#They are all part of the history of Superman

[bobardo]

tw!! dubcon/noncon. d/s dynamics. dacryphilia.

lowercase intended.

something something weeping willows. sweet sorrows—sour and saccharine. can’t get the idea of dark!clark kent out of my head who is noble and kind, fiducial (a fissure—misplaced and unsightly, malapropos on an Earth his people sought to sacrifice; burn from Adamite to ash). saves pretty, clement creatures—fragile things that fall over themselves in gratitude, praising him at his feet (dropping to their knees at some deviated alter, waterline wet with tears, whispers of a wilted life forcing their heads to bow, breath brushing him through his suit, the heat of their pouted, plush lip sinking into his being, pumping his blood down—).

he'd be cruel to let them crumble,

(kindness and cruelty exhaust meaning in his mind, their etymologies get scrambled in a mess of foreign history that, frankly, he has no care to acclimate himself with)

so he claws at their tiny figures and keeps them clung to him. callow calico that clark deposits in the safety of their homes (clark. Kal-El. King. God—voice of, but close enough).

safety. safe.

S.

"is that what it stands for?" you rush out before he can rise from your rooftop back into the clouds, a vivacious flash across your vision.

"what?"

"the 'S' on your suit; does it stand for safety?"

his chin drops to look at the aforementioned letter. "no."

(means hope. credence—for humans and all their stupidity: faith in fissility).

"savior?" you try next.

and he should have a thicker resolve, tougher flesh—impenetrable; Superman, Man of Steel

he's weak, no less.

"does it mean savior?"

he's not sure when exactly he started peering through your window. watching you walk home.

it feels innate. is. (like an addict going through withdrawals, he needs his fix because that'll make it right. make it—this. superiority and ubiety, the dichotomy of your savior—worth it).

it has to be when the day you come home from work utterly beat, he can sense your sorrow (smell its aroma through the cracks of your sill, taste the bite of salt, the nip sinking—searing, deep—into his heavy tongue.

his spit cultivates and his jowls ache—)

and he's really unsure of how he got in your bedroom, on your mattress, thighs bracketing your kneeling—kneeled, for you did not go quietly into the night—form, his hands fit to your jaw that’s part, stretched over the thick of his cock, lips pouted and plush, waterline wet with tears.

he's not sure, but he's certainly not complaining. not complaining, never complaining, never—

"stay," he husks, low enough that it could be missed, but with only you and him in the room—and the echos of your ministrations, gagging, chocking; disgustingly visceral. clotted saliva dribbles over your bottom lip and slicks your whole chin, thick, wet tendrils soaking through the white of your dress shirt while the audible nudge from the pink tip of his cock poking the back of your throat reverberates in your hollow head—you still hear him.

his jaw ticks and the blue of his irises cloud over with something stormy, his calloused thumb petting at the tear streaks at your under-eye, when you look at him through wet, sullen eyes.

"good," he nods, voice chafe, strained, the blanket of your throat constricted around him—air-tight and drowning, sloppy—making clark's eyelids stagger, heart flittering (fracturing. splinters from a whole, monadic figure, to something mangled and tangled with your sorrow; its form, physical, instilling nerves in your joints and drawing salt to your eyes) as the tip of your splayed tongue laves messily at his raphe, nose to his mons. "s'fucking—" he groans.

presses a hand to the top of your head when your chest convulses and you try to pull off, the fingers of his free hand coming to deftly pinch at your nostril, breath halting—halted.

"stay," and you do

(cheeks flushed and vision blurry, spotting, sour and saccharine, from the drill of his tip pushing too far past your tonsils)

"good," he moans, shuddering into the next bludgeoning grind of his hips.

the hand on the crown of your head fists at your scalp, and clark tears your away from his cock, twitching and drenched, dripping with your spit and tears. he tugs you up to a stand on your knees, away from the point of your heels that dug uncomfortably into your ass, and cradles your jaw once more to drag your face into his, not sparing a moment for your startled, soft whispers of woes before his lips are on your skin; the red, tear stained apples of your cheeks getting trailed by strawberry, chapped lips.

the bite of salt, the nip from your tears, sinks—sears, deep—into the cracks of his lips, and he grunts something low and growl-like when his tongue unfurls from the seal of his mouth to lick at your sorrow. he laps his way to your quivering, pouted lips and sucks you into him, nibbling meanly at your bottom lip just to draw a whimper (and a few more spills of salt) from the clement clay of your being.

your hands shoot up to grab feverishly onto the bulk of his biceps, swaying with the full-bodied, kinetic manner of his kisses. he doesn't allow you to stay long, though; rips away from your mouth with something akin to a snarl on his lips and its counterpart rumbling in the base of his chest. he clutches both of your hands—you gasp, eyes wide, at his asphyxiating grip—in one of his, the other keeping your face close to his by his grasp at your jaw, and pulls them down to his cock.

"put them—" he moves his fingers to yours (calloused against callow calico), forcing yours to fit—nearly, thumb and forefinger just inches apart—around him, squeezing, placing a pressure that makes his eyes roll. "—there."

his mouth finds yours again, tongue pressing, playing, claiming. he uses his hand around yours to guide the cradle of your palms up and down, tensile and tight, his cock, and then lets go to lean over you, bending your neck backward, craning, to curl his fingers around the hem of your black pencil skirt, yanking it up until it rests—whorishly—over the swell of your ass. he doesn't stall, gives you not a moment of reprieve, before he tugs your panties (a thong, something plain but pretty, much like the facile lace of your bra peeking through the spit-soaked muss on your chest) to the side, cool air licking up your slit, pushing a shiver through your spine.

your body betrays you—conveys the candor of the moment you choose not to see—arousal coating the inside of your thighs, the seam of cunt, slick and uncomfortable as you squeeze them together in trepidation; tremulous zeal.

as is the trend, he doesn't ask or prepare you for the push of his deft fingertips into your slick hole—doesn't pause when your tongue lulls against his and you squirm at his touch—just presses, stretches (crams) three fingers inside.

he pulls back from the mess of your kiss, moves the hand on your jaw back to the crown of your head and brings your lips down to the bleating, flushed tip of his cock. your mouth grazes, faint, over his hypersensitive frenulum, palms still dragging, swirling and pulling, squeezing at his cock and—

"fuck."

he's not sure how he ended up in this position—not positive if it was the benediction of the kindness his (earth) father instilled in him, the whisper in his shadow that tells him to fight for those who can't fight for themselves, those fragile things, or if it was the blasphemy of his inherit cruelty; the wilt in the whisper that tells him to fear what he can't control

(clay or callow, calico all the same.

