#but are generally amicable

[baldursghaik]

I gotta bitch about straight people for a second

so many straight women will tell you horror stories about their husbands/boyfriends, and go on and on to you about how much he sucks

the second you agree, she channels her inner tammy wynette and would ride into battle like she's defending fucking gondor and not some middle aged chud who barely knows how to clean up after himself

[dataframe]

my thoughts are so scattered right now, honestly. i'm just pacing around and around thinking about them... shen jiu who hoards all he can and abuses his power vs. yue qi who refuses to cling onto anything precious or substantial so he doesn't lose/break it...

[repurposedmeatlocker]

If you had to eradicate one B&BH ship from existence, which one would it be?

UMMMMM probably Butt-Head x Daria 🫣

I guess whatever floats your boat. I'm in no position to judge in regards to fictional ships. There isn't anything inherently WRONG with it, but I just find it EXTREMELY out of character on both ends. Daria doesn't give af about Butt-Head or Beavis. At most she tolerates them or sees them doing bullshit like "woah! That's crazy guys. Get well soon!" Butt-Head is much the same. At no point in the run of the show do I see a smidge of chemistry between them that would suggest something romantic. When it comes to indulging in fan content for things like this, I tend to have a preference for sticking somewhat close to canon. I just can't see it as something that works whereas something like Butt-Head and Beavis is implied enough in the show as a joke to build off a legitimate interpretation.

[dittolicous]

ok hear me out

kirk/spock/bones = luffy/zoro/sanji

[fangirlforlife97]

Don't get me wrong I greatly enjoy BuckTommy and hope to see more of them, but if with all the promotion and hinting at Buddie - if we don't get a canon romantic endgame Buddie by the end of the series I'm gonna be devastated!!??!!! I hope it's on for many more years, I'm just saying it's a legit fear to have another hugely fan favorite ship not be canon or endgame.

[honestlyawesome]

i just had a break up it was my first ever break up. um

[random2908]

So many of my parents' friends have died in the past year.

One friend of my dad's died of old age last summer, but he was legitimately old (90s).

My dad's officemate of over a decade died of cancer last summer. He was not old at all, only maybe 15 years older than me, like mid-50s. He'd been going to extraordinary lengths to get experimental treatments for his terminal cancer, and in the end he lived almost a year longer than anyone expected, so his death wasn't a surprise.

A close friend of my dad's had a heart attack and died unexpectedly last fall. He was only in his mid-70s. (My dad is 69 and my mom is 71, so he was only a few years older than them.) He did have some extenuating health issues, though: he'd been through treatment for a pretty serious cancer not too long ago, and he had Parkinsons. Both of those will age you by quite a lot; I think probably the best way to think of it is that he died of premature old age.

A family friend whom I've known nearly my whole life had a heart attack an died. She was in her early 80s. My parents keep being like, she wasn't even old... But the fact is that's not too far off the average life expectancy even in very wealthy countries, close enough to be like yeah it's an average and some people won't quite hit it. So, yes, she was old already. She stayed up late reading and drinking tea, and her husband found her still there in the morning, so, not a bad way to go, I guess. But that one hit my parents hard, because there was nothing obviously wrong with her, and then she was dead. So, another old-age death.

Another family friend whom I've known nearly my whole life died yesterday. She was in her late 70s. My parents last saw her at the funeral of that previous person, and thought she looked really bad, but didn't want to ask. Apparently she'd had breast cancer and even after successful treatment just never really recovered. So, another case of dying of cancer, although less direct than my dad's close friend.

(I also had an uncle who died of cancer treatment about a decade ago. The cancer would have killed him in 6 months, and the treatment killed him in 6 years, so it was far better than no treatment. But surviving cancer can be a complicated thing. My aunt--this uncle was her husband--had breast cancer more recently and was cured very quickly, but nevertheless hasn't entirely recovered, although it's been at least four years now. She's mostly blind now, and needs help walking, even though she's only now in her mid-70s. Then again, her mother got the same cancer at about the same age (70-ish) and died of it, so this is an improvement.)

