#porridge... mm... a classic

[allgremlinart]

hi hello hi u were lookign for some superbat fics w some clark angst on the side so here's some fic recs in no particular order. mind the tags before you read!

bricklaying by evocates - [E] [DCEU] [148k] a fic ive only recently read and has blown my mind out of the water, mostly because of how it tackles organized crime and the dynamics of dceu superbat. it does a wonderful job of worldbuilding and bruce and clark's dialogue is just poetic and philosophical at times its *chefs kiss*.

Didn't Know Which Way Was Home 'Til I Found You by watchingthestars13 - [E] [DCU] [312k] a bit of a meaty fic, it mostly centers on the superbatfam, because its a canon retelling of the batman mythos IF superbat were together since the start. there's this one arc where they all cope with Bruce being dead lost in time and Clark's POV chapters are gut-wrenching with grief and mourning. If you wanna skip to that part it's on Chapter 19.

Porridge (New And Improved) by ren_makoto - [T] [DCU] [19k] - ok this is like. ANGSTY. and kinda dark? the author doesn't tag much but i assure you this is sad, like clark-mourning-for-bruce sad. i don't wanna spoil you because I consider this one of THE superbat classics since this author's been writing superbat since their fanfiction.net/livejournal days. they also have a sort-of sequel wherein its bruce being fucked up called everybody knows the plague is coming.

what is (and what should never be) by TheResurrectionist / @frownyalfred - [Not Rated] [Batman - All Media Types] [2.7k] - a lil tumblr prompt fic from one of my fave superbat authors! its got bruce getting cancer and clark being angsty. what more could you want?

When the Hummingbirds Return by Emanium - [M] [DCU] [19.4k] - i havent finished this one yet actually, but its been recc'ed to me and on my fic reading list for a while now. its about the aftermath of bruce being put into a coma by bane and its reaaaal thick with the angst

5 Times Superbat Had Sex and the One Time They Admitted It Was More by April_Blooms - [M] [DCU] [19k] - despite what it says on the tin, it's also surprisingly angsty! because its about the pining!!!!

Cardboard World by dracoqueen22 - [E] [Justice League Cartoon] [10k] - pain. and sad. there's a reason why this is tagged apocalypse

The Only by pasdecour - [M] [DCU] [3.7k] - oh this one hurts. this one genuinely hurts. i need to sit down

and anything by these authors honestly: susiecarter, FabulaRasa, liodain, mithen, amyritter, Resacon1990, serephent, batsy_rocks, rotasha

hope this helps!

((first of all so sorry this took so long to get to, my asks have gotten very backlogged lol))

THANK YOU... for this feast.. a lot of these authors are very good and I would recommend their works in general so 👌

[stiltonbasket]

how my love springs deep

by stiltonbasket

(read here on AO3!)

Summary:

My Lan Zhan, his husband calls him. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian feeds rabbits, and Lan Wangji reads a love letter.

(brief a/n: this fic was inspired by this heartbreaking work of beauty by @pakhnokh--I had to write Lan Wangji getting adored after witnessing it, come join me on the angst parade T~T)

____

My Lan Zhan, 

    It has been two years and more since I last wrote you a letter, for marriage has joined us both at the hip, and ensured that we are never more than a touch or a cry away from one another. I have you by me always, in every hour of every day; and every love-word that crosses my mind finds its way to my lips in the very moment of its birth, and reaches your ears just as quickly, for I could no more keep silent in my devotion to you than swim the full length of the Songhuajiang against the current. And so I go about my days hence, calling “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan” all the while: but today I have woken before chenshi, and you are still asleep beside me with Xiao-Yu in your arms, and though my every nerve and vein is aching for love of my husband, I cannot bear to wake you to say so. 

    Lan Zhan, sweetheart—when we were first married, you told me once that I colored the world for you the instant we met, and brought every shade of the rainbow with me from Yunmeng to make the Cloud Recesses beautiful. You said that the air that touched me at the gate smelt as if lightning had passed through it, and that the very stones I knelt on in the lanshi’s courtyard began to glitter after I departed, though they had never done such a thing before—and that the Cloud Recesses itself, having been a place of peace and reflection before my arrival, was filled with delight and warmth after my coming, as if that first day was the dawn after a long, long night, and I the sun who gifted it to you. 