"you saw how pete's mom reacted, right?" clark doesn't answer as his dad comes to sit next to him in the bed of their truck. "she was scared, clark."

clark's eyes flit over his hanging feet; his head slightly shakes. "why?"

his dad sighs.

"people are afraid of what they don't understand."

fear is fuel, fight—lighter fluid; if zod had just stopped there would be no blood on his hands).

he's not complaining, though. not complaining, never complaining, never—

he pushes on your head, presses his fingers deeper, and you stay—choke and gag; disgustingly visceral—

—not with his cock in your throat and fingers stuffed inside your cunt, filled, from both ends, planted in your root (shade for your savior, the tree he rests beneath, a sacturary of respite. weeping willow. sweet sorrow).

——

not proofread!!

a/n: PSA: this is not!!! the henry cavill ask i literally just couldn't get ts out of my head :))

[mistlovessleep]

Exactly, someone said that hating on timber would send the message that we don't want representation well...... I don't want representation of it means sloppy writting and character assassination i love timSteph and to disregard everything that happened to tim and her upto that point and be like tehe they broke up and start treating it like it never happened even if they are not dating their relationship needs a really good reason to end, timber is cute in isolation but if you put that in context with Tim's entire damn life and relations with everyone else it's hollow. Timber could have worked in theory if I wasn't so half-assedly written disregarding tim as a character who exists in the context of others and it's not because Bernard is a civilian case and point superman and lois lane they are so great because she plays a part in his life outside of oh cute fluff, oh love, NO there is no superman without lois but there is definitely a tim drake without Bernard!

Oh but Bernard eased Tim's fears and isecurities....... THAT'S ALREADY DELT WITH!! Tim feeling like he has to do things alone!? He's THE only bat child to know the importance of team work from the beginning and if some dude could ease your insecurities that your girlfriend and friends who you have been to hell and back can't then I don't know how to explain that except for shitty writing!

Anyways tim is more than the queer representation he's so cool that all his traits are given to other robins and called the boring one my boy is a victim of middle child syndrome

Tim is the heir to the greatest detective title and he isn't emotionally constipated what a great character with a great relationship (platonic included especially) history turned to the representation..... what a joke, tim deserves so much more respect!

Ps. I would like Bernard 10% more if he wasn't named Bernard what a stupid name!

The only way I'll accept this if Bernard is some kind of villain and dating tim is just part of the evil plan

(sorry to any bernards reading)

There are so many DC ships that would be great in canon but shouldn’t be because they would not be written well or they have been done dirty by writers in the past

[motion-of-love]

Superman through the Years (1948 to 2025)

[nonokoko13]

Rollo Flamme is autistic. I had suspicions about it but after reading his vignette I heard a voice in my head confirming it. God has told me the truth and I must spread the word

He would also be ok with Batman, if he's not his most favoured hero. Oh and he also probably has PTSD and depression. Thanks for coming to my ted talk

[oliveroctavius]

Reposting this thread by historical nonfiction writer Sean Howe from Twitter, because god damn:

"People would later talk about the "Superman curse," but this newly unearthed 1951 letter from Superman co-creator Jerry Siegel— mailed with mysterious white powder—actually invokes it. Siegel sent the letter to Harry Donenfeld and Jack Liebowitz of DC Comics (then officially National Comics Publications) in December 1951. The first Superman movie, SUPERMAN AND THE MOLE MEN (starring George Reeves) had just opened and was currently in theaters."

The letter, fully transcribed:

On the occasion of this Christmas Season, when you have turned deaf ears and cold hearts upon the man you deliberately ruined I put on you a curse: May you become subject to all of the horrible maladies that beset mankind: disease, fire, flood, gas, tragedy, self-destruction, ropes, and sharp and heavy instruments. May God crash doom down on the bones, and flesh, and blood of you and yours. I see by the current Sunday SUPERMAN strip that SUPERMAN, famous big-hearted do-gooder, is helping a young lad. How kind and humane! This touched me until I recalled that SUPERMAN's owners stole SUPERBOY from his creator while he was in the Army. Then I began to laugh—laugh at SUPERMAN's owners, who SELL Superman's goodness for money, while wiping off the blood from the knife they stuck into his creator's back. Imagine--THIEVES controlling SUPERMAN, the greatest battler for Justice in the world! HA-HA-HA!!! I have created what I call the 'Identification Game.' You reads 'em ... and let your conscience identify 'em: (1) PHILAND RING DRUNKEN RUNT (2) A HUNK OF FOUL KOSHER ROUMANIAN PASTRAMI (3) 'PHILANTHROPIC' PHONY (4) FAT RAT (5) SADISTIC SWINE You are herewith invited to grab this, as you grabbed my other creations. Like yourself, I am a Jew. I have read of your wonderful philanthropic work on behalf of the Jews and am writing to you for help as one Jew to another. You see, some Jews have given me a rough time--snatched away my creations, and slyly deprived me of an income from them. As a gladiator who fights in behalf of downtrodden Jew--whether they come from Roumania or anywhere else, I appeal to the hope that you will do something about these clever Jews. They have cut off pounds of my flesh. With their Jewish lawyers, they have deprived a fellow Jew from earning a living with his phenomenal creations. How can you battle the so-called "International Jew" legends as depicted in the Protocols of Zion when Jews like the above are permitted to stick a knife in the economic back of another Jew, facing him with the necessity of having to go on relief? Millions for these cunning grasping money-lusting jews, and poverty for the Jew they ruined! I have placed a bitter curse on these Jews, and they and theirs will suffer under the curse for all time. I spit on them and hope it won't be long before they rot in hell. - When SUPERMAN goes on television, if not earlier, the story of his birth will be unfolded. Jerry Siegel ROTTEN PROFITEERS MAKE MILLIONS WHILE SUPERMAN'S CREATOR IS POVERTY-STRUCK

"(The publishers sent the white powder out to a lab for testing; it was corn starch.)"

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, realistically speaking, Bruce Wayne has got to have a low alcohol tolerance. He’s a lightweight.

Like, think about it—this man rarely drinks. Most of his “drunken” shenanigans are done stone cold sober on account of the Mission, and all. If you get more than two glasses of wine in him he is fucking gone.