[falllpoutboy]

me personally? i want an article to be posted about the breakup (with a source from his team) so they can get ahead of whatever deuxmoi speculates about them every 2 weeks

[quatregats]

Just realized that I have not talked to someone in Catalan in about six months, which is the longest since...possibly since I first started studying Catalan almost 10 years ago. Anyways this explains why I'm going insane rn

[swan2swan]

Okay, geeks of the comic dimensions, I need you to tell me things:

Was Immortus Done Dirty by the Teen Titans adaptation, or is he finally getting bumped up to the Big Leagues by Doom Patrol?

[flamingphoenix916]

I am in love with the response within this thread, covering everything from the misogynistic undertones (overtones?) of the gun-on-table move to the sheer ludicrousness of the chess-like silent mind games of gun-on-table implications. Like, yes, non-verbal social rules can be confusing (and particularly when guns are involved, dangerous), but also: HILARIOUS.

The father: I am picking up on some serious accusations and quite frankly, anyone this rude to me on a first encounter without good reason shouldn't be dating my daughter, and--

OP: oh! We're showing our guns now, say less, my friend :)

I'm out here reading this exchange the same way I sit back and analyze Jane Austen interactions, applying my knowledge of the context based on time period, geographical area, culture, etc and I am honestly having so much fun with this one.

mutuals do this

[randomlygeneratedwyrds]

randomly generated wyrd:

amic

[translucent-serendipity]

19 de març 2024. d'avui em quedo amb que

M'agrada anar trobant gent amb qui poder imaginar, i riure, i anar enfortint llaços. Cada vegada m'hi sento més en confiança.

Escullo donar-nos l'oportunitat de conviure amb totes les lletres. Tot i que en moltes coses discrepem, us reconec com a persones de les quals i amb les quals aprendre i estimar. Al final,

som animalons petits amb cors que caminen ràpid. tot i que això em fa pensar més aviat en algú altre.

el dia 15 em vaig cremar el pit i encara el tinc vermell. poètic. i cancerigen.

[juicykvnture]

WHITE ROSES

ex-husband!BruceWayne x fem!reader

tags: AFAB reader, DILF!Bruce duhhh, established relationship, slight angst, he’s down bad and needy, slapping, overstimulation, kinda dumbification, headlocks, dacryphillia, praise + degradation,

a/n: a man who yearns is a man who earns.

wc: 2.7k | masterlist

“Bruce?” you scoff under your breath, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, “what the hell?”

“You should lock your windows, a crazy person could break in.” his tone is clipped despite his inner turmoil, he can already sense the annoyance in your tone.

“One already has.”

“What? Where?” his brows furrow, gripping the glass in his hand tighter as he whips his head around, already on guard as he scans every inch of the kitchen.

Right.. you mean him.

You open your eyes fully to stare at him, your expression as tired and unamused as ever.

“You’ve helped yourself to my whiskey.” you frown, brows knitting together as you watch his hand grip the glass, wedding band still on his finger.

“Our whiskey.” Bruce corrects you, only earning a scoff in response.

Right, your shared whiskey - a wedding gift from many, many moons ago.

Your plan was to save it for a special occasion, something you both agreed on - maybe a ten year anniversary?

Now that you look back, it’s stupid.

Hilarious, you thought your marriage would last that long.

For the last few months, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that your divorce was amicable.

You thought so anyway, though it hurt you more than you’ll ever admit when he agreed to sign those divorce papers without blinking an eye.

It was reasonable, even. That made it worse.

He wasn’t a bad man, it’s not that you two fell out of love.

He just didn’t have time for you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. After all, who wants to live with a ghost?

“What are you even doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” you break the heavy silence, your tired gaze settling on the bouquet of white roses on the kitchen island.

His sulky expression softens by a fraction when you question him, tilting his head up as if he’s leaning into the sound of your voice.

He never expected to miss your constant pestering and nagging so much.

“I was in the area.” Bruce stares at the roses, not entirely sure what to tell you.

You don’t say anything, but he can tell just by looking at you that he isn’t exactly welcome right now.

With your shoulders slumped, you reach for the bottle, pouring some of the whiskey into a random mug from the drying rack.

“Classy.” Bruce scoffs under his breath as he downs his own sip.

