#Red Dots

[spacetelescopescience]

NEWS: The James Webb Space Telescope is helping connect the dots! 🔴 A team of astronomers scoured multiple Webb surveys to assemble a large sample of “little red dots”—intriguing objects that mostly existed during the first 1.5 billion years after the big bang: https://bit.ly/4j9SVtm

[zaonm]

Sandcastles, 2021, Giuliana Zamprogno

Red ink over music sheet

[wij-zijn-dynamiet]

For Victor

[outtamynoggin]

Daddy issues... son issues??

Jason: Can a parent have daddy issues?

Tim: Obviously. They-

Jason: No I mean can they have daddy issues for their child?

Tim: What the actual heck are you on about?

Jason: Because I SWEAR Bruce has daddy issues for Dick.

Tim: WHAT? WHAT?!! What the actual-

Jason: No, think about it. Someone with daddy issues has: Fear of abandonment, difficulty trusting a partner, feeling insecure in a relationship, being clingy or possessive, needing constant reassurance, being easily jealous or suspicious, and attracting abusive partners.

Tim: *panicking* Hold-

Jason: *on a roll* NO. Bruce literally stalks dick and gets mad and scared over him leaving, he doesn't trust his robins to meet his standards, he constantly trauma-dumps on Alfred about his and Dick’s relationship, and he’s super clingy and possessive when it comes to Dick—like, look at the Titans! He’s obsessed. He literally asks Dick if things are alright between them CONSTANTLY. Abusive partners? I don't mean to talk shit about Talia and Selina but they're literally villains.

Tim: *having a crisis*

Jason: Bruce Wayne- the first man to have daddy issues... in reverse.

Tim: *whimpering* Please stop talking.

Jason: ...But wait... all these things... doesn't Dick have some of them too?!

Tim: NO!

Jason: *speeding up* No, no.. HOLY SHIT, IT'S A CYCLE! Bruce is feeding into Dick's issues and Dick is feeding into Bruce's because Bruce is looking for validation from Dick and Dick is looking for validation in Bruce and they-

Tim: *frantically calling* KON, COME PICK ME UP. I'M SCARED.

[arianasuchi]

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[the-mad-duo]

HS 507C X2 | Holosun ACSS Vulcan Reticle

When I first moved to a red dot sight on a handgun, the options for a pistol red dot sight durable enough to trust my life on for duty as a Deputy Sheriff was a short list of one: the RMR type 2. There simply were no other compact versions that compared when it came to battery life and durability. Sure, you could mount a full-sized Aimpoint onto a frame mount, but that would tend to be a bit…

[gnarl3ne-blog]

Camissonia bistorta by Arlene Schag Via Flickr: Southern California - Ramona, Camissonia bistorta growing in full sun near Cedar Creek Falls, May 2010. Small population. Chaparral / Riparian habitat, a beautiful native in an area where most have have been crowded out by foreign plants and introduced weeds.

[naqueemi]

dc fans will see this and say "omg i don't know who's cuter 😍"

[is-that-your-true-face]

"Can it be your favorite song?" A song that means a lot to you: > Song of Time > Song of Healing

A callback to the scene from episode 1, when Link chose to teach him Song of Time over Song of Healing.

Very much looking forward to seeing what MajorLink and his team actually do for this scene. ❤️

[yesornopolls]

Americans : do you live in a blue state?

[kirstydreaming]

Natasha; 📷

[dabigbirb]

“Saw his dimension burn”

“Misses home, but can’t return”

[cherushiina]

kanto punks

[witherby]

With Dick being so angry about Conner breaking in i could only imagine how chatic him actually meeting Conner would be, like having to keeo him in one of those kiddie keashes or he‘ll try to kill the guy 😭

A 17 year restrianing a whole adult man with one of those kid harnesses

Honestly? Yeah. Gimme some genuinely angry Nightwing every once in a while. Let that parentified man get some of that pent-up rage out!!!

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Family

Masterlist is Here!

Conner opens his eyes and sits up when he hears you step into his room. He stares at you incredulously, then at the darkness and the way it seamlessly folds and bends to your will.

"You're invulnerable?" You ask him.

"Yes?" He responds, confused. It's just past eleven at night, and you've shown up out of nowhere to chat when the only other time you've spoken was when he came to your room three days ago. "A bullet bounces off me at point-blank range. Feels like somebody flicked me with their finger, at most."

"Okay," you say, looking nervous, "because my family found out you broke into the house to talk to me, and they're, like, super livid. I just came to give you fair warning because they might, uh, try to kill you."

Conner chuckles. Your face doesn't change. He stops chuckling.

"What, you're serious?"

"They're looking for their stashes of Kryptonite right now. I hid most of it, but they probably have more I don't know about. Just...be prepared. And don't kill any of them, or you'll have to hide from me, next."

