at his side. His large hand pressed into the small of Bruce’s back as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to his temple. “I thought I told you to rest today, sweetheart,” He murmured softly.
Bruce waved dismissively, leaning into his husband’s touch as Clark helped him waddle forward. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because I’m pregnant,” He scoffed, giving J’onn a small smile when his chair was pulled out telekinetically for him.
Clark's hands lingered for a moment, just in case. Bruce rolled his eyes. “I don’t need help; I can manage.” He chuckled, batting Clark’s hands away as he slowly moved to sink into the seat. Before he could, however, a crimson blur rushed past; a plush cushion materialized beneath him before Barry reappeared in his own chair, hair windswept and a pleased smile on his face.
Bruce was infinitely thankful.
Hal leaned forward, whistling softly. “Seriously, Bruce, are we sure there’s only one in there? I could swear I saw it kick you from across the room.” He gestured with his coffee mug before taking a sip. “How sure are we that Kryptonians don’t have litters?” He teased.
Diana shot him a withering glare before she turned toward Bruce, placing one hand overtop his on his stomach. “Pay him no mind, my friend, you look positively radiant.” She assured him, smiling warmly. “I have never seen you so luminous.”
“Positively glowing,” Arthur agreed, propping his chin on his first. “Though, I must say that if you’re still stuck for names, Arthur sounds quite regal. Arthur Wayne-Kent has a nice flow to it, don’t you think?” He grinned.
Oliver scoffed from across the table. “Please. I’ve known him longest. If anyone’s getting a namesake, it’s me. Ollie Junior sounds perfect.”
Bruce watched as his friends devolved into an argument over him and their baby. His eyes met Clark’s across the table, and he couldn’t help but smile at the adoring look he received in return.
If this was the treatment he recieved for being pregnant… he was starting to think that he could be persuaded to carry at least a few more.
Just to be on the safe side.
Nsfw drabble about Clark being shameless with pda in front of their (grown) kids. He doesn't want to flash them with his and Bruce's sex life but the kids are annoyingly over protective of their mother and will do anything to interrupt their time together even after years of marriage. And Clark comes up with the plan to ignore their existence and grope and kiss and dirty talk to Bruce as if the kids are not there and it works like a charm every time. The kids gag and yell in outrage and disgust before running off, Bruce gets mortified beyond belief every time but Clark is unstoppable
The first time it happened, nobody expected it. The family had been gathered in the family room for their weekly movie night. And as usual, Bruce was seated in the center of the plush leather couch that could easily seat six if they weren’t clustered around the center. Jason had claimed the spot to Bruce's left, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Damian was sprawled to his right, just close enough for their shoulders to touch. Dick was leaning against the front of the couch, head leaning against Bruce’s knee, as Tim sat cross-legged next to him, flipping through the channels.
Despite there being three other armchairs and a loveseat in the room, they naturally clustered around Bruce.
Clark wasn’t stupid. For years, they’ve been overprotective, doing their best to keep Bruce’s attention on them, rather than on his husband. At first, Clark had found it quite endearing. Bruce’s children were a big part of his life, after all, so he was more than happy to step back and allow them to monopolize him. But as months stretched into years, he could admit that it was getting exhausting.
He was starting to miss his wife. Was it so wrong to want to cuddle together as they watched a movie? To kiss without highly trained vigilantes getting in the way?
He stood in the doorway of the family room, staring at the domestic tableau before him. The sight of Bruce, so comfortable and relaxed, warmed his chest.
He had an idea. One that might let him have some private time with Bruce, for once.
With a low hum, he stepped into the room and walked behind the couch. His hands fell onto Bruce’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into the muscles of his neck to massage them gently. He smiled down at his wife as Bruce tipped his head back, those deep blue eyes warm and filled with the unconditional love that always made Clark's breath catch, even after all these years.
He deliberately ignored the wary glances from the children. Instead, he leaned down to bring his lips to Bruce’s ear. “Miss me?” He whispered before pressing a kiss to Bruce’s lips. It was soft at first, then deepened as Bruce responded with equal enthusiasm. One hand slid down from Bruce’s shoulder to give his chest a possessive squeeze over the fabric of his shirt.
Bruce made a surprised sound against Clark’s mouth, in both protest and pleasure. Clark used that moment of surprise to press his tongue deeper, giving Bruce’s nipple a pinch.
He didn’t dare pull away until Bruce was breathless and panting. When he did withdraw, he pressed one thumb into Bruce’s nipple, earning a sharp gasp from the bat. A string of saliva connected their lips before snapping back, leaving Bruce’s mouth wet and swollen.