“Shuddup.”

His gaze softens slightly, watching you as you stare down into the mug.

He isn’t sure what the fuck he’s doing here, what the fuck he’s doing in general - without you.

Your silence is the last thing he expected when he showed up, how passive you are.

You’re not shouting, you’re not telling him to leave, you haven’t thrown your stilettos at his face like last time.

It’s dumb, but deep down.. maybe he wants a reaction.

He wants to mean something to you still, doesn’t matter if it’s negative. He wants to be more than just a fleeting thought in your mind.

“You’re not yelling at me.” Bruce breaks the silence this time, scratching the back of his neck.

Your grip on the mug tightens for a moment, as do your shoulders.

“I don’t have the energy to yell at you.” you sigh, punctuating your words with another sip.

He observes you silently, trying to seem indifferent when he notices the bags under your eyes, the arch of your brows.

You never were a particularly sound sleeper, even when you two were still together.

You’d sit in bed for hours on end, refusing to close your eyes until you heard the sound of his boots dragging down the hallway - until you were sure he had come home safe and in one piece.

Hell, even if he didn’t come back in one piece, you wouldn’t dare close your eyes until you were satisfied you had bandaged him up enough to not get bloodstains on your silk sheets.

An awful, selfish part of him hopes you still worry about him each night.

Internally scrambling to find something to talk about, you tilt your head up, giving his slightly dishevelled appearance a once-over.

“You’re greying.” you point out gaze lingering on a few silver streaks at the crown of his head.

That earns a small scoff in response, partly offended.. partly flattered.

You noticed.

“Haven’t had the time to deal with it.” Bruce offers, shrugging as he goes to top up his whiskey.

See, that’s partially true.

He’s been keeping himself busy with anything and everything.

He’s even been taking the time to go after petty criminals recently - a waste of time for the literal Batman, but it keeps you off his mind.

The real reason, though? He can’t really bring himself to do it.

It was always your thing.

For vanity’s sake, Bruce always said he hated those pesky grey hairs of his - so much so that he’d have you perched up on the bathroom counter with a bottle of hair dye every few weeks.

He never hated the greys, he just loved the attention when you fussed around with the comb, his hands resting on your thighs as you mumbled and complained that he had to keep his head still.

“I miss doing your hair,” you mumble into your mug, your words falling from your lips before you could even stop them.

Bruce doesn’t blink, staring down into his glass.

“I miss my wife.”

The silence is deafening, all you can hear is your own pulse thrumming in your ears.

You miss your husband too, of course you do.

But you can’t do this again.

Bruce hesitates for a moment before he speaks, trying not to gag on the words coming out of his mouth.

“..is your boyfriend home?”

Boyfriend. Bruce says the word like a curse, like he’s physically unable to say the word without injecting it with pure distaste.

“No, and he’s not my boyfrien-“

You blink, words dying on your tongue.

What are you supposed to tell him? You’re not about to confess that the guy you’ve been seeing is nothing more than a distraction.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Bruce takes a step forward to gently pry the mug out of your fingers.

His other hand goes to tilt your head up to look at him, the cold wedding band still on his finger a contrast to your warm skin.

He hesitates, then comes the question.

“Is he good to you?”

“Yeah,” you croak, though both of you know what he’s really asking.

Is he good enough for you?

Bruce pauses for a moment, giving you ample time to pull away before lightly running his thumb along your bottom lip - silently praying you don’t try and knock his teeth out.

As silly as it is, the way Bruce holds you has always made you a little weak in the knees.

But it’s different this time, it’s been so long.

It’s been so long that you’re not used to it, your hands moving to rest atop his shoulders just in case you fall.

But you already did, a long time ago.

“Yeah?” Bruce repeats, pressing a small kiss to your knuckles, eyes locked on you like they’re searching for something.

“Is he good in bed?” he asks, bluntly.

That makes you wince a little, you knew that question was coming.

You blame the heat rushing to your face on the fancy whiskey, the fact you’re exhausted.

But all you can do is sigh, meekly shaking your head.

“No?” Bruce pauses, and for just a moment, his lips hover over your skin as you nod.

He lets out a low chuckle, which to someone else might have sounded sarcastic.