Which is part of what makes family dinners at the Manor so entertaining. Assuming that such events are one of the rare times Bruce truly relaxes, it’s not a stretch to think he might indulge in a glass of wine or a bourbon; and this is fine and all… until the Batkids persuade him to have another round with them or, God forbid, do a celebratory shot.

After that? Bruce is wiped.

His kids think it’s hilarious. Drunk Bruce is a trip. He’ll drop insane Dad Lore about his time in the League or a wild JL space mission or something, but then proceed to list in meticulous, clinical detail all the things that annoy him about Hal Jordan, and then all the sudden get super excited and start detailing his latest Superman Contingency Plan using the salt shakers in the dining room table. He switches moods and topics so quickly that his kids would get whiplash if they weren’t laughing their asses off.

And you know the +1, singular, solitary, time that Bruce got drunk in front of Clark will go down in history as the best day of Clark’s life. Bruce spent the entire time baring his soul, praising his children, and describing his world travels… but he also kept getting distracted by Clark’s abs and called him “sexy” no less then fourteen times. (Clark left that bar wheezing with laughter and had to disentangle himself from Bruce and force him into a taxi because Bruce kept trying to make out with him. It was fantastic.)

[wonderjanga]

Respect

Captain Marvel is a marvelous hero. He was one of the first. He was a a brilliant man who helped all over the country, not just his hometown of Fawcett. And although this went for about every other hero that churned out of Fawcett as well, This man helped with construction, the wars, the people. He was revered. He was respected. He was powerful. But most importantly, he was kind. That was what won over a majority of the American peoples soon after his debut. That was what made him the hero of that time. That’s why when he and the other Fawcett heroes suddenly disappeared, the people were distraught. There was memorial after memorial for them all. Most were for the Captain though.

So yes, it’s been established already that he’s had a big impact on America, but one could argue it’s way deeper than that. He was, and still is the blueprint for how a hero should act or look like. When the hero Superman first made his debut, people, especially older people liked the similarities they shared. When Flash debuted he was also well liked among older people for his similar costume to the Captain. When Americans found out Wonder Woman was related to the Greek Gods, she was liked too because the Cheese got his powers from the Gods.

Old Man: “You’re the daughter of Zues?”

Old Lady: “Wasn’t Captain Marvel the son of Zeus?”

Old Man: “No, no, he just got his powers from him. At least I think so. It was in the newspaper some many years ago.”

Wondy: “Who’s this… Captain Marvel?”

Old Lady: “One of the best men to come from this country.”

Old Man: “That doesn’t explain anything, Gertie. He was a wonderful hero from when we were children. He disappeared in about ‘62 last I recall.”

Wondy: “A hero that drew power from Zeus… How could he have disappeared?”

Old Lady: “No one knows.” *shrugs* “One day, he and the other Fawcett heroes up and disappeared along with the city itself.”

His impact wasn’t just on heroing of course. This extended to multiple other things. Middle schoolers have a history unit dedicated to the Fawcett heroes. He was honest to God, the beauty standard for men during a resurgence in the 90s. There are posters and photos in a multitude of places from the Whitehouse to a random Ihop in Los Angeles. There are schools named after him and other Fawcett heroes.

Couple: *looking around the lobby of an ihop and spots a photo on a bulletin board* “Is that Captain Marvel…?”

Hostess: “Yes! He came here in 1959. He apparently got some breakfast with some of his hero buddies and took the photo with the owner. Your table will be this way.”

Couple: “Gosh, I used to think he was so cool as a kid.” *follow after the hostess*

When the time bubble finally popped, the entire country was blindsided by the fact that their hero was back in the flesh. He looked exactly the same, acted exactly the same, and still had that exact warm smile.

Marvel: “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Superman Sir.” *puts hand out for a handshake*

Supes: *inner fangirlling because oh my Rao, this guy is practically his idol and he just called Clark both Mister and Sir* “It’s wonderful to meet you too.” *shakes his hand*

The hero worship wasn’t exclusive to just heroes who were kids. No, no, kids, teens, adults, elderly, most heroes think he’s absolutely amazing. Even Batman! They look up to this guy just as much as the regular elderly civilian who was alive before Marvel had been caught in Suspendium.

The most interesting part about all of this in some people’s opinions are that it was like the Cheese had never even left. He still unknowingly evokes respect whenever he walks into a room. He could still make kids smile with a glance. His power had certainly never waned either during the time he was gone. He was still just a marvelous hero.

.

.

.

Meanwhile during all of this, Billy is internally confused at everything in the modern world and is just trying to handle it the way he normally would. It seems to be working.

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 2

Masterpost

Danny spends the next few days exploring the town more, while he considers the implications of everything he’d learned  at the library. He’d taken notes, but they’re not exactly the best. Danny’s never been that good at taking notes, after all, but he has a pretty good memory, so the various key words and few quotes he’d scribbled down are plenty useful in reminding him of all the wild shit he’d read about.

There’d been a lot of history involved in the whole meta situation. It seems like these so-called meta humans, and various other races (species? Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about the cultural implications of that) have been around long enough to have had a significant impact on the world at large. And yet, at the same time, there really hadn’t been a lot of personal information on any of the heroes. Oh, there’d been plenty on some of the villains - and of course there’d still be villains here, he’s not lucky enough to escape that - but aside from various speculation about their romantic lives, and a few acknowledgements of family ties here and there, there’d been very few details about where most of them actually came from.

Superman, for example (he seemed to be this world’s go-to example of metas and superheroes), is listed as being an alien, who’s powers come from his biologies unique interaction with this planet’s atmosphere, although it doesn’t explain anything about what that means. Interestingly, there seems to be almost no speculation about Superman’s so-called secret identity. Only about half the listed heroes seem to have one according to the public, but Danny knows that song and dance too well to fall for it. Honestly, they’re even more likely to have a secret identity than Danny himself, seeing as Danny’s alter ego is literally dead. Not that ghosts seem to be much of a thing here.

He’d felt so silly looking up information about ghosts, right before leaving the library. Compared to the deep dive into recent history, googling “are ghosts real” must have looked insane if anybody could see it. The answer he’d returned had been not unlike the way things had been when he was ten or twelve. Before the portal, you’d see dumb ghost hunter shows where they never actually saw much of anything. Ghosts were, like, poltergeists that moved your furniture around and slammed the doors shut. The results here had been a little more interesting - clearly in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, fantastical stuff is a little more rational, and the speculation was clearly affected by that fact, but it still had been, seemingly, all speculation.

