#Clark doesn’t know what to think

[raeofgayshine]

Lex Luthor: What are your pronouns?

Impulse: What’s a pronoun?

Lex Luthor: Indicative but not exclusive to your gender identity.

Impulse: Stop swearing at me.

Lex Luthor: Can I refer to you as they/them?

Impulse: But my name is Impulse.

Lex Luthor: Superboy, what are the annoying one’s pronouns?!

Superboy: Oh, we use he/him for him, he doesn’t really care though.

[jostenneil]

i don’t know how anyone comes out of tower of babel thinking bruce doesn’t feel absolutely ashamed with himself for what happened like on top of the way he’s desperate to save everyone once he realizes what ra’s is doing he’s not angry by the end of the event in those lost pages bc he has no remorse over what happened, he’s angry bc barbara or clark or anyone else could actually bring themselves to believe that he would have no remorse at all. why do you think he walks out before the league can even tell him the verdict of their vote? bc he’s already passed judgment on himself and knows nothing he could say would be good enough in their eyes to atone for the damage done, and that conversation with barbara afterward, in addition to clark’s vote, proves it to him

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc Crossover

Danny and Ellie somehow get tangled with Cadmus and frozen for study later. Obviously it comes to the JL’s attention and they all go ‘oh no another clone’. Anyone’s choice of who they think it is or if it’s a collection of people they took DNA from and meshed together to make these two sassy children.

Would be funnier if they came to DC universe by accident and didn’t have time to really learn about it before capture. The result being they have no idea superheroes are a thing and the heroes just thinking ‘these kids were traumatized and held captive, they don’t even know who Superman is!’ and cue another layer of hilarious misunderstanding.

When confronted about the whole clone thing, Danny immediately defends and protects Ellie. Obviously. Then they notice he was not defending himself, to which Danny goes ‘I’m not a clone!’ The heroes look at each other in clear doubt. ‘Oh he was in denial or seriously didn’t know who he was made from. That will make this harder.’

I may have started something though…

They found a discrete laboratory hidden in plan sight, underneath an office building. When researched, they found connections to Cabmus.

Considering the last encounter they had with the organization, they wanted to be prepared. Hence why when the small team noticed Batman walking down the stairs, Superman followed behind with a tight expression.

“Report.”

Red Robin stepped forward.

“Two cryo-stasis containers holding two nearly identical people. The first a male, approximately 13-14 years of age. Stable. The second a female, younger, approximately 10-11 years of age. Also stable, but her stats are lower than the boy’s.”

“What do you know?”

“Virtually nothing,” Connor says casually. “There are no documents left behind, digital or physical, and there are zero labels on these things.”

They arrive toward the back of the basement where the two frozen containers were sitting upright. One unit obviously smaller than the other most likely holding the girl. Batman has to peer down into the larger unit to see the boy’s face. Frost collected on his eyelashes and black hair like a forgotten doll. No movement from either forms, not even breathing.

“So we don’t know who they are made from,” Superman pushes, clearly displeased.

Batman keeps looking at their faces. The curve of their noses, the shape of their jaws, the positioning of their cheekbones. They didn’t look like Connor. No, they reminded him of someone else.

“We suspect hybrids of some sort,” M’gann contributes. “A mixture of different heroes if I had to guess, but there is no way of knowing with our lack of information without waking them up.”

“Can’t you look into their minds?” Clark questions.

M’gann squirms at the directness and Connor steps forward to defend her. Tensions rise.

“No, sir. They are frozen so there is hardly any brain function except to keep them alive. They aren’t even dreaming.”

She looks them over sadly, obviously distraught with not being able to connect to their minds in anyway.

Batman turns to Red Robin, the younger already watching him.

“You see it too, right?”

Batman grunts. Yes, he saw it.

“Is there a way to move them?” Batman brings back the focus.

“The containers are connected to the buildings power and then a back-up generator in case of emergencies. We’d have to switch the power to something mobile and there’s no telling what kind of effect that would have on the kids,” Connor explains, against the idea of moving them.

“It’s six in the evening. Most everyone in the building above as gone home for the day,” Red Robin helpfully adds.

“Evacuate the rest. Then call a medical team.”

“Wait,” Superman interrupts as the three younger heroes jump to do as instructed. “You’re not thinking about waking them up now, are you?”

“You have a better idea?”

Batman doesn’t even look at him as he studies the stats on the old screen connected to the nearest pod. This one holding the boy. He’ll be the first one out seeing as he’s the more stable one.

“They could be dangerous. They could try to attack us.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Batman deadpans. He didn’t state the obvious that they were children who had been frozen for who knows how long. If anything they’ll need reassurance that they were safe, not weapons in their faces as soon as they wake up.

Clark was not happy with his decision, but as long as he didn’t antagonize them Bruce left him alone.

It wasn’t long before they were ready to begin. Three medical personnel stood several yards back behind the heroes. Red Robin begins the defrosting procedure and they have to wait maybe an hour before the door slides open. There is a breath among them as they wait for his eyes to open. Instead they hear a cracking of thin ice and the boy falls forward without the door holding him in place. Connor is the one to catch him before he hits the floor face first.

Superboy turns him to lay him flat on the floor, the boy’s body still stiff with cold. Frost makes his hair and eyelashes brittle. His lips are a faint shade of blue.

“He isn’t breathing,” Connor informs quickly.

One of the medics push forward first, oxygen mask in hand.

“Bring the thermal blankets. We need to get his core temperature up,” the woman urgently instructs.

They get to work quickly in warming up the boy who is too small and fragile. After several minutes of the medics squeezing air into his mouth and rubbing his limbs and chest to get the blood flowing, the boy takes a breath. Then another. He coughs roughly, his throat scratchy, and starts to shiver.

“There we go.”

He whimpers and tries to move his hand, but the action is jerky and unpracticed.

“His eyes,” M’gann informs them, finally able to get some brain activity. “He can’t open his eyes. The ice-“

Connor takes a water bottle the medics brought and poured the room temperature water over his eyes to melt the ice holding them together. The boy jumps in surprise and tries to turn his head away but Connor continues until he can manually wipe away the ice and water from his eyelids.

Blue eyes. The boy has bright sky blue eyes. They aren’t the Krytonian blue, but they were still familiar.

He blinks and squints and looks around, breathing picking up at the people surrounding him and the unfamiliar environment. M’gann, sensing his distress, kneels down and sets a warm hand on his leg.

“It’s okay. No one here will hurt you. You’re safe now.”

He doesn’t relax, but he seems to at least understand her. He studies their uniforms and then her face before his eyes flick to something behind her and they widen. His breath stutters in his chest, making him wheeze out on the exhale.

They look behind the green skinned girl to see the smaller pod still holding the little girl, no change in her status.

The boy reaches out a shaky hand toward it, scraping against the cold concrete in his lack of energy to lift it.

“She’s okay too.”

He opens his mouth to speak, licks his lips, tries again.

“-ou-,” he rasps. His breath hitches and he’s coughing again. They help him onto his side.

“You want us to get her out?” Red Robin interprets.

The boy squints through the tears from the lack of oxygen at the hero. His expression is scrunched in discomfort and worry. As enthusiastic as he can manage, the boy nods.

“Okay, we can do that. You just have to wait, she needs to thaw out, just like what we did with you,” Red Robin explains to the boy.

He nods again in understanding, his eyes glued back to the girl in the pod. He still shivers harshly and his breathing isn’t regular but he’s not panicking and in no shape to attack them, so it seems like they were in the clear with that one.

While the girl is thawing, they get him more comfortable with warm blankets and get him to drink some water for his throat. He still wasn’t moving much except to curl up on his side and breathe on his colorless fingers. Every time he swallowed he cringed like he was drinking acid, so talking was off the table for now.

The boy was fighting sleep by the time the container door slide open. Connor was there and holding her before she could fall like the boy had.

Superboy lays the girl down close to the boy, seeing the pale hand reaching for her. As soon as he backed away the medics were on her to get air in her lungs and warm her body same as they did for the boy.

The boy watches, quietly holding her hand. Siblings it looks like it. Seeing them side by side was startling. They seemed to be clones of each other, one just younger and the opposite gender, but they were the same.

It was concerning as the number of minutes increased and there was no change. She didn’t breathe or move. She looked dead.

“Get the defibrillator,” the medic ordered, urgent.

The boy surprisingly wasn’t panicking, instead he held a hard determination that made some of the heroes curious.

Pushing himself up onto his elbow, he leaned over the girl and started weakly pushing the blankets out of the way. Thinking he was just helping to make the medic’s job easier, M’gann helped until her torso was exposed.

“You need to back away so they-“

She stops when she sees him tug at the girl’s white shirt to get into direct contact with her skin, hand pressed to her chest.

“What are you-?”

He narrows his eyes in concentration.

Red Robin unconsciously takes a step back when the boy’s blue eyes change into a glowing toxic green, illuminating the girl’s face, frost shining in the light. The hand pressed to her chest also starts to glow the same green until it seeps into her skin like she’s absorbing this weird energy. It reminded them of Starfire actually.

The green in his eyes fades as soon as the unknown green energy is lighting up her entire torso just under the skin. He pulls away and looks expectantly at the medic holding the defibrillator. She flinches into moving, setting the machine down and charging it. She’s hesitant to touch the green energy but the boy nods in encouragement, not looking concerned for anything but the girl’s health.

“Clear!”

It takes one shock for the green energy to disperse through her body and cause her to gasp. The girl starts coughing harshly and the boy pulls her to lay on her side facing him. Connor quickly helps the boy to cover her in blankets. The boy goes as far as tucking them around her and taking one of his own blankets to pile on top. He was moving more easily now even if it was sluggish.

M’gann gasps quietly just as the girl starts sobbing, whining when the act of crying hurt her throat. The boy pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her under his chin so they could barely see her. They watch as he calmly comforts her until they are both eased into unconsciousness.

Batman give Superman a pointed look as he passes him. Clark doesn’t respond.

“Get them to the Watchtower med bay,” he orders.

It’s Superman who picks up the pile of two children tangled together and wrapped in layers of fabric, nearly throwing them at how light they both weighted. The three younger heroes follow behind, Tim mumbling about “Lazarus pits” and “Jason”, M’gann twisting her fingers in anxiety, and Connor keeping a close eye on the two kids being carried by his original.

It’s unsurprising that it’s Connor who volunteers to say with them when they are settled down in the med bay, still clinging to each other in sleep.