“So beautiful, sugar,” Clark purred, voice low and intimate. He was fully aware of the horrified looks he was getting from everyone in the room. “Reminds me of how you looked last night, when you were sucking my coc-” He started, only to be cut off by Damian yelping, jumping back so quickly he fell over the arm of the couch. Jason mirrored his movement, stumbling forward and tripping over Dick as he tried to escape.
Clark watched them all flee, a satisfied smile on his face before he sank into the now unoccupied spot, slinging one arm over Bruce’s shoulder and pulling his bright-red wife against his chest.
“You’re terrible,” Bruce murmured, though there was no fire in his voice, only exasperation.
“Mm, only for you, sweetheart,” He mused, pressing one more kiss to Bruce’s temple. “Only for you.”
I reblogged this last month, tagged it, and said “might as well see if it works.” I used this video as a reference to find all the forms that i needed (which is A LOT, especially if you’re a dependent) and sent them through the mail, not really allowing myself to hope.
dude.
$2,714 of medical debt from my top surgery - gone. im shaking this was such a weight on me for 2 years and it fucking worked. what the fuck.
This is huge. Sharing for my US friendos.
Hospitals like to hide these policies under a lot of successive links in obscure places, so if you don't see anything right away, keep looking! Get friends to help! Make it a scavenger hunt. A game where you're assassins sent to slit capitalism's throat
Have you seen that clip where the new mother is recording from her med cot as everyone enters to see her newborn baby, and there enters the room her own mother, but she beelines, avoiding the baby, to check on HER baby? Well, aside from the mother issues that clip digged up... That's Jason for me. The grandmother, I mean, not the-... Ykw? Here:
It was a violent fight, he saw how Batman fell from the top of the building, got right back to his feet and kept going. They fought until the threat was subdued. Everyone looked like shit. Tired, battered. It was messy between the Justice League and the heroes from the other teams. Chaotic.
Now he busied himself moving between the heroes trying to congratulate him, the ones asking who he was, avoiding Dick as he tried to reach his side, his own teammates trying to get to him... He saw the silhouette of Bruce lifting Tim's arm to check the damage, and then he was practically running.
"Hood?!"
Tim and Damian lifted their heads at Dick's call. He reached towards Bruce and lifted the man's head, making him stop Tim's examination. He briefly looked over his shoulder to confirm the identities of the heroes surrounding them, and took off his own helmet. "Off." He grunted to the Bat. "Off" repeated when Bruce stood frozen looking at him.
Slowly, doubtfully, Batman reached to the back of his cowl and pulled it back, revealing his bloody forehead.
Dick hissed next to him at the gnarly appearance of their dad's eye. Jason slowly turned Bruce's head around, checking the eye. "How bad is it?" He frowned.
Bruce frowned back "I can see" He tried to turn towards Tim "Red Robin's arm-"
"Dude, stay still! You might be concussed!" Bruce blinked once. Twice. Slowly.
"... Son. Your brother might have his arm broken." (The family completely ignored the gasps and the soft "son?" that someone - probably Flash - whispered behind them)
"Really?" He turned to face his brother. Tim shrugged, lifting the so-called affected arm. "He seems fine. Now" Jason turned back to Bruce "try to follow my finger".
He felt Dick snicker and from the corner of his eye, saw him walk to his siblings, possibly to continue Bruce's assessment of the youngest's injuries.
Batman grumbled but turned his body to be fully facing his son. He swears on everything Alfred had taught him about cooking, that he saw the man pout for a millisecond. And maybe by the way Supes giggled behind them, he didn't hallucinate it.
He finished assessing his dad's injuries and let himself fall to the floor, exhausted. "Man... The next time you fall from a 20th floor, please stay put"
"The what?!"
"He WHAT?!"
"BRUCE-?!"
"Dad wha-?!"
"Father what does he-?"
"Twentieth floor?!"
"...I'm fine"
"Batman -"
"Seriously -"
"This man is unbelieva-"
"We still need to check your head, so you might want to stay put for a while, old man"
"Jason, I didn't fall"
"... Oh shit that's bad" Dick mumbled and stood up to move next to them"
"First of all, you just name dropped me. Second of all, I saw how you pin ball-ed all the way down."
"... Fuck"
"Yeah."
MAN NIKI YOU HAVE ME CONDITIONED! Pavlov's dog style. I saw the images and went "Wait, wait. I didn't kill him, right?" I had to re-read my own post!!!
