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Clark watched Bruce warily as he experimented with the string between them. Bruce had long ignored the red string of fate that connected them, but he could no longer avoid it after Clark had used it to stop him from storming out of a heated argument. Although only Bruce could see the string, Clark always felt its undeniable presence.

Recently, Bruce had begun to find practical uses for their bond. He usually used it as a communicator, tugging at the string whenever he needed Superman’s assistance.

Despite their growing reliance on this bond, neither really talked about the emotional weight of their connection. Bruce never initiated the conversation, and Clark hesitated to push the subject, especially when Bruce had only recently acknowledged the string's existence.

Clark had always assumed that Bruce saw their bond as more of an inconvenience until one day, Clark suddenly found himself able to see their string.

To his shock, it wasn’t the red he had expected—it was black. Traditionally, red strings of fate would turn black when a relationship was filled with rage and contempt. Bruce had been distancing himself because he thought Clark harbored resentment toward him.

But as Clark examined the string more closely, he realized something Bruce hadn’t seen. Their string wasn’t truly black—it was the deepest shade of red, signifying a mutual love that had matured and strengthened over time. Its color was so saturated that it appeared black to the naked eye.

What Bruce mistook for hatred was, in fact, a love so strong that its depth had been misinterpreted.

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Do the bat's know about the All-Blades? Cuz if not, Jason has an opportunity to do the funniest thing

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Damian😭

was suddenly overcome with the inexplicable urge to draw jason fishing

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you’re twelve years old and you break your father’s hand when he hi-fives you. the first thing you learn is that the smallest slip up can hurt the people you love. your (foster) father smiles and says it’s okay (it’s not). 

your parents are not your parents. the idyllic farming community that raised you is not your home. you’re a You-Don’t-Know-What from You-Don’t-Know-Where. all you know for sure is that you’re not human. 

so you can fly. so you can run fast. so you can lift cars. so what? why do you even have this power? what should you even do with it? 

your father said do what’s right, so that’s what you do. 

you stop a robbery. the man’s knife shatters against your skin and you see the same fear in his eyes that you saw in your father’s when you were twelve. you catch a falling child before it can hit the water. his mother looks at you like you’re a god. 

they love you, even though they don’t know you. the most powerful man in the world hates you because they love you. 

you wanted to write when you were younger. you wanted to tell stories that needed to be told. you never wanted to star in them. you never wanted super-geniuses and demi-goddesses looking to you for advice; like you have any idea how to handle threats to reality itself. you’re just a kid from smallville who’s trying to do the best he can with what he’s given. 

you try and get back to the farm as much as you can. it feels normal being back among the open wheat; where everyone smiles because you’re that nice Kent boy. 

when you were younger, you pretended to fly, hands out to your sides and running through the tall grass by the river. it doesn’t look as beautiful from on high; the details get lost and the colors of your hometown blur together from a mile above ground. 

the problem with flying is that it puts you so far above people you care about

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THE “DO IT FOR HIM” BOARD SHUT THE FUCK UP…

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I’ve been thinking about Jason’s white streak

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Jason nO-

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Bruce walks into his bedroom one morning and sees this

hanging on the wall. He needs to figure out who did it but the security footage has been wiped and there aren’t any fingerprints.

He creates a spreadsheet to list possible culprits and motives:

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Bruce: *stomach growls*

Clark: How about some dinner? Maybe we can go out.

Bruce, hunched over his desk: Hnrrgh. Busy.

Clark: I could really go for some chili and cinnamon rolls right about now.

Bruce: Busy. Designing new Batarang.

Clark, floating over Bruce’s desk: Bruce we haven’t been on a date in almost two months. You’re hungry. I want to eat. Let’s go somewhere. C’mon, go take a shower and get dressed.

Bruce, adjusting the two-inch steel plate he’s working with: Clark I don’t have time for a date just go get me a granola bar—

Clark: *snatches the piece of steel and bites it in half*

Bruce:

Clark: *chews*

Bruce: …Where would you like to go?

Clark, swallowing: I was thinking Cheesecake Factory.

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Bruce: Which one of you is doing this? It’s not funny and it’s a huge security concern.

Batkids:

Bruce: Hm? Who is it? I know it’s one of you. Who else would know all of these things?

Batkids:

Bruce: Well? Is anyone going to confess or do I have to check the cameras and computer logs?

Jason: Why do you assume it’s us and not one of the weirdos you hook up with on rooftops, you exhibitionistic furry?

Tim, softly: oooh, gottem

Bruce: I—

Jason: Also thanks for indirectly confirming you wax your ass. That’s not an image I ever needed in my brain. Damian, put me back in the ground

Bruce: But who would be so spiteful—oh. Hn.

—

Clark, somewhere in the Arctic, tapping on his phone: See if you ever call me a hick again >:-(

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