[incorrectbatfam]

Not sure if you’ve heard of the ‘dad reflex’ where dads just save their small children from imminent harm (usually because the child is still learning how gravity works or just completely unaware of the world around them). I know Bruce technically doesn’t get the bat kids young but either way his batdad reflex has to be off the charts. What are his best dad reflexes? (They can be smol kids or cannon ages whatever sparks your creative juices most!)

Thank you💙💙

They're at someone else's gala and 27-year-old grown-ass Dick is swinging from a giant chandelier in an atrium 3 stories high when it gives out and Bruce "Wine drunk and raving about his kids" Wayne, who hears the tiny snap across the room, stops mid-conversation, grabs a steak knife, slashes a curtain, and swings from the balcony in like fuckin' Tarzan to grab him in the span of 5 seconds before 300 pounds of metal and glass come crashing down

Tim gets mosh pit tickets for his favorite band and Bruce goes with him because Bernard got caught up in something last minute, and after hours of waiting outside, they make it all the way to the front where, on the last song, Bruce's dad senses tingle in time to shield Tim from a malfunctioning confetti cannon all while glaring at the crew in a way that guarantees someone's about to lose their job

In a recon mission gone sideways, Bruce and Steph are taking on some goons at the harbor when one of them knocks her into the water, and without hesitation he throws aside the person he's fighting, dives into the freezing waves, and gives her his rebreather, holding his breath for what seems like forever until they resurface, and despite the ache in his lungs the next morning, it's worth it when he watches her turn waffles into a breakfast burrito

Duke's driving the Batmobile while Bruce is in the passenger's seat walking him through all the controls, and they're listening to the scanner and joking about their last mission when, just before an intersection, Bruce suddenly grabs the wheel and swerves, and before Duke can say anything a semi truck plows through the exact spot where they would've been

Cass tries to cook one day while Bruce is sitting at the bar doing some work, and he forgot what she was making, but all he knows is one minute he's answering an email and the next he's sprinting across the kitchen and sweeping her out of the way right before the pressure cooker explodes—and afterwards he doesn't let her clean up because everything is still scalding hot

The middle school holds a fundraiser at the petting zoo, and everything's going great until someone forgets to turn off their flash and the whole enclosure descends into chaos, and all Bruce cares about is scooping Damian up before a bull rams into the fence he was sitting on—then he makes eye contact with Clark, who just did the exact same with Jon

Against orders, Jason pursues a lead that brings him right to the Joker's doorstep. Dazed and disarmed, he doesn't realize what's happening until a long metallic scrape renders him frozen as those moments replay in his mind, and he thinks this is how the universe wants him to go out. Then he hears a swoosh and a click. Jason opens his eyes to Batman pointing a gun at the Joker, his silence sending a clear message: no more chances.

BONUS: Teenage Bruce tried to sneak out the window and Alfred was at the bottom ready to catch him

[imtiredthatsalligot]

With all this new ghostbat stuff going on I’m trying to imagine how everyone is reacting. Like Clark is out of his mind and coercing the Justice League onto his side.

Clark: he just seems…..

Barry: kinda sketch?

Hal: unhinged?

Diana: There are… numerous… red flags here.

Bruce *on the outside*: I will take these thoughts into consideration

Bruce *on the inside*: that is exactly my type and I’m sticking to it.

And then the batkids. Tim and Jason are far TOO chill with it while Cass is like weird vibes(tm) and Duke is like…. That is an interesting choice(tm) and Damian has made a secret presentation on how brutalia can still win.

Dick is in bludhaven and doesn’t know until he’s on the phone with Jason

Jason: hey and before I forget, B’s kinda sorta seeing someone, as he does, you know. It probably won’t last but I don’t think anybody’s told you.

Dick: No, I haven’t heard about it. Consensus?

Jason: Cass is on the fence but I dunno. I kinda like him. Although it seems like they have history. I’ve avoided most of Bruce’s relationship drama thus far so I’m trying to keep it that way.

Dick*suspicious*: who is it again?”

Jason: Some guy named Khoa, code name Ghostmaker or Ghoststealer or something lmao

Dick: *having flashbacks to 15-20 years ago when Bruce was so emotionally broken up from this man and Dick having to put up with his broken-hearted moping. He’s already throwing all his things into a bag and getting onto his bike.* BRUCE WHAT THE FUCK

[bruciemilf]

The Justice League being mildly disturbed, bewildered, and eerily...Impressed by Bruce's relationship with his rogues.

They've seen him and Harley get in a fist fight over the last Bat Burger fry.

With Harley trying to fix her now ruined pigtails and munching on her garlic glazed treat while Batman sipped the milkshake, completely ignoring the gush of blood dripping down his chin.

"... Do you want the Bat-Toy?"

"...Yeah."

Bruce can go from fighting Ivy one second, to helping her beat Hal's ass for littering in the middle of a battle.

He talks about Penguin like he's a problematic relative you have an annoying affection for. He pretends to be scared of Scarecrow's Fear Toxin to make him feel better about it not working on him.

He and Selina call eachother ' babe' and gossip while trying to put the other in the hospital.And don't get him started on Mr. Freeze. He WILL cry.

It's a very unusual relationship. They know for a fact none of them have lunches with THEIR villains.

" But I don't get it? I mean, Bats won't kill YOU, but...YOU can kill HIM."

" For what? So the police can kill us easier? Nice try."

Clark, panicked, calls the batkids when Bruce gets kidnapped. They don't know by WHO, which is the only reason they even bothered showing up. When they find out its HARVEY?

They all groan. Long and whiny. " Come on!"

" You made me abandon my Buzzfeed Unsolved marathon for this?"

Dick, peach face mask still drying, sighs, " I'm sorry, - this? Is probably the best thing that happened all week. Maybe month! Why would we be worried? He'll get 4 meals a day, 8 hours of sleep, -"

" Or two..."

" SHUT UP, STEPH! But anyway, Bruce is probably in his huge, black feathered night gown, getting his feet rubbed with extra expensive olive oil while eating blueberry yoghurt."

" With chocolate sprinkles!"

" Yes, Thank You, Tim. Clark, in the future, be worried if he DOESN’T get kidnapped. He'll be back in like, two weeks. Three, if he's feeling clingy. "

" But I don't understand? Bruce hangs out with...Criminals?"

" I'm sorry, " Dick gestures to the whole flock of them, " Where do you think we came from?"

[dickgraysin]

I don’t care if I’m the only person in the world, I love Clark Joseph Kent for being “boringly” nice. So what, he’s “unproblematic” and “uncomplicated.” He lives in a world on fire and chooses to be the rain, tirelessly trying to cool the heat. He’s a drop of sunshine in a storm that refuses to be swallowed or snuffed out. 

He comes from a sheltered rural upbringing where he could spend all day tending to the fields and enjoying the warm sun on his back. Clark Kent has all these amazing powers. He has shoulders that can carry any weight, a breath that can turn fire to ice. His skin is like steel, but he’s not invulnerable. 

He has a soft, kind heart. People who don’t get him would think it’s absurd his doting mother worries about him getting hurt. Him... Superman. Like anyone or anything could be a threat to him. She caresses his cheeks with her thumb and looks up into his eyes and reminds him, “you don’t have to be their hero.” Pointless. She knows he will. He cannot turn away from the fire, even when he risks getting burned. Not if he knows there is anyone out there that needs him. 

Because of all Clark Kent’s many super powers, his true strength doesn’t lie in those gifts he got from the stars. It comes from the gift he was given on a midwestern ranch, raised by one Martha and Jonathan Kent. His super power isn’t in his skin, but beneath it. It’s in his heart, that cares and loves so much.

Too much to turn his back when there’s something, anything he can do to help others. Because that’s how he was raised. That’s why he fights until blood soaks his shirt. It’s not about justice. It’s not about revenge. It’s about love.

Clark Kent has gone to sleep every night with the ability to hear miles away. 

He can hear every prayer, every cry for help, every person’s suffering. He cares so much, and he has so much to give. But Clark doesn’t want to hurt anybody. In order to save some people, it will require him to get his hands dirty. To stand between those that would hurt and oppress, he might have to do harm to do good. This cost has always stopped him from intervening before. He can’t pay it. A people-pleasing mild-mannered man from the midwest doesn’t have the guts.

Until he does. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,” a theme that is constantly revisited and explored in his character.

Clark does find the nerve to fight and get his hands bloody. While he feared he wouldn’t be able to sleep with red fingers, not so. It’s easier to sleep with those than pristine ones knowing there are people hurting somewhere he could do something for. If you step in the fire, you might get burned. “Only wanting to help” and fighting for the love his parents taught him, people won’t get it. They’ll misconstrue him time and time again. They’ll fear him for his power. They’ll call him a “monster.” They’ll be unable to trust he could have pure intent.

Clark will shoulder that all. He’ll deal with being whatever the media decrees he is that week, whether a messiah or menace. He’ll deal with the enemies he’ll involuntarily collect just by existing with these powers and exercising them. He’ll face every consequence, because that’s who he is. Selfless. It would be easier for him to do nothing. That way, he’d be spared hardship and could know a carefree life. To live in Smallville forever, never raise a hand. Turn a blind eye. 

Yet he can’t, because that would be choosing his own comfort over others. He can’t live with himself if he lets other suffer while he gets to sleep cozily. That’s what makes him Superman. Not his powers, not his strength. His choices and commitment to love and do good. To get dirt on his hands, if that’s what it takes.

Ah, but he is too “perfect,” right? Which makes him a bad character. Hmm. How easy it is to write Clark off as “too perfect” and not accredit all the strength that it takes to deal with being thought of as “perfection.” With the mistrust people feel because he is just “too nice” and there has to be more. Villains tell Clark that with all his power, deep down, he must have moments he wants to hurt people. That the boy scout that wants to “do good” must just be an act, and they hurt him and others to try to push Clark to his limits and break him. Clark refuses to be broken, though, or let anything take away what makes him who he is in the “never ending battle.” He doesn’t let his love get tainted or demented.

He isn’t “perfect.” He’s good. Through sacrifice and choices, through hard work.

He never lets Clark Kent, mild-mannered farm boy, get lost in the battle field. He never forgets when he is fighting, what he fights for. In a world with such oppression, it would be easy to turn cold. It would be easy to hate. Yet if he were to do so, it would betray everything he stands for. Because he wouldn’t be fighting for anyone but himself. His hands are for protecting, shielding, saving. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody, never has. The only reason he will ever hurt anyone is to save someone else. Clark will always be this way, because he is strong. This “perfection” is a product of commitment. Of dedication. Of love.

I’d like to share the comic that brought me into DC and made me fall in love with Superman. Superman: Man of Tomorrow issue #12, which I highly recommend.