To you, it’s almost smug.

Like he found a little secret that he knows he won’t ever share.

He sighs, letting a hand wander down to the drawstring of your pyjama shorts - tugging gently as he murmurs against your cheek.

“That’s disappointing."

Bruce Wayne would never ever leave his woman disappointed.

..not in bed, anyway.

And that’s the logic he’s clinging onto, trying to at least - with his fingers digging into your hips and his sweat-slicked hair clinging to his forehead.

He’d managed to mope and scowl and bat his lashes into some pity from his dear ex-wife, which promptly ended in him all but ripping those flimsy shorts straight off your body.

He’s had his face buried between your thighs, his tongue greedily lapping at your cunt like he’s been deprived of you for all eternity. His fingers played with you just beneath his mouth, anything to make up for lost time - anything to render you speechless.

Whatever it is he was doing was definitely working, all you could do was whine and arch your back and yank desperately at his hair.

It’s almost embarrassing that he got you to cum so hard, only proving his suspicions - you haven’t been fucked properly in a long time.

Not since him, anyway.

And god, does that make him wanna go harder.

You’re not even sure how many hours he’s kept you up at this point. Hell, it could be morning by now.

He lifts his head after what feels like an eternity - but not without dragging his lips down your thighs until he presses a small kiss to your knee, eyes not leaving yours for a second.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, almost delirious as he kneels between your legs, unable to look away from your trembling form beneath him, your fingers still clutching the sheets.

“..Bruce?” you pant out, chest heaving as you scramble to reach for his hand - still dazed after what he’s just put you through.

“Mhm, still here sweetheart.” he catches your hand, giving it a small but firm squeeze - fuck, he hasn’t called you that in forever.

Bruce watches you for another moment, rubbing his thumb over the back of your knuckles - trying to ignore the burn in his chest at the lack of your wedding ring on your finger.

Seeing you like this reminds him of when you were still together, when almost every time you two had sex it would always start with his face between your legs - just to get you warmed up.

But now? you’re all shaky from just that, all spent and glassy-eyed.

Bruce shifts slightly, one hand resting over your hip as he leans his face down to hover over yours.

And then it dawns on him.

You’re not used to it anymore.

See, that just won’t do.

“Don’t you close those legs.”

He’s gentle as he can be when he moves you onto your hands and knees, one rough hand at your hip and the other lightly holding the back of your neck.

“..Bruce, I can’t.” you manage to croak, your knees almost giving out from under you until his hands find your thighs, holding your legs open.

You’re all twitchy and part of him almost feels bad for keeping you up so long, he isn’t even sure what time it is either.

But that little part of him is very much overshadowed by the fact he just has to fuck his ex wife.

Your little whines about how it’s all too much fall on deaf ears, he’s too desperate.

With a shaky groan, one of his hands moves down to pull his boxers down, with such desperation his throbbing cock slaps up against his abs, already flushed and leaking.

“You’ll take it.” his words fall from his lips between shaky breaths as he gives himself one slow stroke, trying not to go cross-eyed at the sight of you in front of him.

He doesn’t even warn you before he’s slamming his cock inside you.

It’s not the usual slow or steady thrusts you were always used to, it’s not like that at all. He’s almost shaking from how much he’s missed this, slamming into your cunt like someone’s trying to rip you from his arms.

"Jesus- fuck- Bru-" you gasp, trying to breathe.

Your pleas are met with a firm smack across your ass, making your back arch even more - your face hitting the pillow.

Must he repeat himself?

“You’ll take it," he grunts as he pulls out just a little, soon driving the point home with a rough thrust back into your soaked cunt that has you trembling even more - the pillow doing little to muffle your whimpers.

Actually, how fucking dare you try muffle anything.

The thought of his wife trying to hide those pretty little sounds from him makes him almost snarl, one of his strong arms locking around your neck to keep your head up.

“You still moan like a slut, Mrs. Wayne.”

He’s so fucking grateful you’re too out of it to backhand him for that. You probably wouldn’t even care that he’s calling you a slut - you’d likely be more offended by the whole Mrs. Wayne thing.