The shadows in his room curl around you again. You step into them and allow darkness to envelop you completely.

"Bye, Conner."

"Um," he blurts, cheeks reddening, "same. I mean, bye. Goodbye to you, too."

He hears you snort in amusement before you're gone again. Conner is then left alone to process, 1, that you were concerned for his well-being enough to come warn him about your family, and 2, that he made you laugh.

He can't sleep the rest of the night, giddy with the swell of adoration he has for you.

--

The next time Luthor has him leave the facility to do his job as Superman, it's when the first Superman has to go off-world again over a month later. Conner stops a bank heist, saves some hostages, puts out a fire, and helps a child find her parents when she wanders too far off in the mall.

Then he meets your youngest sibling.

His moniker is Robin. The implanted information helps Conner identify him immediately, which helps him realize that Robin should not be in Metropolis, and especially not in full costume. Alarm bells are ringing in his head.

"I was warned you might show," Conner says, hovering in the air as he looks down at Robin.

"Then you know what you've done wrong," Robin calls back, unsheathing a sword from his back and pulling a batarang out of his pocket. "Come here and face the consequences."

"I'm fine where I'm at, thanks."

"It wasn't a request, Superboy."

"Superman," Conner frowns.

Robin sneers. "Not from what I see."

Conner feels a flare of anger surge within him. What was the big deal? He just needed to see you. He didn't hurt you — he would never dare — just stopped by your home to talk. And you did the same thing! Why some human with an eye mask and a sword feels like they can berate him for that, he doesn't know, but he's not going to take it lying down.

Faster than Robin can blink, Conner snatches the weapons from his hands and tosses them aside, then flips his cape over his head with a sneer.

"Go home, sidekick," Conner says. "I don't have time for this."

"I do."

Something hits Conner's back. It actually hurts, which is the surprising thing, and he yelps as a man in black and blue spandex descends upon him and starts beating him with a pair of escrima sticks. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by a brand new sensory input he hasn't experienced before, then brings his arms up to shield his head and curls up further.

Nightwing, his brain registers between the blows. But according to his knowledge base, the man is usually not this violent. He always pulls back from an opponent when they duck down or hit the ground, and Conner is practically in fetal position. His sticks are glowing green, which is not a good sign. Conner feels sick.

"Oh, shit — hey, he's on the ground, pull it back!"

"This wasn't the plan, Nightwing, cool it —"

"I think he's doing great. Let him get a few more swings in."

"Robin you're not helping!"

"Seriously, get off him!"

Conner groans and gasps in pain. His whole body feels like it's on fire. There's sounds of a scuffle happening above him, but he picks up on someone else's shaky breathing a few yards away.

He cracks an eye open and spots a civilian half-hidden around the corner, filming everything happening.

The birds want to come to Metropolis and mess with him? Well, two can play at that game. They're about to be hated by the masses for touching the city's new golden boy.

Conner makes a panicked expression, lifts his arm and waves it in a sweeping motion, and starts shaking his head.

"R-run," he wheezes, "go, get away from here, get to safety!"

"What's he — shit! HEY, C'MERE!" Nightwing gasps, pointing at the civilian. The woman turns and darts into the building she was hiding by, fingers flying across her screen like lightning. "God dammit! Red Robin, can you —"

"I can't," the third figure standing by him says, sounding just as stressed. Conner recognizes both him and the Red Hood's silent figure, who had been physically holding Nightwing back from continuing to swing on him. Robin tsks and presses a few buttons on his gauntlet.

"We'll need to retreat and prepare to do damage control. The batmobile is coming, ETA 30 seconds. What do we do with him?" Robin kicks Conner's arm.

"We can't leave the kid. He's got Kryptonite poisoning and we dunno where his boss is to dump him for medical help," Red Robin says, crossing his arms and sighing. "We gotta take him with us and get the shards out."

"I say leave him anyway. It's just a couple pieces, and if he's as stupidly strong as the real Supes, he'll walk this off," Red Hood suggests.

"We wouldn't have to debate this if Nightwing had kept his cool," Robin grouches. Nightwing has the good graces to look chagrined and tucks his sticks away.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about...I'm sorry. C'mon, B will skin is alive if he finds out we left him for dead. Get him in the car."

They're about to abduct him, now, too? Conner almost laughs at the absurdity. All of this, just for paying you a visit? It's madness. But then he imagines some other stranger breaking into your room to talk to you, to touch you, to hurt you, and has to focus his energy to not start burning everything with his laser vision. It's not really absurd anymore. If he could draw a full breath without feeling like white-hot knives are slicing his vary atoms apart, Conner would attempt to explain himself. But he can't, so he doesn't.

He doesn't resist when two of them lift him and start loading his body into the back of a sleek, black vehicle. Metropolis' threats have been neutralized for today, so he technically doesn't need to stay in town. Instead, he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift.