Everything about this message is so precious. Clark Kent can carry Atlas’ curse’s weight, because he possesses the strength and resolve to achieve it. That strength doesn’t come from his arms, though. It comes from his heart.

Yes. Clark is boringly “nice,” “unselfish,” and “unproblematic.” He is some kid from the midwest whose mother still bakes him pies and, if he had it his way, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Yet he won’t choose having it his way over saving someone else’s skin, because he is a boring nice guy. There are so many fans that hate on Clark and call him “lame” and harass DC to make him more twisted. Because a sweet little dude that takes kittens out of trees, who cares about that? Because male characters should be “tough, aggressive, dark,” and some pure and sweet male character is just a total snooze. I’m just going to come out and say it.

Sorry, but there are plenty of DC characters like that. Have you considered that maybe you just don’t like Superman’s character, and his content isn’t meant for you? For some of us, a character who chooses kindness and stays true to himself and is a meek mild-mannered guy just trying to do good in the face of evil hits home. Superman’s story is more than about some guy throwing his fists and beating bad guys. It’s a story about not letting the world break your heart.

About not letting oppressors make you cold, and fighting for love. Not letting those that would abuse or do harm break your commitment to be good. 

Some of us need that, and if you don’t, then move on. Stop whining that Superman is “plain” and find a character that you like and hits home with you. I actually love dark, grungy male characters that are fundamentally flawed too, and rather than being raised in a nice home that allowed them goodness, they have to fight to be better. This isn’t my taking issue with those characters. I love them so much. But by gosh, Superman is not garbage because he’s not them. You just don’t like his character, he’s not “poorly written” because of that.

TLDR:

[quillium]

Bruce Wayne has anxiety and that’s everyone’s problem: Part 2, Electric Boogaloo

Bruce worrying that he doesn’t know the most inane things. Think whatever the opposite of BBC Sherlock is

Bruce: I don’t know the name of every single yellow flower in the world. This is horrible and the most stupid mistake in the world Alfred, who is Done: Master Bruce it literally does not even matter. Can you please just finish your peas

Bruce: I don’t know how to cultivate a garden. What if there’s an apocalypse that forces me to be self-sustaining and I can’t even garden without the internet Alfred: I guess it’s a good thing you have so much free time and we have a massive garden that can be used for gardening

Bruce making a massive self-sustaining greenhouse with unbreakable glass JUST IN CASE. The Gotham food bank gets so much fresh produce that they somehow have excess food to give to other branches in other cities

Bruce getting so overwhelmed by the thousands of choices he can make that he just shuts down and does absolutely nothing

Bruce inwardly, in his 20s, seeing his freshly adopted 9 year old sneaking out: [I need to stop him or he’ll die. Okay, I can ground him. What if he tries to sneak out the window and falls to his death? Okay, I’ll just explain things to him. 9 year olds haven’t hit puberty and don’t have fully developed brains to understand the consequences so he’ll just ignore me and sneak out and get hit by a car. I’ll promise to do his vengeance for him? No, that wouldn’t have worked when I was young and he’ll STILL sneak out and get shot and die. Even if I do get him to stop it’ll spiral and he’ll never respect or listen to me and he’ll die tragically and--] Bruce outwardly: Yeah I guess you can be Robin, I’ll train you

Bruce going “what if people get mind controlled” in a world where mind control has, to his awareness, NEVER HAPPENED, is exactly what saves the world the first time the Justice League gets mind controlled. Clark is furious for a whole week afterwards

Bruce, mockingly: Oh, mind control is impossible, Batman, it’s never happened, Batman, you don’t need to figure out how to destroy us all and be so paranoid, Batman-- Clark, sticking lead in his ears: I GET IT BRUCE I’M SORRY FOR BEING SULKY ABOUT THE KRYPTONITE PROTOCOL

Bruce tricking his children into thinking this kind of behaviour is not only normal but justified because it HAS, in fact, saved the world multiple times

Bruce, sixty levels of anxiety and paranoia: Me and my children are normal Diana: Y’all have anxiety is what you have. Take a good look at yourself

Part 1

[centrally-unplanned]

The Clarkesworld AI Spam issue is one of those stories that to me really highlights the limits of the tools that hype is obscuring. Clarkesworld is a well-established Sci-Fi publishing magazine that today had to suspend all of its submissions due to being overwhelmed by ChatGPT generated entries:

This inspired a lot of discourse around the idea of a ‘crisis of credibility’ on the internet, AI sweeping away the boundries of authenticity in a flood of forgeries. How can magazines even operate in this new environment, one might ask?

Which is weird because this environment isn’t new at all, as the editor, Neil Clarke, comments on in his blog post around the problem:

Since the early days of the pandemic, I’ve observed an increase in the number of spammy submissions to Clarkesworld. What I mean by that is that there’s an honest interest in being published, but not in having to do the actual work. Up until recently, these were almost entirely cases of  plagiarism, first by replacing the author’s name and then later by use of programs designed to “make it your own.”

The issue isn’t that spam exists, its the quantity:

This is undoubtably a gigantic spike, and 100% it is induced by ChatGPT.

But hold on - is ChatGPT actually *better* at this that previous spam tools? Niel doesn’t think so, even if he is worried about the future: 

I’m not going to detail how I know these stories are “AI” spam or outline any of the data I have collected from these submissions. There are some very obvious patterns and I have no intention of helping those people become less likely to be caught...

... What I can say is that the number of spam submissions resulting in bans has hit 38% this month. While rejecting and banning these submissions has been simple, it’s growing at a rate that will necessitate changes. To make matters worse, the technology is only going to get better, so detection will become more challenging.

And how expensive was the plagarism before to do anyway? It was copy-pasting text, automated word replacement programs, and done, that is trivial. Its a little harder than ChatGPT, sure, but you could make a thousand in a day no sweat, automated scripts randomizing names and jumbling nouns from a list. 

The success rate also seems to be zero! Neither plagarism nor ChatGPT generates any story worth a damn, these aren’t being accepted. Neil is quite confident he is catching 100% of them and I believe him on that, these tools cannot write good fiction of any length beyond a paragraph. 

So what is the ChatGPT’s advantage over previous, ‘dumber’ spam that justifies a 100-fold increase in spam usage? I am not seeing one, and I don’t think there is one besides marginally lower per-spam costs. Phrased another way, what was stopping someone from submitted 500 spam entries in one month in 2021? Nothing but interest in doing so.

Which is the rub of why this is happening - it isn’t because ChatGPT is good at this task, its because its the hype thing to do. Everyone is talking about it, everyone is trying it out, everyone is trying to find “delta” so they can ride the hype train. A bunch of people, some who may have even had axes to grind against Clarkesworld, have heard of this brand new fun tool and are flooding into the market to take advantage of it. But there might not be much to take advantage of; hype is fleeting, particularly in the face of no results as this effort is getting. As it fails, unless that axe really needs grinding above all else, spammers will move.

All of this to say that this story is, again, not a story about AI at all. AI is just the reason these already-bad parts of the system are being tested in the public eye.

[hidden-under-lock-and-key]

Speedster Danny?

I am here to gift another idea.

The portal incident did more than make Danny a halfa. It made him a speedster. Only Stipulation? He can only use the speed force as a human. Causing him to have two secret hero identities. Phantom and Green Spector (the name is a work in progress ideas are appreciated) Somehow someway the Flash and by extension the Justice league find out there is a new speedster.

Now when the Justice League go to Amity and start asking about Green Spector the whole town seems to think he is a ghost, like their other local hero Phantom. Despite never been seen together they have hinted at working with one another.

Anyway through some good old Detective work the figure out one of Danny’s identities.

Sorry this popped in my head:

—-

When they go to confront Danny about it,

Clark “We know your secret Identity. ”

Danny: “Which one?”

Clark: “What?”

Danny: “…What?”

Clark: …”how many Secret identities do you have?”

Danny: “Wouldn’t you like to know weather boy.”

——

ANYWAY! It would be a lot of fun to play with his human side being a hero too. He can go places and do things that he can’t always do as a ghost. The people of amity may think he’s a ghost but that’s only because he doesn’t stay long enough to show he is human. (Also his lighting color being that neon green color)

So much you can do with Vlad, The GIW, Dani, and Val. Like imagine Val knows Danny is Green Spector and wants his help to take down Phantom. Vlad not know Danny is GS. Dani unlocking the speed force. The GIW Collectively losing their minds trying to figure out WHAT GS is. He sets off ghost sensors and is hurt by ghost weapons but he is NOT a ghost.

[tireduniversityscam]

DCxDP: A Baby?

First I want to acknowledge that the DCxDP fandom is sometimes harsh on Superman for his treatment of Conner. I also want to acknowledge that making a baby without consent or knowledge of the other parent is not good. If you are raped and it results in a child it’s okay aren’t attached to or even actively dislike the child and I want to note that the situations are similar, though not the same. It’s fine to not want your enemy's baby who was made without your consent but I hope that you can recognize that the child isn’t at fault.

Kon-El means abomination of the house of El though and he was given that name either by Superman or Supergirl and I don’t think that’s alright either.

Clark doesn’t need to have a relationship with Conner, just not being actively hostile like he is sometimes would be nice. I think Clark needs therapy and Conner needs to acknowledge the situation.

In this situation I want people to dislike how Superman is treating Conner but Danny comes along and while he’s trauma bonded to his baby sister/daughter he recognizes the situation.

“You do know you are trying to force a child on him that was made without his consent and shares half his genetics with his worst enemy right? It’s violating to know that not even your body is sacred what your enemies would do to you. I accepted my clone but I know that’s probably a form of trauma bonding and I’m not sure I could have accepted the others if they had lived.”

Superman and the JL are confronted with this child who understands.

“Then what do you think we should do?” A curious Black Canary asks.

“Find Kon-El, and wow you should really change that name, a stable living situation and stop trying to force them together if they want a relationship that can come later.”

“Why should I change my name?” Kon demands. Danny looks confused

“Because it means abomination of the house of El? I’m not sure maybe you like that name? It’s okay if you do.” Superboy staggers back, feeling slightly betrayed but not surprised.

“Why do you know Kryptonian?” Kara Jor-El demands.

"I was required to?” Danny responds surprised “In english Kon can mean bold or experienced though.”

Also later in canon Superman responds better and treats Conner like a cousin/brother/son so developing a relationship in the after isn’t impossible.

[sweetlittlegingy]

Better Man

✦Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 6.7K

✦Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mentions of SA (previous relationship), self-hate, shitty schools, bullying, possible thoughts of suicide (on explicitly stated). Please let me know if I missed something.