“..for you I always do,” you manage to choke out, knowing damn well you’d face plant into those pillows again if he didn’t have you in that headlock.

He lets out an exhale at that, his voice softening despite the harsh thrusts of his hips and the arm around your neck.

“Yeah? Good girl.” He breathes out, cock twitching inside you as he hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“S’cause I always had you well trained, isn’t it?”

That tone makes you throb, trying to turn your head to look at him - the arm around your throat stopping you.

“Head down, slut.” Bruce murmurs into your shoulder, trying to hold back a grin when he feels your hips stuttering under him, your knees threatening to give out once more.

Oh, you’d so kick him in the balls for that in any other context.

But right now all you can do is let out soft little whines of his name and let him use you, one hand still digging into the skin of your hip to control the pace as he slams into your already overstimulated pussy.

“Bruce-“ you sniffle before the breath is knocked out of your lungs with another swat to your ass - paired with a kiss to your nape.

He only scoffs and holds you tighter with a grunt against your neck. His fingers gently smooth over where he just smacked before his hand comes down again.

It’s probably gonna leave marks that sting when you press them, but that’s fine by him.

It seems you need a reminder that you’re still his wife, and he’s the only man capable of fucking you properly.

Naturally, that earns another one of those sweet little whines.

Though this time, he swears he can feel the little tears rolling down your cheek and down his forearm.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” Bruce lets out a low hiss, his thrusts getting more erratic as he bites at your neck.

“You’re still my fucking wife, you hear me?”

His arm falls away but he’s quick to replace it with his hand, tilting your head back so you can at least look him in the eye through your tears, so you know who’s making you cum.

The only man who’s ever fucked you properly.

The only man who ever will.

You’re sobbing his name out and he’s staring at you breathless, still slamming himself into you as the hand on your ass moves to run over your clit - letting out a muffled string of curses when you throb around him even more.

You're crying, babbling on a load of nonsense, panting and shaking as your tear-streaked face hits the pillows.

You just about feel that familiar feeling of him cumming inside you, the mess dripping down your thighs.

In all honesty, even when it’s too much for him - Bruce just can’t bring himself to pull out, his fingers digging into your hips like a lifeline as be moves so you’re both laying on your side, one arm firmly draped over your torso as the other goes to tangle with yours, pressing messy kisses to your knuckles with slurred out praise.

You’re just so pretty, so perfect for him, he’ll never want anyone else.

And you just look so soft when you’re fucked out like that, his cock still twitching inside you.

“I love you,” Bruce mumbles into your shoulder, gripping your hand tighter.

He just hopes you’re too out of it to notice him sliding your wedding ring back onto your finger.

a/n: thank you sm for reading!! also 400 followers!!

I have such severe Bruce brain rot so pls send me suggestions of what I should subject this man to next..

Bruce Wayne m.list

[avatarofthelonely]

jonny sure loves writing amicable exes huh

[portokali]

hello again! secret santa here lol <3 i’m having such a hard time remembering not to follow you and like your posts bc !! they’re good posts!!

and that makes complete sense to me, thank you for the clarification!

(i actually have written domesticity for royai a bit but with the huge exception that they’re a queerplatonic couple To Me, so i totally understand feeling like. a little Different from the way fandom interacts with them! cuz they’re just like. not romantic to me at all & so domesticity means something different when it’s committed platonic ykno?)

all that being said, i have a couple of ideas for a few different dynamics (including some of your other originally requested ones) that i’m kicking around atm && i can def work with subtle and/or shenanigans for sure, i’m actually looking forward to that!

(i’m also in the middle of finals so i likely won’t get to start for another week or two, just wanted to give my daydreams a little direction!)

hello againnn <33 ty for your nice words!

slay.. in all honesty i loove bodyguard dynamics and fma gives me not only ONE but TWO of those (royai and ling/lan fan) and umm i love how these ships are about knowing the other person from the inside and out and being able to communicate from the other side of a crowded room but never actually touching.. fandom loves Not That, i see a lot of fluff and touchy cuddly content and children/settled down aus and im like.. they Would Not Fucking Do That. however, your take sounds super interesting and fun to explore! but you get it

good luck with your exams!