Of course, none of that really mattered when it came to Superman. Danny was at least ninety percent sure he wasn’t a ghost. And even if he somehow was, it didn’t change the fact that he either has a secret identity, or he basically never takes part in society. And if he doesn’t have a secret identity, then the question very much becomes why not. Because that means he either has no real reason to care about anyone here (which seems implausible), or he’s unable to spend that time in public. It’s that possibility that’s knocked out any chance of Danny approaching any of the heroes. Because there’s always the possibility that the endorsed heroes are being used to lure other metahumans in. And Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about this world to make any kind of judgment on what’s most likely here. After all, historically there’s plenty of examples of governments that  work with specific people among targeted groups, in order to more successfully take out the others. it tends not to end well for those people when it’s all over, but anyone who’s short-sighted or even just backed into a wall enough can fall for that.

Hell, the GIW had actually tried that line on Danny once or twice, not that he’d ever accepted. After all, they’d never realized that was actually sort of alive, so their pitches had always been... less than convincing. 

Danny blinks, reaching out to touch the brick wall in front of him. He hadn’t meant to come back here, but honestly at this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised. This random little alley on side street wouldn’t be interesting at all to anyone else. But if Danny stares long enough, he can almost see the green-tinged light of the portal that brought him here. Not that he’d ever seen the portal from this side. He hadn’t turned to look until after the light had faded. The idea of seeing his friends’ faces through the swirling green had been too much.

They had all known exactly what it meant when he came here. The difficulty of the journey was the point. Between the anti-ecto acts gaining not just mainstream awareness, but support, and the GIW gaining access to better funding and training, well, the second the GIW had started successfully ending ghosts, it seemed like all the denizens of the zone had collectively decided to stay the fuck home.

At first Danny had enjoyed it, had relaxed and been excited to finally be able to focus on just being a teen. But the GIW hadn’t calmed down, had just started going even more on the offensive, and the second he and Jazz had noticed agents showing up casually at their house, everyone had gone into full alert.

That’s how they found out that the next goal was to apparently take the fight to the zone itself.

The conclusion had been easy from that point. The portal needed to be destroyed, and fast. But with the ghost zone blocked off (and Danny’s death being the unknowing link that made the portal ever work in the first place), that would leave Danny as one of three remaining targets.

They’d all immediately agreed that Vlad could figure out his own solution. Dani- well, she had been traveling, but the second she turned up, the others had made plans to send her on her own one way portal trip too.

Of course, the likelihood that she’d end up here is probably minuscule. So he’s alone.

“Hey,” a stern voice cuts through Danny’s thoughts. He glances over to the person who’s standing at the door to a building. “There’s no loitering here.”

Right. It’s almost easy to forget, in the face of his life’s inescapable absurdity, that to everyone else in this town, he just seems like a possibly-homeless delinquent. Not that the delinquent part is unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” Danny mutters belatedly, realizing that the person is just waiting as he stares at them like a weirdo. He’s not very good with people anymore. Not that he was that good to begin with. Phantom had been a Ghostly Menace, constantly destroying the town with his fights, nobody had expected him to function as a person. Nobody had thought he was a person. But as Danny Fenton- well, he’d fallen short of just about every expectation set at Danny Fenton’s feet.

Distantly he wonders if his friends even bothered to disguise his disappearance. He’d always kind of wondered if his parents would ever notice if he and Jazz just- left. School definitely noticed, though most of the faculty would probably take it as completely expected. After all Danny Fenton was a terrible student, constantly skipping class and never doing his work, and even when he was in class he was usually halfway to falling asleep anyways. Lancer had certainly lectured him about his lack of discipline more than enough. So they might just come to the conclusion that he’d dropped out and run away.

He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that, honestly. The truth is messed up and complicated and frankly, unbelievable. But maybe if they knew the truth at least one person might feel a fraction of sympathy for all the bullshit that he’d been dealing with. Funny, Danny thinks, how coming here feels more like a death than when I actually died.

[trexiejan]

Friendly reminder that DC and Dickbabs writers are gaslighting you into thinking Dickbabs are childhood sweethearts that are always in love with each other since day 1.

Dickbabs is the most superficial manufactured by retcons ship.

Babs was deaged for this crap to work.

Here is Original Barbara Gordon working as a congresswoman in the Senate when Dick was just the little kid Robin.

She was much closer to Bruce and Clark's age than Dick's.

Barbara refers to Dick as a "kid" and "little brother.

Dick had a small puppy crush on her but it was seen as a precocious crush. It was controversial when they first kiss (to make Dick shut up) because it involved a grown ass woman kissing a teenager.

Dickbabs was hated the same way modern Brucebabs is hated today.

Even the writer of that book admitted he never intended for them to become a couple.

Babs was more into older guys.

- she was viewed as an equal love interest to Batman

- she went out on a date with Superman

- then got engaged to her coworker Jason Bard.

Dickbabs shippers always try to deny that Babs was deaged and her history was altered for dickbabs in an effort to defend their ship.

They say it's not true because according to them Babs has been deaged long before dickbabs became a couple.

Here's the thing though:

Babs has been deaged twice.

Just because she wasn't deaged to be with Dick in her 1st deaging doesn't change the fact that she was deaged to be the same age as him in her 2nd deaging which happened in dickbabs content.

The 1st time she was deaged was in Crisis on Infinite Earths, it was so Jim could be younger but they only decreased her age slightly because she's still written as older than Dick, here is a panel from Secret Origins #20 that was published in 1986 exactly 1 year after she was first deaged in Crisis on infinite earths (1985) she said Dick is too young for her and that batman is always the one on her mind. So Dickbabs during this time still couldn't work because they still have that age gap and Babs was still into Bruce.

The 2nd time she was deaged is in dickbabs comics and tv shows where she was finally made the same age as Dick so dickbabs can finally work as a romantic pairing.

Instead of being older, she's now written as a part of Dick's generation.

From a congresswoman to a young girl who went to highschool prom with Dick.

Even Tom Taylor had the two first meet when they were young little kids so he can also portray them as childhood sweethearts in his run.

Tom Taylor claims Barbara still has a law degree but isn't it sad how instead of using that degree to find an actual job, she wasted her time following Dick around like a dog in Bludhaven ?