AHHAHAHAH WHAT
WHY DO YOU GUYS ALWAYS THINK I'M ONLY HAPPY WHEN HE DIES 😭
OH MAN I DON'T KNOW WHY (please read with sarcasm)
love that for you btw. great brand. keep it up. (that wasn't sarcastic i was being genuine)
Yessir o7
We love the brand. Put that man six feet under.
Give me Dickbin
Anonymous bc you keep ignoring me... No. I am not Cote. Nope
Hey Cote.
"Get off me!" Dick wrenches his arm back, elbowing his assailant in the stomach and bringing his heel down on their toes, but finds himself with nowhere to run to when they release him, as these fake heroes surround him, blocking his exits.
"You can trust us," Superman, but not Superman says. He doesn't look like that. It's a good copy, but Bruce trained Dick to be a detective. He knows this isn't Superman. "I promise, Robin."
Dick narrows his eyes. How does he know he's Robin?
The man behind him steps up, but Dick isn't going to let himself be grabbed again. Not by fake-Flash, not by anyone. Flash has blond hair, and there are red strands peeking past the cowl. Not to mention he got the symbol wrong.
"You're going to let me go," he instructs, reaching for the birdarangs he called B dramatic for making him carry. The energy in the room shifts as he slips them out of his trouser legs, into something more tense.
"Now, Robin—"
He points the birdarang at the fake Green Arrow and his terrible beard. Terrible.
"I don't want to be here," he states clearly. "Give them a chance," B said. "If they don't take it, give 'em hell."
"I know, Robin," Wonder Woman's fake says gently. "But you need to stay while we find your family."
Dick feels the blood drain from his face. No. No no no no no they can't have B. Dick has only been with him for a year. He can't lose Bruce too, not like he lost Mama and Tati.
He can't lose Bruce.
"I'm not staying here," he reiterates, and spins the birdarang.
Discount Aquaman sighs.
Dick stabs him.
He shouts in surprise, but Dick is already dancing away, bringing up three more. He ducks low, swiping at the back of fake Flash's ankles, and he doesn't go down like Dick hoped, but he does start cursing and hopping away, which takes him out of the game too.
Goodwill Green Lantern traps him in a construct. Martian Manhunter's imposter stands a bit too close to the cage, and Dick manages to get one in his shoulder. Pain reverberates through his mind as the imposter lashes out psychically, but he doesn't seem in control, and the rest of the room reacts too, grabbing their heads and groaning.
The construct flickers out of existence and Dick leaps into the air, foot connecting with Goodwill Green Lantern's chin before using his shoulders as a springboard to leap over him and land in the doorway.
Behind him, On-Sale Superman, and Workshop Wonder Woman make an imposing wall, expressions stern. In front of him, Giveaway Green Arrow hits a button and another door hisses open, allowing a small army of new faces to enter, all attention fixed on Dick like an opponent to be taken down.
He bares his teeth and settles in for a fight.
He'd fight the real Justice League for Bruce. A group of fakes is nothing by comparison.
He bares his teeth and raises his fists, decorated with the blood of his already aquired victories.
"We don't want to hurt you," someone says. Dick shrugs at the purple hooded figure, and grins.
"You won't," he assures, and leaps forward.
An arm snags around his middle, stopping him midair, and Dick drops down, using it like a bar, swinging around and up to face them, and—
He looks different too, but Dick knows his partner.
"B!"
He throws himself into Bruce's arms, who catches him easily, holding him close to his chest with a smile. "Hey, chum."
Anon who asked for Bruce to be killed with hammers here. I am not sorry at all for what I prompted you to bring into the world, you executed it amazingly.
Still, to balance things out, can we give Bruce some bonding time with Ace (the dog)? Any interaction involving those two I enjoy immensely :3
Hope you're doing well ^^
Uhhh
Bruce looks down as a wet snout nudges his hand. Ace pushes his head into his palm, and Bruce strokes over his head, smiling down at his boy. Then he spots the trembles, the tucked tail, and coos, leaning down to stroke his sides.
"Hey, puppy," he coos, keeping an arm firmly around his sleeping son so he doesn't slip off his lap.
Thunder rumbles, echoing around the caverns of the cave, and Ace whines and puts his paws up, trying to climb into his lap like he usually does during a storm, and something in Bruce's heart breaks when he has to push him down, his lap occupied.
Ace's teeth snag in Dick's pyjama top, tugging lightly, and Bruce gives him a warning look. "No, Ace."
Thunder cracks again, and Ace shakes, pushing under Bruce's legs to hide. He's never liked storms, not since Bruce took him in from the streets, where he probably had nowhere to hide from the awful weather.
