~not sorry~i luv Jesus n Jesus luvs EVERYONEpolynesian&white, pan, poly, gender fluid (i'll go with any pronoun really)
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Tim reboots the Batcomputer software every couple months, but on the newest update, he forgets to change the code words he uses for batfamily before publishing the code.
Bruce is mildly surprised when he boots up the mainframe and the screen flashes, "Welcome Back Walking Wallet, Aka PTA Warrior, AKA Nagging Ninja, Aka Batdad," but he knows that it's his fault for letting Tim into the software, so he lets it go.
Jason's permanent username is now Therapy Topic and he hasn't let it go for months.
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I love the idea that the 'Robin cackle' wasn't meant to be an intimidation technique at first. It's just deadass how Dick laughs.
Like, Dick just has an evil sounding laugh. And, well, admittedly he is also a bit psychopath-y for a kid. He is always laughing at weird shit. And crooks all nervous, tripping over themselves to get things done 'before the Bat appears' when the Bat is already there? Definitely too funny not to laugh!
So it's the dead of the night and everyone is trying to be quiet when this cruel sounding cackle comes out of no where and starts echoing off the walls, getting more and more spectral... It's the last thing everyone hears before Batman beats the shit out of them.
And thus the mythos of the Robin cackle is born.
Bruce doesn't really put a stop to it, one, because it does make one hell of an intimidation technique. And two, because, well, it's Dick's laugh. What's he supposed to do? Tell his kid not to be happy? It's not Dick's fault he sound like something out of The Shining .
So things are what they're are, time goes on. It's not until later that B realizes his mistake.
Thing is, people tend to copy other people's way of laughing. Especially those of family and friends.
Batman doesn't remember this silly little fact about human nature until he's at a meeting with the JL. Everyone is getting comfortable, and heroes are shuffling in calmly, and then Barry comes in at super speed, promptly slips in the recently polished floors, and send his own ass flying. He crashes into Hal and they both plummet against a window so hard they crack the reinforced glass.
And Bruce tries, he really tries. But what the hell, he's tired, and maybe a bit concussed. So he laughs. Full on belly laugh.
What comes out of him is the sound of the gates of hell opening. Like someone gave Dracula a dose of Joker's gas. Rough and elegant yet so maniacal and evil it genuinely has people's hairs standing up. It's sounds like the last thing you hear before someone loses their mind. It sounds like how Dick laughs.
It's so bad it startles Bruce himself into stopping. Everyone is looking at him like 'What the fuck was that?!'. Clark starts using x-ray vision to make sure it's actually his friend under the cowl and not a villain. In similar fashion Diana reaches for her lasso. Barry is wondering if he died and that sound is the gream reaper and Hal is passed out in the floor.
Bruce is looking at the distance. He's not sure how he's going to explain to Alfred that the polished, educated laugh he taught him has been corrupted by his 12 year old .
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Tim: I want another sibling.
Dick: is this because I--
Tim: because you live in Bludhaven! That's forever away from me. I'm being neglected.
Dick: it's a 45-minute drive.
Tim: NEGLECTED!
Dick: well damn, Tim, I'm sorry but I don't control child acquisitions in this family. What do you think is going to happen? We find another teenager on the side of the road?
Babs two weeks later: hey Batman and I found this teenager on the side of the road.
Cass: hi 😀
Tim: !!!!!!!!!!!! 🤩
Dick: 😑
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Tim: hey Dick, which do you thing Kon would like more?
Tim: *holds up 2 pairs of earrings, one sapphire, on diamond*
Dick: I don't know probaby, the sapphire
Tim: *nods and puts the diamond away*
Dick: what's the special occasion, anyway?
Tim: hm?
Dick: why are you buying Kon the earrings, is it your anniversary or something?
Tim: oh no, I just like buying stuff for him
Dick: *starts laughing*
Tim: what?
Dick: oh god, you're his sugar daddy!
Tim, blushing: I'm not- you buy expensive shit for Wally all the time! You're his sugar daddy!
Dick: I prefer the term; 'rich boyfriend',
Tim: ...
Tim and Dick: *turns to look at Jason*
Jason, checking out arrow-shaped ruby necklace: *looks up*
Jason: ... I plead the fifth
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Caged Fangs~ Part of my Cage Dress series. I've been so busy with other things, it's nice to finish a proper painting again. Here's a quick timelapse of how I painted it. The full hours long videos, HD image and PSD files will be DMed on my Patreon on June 5th.