    Heaven knows I had no equal words with which to worship you then, my darling, for I was young and still bewildered to know that you loved me. But I have been your husband for nearly three years now, and so I must tell you this—you have driven me mad for love of you, Lan Zhan, and it has been so since we first crossed swords on the rooftop gate when we were eighteen. 

    How mad, you ask? The classics say that love is a proper, courtly thing, to be shown with modesty before others and in its full force only in confidence. But I have never been proper, and so I must tell you that if you were a flint and steel, seeking only to light a flame and a tinder-heap to light it in, I would take form as a sun-parched forest, and set myself afire at your touch so that I might be beside you thus. If you were a god, roaming the heavenly kingdoms while my mortal flesh kept me constrained below, I would take the habit of a priest and devote myself to your prayer; and if you were a grain of sand in the Gebi desert, and I a traveler sick with thirst, I would fall to my knees and sift through every dune and basin to find you before drinking even a drop of water. 

    If I were freezing in the great mountains above Gusu, whose peaks are lush in the springtime but shrouded in snow in the winter, I would be well and happy if I had the warmth of your hand in mine; and when I am in my jishi, with the doors thrown open to let in the wind, I drop my knives and tools at the sound of your voice and stand there enraptured until you fall silent again. My heart nearly beats out of my body with everything you say, and everything you do; and when you look at me I lose all knowledge of speech and reason, recalling nothing but your name and your smiles unless some show of wit is necessary—which it very well might be, with you and I being what we are, and all our doings riddled with puzzles that would have bewildered even the scholars who founded our clan. 

    Lan Zhan, I love you so desperately that to be away from you is torment, and to be with you has always been paradise, even when you were sitting on one side of the library pavilion and reading Lan An’s poetry, and I was on the other with my brush and parchment, pretending to copy lines while I sketched a portrait of you and painted flowers into your hair. You have made me more your own with every passing day, though in every moment I fully belong to you, and there is no strangeness in it—as if new pieces of my spirit are formed shichen by shichen, and bound unto you before drawing their first breaths.

    I could go on endlessly, xingan, and exhaust even the lanshi’s stocks of paper in my adoration—but it will soon be breakfast time, and the hens have not been fed, nor the eggs collected, and neither have the rabbits been given their greens. I must go and tend to them now; only wait for me, and I will be back at your side again before you have time to miss me. 

    Ever yours, my husband—

        Wei Ying.

    P.S.—I left a pot of ginger porridge on the table by the bed, if you should wake and be hungry before I return. There is only a little, since the rest is still cooking in the kitchen, and you and A-Yu will still have an appetite for breakfast if you finish it all. 

_____

After Lan Wangji wakes and reads the folded letter on his bedside table, he scarcely glances at the tiny blue pot of ginger congee before stumbling out of bed and putting his shoes on. He is dressed in nothing but a thin white undergown, since he gave up dressing warmly at night when he first began sleeping beside Wei Ying; but he does not bother putting on a coat, and pauses only long enough to tuck a sleepy Xiao-Yu back under the covers before bounding out of the jingshi and hurrying downhill in his nightshirt. 

“Wei Ying!” he calls, when he passes the tidy chicken pen—home to ten brown hens, which Lan Wangji brought to the Cloud Recesses as a gift for Wei Ying before they were married—and finds the chickens pecking away in the yard, eating grains of fresh corn that had clearly just been thrown out by Wei Ying’s dear hands. But Wei Ying must have finished collecting the eggs, and gone on towards the warded field on the fringes of the bamboo forest to scatter vegetables for the rabbits; so Lan Wangji presses on, running with the wind at his back and the sharp pebbles underfoot almost piercing through his slippers. He reaches the rabbit field in less than a minute, careening between stalks of bamboo like a man possessed, and throws himself at Wei Ying so forcefully that he knocks his husband backwards into the soft grass at their feet. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying wheezes, as his lettuce basket flies out of his hand and lands near the entrance to a burrow: mercifully, the basket of eggs must have been set aside somewhere else before Wei Ying arrived to feed the rabbits. “Lan Zhan, sweetheart, what are you doing here? Is Xiao-Yu—?”