✦A/n: Repost, the original is no longer showing up for me. I’m not sure what happened, if your seeing double I apologize.

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The incessant buzzing coming from your pocket continues, as you listen to Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates go over mission plans. Attentively listening and marking down any changes that need to be made to the paperwork.

As the admirals Administrative Service Manager, you held the responsibility of keeping all things “Top Gun” in order: including incoming pilots, flight schedules, and the newly permanent Dagger Squadron.

You subduedly shift silencing the buzzing, again focusing on Cyclone and Warlock.

“I want a new set of recruits coming in, with Maverick training them.” Cyclone gives you a pointed look. “I want him to be on board by the end of the week. You both, can go over applicates and find those best fitted.”

You silently nodded, jotting down that you need to draft a letter for Mav and get it to him before Wednesday. 

 “With the success of the Uranium Mission, DC is going to want to see what else the Dagger Squadron can do. I want them flying new drills and layouts every day. Draft up a few different sets of flight plans, get them on my desk by Wednesday morning.”

“Of course, sir. Two days will be more than enough time to draft up three or four, and I will have a handful more done by next Monday.” You trail off as your phone starts buzzing again.

Pausing to grab it while Cyclone and Warlock keep chatting, you realize that it’s Mathews school calling. Raising your hand in a silent gesture, you glance up and ask if you can be excused for a moment. To which Cyclone nods, signaling to the hallway.

Rising up, you not so slowly, make your way to the door and press answer. Miss Clarks voice rings through your phone, telling you once again that Mathew has been called to the office.

“Miss Benjamin, you need to come in. Principle Davis wants to talk to you immediately. Mathew is fine, though he has been placed in the corner and will not be allowed recess time.” She mutters harshly.

You slowly shake your head and lean up against the wall, “What happened?” you question. Waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “I know that Mathew is not the only child at fault here. So, I’m going to ask again, what happened?”

You know that your sweet Mathew would never hurt someone without probably cause, and even then, it’s unlikely. Though this is the first call you’ve received from the school, you’ve been in three other times for words with the principal. Discussing another upper-class student that had been picking on Mathew.

The same excuse being thrown in your face that, none of the teachers saw the bullying and that Mathew was lying. Though the last time, Mathew told you that the other boy had pushed him and scrapped his knees. Markings on his knees, you saw during bath time, that night confirmed that he had been pushed.

Each visit you had, the school ignored you and claimed you to be an overprotective mother.

“Mathew hit another boy, Miss Benjamin.”

The statement shocks you at first, but then you question why Mathew hit him.

“Well Mathew says that he was hit first, but no one saw it.”

“You’re telling me, that my son was hit, then defended himself, and you didn’t think to lead the conversation with that information.”

Pushing off the wall you start to make your way to your office. “I will be there in 20 minutes.” Grabbing your purse, leaving the paperwork knowing that you will be coming back to the office enviably.

“Also, Miss Clark,” your voice steadily rises. “Get my child out of the damn corner.” You all but yell before hanging up on the woman.

Stepping out of your office and running into Lt. Bradshaw, you bounce off him. He grabs your arms steadying you, as you apologize.

 “You okay there, Y/N” He questions quickly realizing how stressed you are.

You can feel the frustration seeping from your bones, tears lining your eyes. Working to steady your breathing, in any possible way to avoid crying.

A quick smile, that is in no way real, paints your lips, “Yes Bradley, I just need to go the Maty’s school.” Checking your purse, you make sure that you have your keys. “Can you do me a favor though?” Glancing up you see him intently listening, as if they would be orders from Commander Kazansky himself.

“I’m bringing Maty back here, I’ve got paperwork to finish, but I need someone to watch the munchkin.”

You pick at your nails, hating that you would have to ask for help. Though Amelia is still in class and Penny was deep cleaning the Hard Deck, so you had no one to ask.

“I know you guys are probably really busy, but could he hang out with you and Jake for a bit. He loves Uncle Roos, and I think that after today, getting to see the planes would cheer him up.” You add quietly that you understand if not, that you would figure it out.

“Y/N/N of course, I’m always available to hang with the little man. I’m free for the rest of the day actual.” He looks down sheepishly, “I was coming to tell you that a few of the plane’s radars were messing up, and that we would be down for a couple days.”

Taking a deep breathe, adding one more thing to your to-do list. You know that plane electronics can’t be helped, and that it should be a relatively easy fix. It just feels like so much more, added to your near melting brain.

You tell him that you’ll handle it, while walking together towards Cyclones office. Stepping in to get the two admirals’ attention, you let them know that you are taking your lunch now and will be back before one. They assure you that you are fine and that they trust you to get your job done, without them hounding on you.

Going to leave, Bradley follows you out. You head for your car, while he heads towards the east hanger. Though before he gets too far you, call back to him.

“B… Don’t tell Jake I was crying. Please… I don’t want to bother him.” You hold your hand up, blocking the glare of the sun on your face. “It was silly of me to cry anyway.”

The look he gives you clearly shows that he wants to comment on you saying that your emotions are silly, but he just nods an okay.

“Thanks B.” Thankful that he understands, you turn as he waves goodbye. Climbing in your car, for the 15-minute drive to Mathew’s school that will inevitably end in tears and a migraine.

Pulling up to the school, you wipe at your eyes. Trying to get the redness to go away, or at least look like you haven’t spent the last 15 minutes anger crying. The puffiness of your cheeks is a dead given away that something is wrong, though you hope that its subtle enough that Mathew won’t notice.

Your sweet baby was the most empathic and observant child you had even seen. A blessing and a curse to you both. In one way he was kind and loving and yet in another, much less helpful way, he noticed when anything hurt or upset you. Slowly becoming the protector of his momma, and carrying a load on his shoulders far heavier than any five-year-old should.

He was the light of your life and the only good thing that your ex gave you. Though you’d taken to claiming that your ex had no part in making Mathew. He was too kind to have any part of your ex in his DNA.

You were just thankful that he was the spitting image of you, and hadn’t been around his “father” long enough to pick up any traits. With your Y/H/C and the exact shade of skin tone, there was no denying he was your mini-me.

His eyes though, oddly enough were the exact same shade of green as Jakes. Something that everyone in your life liked to point out. Often making comments, that if they hadn’t known you like they did, “They would assume that Jake was the father.”

A thought that you wished had been true. Jake was wonderful with Mathew, and an amazing role model for him. Though you had only been official together for five months, Jake was always working to show you how much you both meant to him.

That alone was a hard enough concept to understand, when the only relationship you’d ever been in was the complete opposite.

Your ex-Adam had ruined your views on relationships, the five years you were together were some of the hardest you’d ever been through. Finally getting out just before Mathew turned three.

Adam had gotten handsy with you in front of Mathew, had pushed you to your breaking point and left you on the floor like an empty husk.

You still hate yourself for that night, because of you Mathew was in therapy once a week with nightmares. Recounting memories, that a then 2-and-a-half-year-old, shouldn’t remember.

It was your biggest regret, letting him see everything that happened.

The experience wasn’t something you talked about, finding that therapy only made it worse. Pushing the memories away and burying it in a hidden chest, at the back of your mind.

Gathering your purse, you move to get out of the car.

When you notice a missed call and text from Jake, “Hey darlin’ missing you. Rooster said you were picking up Maty early, everything okay?”

You quickly type back, that you just got to the school and would text him when you were back on base. Adding that you missed him as well, which caused a small smile to cross your lips.

Walking into the front doors, you immediately head to the office. Giving yourself a mini pep-talk in preparation for Principal Davis, and his ever-sexist comments.

Your eyes immediately go to Miss. Clark, who wears the lowest cut shirt that you’ve ever seen in an elementary school. Her head pops up from typing, as she hears the low click of your heels on the tile.

Your gaze is cast upon her, one that should put her 6-feet under.

“Where is Mathew?” You question, a harsh bite in your tone.

To which she studders out that they placed him in an extra room and told him to stay. The action should surprise you, but you’ve learned that this school clearly has lower morals and standards.

You walk straight passed her desk, without another word and push into the extra room. If it could even be called that, only the size of a “oversized” closet at best. The temperature change doesn’t go unnoticed.

There you see Maty, head resting on a table, as tiny shudders rack through his body. Rushing to his side, you softly go to cradle his small body. Falling to the floor on your knees, as a soft Momma falls from his lips.

Gently “shh”ing and rocking his body back and forth, like you did when he was a baby.  As he quiets down you look into his tear-stained face, and your heart breaks a bit more.

“Sweet bubba, it’s okay. I got you, it’s okay.” His tears slowly turn into gentle whimpers.

Not wanting to upset him anymore, but knowing that you have to ask him questions before you see Davis.

“Darling, what happened? Are you hurt?” your eyes gently rank over his form, noticing how he hold his tummy.

“They belly flopped me momma.”

Your questioning gaze is enough that Mathew pulls up his shirt and you see a bright red mark across his belly. Anger seeps from you and your struggle to hid it behind a smile. Not wanting him to see how upset you are.

Rising up you grab his backpack and carry Mathew out into the main office.

Your voice snaps across the office, stilling Miss Clarks typing fingers.

“Miss Clark, I am going to be checking Mathew out. I am also going to have a few words with Principal Davis, and I suggest you take Mathew out into the hallway to look at the new mural being painted.” Your tone leaves no room for suggestion.

You set Maty down and give him a little wink, pushing him to hallway as Miss Clark follows. You turn sharply and stare straight at the closed door that hasn’t moved once since you’d arrived. Pacing to the door you knock and walk in without waiting for an answer. If he wants to lack human decency with your child, then you can do the same.

Your sudden entrance startles the middle-aged man, jolting him from his chair and the nap he seemed to be taking.

His lingering eyes rake up and down your form, as a sleazy smile forms on his face. The look makes you shudder, awaking distant memories and feelings.

He gets up to make a move for you, “Miss Benjamin, I’m glad you could make it. Please sit.”

You state that you’d rather stand, though he doesn’t listen and makes a motion for you. His hand moves to your lower back, in an unwelcomed gesture. Brushing his hand off, you glare at the hand.

“You see Miss Benjamin, Mathew is a troubled boy and needs handled.”

The word “handled” makes your skin crawl as you listen.

“He doesn’t listen and clearly has no male role model, from the ringless finger I can see.” You bite your tongue as he moves to sit on his desk, directly in front of you.

“Now I think that we,” he motions to the both of you, “can work on this. Fix his attitude and make him into a child, someone would actually want. One that not picking fights for attention, especially ones with older children he can’t beat.” He finishes with a chuckle.