She has no job of her own, no friends of her own, no hobbies of her own outside of Dick.

She's just Dick's clingy lovesick girlfriend who is a total standby for him in his solo books.

Dickbabs shippers who deny this and get mad at people who point this out are the people who don't care about Barbara Gordon as an individual.

They don't care that Barbara lost her PHD degree, lost her own career, lost her own agency, lost her history, lost her self identity for the sake of shipping.

Their only concern is defending dickbabs and making it look better.

Because if they truly like Barbara separately from Dick, all these valid anti-dickbabs criticisms wouldn't bother them.

What's even funnier is that they are the very same people who accuse Starfire of being reduced into Dick's love interest despite the fact that Starfire hasn't been in a relationship with Dick in the comics for 20+ years due to the fact that dickkory's history was ignored and erased in favor of dickbabs. NASTY HYPOCRITES.

At least Starfire wasn't deaged to fit Dick and you can never see Starfire following Dick around like a dog in his solo books 💀

[celaenaeiln]

I always assumed that from the comics I've read dick seems to have a somewhat complicated relationship with his own gender/sexuality/sex status, etc.

Anon!! You can't just drop this on me and leavee!! I need to hear more!! LEMME HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS!!!

Ok so this is gonna be like three different things so I'll make subcategories.

Gender

Of the things listed. I think gender is the one thing Dick is rather set on/secure about. He has some feminine or softer traits which typically would not be associated with a male character such as empathy and caring to an overemotional aspect -

Joker: Last Laugh Issue #3

Nightwing (1996) Issue #86

Nightwing (1996) Issue #139

Being overly kind to an unappreciative and toxic girlfriend is one thing, but as a brother hugging and kissing a brother? It's a little softer than how people usually write male heroes.

He's male and I don't think he's considered switching to the female side because he's comfortable with his masculinity.

Does he do things like this -

Nightwing (2016) Issue #38

sometimes? Yeah. He takes the female role in his relationships with others such as Bruce and Barbara but he still very much sees himself as masculine. Like I said in another post, Kori asks him to be a male consort to her Queen because she was forced to marry a royal Tamaranian Prince. While male consorts are not unusual in history, they typically embody the female in a stereotypical relationship. (On a separate note, did you know Chinese emperors took on male consorts? It is circumvented when speaking about in the present and laters days but it's officially written down in the books).

But overall, Dick is very much a masculine male with feminine qualities.

Sexuality

Ok so the thing about Dick and sexuality is that Dick Grayson is a very, VERY old character. He's been there since the beginning of DC to the point that he was the third DC character created EVER. Clark, then Bruce, then Dick, AND THEN Wonder Woman.

So with a character this old and with a topic as controversial as sexuality, DC is not going to ever explicitly write Dick as gay or bi or whatever. Why? Because Dick is an icon.

When someone says "Batman and Robin" - EVERYONE knows who Batman and Robin is. Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. They've existed forever and are the kingpins of DC alongside Superman and Wonder Woman. Whether that person is in the fandom or not, they know who Batman and Robin are. Within the fandom, people know there's more than one Robin (several) but talking to someone outside the fandom, someone who enjoys DC casually, only thinks there is one Robin. And you could tell them that there's this many robins, some have been girls, there's this many timelines and etc (which is actually a really embarrassing convo if someone isn't in the fandom OMG and how I wish I could take that back and erase it from BOTH OF OUR MEMORIES) - but they're not gonna care. Because for them, there's only one Robin and that's Dick Grayson.

So with something like that, DC cannot have Dick Grayson be anything but straight because it would cause too big of an uproar. So he can't be. Explicitly. People have written him as having an ambiguous sexuality though. I actually wrote this specific POST a long time because someone wanted to know more.

Instead what you'll have is a BUNCH of BROMANCES. His Nightwing authors have wanted more male/male sexual attractions with him and other characters and some of them have admitted that openly even if they were not allowed to write. So if you're reading a comic that has him and something seems SUS, well it might just be.

So like with all things, I cannot say anything for certain unless there is evidence of him engaging in a romantic relationship with someone who isn't a woman, but given the homoerotic tension that exists between him and other characters such as ROY -

Outsiders (2003) Issue #11

Teen Titans: Silver Age TPB 2 (Part 4) Page 16

Nightwing (1996) Issue #114

WHICH IS ODDLY SIMILAR TO THIS -

Nightwing (1996) Issue #138

I'd say he's bi-curious at the least.

Sex Symbol Status

-this is my previous post which goes a little into the sex symbol thing

Anon, holy crap I have an ESSAY for you. It's in my drafts because it's wayyyyyyyyy too long and I'll definitely exceed the image limit but holy crap.

Here's what I will say about it though. The world REVERES Dick for his looks and body. The amount of attention he gets for his beauty is ridiculous. Even Green Arrow's half-sister - WHO'S MUCH YOUNGER THAN DICK AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF DICK MET - dreams about him romantically.

Green Arrow (2016) Annual_1

Because of course. Villains are going out of their way to compliment him on his looks in the middle of a fight - Bane, Bludhaven villains, civilians (MALE) coworkers - it's literally insane.

So Dick is clearly the hottest and most gorgeous thing to ever exist in the entirety of DC. There's also a panel from a comic where Dick becomes Talon AND SOMEONE STILL CALLS HIM THE PRETTY BOY TALON LIKE WTF??? THAT PRETTY BOY TALON CAN RIP OFF YOUR HEAD IN A HEARTBEAT! He's a talon, too! Clearly death does not hinder his looks in any way.

But Dick himself is VERY uncomfortable any sort of bodily attraction. It's not just the comments that gets him but he, who everyone claims has the body of a god, doesn't feel good about his own body.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #71

He's really conservative. And in another comic when Tim comments on how the the Nightwing suit is really a babe attractor, Dick is uncomfortable going 'I didn't make it for them'.

Like even looking at this comic pic where Dick is in disguise and he and Kori are just walking down the street, they both still attract the entire street's attention. It must be so uncomfortable.

Here's my thoughts on the sex symbol status. Yes, Dick is a sex symbol. That's just fact. But here's where the issue is. People can be sex symbols without it affecting their personality because that status, is something given to them or bestowed upon them by another person.