“Do not worry. Xiaohui is still asleep,” Lan Wangji assures him, bringing Wei Ying’s sun-warmed hands to his mouth and kissing them. “I came to find you because I read your letter.”

Wei Ying smiles, beaming from ear until Lan Wangji finds himself gasping for breath at the beauty of the sight before him. “I thought you must have. You were cuddled up against me when I woke up, and you were holding Xiao-Yu between us to keep him warm...and I couldn’t help it, Lan Zhan! You were so sweet that my heart could scarcely bear it, so of course I had to write it down for you.”

“Perhaps I should take up the habit of writing you love letters,” muses Lan Wangji, kissing Wei Ying’s delighted grin straight from his lips. “What do you think, xingan?”

“I think that waking to find you beside me every morning already brings me so much joy I could burst, darling. If you really did start leaving love letters for me to find, I would fold myself into your arms and never come out again.”

“Mm, perhaps you would. But that would please me greatly, so I suppose I will have to do it.”

His husband pinches his cheek. “Lan Zhan!”

“I am listening, beloved. With all my heart.”

Wei Ying covers his face and tries to roll out of Lan Wangji’s grasp, wriggling about six inches away before Lan Wangji takes him by the waist and draws him back. “Lan Zhan,” he wails, as a couple of baby rabbits hop up onto Lan Wangji’s back. “You can’t say such things, you silly man! See how my face is burning, look!”

“I’m looking,” Lan Wangji teases, tracing Wei Ying’s red cheeks with the pads of his own pale fingers. “I am always looking. I love my husband dearly, and he is very beautiful to look at.”

“Well, my husband is not so young as he used to be. Perhaps he is mistaken.”

“Oh?” He punctuates the inquiry with another searing kiss, pulling Wei Ying up into his arms and holding him so close that he can feel the stutter of his breathing, and his pulse beating quickly against Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Do you really think so?”

But the only reply Wei Ying gives him is a tender look that shakes Lan Wangji down to his jindan, and leaves him struggling for air all over again as Wei Ying wraps his arms around him. 

In the end, they do not leave the clearing until nearly half an hour later; the grass is as comfortable a cushion as two sweethearts could want, and the rabbits keep leaping around them and making Wei Ying laugh, so they lie there, cheek to cheek and chest to chest until they remember Xiao-Yu, all by himself in the jingshi with no one to hear him cry if he wakes up frightened to find himself alone. 

The thought of their son has Lan Wangji leaping to his feet with Wei Ying’s hand in his, and then they bolt back towards the house and retrieve the basket of eggs on the way, running nearly fast enough to outstrip Wen Ning at his swiftest before Wei Ying throws the doors open and barrels into the bedroom. 

“A-Yu!” he calls, letting out a shout of laughter as Lan Wangji comes jogging up behind him. “Xiao-Yu, baobei, what are you doing?”

“I’m eating ginger porridge,” Xiao-Yu chirps. The little lotus-shaped pot of congee is nestled snugly in his arms, and A-Yu is eating out of it with the large spoon Wei Ying left behind for Lan Wangji. “Papa and A-Niang went out, so Xiao-Yu is having breakfast.”

“Aiyah, Xiao-Yu,” Wei Ying groans, taking the pot away from A-Yu and wiping his dirty face with a handkerchief. “That was for you and Papa, sweetheart, since I was going to be late back. How will you eat your breakfast properly now?”

“But A-Yu is still hungry,” the little boy insists, trying to grab the spoon. “A-Niang, let me finish?”

“Wait a little longer,” scolds Wei Ying. “I still have to cook the rest of the porridge with steamed dan, and make chicken soup to go with it. Now be a good child and go with Papa to take your bath, and breakfast will be ready when you finish dressing.”

Xiao-Yu nods and jumps off the bed, scurrying off towards the washroom on the other side of the house, and leaves his parents to embrace each other once again before they part to attend to their own duties. 

“What do you want this afternoon, qinai?” Lan Wangji murmurs, as Wei Ying’s head falls onto his shoulder. “The tradesmen ought to have sent up the day’s groceries by now, so I will make lunch while you teach your talisman class.”