The steam must be rising from you, the anger that is completely incasing your body feels like you might set the whole world on fire.

As you rise from your chair, words laced with venom drip from your tongue ready to kill, meteorically and literally.

“You have no right to comment on my child and how he is raised. I think it best if you step off your damn high horse, before I knock you off it.” Your finger jabs at his chest. “You should be damn happy I’m not reporting you to the school board, for neglect and harassment.”

You stand up, ready to be out of his presence.

“Mathew will be pulled from the school; I’m absolutely done with you and everyone in this school.” Pulling the door open you look back at him, “If anything comes from the assault done to my son’s stomach, whether it be lasting pain or marks….. I will, fucking ruin you.”

With that you leave, shaking at the audacity of the man. How he touched you, insinuated that Mathew needed fixed, and most of all the absolute lack of care, that he should have had for both children in the situation.

The other child that Mathew hit was nowhere in sight and clearly didn’t get in trouble. You know that hitting isn’t the answer, but Mathew was defending himself against a bigger child. This whole situation was handled poorly, as it has been every other time you’ve came in for bullying. This was the final straw and you’re done.

You gasp as you make your way to grab Mathew from Miss Clark, barely able to keep the tears at bay. Gently buckling Maty up into his car seat, you place a kiss on his forehead as he wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Don’t be sad momma.”

You mutter an I love you and climb back into your seat, ready to never see that school again.

Your tears don’t go unnoticed by the three men as you pull back up to your office. Jake, Robert, and Bradley all exchange looks as you park and get out of the car. You avoid their gazes as you get Mathew out of the car.

“Uncle Roo, can we look at the planes?” Mathew yells to the men as he notices them, a massive smile forming, and his horrible day forgotten.

“Yeah buddy, all the planes. Bob even said he’d let you be Nat’s new WSO.” Bradley laughs and then gives a knowing look to Jake.

“Your Momma and Jake are gonna go pack up her work for the day, then get you a bag ready to have a sleep over with me.”

You go to comment, but Jake steps forward. Wrapping his arm around your waist, “Cyclone already knows darlin’. You and me are gonna work on flight plans at home, then have a nice relaxing night.” He finishes with a loving kiss on your cheek, that you can’t help but to lean into.

Your body relaxes in his embrace, dropping your shoulders you lean father into his touch. Craving it like a warm blanket, that you unwillingly want to admit, you need.

Mathew is bouncing at the thought of a sleepover and asks Bob if he is coming too, to which he replies of course. The trio goes to turn away, though not before Maty comes rushes back, giving you and Jake hugs.

“Love you momma. Love you Jake.” He says it so childlike that you can’t help, and be a tad envious. Jake quickly lifts Mathew and gives him tickle, telling him to listen to his uncles. Before setting him down and brushing a kiss onto the top of his head.

“I love you too, buddy.”

You watch as Maty walks off, relaxing knowing that he is feeling better and knowing that if he showed the slightest sign of discomfort Bradley would call. You rest your head gently against Jake’s chest, taking a few deep breathes and silently hold yourself together.

His arm slips from your waist, up to cradle the side of your face making you look into his eyes. A green so deep that you could get lost in, if you only let yourself.

“Darlin’”

You quietly shake your head in protest, knowing that it he asks you might break down.

The tears built around the edge of your eyes, and you quickly cast your face down. Unwilling to let him see you break.

 To be another hassle in his life.

A mess, that he would realize wasn’t worth the work.

Though he gently kisses your forehead, letting you be for now and pulls you towards the building.

Hands clasped tightly together, like he’s afraid to lose you through the cracks within your broken heart.

Jake stays by your side as you make your way through the building and to your office. Only letting go of your hand, so that you can grab your laptop and paperwork. You slowly pack everything that you need into a tote, your movements lagging.

Feeling completely drained and over the day. You can feel yourself pulling back into a shell, unsure how to function with another person right now.

You weren’t used to people helping when you had a hard day, or break down. Only that you weren’t supposed to show your emotions, because if you did it would end so much worse.

A screaming match, about how inconsiderate it was that you let your mood seep into other people’s lives. That if you could just fucking smile for once, then maybe people would like you.

The thought makes you look to Jake and give him a fake smile, in hopes that he doesn’t realize how much it hurts.

He notices but doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a reassuring kiss on the cheek and takes the tote from you, to carry out to the car.

“Where are your keys darlin’?”

He questions, replying before you can protest.

“I want to drive sweets, okay. I want to take care of you.”

Worry clouds your brain, but you’re too tired to make a fuss.

“Thank you” you say as you place them in his out reached hand.

“Always baby.” He states it so matter a factly that your heart flutters. The wink that follows, makes it skip a beat.

The drive home is fast, your wandering mind lost in thought. Jakes hand rests steady against your thigh, a gently rubbing motion to sooth you.

Walking up into your quaint little beach house, the final bit of anxiety leaves your body. Finding comfort in being home, in your safe space. Jake silently follows you up the steps and locks the door once you’re both inside.

Your body’s frozen; you stand quietly in the hallway, unsure of what to do. Jakes comes up to rest behind you, carefully wrapping you in his arms. Afraid that the slightest touch will send you spiraling.

“Why don’t you go take a nice shower sweets? Relax, decompress and I will make you some tea for after your done.”

You squeeze his hands in a silent thank you and head to the bathroom.

Your face looks tired and broken, and as you stare at your reflection, those tears that you worked so hard to hold in fall. You switch on the shower, to silence the sobs that are wreaking havoc upon your mind and body.

You shed your clothes and step into the burning water, in hopes to erase the feeling of Davis’ hands on you.

Memories of past and present blend together, making it difficult to ground yourself, to know that you’re safe.

Davis’ hand, becomes HIS hands on you. A ringing in your ears echoes a distant memory of the screams that were ripped from your body.

The incident today, shattered your tough girl façade. The box that you worked so hard to bury, ripped up, meant to consume everything in its path.

Both of their hand blending into one, pushing on the small of your back.

Down farther, suffocating and screaming out at the same time.

Your back crashes against the tile walls, as you slip to the floor. Memories flashing through your mind; the way you yelled stop and how you begged Maty to look away. His sweet baby eyes, watching as you were ripped apart.

You should have worked harder to make him stop.

To make sure Mathew couldn’t see or hear.

But you didn’t.

You failed him in that moment

And you hate yourself for it.

A sudden slam jolts you from your thoughts, and a worried Jake is standing there. Infront of the broken in door, chest heaving and wild-eyed. He falls to his knees as a broken sob, escapes your lips.

Climbing into the shower, fully clothed, to hold on to your trembling body. It’s only then that you notice the water is freezing and that you must have lost track of time.

He mutters sweet nothings into your ear, softly creasing your back. He shifts your body momentarily way from his chest, to turn of the stream of cold water. Shifting back, you clutch onto his shirt. Clinging to the warmth that radiates off him, and the feeling of safety that you can always find in his embrace.

Breathing in the familiar smell of jet fuel mixed with sandalwood and black pepper, your mind fights to regain clarity. That you are home, safe in Jakes arms.

Not caring what horrible outcome awaits you once you explain your panic attack.

Once he finally realizes out how damaged you are.

You won’t blame him, if you could get away from yourself you’d run too.

Though, for this moment you need him. To be able to savor this moment and memorize it for once you’ve lost it. Tuck it away deep within your soul, a memory that a one point he loved you.

He’s never said it, but you’d like to think that he does. At least loves the version of you that is still nice and shiny. He couldn’t ever love the one that’s real, broken, and damaged beyond repair. How could anyone love something so pitiful.

Pulling back, the words fall from your mouth before you can even think to stop them.

The harsh truth.

“I wasn’t enough Jake.” A gasp falls from your mouth, more tears crash down your face.

“I should have tried harder. To stop Adam. To protect Maty. To make the school listen.” Your head shakes in silent disappointment in yourself.

“I could have been better, for Maty, for you.”

“But I failed, and I’m just so tired of trying.”

Your head lays resting against Jake’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart. Trying to slow your gasping breaths. His hand rests on the back of your head, gently rocking the both of you.

“I’m so tired of doing it alone.” You pull away from him, to look in his eyes as you lay the truth of your relationship out.

“But it’s not your job and I can’t push that on you. You shouldn’t have to come in and take care of a child that isn’t yours.”

You can see Jake silently shaking his head, as tears start to fall from his eyes.

“I’m just so angry. At how broken and lonely I feel. How I’ve pushed you away, because I’m scared of losing you.” Words continue to fall from your lips, until Jake gentle grabs your face.

He takes a shuddered breath in, his voice cracking slightly.

“Y/F/N look at me.”

Your tear-stained eye stare at each other, a plea asking you to listen.

The hand cradling your face, settles your trembling lip. His other hand comes up to push your soaked hair out of your face. His body heat warms you, and his eyes show nothing but pure love and heartbreak. Like seeing you in so much pain is slowly breaking his heart too.

Your heart aches as you see the tears streaming down his face, gently you reach a shaking hand up to cup his cheek. His hand rises to cradle the one covering his cheek, both your foreheads fall together.

“Darlin’ let me make one thing clear, you and Mathew are the best damn thing that has ever happen to me. From the moment I met you, before we ever got together, I knew I wanted you.”

His words sound foreign to your ears, and you mind sits telling you that he’s lying. But his eyes, the green that you’re in love with, they hold such truth, and you chose to believe he’s not lying.

“Come on, let get you dressed, and we can talk.” He stands with ease, carrying your form as if you were as light as air. “I think we’re both gonna need that cup of tea to warm up. Unless you wanna share body heat, sweets.”

He gives you a wink and you can’t stop the girlish giggles that abrupt from you. The way that he can brighten your mood with the smallest gestures, still amazes you.

“There’s my girl.”

Dressed in fuzzy socks and one of Jake’s old navy shirts, you curl up on the couch as Jake reheats the water for your tea. He comes around the corner moments later with two cups of tea; chamomile for you, his momma always told him it was calming, and peppermint for him.

It reminded him of Christmas, the one-time when everyone in his family got along. The yearly tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve at mid-night, then having a family dinner Christmas night. A joyous atmosphere filled the house, as his mother baked and sisters hand pick which Christmas records to play.

It was a tradition that he hoped to start with you and Mathew, creating your own rendition of the family Christmas.

The sweatpants hang low on his hips, your eyes roam over his torso slowly. Taking in each hard line and the tan skin, your eyes slowly make it up to his face and a cocky smile rests on his lips.