I'm leaning a little into my post in the drafts but Johnny Depp, Marylyn Monroe, David Bowie, Tom Cruise, Cleopatra - they're all so vastly different on their opinions of sexual liberty and yet all of them as considered sex symbols.

So what does this mean for Dick? Nothing, really. It just means the world takes one look at him and wants him but he is under no obligation to follow through nor does he. He's not a slut for sleeping with the people he likes and no one thinks of him that way either. He was slut-shamed after his rape by Pantha who always has some harsher opinions because that is her personality. She literally says the meanest things about everyone because she's a rough and tough character and she finds humor in being mean because she is who she is.

For Dick himself, it means nothing. He doesn't view himself as attractive which ironically is also what celebrities who were interviewed about the sex symbol status said as well, such as Johny Depp.

The problem with being beautiful though is that people brush you off. Certain girlfriends of his do it. They see him as just a pretty boy and writers of certain comics *cough* Batgirl comics writers and Tom Taylor *cough* throw his skills and talent down the garbage disposal so he can act as a dumb pretty boy toy for his girlfriend. His personality is degraded to a bland white paste and his intelligence and power and pain are thrown out the window.

(This POST gives some examples of when writers do this for Dickbabs)

Like this is a serious problem! I read this article some time ago -

Here are the main highlights:

There isn't a problem with Dick being ascribed a sex symbol status and to his great benefit most people don't treat him like this but some do! LIKE HIS GIRLFRIEND.

In summary, and I'm gonna borrow a lyric here to quote -

"It's hell on earth to be heavenly Them's the breaks, they don't come gently"

I think the problem is, instead of focusing on how beautiful Dick looks, I really feel like DC and the fandom should analyze how uncomfortable Dick gets, how certain comics force him into relationships when others clearly show he wouldn't be interested in a parallel situation, and mostly how Dick Grayson is robbed of his personality, identity, and beliefs all because of how people believe he should act due to his beauty.

I'm honestly tired of the equation that Dick's status as a sex symbol somehow reduces him to a slut. He is not. Instead we should focus on how his beauty is weaponized against him. He was born with those looks and complaining about them is useless. That's his mother and father-given appearance. It's his genetic inheritance. It's as much a part of his as his grace or his unyielding kindness.

The real issue isn't DC’s acknowledgment of his beauty—it's the utter failure to dig deeper. Instead we should explore how Dick deals with it. How does he carry the weight of being constantly objectified? What does it do to his relationships? How is he coerced to do something in a relationship because it is expected of simply due to the fact that he's beautiful? We should explore how people (even the batfam sometimes) only see his smile or good-natured humor while his complexities - his pain, his resilience, his brilliance - are shucked aside? He's constantly diminished by the fandom and canon because of his cheery personality and good looks just to fit a particular character's narrow view of him.

Call him pretty! Dick legit doesn't care if villains call him pretty or someone calls him that because what they're really focused on when they call him that, are his skills. He doesn't mind being called pretty, beautiful, gorgeous - as long as he's valued for his talents and efforts and skills.

(Here's the pretty boy post for my lovelies. Part 2 in the making)

The issue, once again, isn't his sex symbol status or his looks. It's literally everything else. Dick Grayson is not a reflection of what others project; he is a someone who stands apart, vibrant, and irreducibly whole. Which too often gets lost underneath his looks.

[lvis44]

Senna or Superman // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of this seasons difficulties, Suggestive dialogue, (Felipe Massa jump scare mention), Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k+

Summary: Brazil 2024 was unforgiving, but amidst it all some greatness can still be achieved.

Notes: Hey y'all, like I said, I was feeling like typing and needed to work on something different for a second and I think I can speak for all of us that today had me feeling all of the emotions. There's definitely some angst in here but a lot of it is just absolute fluff and reader being an absolute Stan of her boyfriend, bc who wouldn't be if they were dating Lewis Hamilton, lets be real. Also, I've said it once I will say it again, I cannot follow a tense to save my life to ignore that. Kisses xxxx!!!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

You hadn’t gotten much sleep and you were feeling it as you sat in the back of the Mercedes garage. Lewis had been hyper and full of anxious energy when he returned to the hotel last night. He had spent most of the previous day bobbing around the paddock like an energetic child, complaining about the delay in qualifying and trying to convince anyone that would listen to him that they should be sent out to try and put a lap together. He’s in Brazil, he wants to put on a show, but he’d been forced to wait much to his dismay and that had left you having to deal with him. He had been hyper after being so ready to go but never getting the release from his adrenaline and also annoyed that the sport had changed so much, yapping on about how when he first got to F1 they would have sent them out and that danger and adrenaline is a key part of the sport. You tried incessantly to get him to chill but you really had to just let him wear himself out, much like an actual child. It wasn’t until later in the evening, laying against his chest after finally convincing him to try to get some sleep, that you really got the answer to his emotions.

~

“I’m so excited and honored that I’m driving the MP4 tomorrow, but I’m also nervous. I was so prepared to do it today but having to wait, delaying the gratification, it’s really getting to me.” Lewis whispered into the comfortable silence, surprising you with the unprompted admission.

“It’s even more iconic to do it on race day.” You told him softly, rubbing your hand against his warm chest hoping to lighten the weight of whatever way playing in his mind.

He just hummed in response, evidently deep in his thoughts, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly.

“It’s understandable that you’re nervous Lew, you’re driving a piece of history, not just history to the sport but to your own personal journey and career. You’ve been asked to drive your idols car, the man is the reason you found your calling. Superman or Senna, right?” You kept your voice quiet, realizing that he needed to talk this through a bit more but not wanting to disrupt the peace that had settled around the two of you.

He smiled down at you as he heard the last part of your statement, chuckling lightly,  “Superman or Senna, yes indeed.” He trailed off for a moment, the soft smile lingering on his lips as he stared at the ceiling, almost as if reminiscing over those years when those were his two goals in life, back as a young boy in Stevenage. “What’s kinda funny is that it’s not that I’m really nervous about driving the car itself, like I feel confident in that part, I feel like I’m more than capable. It’s that I’m nervous that I don’t deserve this or something, this is a big deal and I would never want anyone to regret this decision or something. I honestly don’t even really know, like I don’t know why they would regret it I just, I don’t know. Just not really sure I’m worthy of this.” He finished his rant, letting out a deep sigh.

Hearing his thoughts caused you to sit up, no longer caring if you broke the peace in the room. You stared directly at him, eyes locked with his that were evidently startled at your abrupt departure from your cuddle.