Wei Ying blinks, very slowly, and then he stands up on his toes and plants one last, lingering kiss between Lan Wangji’s eyebrows. 

“Teach my talisman class with me,” he entreats. “When we get back, we can make lunch together.”

(And so they do, and just like all the other dishes Lan Wangji has shared with Wei Ying, that afternoon’s luncheon tastes fresher and sweeter than every meal before it.)

[kittymaverick]

If anyone needs them, here's the transcribed version of the entire bloopers

Tunon: The chaos you’ve sown everywhere is unacceptable. You cast yourself so far outside the established order, and I [Record scratch] I can’t—I just CAN’T EVEN DEAL WITH IT.

Sound cut: *Beep beep*

Barik: I’m a weapon bond to you only by duty. No freaky deaky.

*Beep beep*

Lantry: Point taken. I will make no note on the subject for the time being, except for what happened to my accent. [Cough]

*Beep beep*

Eb: The Archon’s more fragile than I susspe— speh, speh speh speh.

*Beep beep*

Graven Ashe: [Maniacal cackle] Oh you putting big words out there!

*Beep beep*

Barik: [Voice cracking from desperation] I would be out of this armor if I could do this!

*Beep beep*

Nerat: Ever the loyalist. Prepare yourself for a second cage, Barik the Di— Barik of the Dithfavored. Phlaffuring Fuckertash!

*Beep beep*

Barik: Get up, girl! [Sobbing] He was… the most human… of all of us— Spock!

*Beep beep*

Eb: Considering all the things that don’t think to bother you the slightest, I’m not gonna lie, I kinda like getting o— I’m kin— I— Mm— [To the side] hmph! Reading.

*Beep beep*

Verse: The last thing I need or want is a hug from the shambling junk keep— Junk huuuuuurrrrgggghhhhhhh. [Disappears off screen] Junk, heap. Junk heap, okay.

*Beep beep*

Nerat: We will have your bones fashioned into a sceptre, you skin knotted into a belt, and your tongue fed to crav—feh—heh— I’m good with the words speaking.

*Beep beep*

Sirin: Fatebinder! It is always such a pleasure to speak with you. [To voice director] Do I sound sarcastic? [Laughs]

*Beep beep*

Nerat: Good ear, young fatebinder! When the Vendrini guar— Vendrinen guard, VenDRIEN gua— Vendrien—fuck my life!

*Beep beep*

Tunon: The court may never recover from this blow, but at least I can seek some final satisfaction out of you, and NOW I understand the line better!

*Beep beep*

Sirin: Goodbye, Fatebinder. [Snaps fingers] I, AM, OUTTIE.

*Beep beep*

Eb: The band is too small to be a serious threat to the Dissfavored or the Chorus— [chuckles]

Valerie Arem: Darn it! The Dithfavored! [Still laughing] Can, can we ju… it’s like a Pinky and the Brain line at this point for me! [Inhales, resets.]Urgh!

*Beep beep*

Verse: Classic example of the Overlord’s devastation, like a battering lamb that e— lamb? A battering lamb.

[Voice Director: I was just kinda thinking about, you know, deep fry— (???)]

Allegra Clark: Can you imagine instead of a battering ram, an actual battering lamb. Like a MEEEHH, bloop!

*Beep beep*

Eb: Now that I stand at the top, the only chant I will start is a chant of disarmament. I will not throw them into the charnel pit.

Valerie Arem: Oh! I— I s— totally faked it on charnel I was so glad I chased that I had no idea if that was how it was pronounced. [Laughs] Oh happiness! ^_^

*Beep beep*

Lantry: I think she has great potential. A dangerous amount of potential, to be blunt. The Scarlet Furries— Ha! Furies! Sorry! I’ve been at a convention.

*Beep beep*

Killsy: Thought would stalk small pack of sages near den place call Burning Library. But Sages b—[Stumbles on next syllable] fuck. Ahem.

*Beep beep*

Ashe: Perhaps another catastrophe that will punish our foes for hiding behind their [sudden change of tone] walls? [Cackles] I get to the—

[breaks character and laughs]

Kirk Thornton: I saw the question mark way to late! [Still laughing]

*Beep beep*

Barik: The Adjudicator certainly taught you everything he knows about being a inedebedeburdeBerDURpassthehand!