Dick doesn't like them either. He doesn't like to admit it, but he always has more nightmares on those nights, so Bruce feigned ignorance when Dick refused to go to bed and curled up in his lap instead. Guilt slithers through him, that he forgot about Ace, probably all alone upstairs in the manor.
Even Bruce winces at the volume of the storm as the cave makes it echo as it picks up outside, signalling one of Gotham's trademark weather patterns of storms that ravage the city. Batman and Robin don't usually go out during those, because no one else does either. Protocol is barricade yourself in with supplies and flood-prep your entryways, and it stays that way until the storm passes.
Bruce glances at the passageway up to the manor. It will barely be any quieter up there. It's not condusive for Ace to stay down here, where everything is amplified either.
"Dick. Chum, wake up."
He gets a sleepy murmur, and Dick raises his head, blinking blearily. "Climb on my back, sweetheart." Dick mumbles something, smacking Bruce in the face with Zitka as he clambers around to his back, and goes back to sleep, soft snores floating up to his ears. Bruce eases his chair back, and snatches Ace before he can bolt, wrangling the German Shepherd into his arms.
With all his valuables secured, Bruce starts off to the other side of the Cave, and less than a minute later, materialises in the Watchtower. He sets Ace down, brings Dick's legs around his hips, and grimaces as the dog retches and throws up on the floor. Zeta travel can't be fun for a dog.
He pads back over to him, ears low, and Bruce lets a few hundreds drift to the floor, gives an apologetic look to the camera, and leaves the small puddle behind, guiding his dog down the hallway to one of the common rooms. Dick grumbles, still fast asleep, as he's set down on the couch, and Bruce pulls him into his arms, letting Ace hop up and bully his way into the hug too.
The door opens, and Bruce looks up, nodding at Clark and Diana as they enter.
"Thank you."
"It's nothing I haven't dealt with having Krypto or Shelby. At least Ace can't eat precious metals."
Bruce blinks. "That is...an upside, yes."
Diana kneels next to the couch, giving Bruce an amused look as she strokes a hand over Ace. "Is Gotham not good enough anymore?" She teases, and he rolls his eyes.
"Har har. We've got a storm in the city. Neither of my boys like them much."
A blanket wafts out, then settles over him, and Bruce eyes Clark above him. "You don't need to—" He stops talking to yawn, and Clark grins at him.
"Five hundred probably covers a blanket as well as cleaning up after Ace, Bruce."
"Two hundred and fifty," Diana corrects tersely. "I want my cut."
"You stood there and watched me clean it up!"
"I played an integral role of moral support, Kal-El."
Bruce yawns again, their bickering lulling him into sleep, and he feels the couch dip, quickly followed by Diana guiding him to slump against her.
Clark lifts his legs to lay them over his lap and scooch up closer, letting Dick sleepily wiggle his way between the two of them, while Ace splays out in Bruce's arms, minute trembles still running through him.
"—gagging at the smell while I cleaned it up," Clark says, when Bruce tunes back in, clearly not done bickering.
Bruce focuses on Ace, hushing the breathy whine, and pulls him up to smack a kiss on his head. "Storms gone, baby," he assures, and Ace burrows into his chest.
"Because it was unfathomably foul." Diana burrows her fingers into Ace's fur, stroking over the tuft of fur bursting up around his collar.
"He's a dog, what do you expect?" Clark rests a hand on Ace's thigh, scratching just where he likes it above his tail, and it thumps sadly against Dick's ankle.
"Compensation for being in the same solar system as that substance," Diana gripes.
Bruce chuckles at their antics, and when Ace noses at his mouth to investigate the sound, clasps a hand over his muzzle to guide his vomit-breath away, and kisses his head a dozen times.
"You didn't even put any work in, Di."
"I'll give you another five hundred." Bruce's voice is rough as he speaks into Ace's fluff, but Diana's chuckle is smooth as she entangles their fingers where they rest in Ace's fur. He noses at her too, and she bumps their heads together in the same peculiar way they always have, before he sneaks his head back under Bruce's lips for more kisses.
"No, I think I'll survive," she hums.
"A night like this with you is compensation enough," Clark offers, putting what she left silent out into the open, and Bruce knows his cheeks are pink.
"Saps."
"Mhm." Diana relaxes onto him, one arm slung around his lower back, the other invisible beneath the layers of Ace's tan fur.
Clark leans in closer on his other side, Dick trapped firmly between them as the Kryptonian rests his forehead onto Bruce's shoulder, where he'll probably stay for the rest of the night.
Bruce pulls Ace a bit closer, and allows himself to relax fully, surrounded by all his loved ones together. He kisses Ace's head one last time, and finally falls into slumber.