“Lewis, I need you to listen to me. They chose you, Senna's family specifically chose you and asked you.” You started, poking him in the chest for emphasis before putting the same finger over his lips to shush him when he tried to argue. “They could have asked any of the other drivers on the grid, they could have asked a retired driver, they could honestly have asked whoever the hell they wanted, but no they asked for you. Not the current reigning champion, not the owner of the car, not even a Mclaren driver. They asked you, not only because they recognize your talent but because they see him in you. They see the love and respect that the people of Brazil have for you and they see you return that tenfold. This beautiful country made you a citizen for a reason, they see you carry that flag with the same pride as your own. Lew even Felipe Massa said that you deserve to be the one to drive that car and isn’t he like literally suing you right now?”

You finally let out a huff before the both of you erupt in a fit of giggles, Lewis forcefully pulling you back down to him to wrap you tightly in his arms. 

“I didn’t know he said that, honestly rather shocking because yeah, pretty sure he is. But ya know, I heard he’s running out of money.” His lips hold a smirk as he looks down at you before you’re both consumed by another fit of giggles. “Thank you,” He whispers once you’ve both calmed down, his lips against your forehead, “I needed to hear that. You know I get too much in my own head sometimes. Still have a hard time believing that all of this is real after everything I’ve been through, where I came from, ya know?”

“I do,” You say, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “you’re allowed to still revel in it, even after all this time. It truly is mental, even if it’s been this way for a while now. And by the way, I’m pretty sure the only reason they would ever regret letting you drive that car is if you crash it into a wall and break it, so just don’t do that and I’m pretty sure everything will be just fine.” You giggle, giving him another kiss.

“Well damn woman, no pressure or anything.” He fakes offence before splitting into a grin with you.

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer again, “I know I’m biassed and all, but know that I can’t think of anyone more deserving of this honor and I am so incredibly proud of you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back the tears when I see you in that Mclaren tomorrow. You are an incredibly blessed man but you do not take it for granted and I am honoured that I get to see how incredible you are every single day, as a driver, as a partner, but most importantly as a human. Let yourself enjoy this Lew, you deserve it and I will be there watching in awe.”

“I love you so so much.” He says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.

“I love you too,” You tell him softly, placing a kiss on his chest where he has squished your face into him, “now get some sleep, you have to be up in a few hours for that stupid early morning quali.”

~

Lewis had left early in the morning, sneaking out of bed around 3:30 to get ready. Only waking you accidentally when he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he was leaving. He was apologetic, telling you to go back to sleep and that he would see you at the track. Not that you were able to get much more sleep, needing to get up and get ready yourself if you wanted any chance of making it there on time. When you had finally arrived to the garage, you made sure to perch yourself in the back, trying to stay out of the way of all the busy people rushing around you.You only got to see Lewis for a brief moment, only having enough time to give him a quick kiss and send him off with a final good luck encouragement. It was pointless though, you both knew the car wasn’t going to perform to Lewis’ liking. If anything it had somehow gotten worse for this weekend. 

As you sat in the garage watching on you couldn’t help but cringe. Lewis was battling with the car, not even making it out of Q1. You knew his mood wouldn’t be amazing when he finally made his way back to you after going to be weighed and speak to the media. You watched the next session, baffled by the sheer chaos unfolding and you couldn’t help but pray that the race would end up being better. The grid was out of position and red flags were being thrown left and right. You let out a sigh when you saw your man finally enter the garage, his helmet still on. He stopped momentarily to speak with some of his engineers, shaking peoples hands and thanking them for their hard work. He finally locked onto you, gesturing for you to follow him as he made his way to his drivers room. When you walked in behind him you could see how heavy his shoulders were. His helmet had been discarded on the bench beside him but he still hadn’t turned around.

“Hey, we knew it was gonna be shit, right?” You said quietly, putting your hand on his damp back.

“Yeah, we did. I’m just so ready for this season to be over.” He finally said, letting out a deep breath as he turned to face you.

“We’re so close babe, so so close. And for now we get to take a little time away from this devil of a car.” You told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist. Not caring one bit that he was soggy from the rain and the sweat, just content to be with your guy.

“Still got a race to do hun.” He reminded you, kissing his teeth.

“Oh I know, but let’s not think about that right now. I was talking about you getting behind the wheel of a Mclaren MP4 for a little while instead.” You smirk, leaning up towards his now smiling face.

“A proper race car.” He says, his smile threatening to split his face.

This is what you wanted, you wanted him to revel in the joy, revel in the honor of driving such an incredible car. Enjoy being behind the wheel of a Championship winning car once again even if it was only for a few laps and unlike the cars he was used to winning in. 

“A legacy meant for a hometown hero to carry on, and a race car meant for a World Champion. It’s been waiting for another great to stretch its legs and they found just the right Brazilian for the job.” You whispered to him, your faces incredibly close now. 

“If you keep talking like that I might end up locking you in here.” His voice is teasing as he wraps his arms around you.

“As much as I desperately want to say yes to that, I do believe you have something to get ready for.” You sigh, pulling back and patting his chest.

“I do, but we’ll use it for motivation later, I might need it.” He says as he peels himself off of you, his voice is playful but you both know he’s dead serious.

“The second we leave this track, I am all yours for as long as you want or need.” You promise, watching as he starts to change and prepare to go meet the Mclaren mechanics that have been looking after the historical car.

You sit in a comfortable peace for a while, occasionally exchanging words about little things that don’t really matter that much, just enjoying being in his space. You know that when the day is over you will have a full debrief, all of the frustration that he’s setting aside for this moment will inevitably bubble up once he’s in the safe privacy of the two of you alone, but for now you entertain his small talk and let him start to get excited about his incredible moment as he gets himself ready. When he’s ready he turns to  you with childlike excitement bubbling at the surface and you can feel your heart swell.

“This is a good look for you.” You tell him, eyeing the all white suit with the Brazilian flag at his waist.

“I’m still mad I can’t wear his actual helmet.” Lewis grumbles with a shake of his head.

“I hate to say, I actually agree with them on that one babe, let’s keep your head safe, yeah?” You laugh.

“I know I know, don’t think it would even fit on my head anyway.” He playfully groans, making his way over to you.

“I like the special helmet for this weekend though, it’s still a tribute.” You remind him, knowing he’s half joking but wanting him to be fully confident when he steps out.