*Beep beep*

Lantry: What’s that, you say? Flocks of nubile lasses with an interest in old man who knows history? You need a definitive trectatus?— tracTAtus! Dammit! [inhales angrily] Urgh.

*Beep beep*

Sirin: You can’t be serious, Fatebinder. Don’t ask me to do this. [Prolonged gasp as Voice Director explains what is about to happen.] AURGH…. WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? This shit just got real.

*Beep beep*

Mark: Won’t have much of anything left once the Adj—Adjfucker— Shit! [Awkward tittering] One more time.

*Beep beep*

Lantry: Sustaining it, and if enough people fear it, even growing a beh- ahahoho, poo.

*Beep beep*

Nerat: You have exhausted your usefulness, and we will delight in tattooing our sigil on your fla— [garbled syllables] ong nyour nya nyer.

*Beep beep*

Barik: And the strength of our legion, is in— [Bumping sound] me hitting the mic stand, boomshakalaka.

*Beep beep*

Verse: You piece of shit! Do you know how hard I’ve work to sta—[strangled] uuuuaaaaarrrrrrggghhhhh. [Disappears off screen again.]

*Beep beep*

Lantry: Scholars hypothesize the Scourges are born of magic. The Oldwalls and their— oo, shit. Crech? Creché? [Voice Direction corrects.] Crèche? Crèche. Somebody’s gone to school… it wasn’t the actor.

*Beep beep*

Nerat: Graven Ashe and Tunon have allied against us! You conspire to rob of— duh pfft pfffft pffftttt… to man— amange you! That’s— [sputtering, angry and frustrated] ERGH!

*Beep beep*

Graven Ashe: [Sound of a grizzly bulldog shaking off water?] Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreh…Heh.

*Beep beep*

Nerat: That simpleton Ashe is no doubt sobbing in his porridge over the [sudden realization of self incrimination] soldiers we killed— fuck!

*Beep beep*

Tunon: Either the Archon of shadows has lost his once indomitable pow— prowers, in combact, eh dep…[breaks character]

Ray Chase: Even the typo, ah, make sense. Comapt!

*Beep beep*

Verse: The most we do for each other is try not to get the other one killed, which is more than you can say for morse— urgh, my gawd. [Slurring, then] RA GA GYA GYA GYA- okay.

*Beep beep*

Tunon: Master, if you’ll join me upstairs. [Blushing] I will pledge fealty to you in the lawful manner.

Ray Chase: I do not want to know what THAT is. [Everyone laughs]

*Beep beep*

Graven Ashe: Would Kyros’ mighty spymaster please enlighten this gathering of allies with some scrap of stratIA—GLURERrrrrrr!

*Beep beep*

Nerat: We are legion, and you cannot stand against [voice cracks] us all. That was a stumble, fuck.

*Beep beep*

Eb, or rather Valerie Arem: Geez god fuck I can’t say any of that!

*Beep beep*

Lantry: I don’t imagine Kyros leaves anything to mere confidence coincidence in-conscious and all the other words I thought was. [Checks.] Coincidence.

*Beep beep*

Sirin: Burgh! [Throttling] Ergh! Wow! Hey, I got… bronchitis, hey!

*Beep beep*

Graven Ashe: So I will start protecting the peers— petitia—

*Beep beep*

Lantry: General Grumps is the wiser choice. It’s patently obvious which Archon he is truly loyal to— well derp, poopy head.

*Beep beep*

Verse: Welcome back, ass [Also gets bronchitis] hole. Ergh! Ass HOLE, like HOLler.

*Beep beep*

Eb: Perhaps now is a fine time to test the reach of your Edict—s. Oh, Edict- Eh huh, uh huh…

*Beep beep*

Tunon: I once thought that Kyros was the sole Overlord. The notion of rising to her eshe— eke— ektelon…[resigned inhale]

*Beep beep*

Xander Mobus: “Fatebinder of reeking discharge”? We’re going right to the fart jokes!

*Beep beep*

Nerat: [Mockinglyl] Fatebinder of reeking discharge.

*Beep beep*

*Fart noise and effect*

*Beep beep*

Verse: Phew! I can spell you— spell. [Elatedly] I can spell!