They're taking him to Gotham, which is where you live. He has no qualms with that.

[outtamynoggin]

It's crazy what he gets away with (and who the ones letting him get away with it are)

Bruce: What Nightwing did might have been... unconventional, but it worked.

Tim: Exactly. I mean, sure, the plan might have involved hacking into Gotham’s power grid, a few strategic distractions, and, uh, some minor illegal surveillance-

Barbara: MINOR? DISTRUBANCES??

Tim: Okay, fine! The plan also had a teensy bit of hacking into the stock market, manipulating a few politicians, and borrowing a couple confidential documents, but nobody was harmed!

Bruce: ...In the strictest sense.

Tim: Yes! See, it's a win-win solution!

Barbara: *furious* You two are insane. You’re treating morally ambiguous like it’s a fun new hobby. He practically engineered an escape from a high-security prison by tricking the entire staff into thinking it was game night. In addition, he orchestrated a city-wide blackout just to steal classified documents, and you’re calling it genius?

Bruce: Very resourceful.

Tim: I mean... it’s not his fault they didn’t know how to play Dungeons & Dragons. Also, I want to see who else could pull off a high-profile heist while simultaneously launching a PR campaign for a new tech startup!

Bruce: *to Tim* Wayne Enterprise's tech gadgets cleared the shelves, we need to speed up production.

Tim: Already on it.

Barbara: You’re defending this? That’s not genius, that’s a psychotic breakdown wrapped in a cape! It's madness layered up in a three-piece suit!

Bruce and Tim: It’s Dick.

Barbara: I swear, if it was anyone else, you’d be throwing them in a cell for years.

Bruce and Tim: It’s Nightwing. He has plausible deniability.

Barbara: Plausible? I think he has a whole separate universe of deniability!

[miharuki]

Let me be your love

Neglected reader x bat family x "god" of love

★ Synopsis: When you stop receiving love at home, there is someone who can love you outside of it.

★ Tags: yandere, bad father,the "god" is not really someone normal, manipulation, death, lies, angst? with a happy ending (i think)

Perhaps in many tales with happy endings, it would begin with "once upon a time"—though often, that "once upon a time" could also bring something sad, unlike many stories where you'd typically be born to a loving mother who cared for you, brought you warmth and happiness before passing away, leaving you to live with your real father. Here, none of that truly happened.

For as long as you could remember, Alfred always told you about your mother. She was your father’s lover, one of the women he planned to marry—a shock in his playboy life. But before he could even slip a ring on her finger, she went into labor. You. His first biological daughter. Your mother knew the risks of the pregnancy, that you might die, but she tried anyway. And when you were born, she held you in her arms, whispered your name, and smiled, praying to any god or entity that you would live—even if it came at a cost. And that cost was her life. The doctors wanted to prioritize her, but she insisted they save you instead. And so, that night, your father, Bruce Wayne, received the news that you had been born—but in exchange, your mother had died in childbirth.

You grew up in that mansion from the moment you came home from the hospital. Your father wasn’t the best, but he tried. He watched you take your first steps, heard your first word—all while operating in the shadows as Batman. You always wore a necklace your mother had placed around your neck before she died in that white hospital bed. You never took it off, not even to bathe or sleep, and Bruce never dared to remove it from you. You ran through those halls with Bruce and Alfred chasing after you, living a safe life as Bruce’s daughter, as his little girl. You were kind, growing up with little love yet still receiving what scraps your father could give, trying to be present even as he played the Dark Knight. You were so innocent, so sweet—Bruce never dared to show you his other face, Batman. You lived unaware that your father slipped out at night to fight crime.

It was just you, your father, and Alfred. Always had been. Until he arrived.

You still remember it—descending the stairs, dressed up and ready for your usual outing with your dear father after your birthday, when he’d taken you to the circus. The day he covered your eyes and ears when it happened, lying about a monster you couldn’t see. He would never let you witness that massacre, that accident.

Holding the railing, you happily skipped down the steps—only to freeze in confusion when your father walked in with a boy beside him. A few years older, you guessed. When you approached them, bewildered, your father just ruffled your hair, saying he’d explain later—but right now, he was busy. And that precious time together slowly eroded. You still got attention, but it felt like Bruce and that boy—Richard Grayson—had grown closer. Like they shared something you didn’t. You still went out with your father, but now he tagged along. It was strange, but also nice—because now you had someone else to play with when Bruce was gone.

At first, Dick was rude, distant—but not entirely. He played with you, even if it always ended too soon because he had to leave with your father. You didn’t understand, but you were happy to have a brother, even if only for a little while.

Then you grew up. And that brother drifted away.

And another came.

Jason Peter Todd. He was better—kinder, sweeter. You read together all the time. You promised to play forever.

But then he was gone, too.

Your father claimed Jason was away for a while. You accepted it.

Now, with your oldest brother distant and your second gone, came the third: Tim Drake.