“Like what you see darlin’”

A blush covers your cheeks as you realize that you’ve been caught, once again.

“You’re just so pretty.” You reply, a matching blush covers his cheeks. Happy that you got the desired reaction out of him.

He settles into the seat beside you, handing you your tea, and brushing a gentle kiss against your brow. He pulls your covered feet to rest in his lap and covers you both up with a blanket.

He gently strokes your calf and takes a sip of tea, before asking you what happened today.

So, you start for the beginning. Telling him about your meeting this morning and how the school called. Relaying to him that they put Mathew in a freezing room and how he was just defending himself.

“It was that 2nd grader, Jake. The one that’s been picking on him, Thomas, Timmy…”

“Toby, Darlin’” Jake answers for you, causing your head to snap up in silent questioning.

“Maty, he brought him up to me the other day. I didn’t mention it, well because” he rubs the back of his neck and looks down sheepishly. “I may have told him… that if Toby touched him, they he was allowed to defend himself.”

A smile graces your face, realizing how much he carries about Mathew.

“Then I showed him how to throw a punch.”

With that a full laugh falls from your lips, surprising Jake completely. He was prepared to get his butt chewed, but here you are in a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry..” You struggle to catch your breath. “It’s just, I’ve been wanting to knock that second grader on his ass sense he pushed Maty.”

Jake releases a blusterous laugh, shaking his head, and a teasing smile directed at you.

You sink farther into the couch and talk a large sip of your tea. Your body finally relaxing, causing your shoulders to drop and your legs to stretch farther into Jakes lap.

You continue on, telling him how Miss Clark wasn’t helpful and how your pretty positive the Principal Davis was sleeping before you barged into his office.

The pause you take to collect your thoughts and calm your racing mind, doesn’t go unnoticed. Though Jake patiently waits, giving you time, and when you’ve taken a few deep breaths Jake motions you to go on.

Blowing out a puff of air, you calm the rage that slowly rises in you from thinking about Principal Davis.

“He’s just horrible Jake. Every time I’ve came to him about Toby or the other boys, he called me overprotective, and said that Mathew is the child at fault.”

His hand remains on your calf, rubbing. You’re not sure if it’s to sooth you or him.

“Then he stood there and implied that he and I could “work together”” you motion quotations with your hands, “to fix the problem. That he clearly didn’t have a male role model, and my ringless finger was the proving point.”

His hand only stops for a moment when you say ringless, but it’s long enough that you notice his pause.  

“The man is so damn aggravating.”

You blow out a breath of air, moving the now partially dry hair that fell across your face. Jake reaches up and moves the strand behind your ear, his hand then falling to cress your cheek before you continue.

“He’s got entitlement issues and has no respect for personal space.” The words rush out of your mouth, before you realize how they might affect Jake.

“The way his hands felt… God, they just made my skin crawl. It was just too much.”

His hand stills on your leg completely and you can feel his body transform; from your soft and gentle Jake to Hangman, the man that had look death in the eyes and laughed.

You look up and his face is void of all emotions, but anger.

“Darlin’ I need you to be very clear with me.” his voice is laced with such venom, that you would be terrified of him, if you couldn’t still see the gentleness in his eyes.

“Are you telling me that Davis touched you?”

You nod, ashamed of the action “He only touched my lower back, and I shouldn’t make it into such a big deal, but it just felt wrong.”

Jake stares back at you with a hardness you’ve never seen.

“Y/N no one is ever, allowed to touch you without your permission. I don’t care what the circumstances are, or what you’ve been told in the past.” He blows out a shuddered breath.

“Baby I am not even allowed to touch you, without your permission.” Both his hands are now holding up your face, making sure you look at him. “Do you understand that?  

The tears that fill your eyes are answer enough.

He knew enough of your past, to know what little value you had for yourself.

Jake had woken up with Mathew on nights that he’d spent the night, the young boy crying out after a nightmare. In the beginning Jake just wanted to give you a break and let you sleep, but he soon realized that Maty needed the extra time with him as well. The little boy had opened up to Jake, telling him about his dreams and memories. Explaining that he couldn’t tell momma, because it made you cry.

Those nights lying awake with Mathew, while rubbing his back to sooth him and help him fall asleep, were some of Jakes most treasured moments. The need to take care Maty and be the stable father-figure in his life, continuously grew. To the point that Jake no longer saw a life without you and his little boy.

You didn’t have to explicitly tell Jake what you had went through, he knew enough and if you ever changed your mind, he would listen. Grateful that you wanted to share that part of you, but it wouldn’t be something he pushed.

No, he would just continuously keep working to show you your worth and how much he loved you. He hadn’t told you yet how much he loved you, to afraid to scare you off, but he knew that you were it for him the first time that he met you.

Papers strewn around the floor in your office, while you sat in the middle, contemplating different flight tracks and patterns. You hadn’t realized he’d come into your office, until he made a coughing sound to gain your attention.

You looked at him with such seriousness, mad at him for interrupting your work and when he asked you where the admiral was, you glanced at your watch before muttering “lunch” at him like he was a complete idiot.

He knew then that you were everything that he wanted; dedicated to your work, beautiful, and wouldn’t put up with his shit. Mathew was an added bonus, one that he wouldn’t change for all the money in the world.

“Darlin’, you and Mathew are the most precious and important people in my life. I will do anything and everything to make you realized how loved you are.”

You mouth dropped up, sitting in stunned silence.

“You love me? You love us?”

The look you give him, makes him chuckle and run a hand through his hair.

“Sweets you are one of the smartest women that I’ve ever met, but how in the world have you not seen that I have been, head over heels in love with you, since the first time we met?” His Texas accent rings clear in your ear. Laying on heavy whenever he calls you sweets.

“Jake, the first time we met was three and a half years ago. When I first started working on base?” The questioning tone you reply with is clear as day.

“Yeah, I know.”

“We just started dating 10 months ago though?”

“Yeah, I spent a year and a half trying to take you out.”

A hand comes to rub at the back of his neck, as he looks away shyly in a way you’d never seen. Gone was your cocky, self-assured pilot, in his place, a boy that looked worried about getting the girl in high school.

“You know how much the guys made fun of me? Told me I was whipped, and I didn’t even have the girl yet.”

A blush covers your cheeks, as you realize just how oblivious you’d been. Though you can’t help but smile, your heart filling with hope and possibility.

“You don’t need to say it back..”

You cut him off before he can finish, pulling him down into a kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. You pour all of your pent-up emotions into the kiss, silently trying to communicate how much you love him.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to settle on his lap. As you pull away his hand settles on your cheek, eyes staring into the abyss that is your soul.

“Jacob Grant Seresin, I love you more than words can equivalate to. You are the man that I’ve wanted my whole, and never thought I was worthy of.”

More tears fall from your eyes, though these are pure happiness.

“Thank you for taking a chance on the mess that I am, and I’m sorry for making you wait for so long.” Your giggle at the end, breaks into full blown laughter as Jake tickles you. Pushing you down onto your back, he peppers kisses across your face.

“You should be darlin’, it was torture.” He gives you one last kiss “I’d do it a thousand time over though, as long as it for you.”

“My mess, my girl.”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Later that night:

“Thank you for helping me with the flight plans, I really didn’t need Cyclone on my ass.” You kiss Jakes waiting lips as you climb in bed for the night.

“Course darlin’”

He gently pulls you back to rest against his chest, peppering kisses on the top of your head. You can’t help but to snuggle deeper into him and the blankets.

“Also, I talk to Rooster and he’s going to bring Mathew to base in the morning. I figured he could hang out with the team. Then if you can get off a bit earlier, we could go by the school on base.”

You go to ask what he was up to.

But he quickly answers, “I called Bob’s wife Lacy, she is a teacher at the school, and she said that their kindergarten teacher is amazing. Also, that they would love to have us come by, and see if it was a good fit.”

You can’t help but be amazed. Wondering how you could have been so clueless and not seen the love that this amazing man has for you and Mathew.

“I love you, that sounds perfect. Thank you.”

Jake moves to shut of the bedside lamp, giving you a sweet kiss. Your lips melting together perfectly. You can feel yourself falling into unconsciousness, your body grateful to finally relax and welcomes the darkness.

Though before you can drift out you feel Jake shift around, nuzzling into your neck as his arm wrap securely around your waist. His body heat encompasses you, causes you to relax even more. Soft kisses are placed on your neck, little ones that you can barley feel.

“Darlin’ don’t think that I forgot about that jackass Davis.”

You stiffen up only slightly, though Jake continues his kisses. Falling just at your jaw line, his hands slide under your shirt and cress your stomach. His gentleness reassures you, and you chose to focus his moments more than his words.

“I don’t want you worrying.”

He places a kiss behind your ear,

“I’m just gonna have a talk with him.”

One on your cheek,

“Make sure he knows that you are mine, even without a ring on your finger.”

A soft fleeting kiss on the lips, that has you chasing his mouth as he pulls away. A cheeky smile stares down at you, before he gently grabs your left hand and kisses your finger.

A silent promise.

When you fall asleep, you can’t help but dream about that promise.

[cpheath]

Proudest Moment (Leah Williamson x Reader)

A/N: So as a thank you to everyone who follows me even when I take ages to write something, enjoy this fluff fest! After this, I’ll be going back to my regular programming of angst 😂

Looking out at the pitch, you rubbed your daughters back and kissed the top of her head. You weren’t being biased at thinking that she looked as cute as she did, not with the fluffy onesie she was wearing and the small headphones covering her ears.

At 6 months old, you were taking every precaution about not hurting her ears and with the crowd as loud as they could be sometimes, headphones seemed like a good idea.

“Does nanna want a cuddle?” You asked the older woman next to you and you weren’t surprised when she nodded enthusiastically.

“I always want Lily cuddles,” Leah’s mother confirmed and you handed her over with no hesitation, giving your arms a small break. You were all there to support the lionesses and Leah in the final game of the Arnold Clark cup and your girlfriend had mentioned how much it always meant to her to have you there.

It was the first game you had attended since the final of the Euros and being there with Leah’s mom, her dad and brother made it a lot easier. You had thought long and hard about whether you should bring Lily with you but when her mama was Leah Williamson, football was going to be a big part of her life so it was only a matter of time before she came to her first game.

“Leah doesn’t actually know that either of us are here yet, I haven’t told her,” you murmured to the other women, clapping at the same time with the teams making their way out onto the field.

Lily had been born a couple of weeks after the Euro final which turned out to be good timing with Leah on extended leave from Arsenal. It had allowed you the time to settle in as a new family and that time had been invaluable. With the kind of club Arsenal were, you were sure that they would have given Leah the time away anyway but it had definitely taken some of the anxiety away on your part.