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Clark doesn't push. He never pushes.
Not this time.
He watches Bruce Wayne with the quiet reverence of someone staring at a ghost made real. A living man in the same body, well, almost. Different haircut, harder lines, more secrets in his smile, but the same mouth, the same frown, the same infuriatingly soft voice when he's tired and forgets to pretend.
Clark would know him anywhere.
The first time he saw Bruce at the gala, the world tilted, time caught in his throat. He nearly said his name (the real one) but caught himself, Bruce had looked right past him. Cordial, cool and unknowing.
Clark went home and didn't sleep for a week.
Now, he watches from the sidelines, through polite interviews, coincidental meetings, coffee shops he knows Bruce favors but never mentions why he's there. He never admits he already knows how Bruce takes his coffee, or that he recognizes that little twitch in his right hand when he's overstimulated.
He never says: "You used to hold my hand to steady yourself."
He just offers the sugar instead.
Clark doesn't ask if Bruce remembers.
Because he already knows the signs.
The way Bruce tenses when Clark says his name, the way he lingers, unthinking. The way he looks, like something deep inside him is starting to hum awake.
Bruce is dreaming, Clark can tell. The eyes are different, a little less sharp, a little more haunted.
He wants to say "I'm here."
He wants to say "I've missed you for centuries."
He wants to say "Come home."
But he doesn't.
Because he remembers the promise:
"If I forget, let me find you again on my own. Please."
So Clark waits.
And watches.
And every time Bruce says his name, even just "Mr. Kent" with that slightly confused tension behind it...
Clark lets himself hope.
Just a little more.
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I’ve noticed this revisionist Greek myth is common wherein Persephone loves Hades and eats the pomegranate seeds in order to evade her overbearing mother, and that’s all well and good. You know, sometimes I’m in the mood for it and sometimes I’m not. But hear this: as long as we’re doing this, why is no one wondering whether Aphrodite might really love Hephaestus?
Think about it. All the gods in their immortal splendor are lining up to marry her, doing everything in their power to impress her, the goddess of love and beauty, and she choses…that guy. A god in technical terms only, a social reject who’s ugly and malformed and um, no fun. Always slaving away in his workshop when everyone else is quaffing nectar and having their eternal beach party up on Mount Olympus. They can’t believe she’d give up all of them for that.
So, because the gods do not take rejection well (looking at you Apollo), eventually they start to say to each other, well, we all know Zeus made her do it anyway. He’s gotta feel guilty for throwing Hephaestus off Mount Olympus that one time. And it quickly becomes that poor girl, stuck in that workshop full of sweat and dirt and cyclopses when she could have had one of us. Because of course they’ve got love all figured out; it’s entirely technical and dependent on who’s the most charming and good-looking and not at all variable and strange and notoriously unpredictable, right?
Meanwhile Ares, only the most arrogant and brainless of the crew, can’t take a hint and is still showing up wherever Aphrodite goes trying to hit on her, so eventually she and Hephaestus decide to rig up an elaborate mechanical trap for him, using her as bait. When all the gods have laughed at him for getting caught he huffily attempts to regain his dignity by telling them, whatever, guys, you want to know the truth, I was meeting her for an assignation. And they all kind of know he’s full of it but they just accept it as the unvarnished truth from thereon in, because they’d love to believe she’d cheat on Hephaestus with Ares. They’d love it. Come on, Aphrodite, get off your high horse and admit you’re just as shallow as the rest of us.
So they talk, but Aphrodite doesn’t really care about their collective jealousy because she dotes on her misshapen genius of a husband with his sooty hands and his sweaty brow who always takes her seriously and is always so hard at work inventing astonishing new things to make her happy, and she loves the volcano they live in with its internal pressures so conducive to the formation of precious stones and its passages lit with glowing lava that so gorgeously offsets her cheekbones, and all the cyclopses worship her because even with one eye apiece they’ve still got more depth perception than most men do where she’s concerned. True it is that as a couple the two develop a reputation for not getting out much, because all those Olympian parties bore them to death and they’d rather spend time with each other (poor Aphrodite, she’s such a vivacious young thing and her husband is so grasping and insecure that he won’t let her go out and have fun), but they do all right.
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The newsroom was winding down for the evening, that golden hour lull when even the most hardcore reporters had switched to coffee refills and idle gossip. Lois was still typing at her desk, though she clearly wasn't putting in full effort.
Clark returned from one of his quick "lunch breaks" holding two coffees and a bag from that ridiculously fancy Gotham bakery.