*Beep beep*

Mark?(Nope! IT'S NERAT!): You’re gonna have to kill ALL of us, ‘cause you’re my number one guy… Sorry, full jack.

*Beep beep*

Verse: Of all my days running with the Chorus, I think I enjoyed Ass gang the most.

Allegra Clark: I’d wanna be in Ass gang! That sounds great!

[somar78]

The Dab LM-S – This Is The Production Motorcycle Husqvarna Should Have Built

The Dab LM-S is a 100% road-legal production motorcycle that has passed both Euro4 and TÜV standards – two of the hardest anywhere in the world.

Typically we don’t see custom motorcycle builders taking the time to even attempt to pass these kinds of tests as it’s exceedingly difficult and the process would bankrupt many small to medium sized garages. The benefit of passing these tests and getting certified is that your new production motorcycle is then road-legal, easily insurable, and it’ll pass those anxiety-induing annual safety checks that custom motorcycle riders dread.

Having passed these tests and achieved certification, the Dab LM-S is now undoubtably one of the most interesting low-volume production motorcycles in the world. Dab Motors has an online configurator that allows you to set your bike up the way you want it, and prices start at €16,900 ($18,360 USD) – although not cheap it’s certainly not bad for a low-volume motorcycle of this calibre.

At its heart the Dab LM-S uses the highly-regarded 53 hp Husqvarna 510 motor, a fuel-injected single-cylinder 501cc engine with liquid-cooling, double overhead cams, four valves per cylinder, and a compression ratio of 12.9:1. The team at Dab created a modified version of the Husqvarna 510 frame, a tubular steel cradle frame paired with an alloy swing arm and an alloy sub frame.

The team at Dab Motors wanted to keep the curb weight of their new motorcycle as low as possible while still including all of the lighting, safety, and emissions elements required for legality. Impressively the final weight of the Dab LM-S is just 125 kilograms (275 lbs).

A new subframe was developed along with a new seat and fuel tank, it was important to give the LM-S classically-inspired styling paired with an entirely modern engine, frame, suspension, and brakes. Up front the LM-S uses 48mm USD Kayaba forks with adjustable compression and rebound damping and in the rear there’s a Kayaba monoshock with adjustment preload, compression and rebound damping.

This suspension can be optionally upgraded to 48 mm Öhlins MX 48 RXF forks with special CNC high resistance fork legs and an Öhlins TTX monoshock respectively. In order to keep weight down the bike uses composite fibre bodywork 7050-T6 aluminium rims, and a slew of other lightweight components. A custom 2-into-1 exhaust was developed that includes a subtle catalytic converter and a short, under seat muffler.

Alloy fenders are fitted front and back over the top of the Continental TKC80 tires, and you’ll find Brembo brakes front and back with a four-piston Brembo radial up front and a single piston floating Brembo disc in the rear. A wide set of Renthal handlebars complete the build, making a clear statement as to the bike’s intentions.

Although I’m sure some will argue it’s hard not to think that this is essentially the exact bike that Husqvarna themselves should be building as a supplement to their other more modern-looking offerings. The LM-S by makes excellent use of the Husqvarna 510 engine and ancillaries, and the red/silver paint color combination above shows the classic Husqvarna livery beloved by many in the 1960s and 1970s.

The market for a genuinely capable dual-sport motorcycle with retro design influences has been proven time and again with the Triumph Scrambler series, the Ducati Scramblers, the CCM series, and the similar offerings from BMW, Moto Guzzi, and others.

One of the great benefits of a low-volume manufacturer like Dab Motors is that they can move quickly and make decisions without having to send for approval up a never ending hierarchy of middle managers all trying to justify their existence. This means they can build the kind of production motorcycles we actually want, rather than the range of unsweetened-cold-porridge-motorcycles we so often seem to get offered by the big manufacturers.

If you’d like to read more about the Dab LM-S or place your order you can click here to visit the Dab Motors website, if you’d like to get straight to work in the bike configurator you can click here.

Follow Dab Motors on Facebook – Instagram

Above image: Cedrick Nöt ©2020

Additional information by Bike EXIF

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source https://silodrome.com/dab-lm-s-custom-husqvarna/