There was still the odd occasion where your anxiety when Leah was away for a couple of nights for away games and you couldn’t get Lily to stop crying. That had reduced a lot though and Leah was always there with a soothing word, even when she was in another country.

“She’s going to love the surprise Y/N.”

It’s what you hoped for. It had only been a little over a week since you had seen Leah properly as she had been at camp with the Lionesses. While she wasn’t far away, you knew how much Leah hated being apart from you so you made sure to facetime every night. It was clear how much Leah missed her daughter every time you spoke so having the opportunity to see Lily a little quicker would no doubt help with that.

Watching the team line up for the national anthems, you took Lily back and noticed the moment that Leah spotted the both of you in the crowd. If there was ever any doubt how much Leah loved you, you only had to remember that smile as it was obvious how she felt about you.

“I love you for making her so happy Y/N,” Leah’s mom stated and you turned to look at her, the smile on your own face as big as anything, matching your girlfriends. You weren’t close to your own family, in fact, you hadn’t seen them in years so it meant a lot to you that Leah’s mom treated you the way she did.

“She makes me very happy too,” you replied, right before everyone started to sing. Your focus went back on Leah who as always was singing passionately but her eyes were on you and Lily.

After the final of the Euros, it had gone somewhat viral when Leah spoke about how proud she was and it would only be beaten when she had children. No one knew apart from close family that she would be having a daughter a couple of weeks later and it was clear how proud she was. Not only of Lily but you too.

Before long the game was starting and you didn’t waste any time in handing Lily back over to Leah’s mom who then passed her along for cuddles with her uncle and Grandad. It was what you’d wanted with your own family but they’ve never been on board with you being with another woman and as far as you could tell, it was completely their loss.

The game started exactly as you expected with England on the front foot. Belgium were a good team but with the way that England were able to keep possession, it was difficult for them and it was no surprise when Chloe Kelly scored first.

As the game continued, you thought that was going to be it for the first half but Lucy Bronze played an amazing cross and Leah managed to get her head on it. Like everyone had with Chloe’s goal, the ground erupted and you looked to the side to see Leah’s dad holding Lily up in the air.

You turned back just in time to see Leah blow a kiss at you and you did it right back. She always joked before every game that she would score a goal for you and more often than not, it didn’t happen so it was only right that she’d been able to score one while you had been there to watch.

The game went by quickly after that and there was a part of you that felt bad for Belgium with it being such a high score. Thinking the game was pretty much finished, you didn’t expect to watch Leah score a second goal, a sweet strike on the edge of the box.

Again you stood up to cheer and Leah blew another kiss your way, then another to Lily who had made her way back into your arms. You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes because of course she had to get two goals in the first game you were attending in months.

Not even 30 seconds later and the whistle blew, bringing an end to the game. Your gaze never left Leah, watching as she shook hands with all the Belgium players and then hugged all her teammates. You’d always known what a good captain Leah would be and with every game, she was only improving.

“We usually go down to the front, want to come with us?” Leah’s mom asked and you hesitated for a second.

You and Leah had been in a relationship for five years and had somehow managed to keep it out of the public eye. Leah’s teammates knew, as did your friends and family but everyone outside that bubble had no idea. Sometimes you hated it because above everything else, you wanted to make it clear just how proud you were to be with Leah. Seeing her matched up with other people never sat right with you either, though Leah always made clear that she was coming home to you every night.

On the other side, you had seen how things had intensified for Leah after the Euros with everyone wanting to know everything about her.

It was nice that the two of you had this relationship that was yours and yours alone but with Lily now in the picture; it was only going to get harder to keep private.

“Yeah sure,” you replied after 30 seconds, following Leah’s parents and brother down to the front of the stand. It gave you a clear view of Leah lifting her 3rd trouble since taking over captain. Thankfully Leah’s mom took a lot of pictures because it was hard to do when you had a 6-month-old in your arms.

The lifting of the trophy was followed by a walk around the ground and it was 5 minutes or so before Leah and the team got to you. Expecting her to walk past you, you were surprised when she walked over to you.

“Hi,” she hummed with a grin, causing a grin to appear on your own face.

“Hi yourself,” you replied, tempted to lean down and kiss her like you hadn’t been able to in over a week but you refrained. There would be time for that and with the World Cup right around the corner, you didn’t want to distract from that. “You had to go and score two goals, huh?”

“I’m always telling you I’m going to score for you and maybe now you’ll believe me. One for you, one for Lily.”

Lily chose that moment to lean forward and Leah took her from you flawlessly, holding her in her arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a camera approaching but instead of handing her back; Leah turned to the camera and lifted Lily’s hand with her own so it appeared as she was waving.

It was followed up with a kiss to Lily’s cheek and your heart warmed at the sight. Leah could sometimes worry that she was missing out on some things when it came to Lily, so you were glad that she was able to get the opportunities like she was getting.

“I’m just going to take her over to the team babe,” Leah pretty much shouted in your direction and you nodded, again watching as the team cooed over your 6-month-old daughter.

Unless people were really paying attention to what was happening, you doubted that anyone would suspect that Leah was carrying her own daughter and you were okay with that.

“If my daughter doesn’t propose to you soon, I’m going to have to have a word,” Leah’s mom stated next to you and you chuckled somewhat awkwardly.

Even though you had been together 5 years, the two of you had never really talked about marriage and there were times when it hurt. You could propose yourself but Leah never gave you an indication that it was what she wanted. When it came to having Lily, Leah was quick to ask you if you wanted children. Three-and-a-half years after being together, you had gone through the process and got pregnant.

Sometimes you thought about asking her outright about it but at 25, there wasn’t really any rush and you didn’t want to run the risk of pushing Leah away. In time, you were sure it would come but until then, you were very happy with your little family.

Thankfully Leah returned with Lily so you didn’t have to reply to her mom and you took your daughter back, your fingers brushing over Leah’s in the process.

“I’ll see you at home tomorrow?” Leah questioned and you nodded, holding Lily against you. “I love you, I love you both.”

“We love you too,” you responded, smiling at the way Leah winked at you and then walked back towards the locker room. There was nothing more you wanted than to spend some time with Leah that night but with her staying in a hotel with the team and you heading back to London, it just wasn’t possible.

The disappointment didn’t last long though as on the way home, you got a notification on Instagram that you had been tagged in a photo. With Leah’s dad driving, Leah’s mom asleep and Lily asleep in the car seat next to you, you didn’t hesitate to open the app and immediately, you were almost overcome with emotion at the sight.

Leah had posted a photo that you’d taken a few weeks before. It was in black and white with your hand covering Leah’s and then on top of both, was Lily’s small hand. Your girlfriend had tagged you in it but it was the caption underneath that really stuck with you.

leahwilliamson: My proudest moment ❤️

You had no idea what had caused her to post it but you weren’t complaining. You text her with a simple and meaningful ‘I love you’ and got one back immediately.

The next few months would be hard because no doubt Leah would be incredibly busy but the post had intensified your feelings about wanting to be there at the World Cup.

You weren’t going to miss out on any proud moments in her life.

[rainybyday]

Wayne Spirit Add-ons Pt 2

+Danny has baby pictures of everyone but Alfred which Bruce both loves and hates because Danny also included some moments of his life he did not wanted to remember (but he loves because it includes all his children as babies)

+Danny leaves photos of blackmail to whoever he thinks will need it the most for reasons

+Tim and Bruce got extra special treatment for when they ripped into Clark about his treatment to Connor (he felt like he was going to burst when he saw them do the same with Lex Luther)

+Danny knows when the Lazarus Pit is acting up from Jason and immediately goes to him to calm the pit

+Danny leave Ectoplasm snacks for Jason, then Cass and Damian later on which they all love (and no other bat can have unless they want to feel a bit more then dead)

+Danny hates when any member of the family either gives each other a cold shoulder or are fighting to the point where he turns everything around him to the negative degrees (that is the signal for every bat to stop because they are making their resident ghost cry)

+All the bats have a competition over what is Danny’s name and his appearance before Duke came around, turns out Bruce won because he did see a glance at him once as a child very young

+Leaves as soon as he sees Catwomen near Batman because… no, just no. He saw him as a baby, he dose not need to see his boy flirt much less kiss anyone thanks

+Danny starts banging his head over the pattern of Dick’a partners 

+Danny reviled himself when Bruce once got kidnapped (before he was an adult) by scaring the ever living shit out of his kidnappers which started the rumor that he was protected by Gotham’s spirit (which later turned to the Wayne’s when Dick got kidnapped, then Jason, then Tim and so on (every kidnapper learned the hard way))

+There’s a couple of ice blue crystal designed tables that the bats put little trinkets and things they want Danny to have or allow him to borrow because their ghost deserves all the presents (they have to pamper him somehow)

+They fight to have Danny with them during Summer which doesn’t work out for them because Danny only goes to whoever he thinks has the most brain cells at that time

+Will pull a lot of pranks at gales to entertain Bruce as a kid and then to all of his children when they clearly want an escape

+Everyone knows Danny is the happiest when they are in the Watchtower because they have a trail of snowflakes behind them when ever they go

+Batman almost killed John Constantine when he tried to exorcist Danny once he saw him clinging on to Batman’s back like a parasite at a meeting

+Captain Marvel/Shazam takes one look at him and waves with a greetings to him with a smile (he gets brownie points with ALL the bats (to the point where other hero’s see how Bats is bias towards him))

+Superman feel very uneasy when he first met Batman

+Mess with Bruce Wayne and you will find your dreams fill with nightmares of endless pools of green and a child who drools the same shade of green as the child grins at them (“Your next.”)

+Danny can not take any of the Bats seriously because he seen them all grow up and is not afraid of any of them, finds their imitation tactics cute (verbally coos at Bruce when he did it the first time and almost cried out of pure joy when Dick, still as Robin, tried to copy him)

+Danny added fuel to Bruce’s adoption addiction by leave adoption papers every time he brings in a child (jokes on him when the Bruce finds out how old Danny is)

[confused-wanderer]

*clear throat* Now look I’m all up for a desperate depressed superman showing up at the bat cave in the rain whispering to Batman “I had nowhere else to go..” just like the next person BUT:

Imagine the reverse. And by reverse I don’t mean batman asking superman but Bruce asking Clark.

Bruce knows his secret identity (cuz he’s batman obv) but Superman is the one person he’d trust his life to, one whom he knows would help anyone without any question.