Lois barely glanced up "Did Gotham's golden himbo send pastries again?"
Clark sighed, setting the bag down in front of her.
Lois looked inside of it "Ugh, of course he remembered I like the blackberry ones. Why is your boyfriend better at gift-giving than my last three dates combined?"
Clark smiled behind his cup "He likes to make an impression"
Lois leaned back in her chair, fixing him with a look "I still don't know how you did it. You, Clark Kent: awkward, blushing, and nervous, bagged Brucie Wayne. You know he winked at me once at a press gala and I nearly choked on my wine?"
Clark looked embarrassed "He's not really like that"
"Oh, come on" she said, grinning "Publicly, the man is 90% teeth and 10% champagne, he flirts with everything that moves. He called Perry 'boss man' and finger-gunned at him once. Finger-gunned, Clark"
"He's not like that in private" Clark muttered.
Lois arched an eyebrow "So you get the secret Bruce? The one who doesn’t giggle through board meetings or pretends not to know what a budget is?"
Clark hesitated, then smiled softly "Yeah. When it's just us… he's quiet, observant, serious in ways that matter. But he still does dumb jokes sometimes, he just waits until no one's around to hear him laugh at them"
Lois squinted at him over her coffee "So you get the real Bruce Wayne"
Clark nodded. "I think so"
Lois tapped a finger against her desk "Weirdly romantic, Kent. I approve, but I'm still calling him Brucie, he wore sunglasses indoors. At night"
Clark chuckled "He says it's branding"
Lois smirked "Well, he's yours now. You get to deal with the headlines and the charity galas and the scandalous yacht rumors"
"Already do" Clark said, deadpan.
Lois laughed "You know what, I'm rooting for you two. You've got the charm of a farmer's market and he's one bad mood away from accidentally buying the moon, it actually works".
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Clark: "Hey, B, are you okay, you look a little--"
Bruce: "What ever you are about to say, don't say it."
Clark: "Why?"
Bruce, in a whisper: "Because Dick has taken it upon himself to impress me with backflips should I appear upset."
Clark: "And this is a problem because?"
Bruce, still whispering: "Because whilst in all other ways he is a gifted acrobat, every time he does a backflip, without fail, he falls on his face and fighting back the urge to laugh everytime is starting to wear on me."
Clark: "Aww, Bruce. Sounds like he messes up on purpose to try and make you laugh, 'cause I've seen him do backflips lots of times."
Bruce: "Oh..."
---
Bruce, later as he tucks Dick into bed: "If you really want to make me laugh, you should do that thing where you jump onto Clark..."
---
Dick, the next morning leaping from the chandelier: "SKY ATTACK."
Clark, scrambling to catch him: "Jesus, Dick!"
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After Bruce took Dick under his care, he actually stopped wasting time on any casual relationships - it seemed inconceivable when a little traumatized boy with unrestrained aggression and a desire to commit a capital murder was waiting for him at home. But after a few years, he thought, to hell with it, he deserved one night of good old fun. So he went to this gala concert in his best outfit, having previously arranged with Alfred to take Dick out for a short hike so that the mansion would be free during the night. And when he started looking for his "victim", he came across this charming reporter, all screaming Mr. Awkward with the broadest shoulders known to a man, and hands as warm as his smile, and Bruce, of course, takes him home. And everything goes great, only Dick returns earlier than Bruce expected, and enters his bedroom as usual without knocking.
Dick: hey B look i collected a whole basket of mushro— SUPERMAN??
Bruce, still half asleep, barely covering himself with a blanket: what
Dick: WHY IS THERE SUPERMAN IN YOUR BED.
Clark, without his glasses, his hair is combed back from the position of his head on the pillow: um
Bruce, already embarrassed and feeling like he'd failed as a guardian by letting Dick catch him the morning after: Dick what are you talking about, it's just some—
Bruce, turning to face Clark:
Bruce, paling:
Dick: THIS IS THE SUPERMAN YOU DICKHEAD WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM—
Bruce: i... i don't know how to answer that
Dick, almost crying: DID YOU MAKE LOVE TO HIM WITHOUT TELLING ME—
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Batman: I have decided I will reveal my identity to one person
Justice League: !!!!
Batman: *walks over to Green Arrow*
Green Arrow: Wait wha-
*Hot steamy make-out session right in front of the League. Jaws are dropped, Superman’s eyes are red, there’s tongue*
Green Arrow: … huh
Batman: *raises an eyebrow* Do you understand?