He wasn’t mean, but he wasn’t kind either. He always told you not to get in the way. You barely spent time together. And even less with your father. Since Jason left, Bruce had grown colder, and with Tim around, your outings stopped completely. Tim never had time. Neither did your father.

You were growing up, and the loneliness weighed heavier each day.

At school, you were shy. You’d hoped Tim might keep you company like Dick (reluctantly) and Jason had. But no—he was with his friends, telling you to stay away.

Time passed. More people came.

You were in high school now, a senior. Graduation was days away.

Walking alone, you spotted him—a boy with bangs, sitting by himself in the cafeteria, headphones on. Nervously, you approached, quietly introducing yourself and asking if you could sit with him. He seemed shocked, stammering as he made space.

From then on, you were friends.

At prom, you two stayed outside the crowd, talking about everything you had in common. And at graduation, when you walked across the stage, you looked out—expecting no one from your family to be there.

But you saw him, waving happily.

And for once, you felt happy.

When the ceremony ended, Alfred arrived in a rush, apologizing—he’d been helping your father, who was "too busy." You knew Alfred had responsibilities, but you were glad he came. You introduced him to your friend, and Alfred was overjoyed to see his little girl had someone.

Time passed. Summer break. College loomed next year.

Things at home were horrible.

Another arrived.

A boy who claimed to be your father’s true son.

Damian.

He was new, and at first, you tried to be kind—only for him to mock you. In his mind, he was the only blood son. You? Just some adopted charity case.

But you were Bruce’s blood. Like it or not, you were Damian’s half-sister.

You tried. But he was cruel. His words cut deep. So you kept your distance.

He didn’t want you around? Fine.

You were weak. You knew that. And Damian rubbed it in, boasting that he could kill you whenever he wanted.

You just accepted it.

He was a child.

And you? You were alone.

Alfred seemed distant now, too.

In that house, you became a ghost.

Until that day.

Damian was in your room. You pushed him out—you wanted space.

Then he ripped off your necklace.

The one thing you’d kept since birth.

You fought for it.

It turned into a brawl—Damian hurling insults until he spat the worst one:

"If it’s true your mother died giving birth to you, then you were born to be a disgrace."

You lashed out, defending her, scrambling for the necklace. You were leaving for college soon anyway.

The fight escalated—until suddenly, Damian grabbed scissors.

And stabbed you.

You froze, staring at him as the family rushed in.

Your broken necklace in your hand.

Everyone made excuses for Damian—until they saw the blood staining your shirt.

Even as you collapsed, the only one who reached for you was Alfred.

After that, you were kept in a private recovery home. Your father refused to take you to a hospital—had to protect the family image.

But one thing haunted you:

What Damian had said.

Not about you. Not about your mother.

But something he bragged about.

Because he wasn’t just Bruce’s son.

No—he was the future Batman.

The newest Robin.

The pieces clicked.

The disappearances since childhood. The revolving door of Robins. Even Jason’s death—his "disappearance."

You realized then:

You were never truly loved in that house.

From the moment you were born, Bruce only did what he did because—like it or not—you reminded him of his own childhood.

So you decided to leave.

Once you healed, you walked out—headed for college.

You’d never really prayed to any god. You had no real religion.

But in college, he appeared again.

Your friend.

Taller now, but still the same.

Popular, yet always by your side.

You never got a canary from your family—but from him, you did.

Maybe you didn’t notice his possessiveness. His obsessiveness.

But it was fine.

He knew about your family. You never lied to him.

So when he convinced you to move into the frat house—away from your family—you agreed.

You trusted him.

And… well, you’re not sure how it happened.

But he loved you.

And you loved him back.

No—you worshiped him.

Because he showed you love.

He made you see him as a god.

And you?

You were his precious little lamb.

One day, while shopping, someone called your name.

Dick.

You ignored him.

He tried to talk to you—until he saw your necklace.

Not the one from your mother.

A new one.

A symbol.

The same symbol Dick had seen when Tim showed the others the files on a rising serial killer.

Dick tried to ask about it.

You just walked away.

Your friend—no, your beloved—made you understand:

Your family didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t need them.

You only needed him.

His love.

Because just as he’s loved you since the day you met, you love him—and will love him for eternity.

That’s what he does.

That’s what he was made for.

Love.

He loves you.

And you love him.

The news of your necklace made your family suspicious. They demanded answers.

And your beloved didn’t like that.

So one night, he asked you to come with him.

He revealed himself.

And asked you to leave with him—for his home, far from your family.

Behind you, your family stood in their uniforms, watching.

Batman—no, your father—tried to speak.

But you turned away.

Taking your beloved’s hand.

As he spread his wings, wrapping them around you in an embrace before vanishing—smirking in triumph at your family.

Who finally realized:

They had just lost you.

And this time—

It was forever.