So imagine Clark hearing a knock on the door in the middle of the night and opens it to see an overwhelmed, overstimulated having a depressive episode and doesn’t want to call anyone playboy rich boy Bruce Wayne.

The way Clark’s reporter instincts are simply itching to have a one on one with Gothams most elusive recluses, but the look in his eyes makes them all die down.

Bruce can feel his mouth opening, and through the buzz of his brain he can distinctly make out a voice. His voice. Oh.. when did he start talking? What was he saying.

“I- I didn’t know where else to go..”

And Clark immediately runs out, gently steering him inside and helping him remove his drenched suit. He takes one look at how out of it Bruce seems and just starts taking care of him, from making a good meal and sitting patiently while he eats it to running a nice warm bath for him and calmly nudging him to take a shower. The man looks like a shower can’t fix him but Clark knows it’ll help.

He hears Bruce’s steady but abruptly rapid heartbeat and doesn’t need to have superpowers to know he’s dissociated. Feeling a bit overprotective he makes sure Bruce finally gets some food and then gives him the warmest room to sleep in before settling down in front of the television to try and focus on something other than the billionaire that just showed up on his doorstep.

Wait a minute.. how did he even know where to find him? Why was he in metropolis? Bruce Wayne had no galas he knew of, and why did he look so.. so broken?

It isn’t until he almost flies off the ground in surprise when he looks over to see Bruce just standing there next to him, simply staring at the television.

How the heck did he creep up on him that?

“Sorry, is the television too loud?”

Bruce’s eyes somehow focus but he doesn’t speak, instead shaking his head.

“.. do you want to sit?”

After a few minutes of silence Bruce finally relents, sitting tense on the edge of the sofa.

Maybe he wants loud Clark thinks.

A few hours later, Clark is half asleep when he tunes in to hear a steady, slower paced heartbeat slowly rising to a throbbing roar, and suddenly he hears sharp gasps for breath, frantic and terrified as if the air wasn’t enough.

Bruce is moving around, eyes squeezed shut and hands in his hair, chest heaving faster and faster with every passing breath. Clark doesn’t even realise how fast his arms shoot up to hold him and drag Bruce onto him, hands wrapped protectively around the convulsing man. He barely hears himself whispering a jamble of English and kryptonian soothing lullabies while rocking them both, while his mind furiously searched for why he was behaving this way.

“Bruce..” he whispered, voice urgent and low. “Bruce, you are safe. Listen to me, you are safe and everything is okay, okay? Nothings going to hurt you, I promise I won’t let it happen.”

He reaches for the trembling hand and places it on his pounding heart. Okay okay now what? What should he do.

“Bruce.. listen to me okay.. breathe in for four seconds. Here I’ll do it with you.”

Taking a deep breath, he made sure it was loud and slow, and was relieved when he heard the other man so the same.

“Okay, good! Now.. hold it for seven seconds… and now breathe out for eight.”

He let out a long and loud exhale, and repeated the process until he felt Bruce’s heartbeat return to normal.

A few moments passed in silence, with Clark trying to calm his heartbeat when a hand pressed urgently against his chest.

“Alive.. safe…”

Putting his hand over the one clutching his heart he clasped it firmly.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Safe. Don’t worry about a thing Bruce go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

He hears a few grunts, muffled mumbles before slowly as time passes he feels all the tension go out of the man’s body.

He doesn’t think much of the encounter, not the next day when he wakes up to a tshirt worn from being gripped too tightly and a note written on his table thanking him, along with some money to pay for the water bill.

Later that day when Clark suits up and roams around the Watchtower, he’s surprised to see Batman sitting and listening to Barey ramble on about the time he got into a prank competition with Kid Flash and Nightwing. He notices how the Dark Knights heartbeat sounds calmer, how he leans back on his hands and lets out a silent chuckle. He was.. relaxed. And in a better mood than he was all week.

After Barry left to prepare for the next round of pranks, he approaches Gothams Knight.

“Hey there Batman! Sleep well last night?”

He almost imagines it but there’s warmth in batman’s demeanour as he looks fondly at Clark.

“Yes.. Best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time..”

[georgiapeach30513]

Kinktober 2022, Day 29: Housewife Kink

He Always Did

Summary:  Clark doesn’t even feel bad about what he had to do

Pairings:  Clark Kent X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, PIV sex, mentions of punishment, teasing, size kink, dumbification, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.3K

Previous

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Clark stands at the door of the kitchen.  Thinking to himself how you were shaping up to be exactly what he needed.  Yeah, it might have been a rough start, and yes, you might have taken a few times to understand what he expected, but you were the epitome of perfection now.  Your hair perfectly in place, a simple necklace around your neck, pretty little frock on your body, your very own Love bracelet around your wrist, and your pumps.

You peek around your shoulder, and your winged eyeliner and red lip was exactly how he liked it, and you looked like a dream.  He had felt bad about last week, and how you were not up to his  standards.  But the mess on the floor told him you didn't mind it too bad.

"Does it make you nervous when I stare?" He asks, looking like he was about to devour you.  Licking at his lips to show just how hungry he was for your sweet nectar.

You made up for your mistake today.  Stirring the sauce in the pan, you taste it, and bring some over to him to try.  "It's delicious, Dear," he informs you earnestly.  "The house looks immaculate," he leans over on the counter, and you gasp.

"Clark, I'm sorry, hun," you do a cute little jog over to the liquor cabinet to prepare his simple scotch on ice.  Delivering it to your husband who had the biggest smile on his face.

"What did you do today?" His thumb rubs just over your wrist, pulling you even closer to him.  You were wearing his favorite perfume.  You wanted to impress him.  Apologizing for him coming home to you in sweats, and hair a mess.  Since then you had been plucked right out of his fantasies.  Sometimes you had on a naughty little lingerie set as you dusted around the house.  And sometimes, like today, you were creating his dream of a perfect home, and wife.

"I made our menu for the month, did some shopping, stripped the beds, and added clean sheets, I even," you pause for dramatic effect, getting right at his ear, "Ironed your shirts, honey."

Clark's eyes flutter close, and his hand drifts down your back.  Settling on your ass, before he moans.  "You did all that for me, Dear?"

With a wicked nodding of your head you pull him into the living room, walking him over to his chair, before he sits down.  "Mmm," he bites at his lip, while you stand up straight.  Starting to unbutton your dress painfully slow.  "What do you have under there?"

"Shh," you softly say as your black lacy bra comes into view.  Oh you were feeling naughty, huh?  He wonders why he needed to see you in a dress that had buttons all the way to the hemline, because this was infuriating.

More of your lingerie comes into view, and it was much more risqué than he could imagine.  Sheer panels, and straps of fabric, creating an almost bandaged look to you.  He loved knowing that what was under your dress was sinful, and for his eyes only.

His hand wraps around the back of your leg when you reach the last button.  Letting that pretty blue number fall on the floor, and he tugs you closer to him.  You straddle his lap, starting to grind over him.  "Clark, I don't want the sauce to burn."

"You better get me off quickly then, or I'll make you start over, while I tongue fuck that pretty cunt.  I'll be on the floor in between your legs, and you won't be allowed to stop," you whimper.  His cock was getting harder as he told you what he was going to do to you.

"You gonna waste your time dry humping me, or are you going to actually fuck me?" You go to get off of him, and turn your backside to him as you shimmy out of your panties.  Giving him a clear view of your glistening folds and swollen pussy.

"Uh-uh," you warn him.  "Take yourself out," Clark doesn't hesitate to have his pants pulled completely off before he's kicking them off.  One move and he's ripping his shirt off, and you get to stare at his thick arms, and hard chest.

Backing your ass up to him, he grips his cock tightly, and guides you over him.  He still hurt to take all of him, but no wasn't an option.  You hiss at the sting and severe stretch of your husband as he lets you glide all the way down.  He bottoms out, and holds onto your stomach, feeling at just how deep he actually is.  "I bet you feel me in your throat don't you," you moan out your yes, and he grips tightly to your hips.  "Should I give you a second, or just starting fucking you?"

"Wait!" You needed to adjust to his width.  Sure, he was definitely long, but his cock was so thick and heavy.  Made you feel so full, and you wondered if you were ever going to get used to this feeling.

Clark's hips rut up into you, and you lean your head back on his shoulder, "I have had such a hard day.  I want you to fuck me."

Readjusting your weight, you put your hands on his knees, starting to move over him slowly.  Clark being such a vocal man, has you speeding up your motions.  He did make the sweetest noises.  His hands move to your tits, and he gives them a hard squeeze.  Tweaking your nipples, and pinching them when you hit all the right spots, "Right there, Dear.  Yeah, just like that," he pinches you even harder, and you slam yourself over him.  Taking him as deep as possible, and the tip of his cock tickles along your cervix.

You felt so full.  He had ruined you for other men.  Clark places his mitt sized hands around the back of your thighs, and lifts you up.  Using your body as his own personal sex doll.  Impaling you on his cock, while your vision goes blurry.  Words are incomprehensible, and you babble nonsense. He was so deep you felt him in your entire body.  So deep and hard that he was rearranging your insides.  And you were just along for the ride.

Clark hit every inch of the inside of your cunt.  While this isn't how you saw your life, he was making it worth it.  If you behaved, he awarded you handsomely.  If you disobeyed, his punishment was still orgasmic; it just made you walk funny.

You scream out his name as his tip stabs into your cunt.  Hitting in that special spot that makes you see stars.  Giving you an out of body experience as your euphoria spreads through your bones.  The world seemed brighter, when you came to, and you smile dopily at him.

Clark places you on the floor, letting your spent face feel a bit of coolness.  Looking back behind you, he squats down to enter into your warmth.  He had so much more control as he thrusts into you.  Having to hold tightly to your hips because you start to sink lower onto the floor, "You that dumb already, sweetheart?  You're so easy.  Saved this pretty little cunt for me, and now you're fucking addicted, aren't ya?"

You were addicted to him.  Addicted to the way he made you feel.  Your cunt sucks him deeper into your walls, and you reach out, clawing on the floor to ground yourself.  Clark lets your body sink to the ground, but he's still relentless at railing you.  Struggling on needing more, and wanting it to end.

"I'm so close.  So.  Fucking.  Close," his words punctuate his thrusts.  Your eyes roll back into your head, as you hold out a long and guttural scream.

His cum fills up your cunt, but he continues fucking into you.  Spewing both of your spend onto the floor, "You're going to mop it up with your tongue, Dear.  And since it's the weekend, don't worry about clothes.  I'm going to split you open whenever.  I don't care if we have fucking company.  Someone needs to keep you satisfied."

And he did.  He always did.

Next

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