Green Arrow: *now completely aware that Batman is Bruce Wayne due to how many make-outs the two of them have had over the years* Surprisingly yes
Justice League: ?!?!?!
Batman: That’s all *sweeps out of the room with a dramatic flare of his cape*
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Bruce has a strict 'no metas/powers (except duke) allowed in Gotham' policy in place but it has a clause, BYOR (Bring Your Own Robin)
No one is allowed entry untill and unless they can produce their very own certified robin-shaped identity card
Whenever someone with even a hint of supernatural powers in them arrives at Gotham, they're first met with Bruce standing at the city border with a notepad in hand
Bruce: State your name and purpose.
Kon: Kon-el, here to hangout!
Bruce: Your Robin?
Kon, flourishing Tim from behind him: Ta-Da!
Tim, waves: Hey Bruce
Bruce: Approved, you may enter
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce: Name and purpose?
Hal: Here to investigate a case, Hal Jordan
Bruce: Your Robin?
Hal: I.... don't have one?
Bruce: Denied
Hal: What?! But-
Bruce: Denied.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce: Yes, Wally, where's your robin?
Wally: Oh shit lemme just- *zaps away and returns with Dick, who was in the midst of brushing his teeth, in a bridal carry*- Here!
Bruce, grumbling a little: Fine. Approved.
Dick: You gotta stop using me as a key already, man
Wally: Blame Bruce.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce: Name and purpose?
Clark: Clark Kent, here for our monthly barbecue
Bruce: Robin?
Clark, producing an actual robin bird: Does this count?
Bruce:.....yes
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One of my favorite little things in superbat fanfics is when Clark is fully expecting to have to pull affection out of Bruce like he’s pulling teeth only to come to the conclusion that Bruce’s love language is physical touch.
Like Clark 100% is expecting to have to basically bombard Bruce with his love but it lowkey ends up the other way around.
Like Clark is standing in a sun spot in the manor. Eyes closed just soaking up all the suns energy and he feels Bruce’s arms rap around his waist and lays his head in between Clark’s shoulder blades, and Clark melts
or
Clark is talking to Alfred in the kitchen early in the morning and is leaning up against the counter and he hears Bruce’s heart beat before he walks in, and Bruce puts his hand in Clark’s back pocket “16 Candles” style and kisses his cheek and nuzzles his head in Clark’s neck for a few seconds before going to sit down for breakfast. Clark falls a little more and Alfred just looks at them with so much pride and joy because his son is finally happy
or
Bruce comes back home after a really rough day from W.E.. He walks into the manor and sees Clark lounging on the couch reading and just collapses onto him and hides in Clark’s chest because he can finally let go of the Brucie persona when he’s in Clark’s arms.
And Clark is so grateful because he knows how hard it is for Bruce to feel safe enough to be vulnerable and he’s so happy that Bruce loves and trusts him so much that he feels he can do it so easily and oh my god someone please stop me I’m actually gonna cry😭
Please recommend me fics like this PLEASE
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I always wonder if Clark has accidentally called Bruce by a Midwestern pet name without realizing
Bruce: Superman
Clark working on something: yes darlin
Bruce*burning bright red*: uhmm.... M-Mission reports
Clark, oblivious: what's that doll?
Bruce gay panic Wayne: nothing.... doesn't matter
*Smoke bombs away*
Clark finally turn around: weird. what was that about
Later that night in bed Clark wakes up in a cold sweat realizing what he's done.
Clark: Oh no. He's gonna kill me
_____
Bruce still on the floor 6hrs later: you don't understand Alfred. That midwest charm. It's psychological warfare.
Alfred so done with this gay shit: I only asked if you want tea, Master Wayne. However I now realize that nothing can quite quench your thirst
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I know that its fairly common for Jason to have blue eyes that turn green when the pit is active, but I support that Jason's eyes are just bright green now. They don't necessarily glow all the time, but they are notably green.
The first time that Jason takes his helmet off in front of the family after his resurrection Dick won't stop staring at him and Bruce keeps glancing at him when he thinks Jason can't see it.
Jason starts taking off his helmet less because the blatant reminder that he came back different, changed, wrong.
Then Damian shows up and starts talking about how both of them inherited their mother's eyes (he refuses to listen to anyone trying to tell him it doesn't work that way)
Slowly but surely, when Jason takes off his helmet and looks in the mirror, instead of seeing wrongness staring back at him, all he can see is his baby brother's eyes.
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