He nods, taking a moment to admire you before he’s pulling you close and landing his lips on yours in a kiss that takes you by surprise with its force.

“Thank you, for everything,” He starts when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting on yours, “for reminding me that I’m allowed to revel in this, for keeping me grounded,for letting me be excited, just for everything.”

“Hey, that’s why I’m here. You do the exact same for me when I need it, it’s why we work so well.” You say quietly, your hand coming to stroke his beard gently.

“If I don’t get to see you before I get in the car, just know your words from last night are gonna be in my head the entire time. I’m gonna let myself enjoy this, let myself feel this. Nothing else about today matters other than honouring and paying tribute to my childhood hero and getting to live out my childhood dreams of driving the car that made me want to start racing around the circuit that introduced me to another home.” His voice holds excitement and certainty as he speaks that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You’ve never been quite so proud of the man in front of you. Yes, you’ve cheered for him since the beginning, before you even met him. You’ve wept when he’s broken records and won each and every championship. Yet nothing quite compares to seeing this amazing moment and knowing just how much he deserves it, knowing that there is no one better to hold this responsibility and honor. There is no one like Aryton Senna and truly there never will be, and there is no one like Lewis Hamilton and there truly never will be. 

“You know you’re doing for millions what he did for you, right?” You whisper, hoping he knows just the level of inspiration he gives to everyone watching him, young and old alike.

“I know, and it’s amazing to be able to do that.” He says, his smile warm.

You don’t say another word, giving him a long kiss, feeling connected to him in a way you both need in the moment, albeit for much different reasons. You are pouring every ounce of pride and amazement into the kiss, hoping he can feel it, while he is absorbing the love and reassurance that comes with your touch, letting himself feel his greatness and humble himself all at once. Finally there is a knock at the door, signalling that he really needs to get going, causing you to part from each other reluctantly. 

“Okay, I gotta go do the most amazing thing of my entire career.” He says with a smile, “Be here when I get back?”

“I can’t promise I won’t be sobbing out near the pit wall but I will definitely find you, promise.” You laugh, giving him one last kiss before he grabs his helmet and makes his way over to the media garage where the incredible car is being stored for him.

It takes you a little while to get out to the pit lane that is already lined with people. You wish you could be closer, see the car up close but this isn’t your moment. Today is for Senna's family and the people of Brazil, you are just lucky enough to be able to witness the incredible moment in person.You know Lewis is somewhere down the pitlane, most likely trying to stay calm as he geeks out over the amazing machine he is about to drive. He has driven one of Senna’s cars before, but not in a long time, and not in this setting, not with this honor and audience. You also know that no matter how many times he may have had the privilege of being around and driving incredible race cars, he is a racing driver through and through and the excitement will never change. While you’re standing there smiling to yourself, thinking about how excited Lewis must be and taking in the incredible aura of the crowd, you catch sight of the live stream playing on the jumbotron. There he is, getting in his idols car, you watch as he takes a moment to really take it in just before he’s being strapped in. It’s funny to you to see him surrounded by Mclaren mechanics again, to see the goodyear tires you remember from your first ever F1 races. Then they’re rolling him out and the crowd gets their first in person glimpse of the car over the wall and the cheers echo through your soul. It takes a few more minutes for them to be ready and the atmosphere is building with anticipation but then they start the engine. The first rumble sends a chill down your spine and silences the track. The sound of the V10 roaring to life evoked a visceral feeling from you, bringing back memories of why you fell in love with the sport as a child in the first place and you could only imagine what the emotions coursing through Lewis in that moment were. You saw him shake his head in disbelief as he revved the engine and you could just picture the boyish grin that would be covering his face at that moment. Then it cut, he stalled, and you heard the boos and wanted to run and protect him. You knew it wasn’t his fault, and realistically you knew the crowd wasn’t booing him, they were booing the disruption of the soundtrack that was the incredible V10 engine and you also knew Lewis was smart enough to know that as well. The mechanics were quick, getting the engine back up rapidly and soon enough Lewis was headed out toward the track. He took a moment, the mechanics meeting him again and you prayed that everything would go to plan, this moment was too important to everyone for anything not to be perfect. And then you saw him, speeding past you in Senna’s Mclaren down the pit straight. The spray of water adding to the moment as he waved at the fans who were evidently stunned at the spectacle in front of them. Their recently adopted hero bringing them back to a moment with their lifelong hero. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you watched him complete lap after flawless lap, handling the car like he’d been driving it for years. You could only imagine what the emotions flowing through his body must be, so incredibly grateful to be able to witness the moment. When you saw him stop to grab the flag your tears picked up, watching the beauty of the moment as he completed his dream of waving his new country's flag as he drove his idol's car with no hands around the wet track. Everything about the moment was pure poetry. 

By the time he parked the car on the grid, you were sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the entirety of Sao Paulo. You watched through teary eyes as Viviane went and spoke to him as he collected himself in the cockpit. You could see her thanking him and you knew that he was thanking her just as profusely. You tried to dry your eyes as you watched them pose with Senna's helmet while Lewis sat in the car, but they came back quickly. You finally managed to pull yourself together just a little bit as you watched him pose with flag but the second he knelt down next to the car as if to thank it for everything it had done for him and his idol, you lost it again, You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself just a bit, your emotions were definitely getting the best of you. You could see the emotion on Lewis’ face as he too pulled himself together to get ready for the interview. He was beaming, eternally grateful for the opportunity. You listened as he described his love for Brazil and the love he has received from the fans, you could hear the emotion thick in his voice the entire time, even through the incredible joy that was paired with it. You knew he meant it when he said it was the ‘honor of his career’ and you were certain this would be a moment that neither of you ever forgot. Everything about it was purely beautiful, seeing everyone pause for something so meaningful, you weren’t sure you had ever seen the sport so at one in your entire life.

When you saw him finally making his way to the pit lane you scramble to try to pull yourself together, hoping to be somewhat emotionally sound when you went to meet him in his drivers room, but he found you first, a strong arm slinking around your waist before you were being crushed in a tight hug. When he finally let you go you took a moment to take him in. The emotions were written all over his face, the weight of the profound moment sinking in for him as the joy was palpable. He took in your state, his eyes softening, knowing that every emotion on your face came from your love for him and your love for the sport.

“C’mon, lets go be alone for a second.” He said softly, guiding you toward the garage.

When you were safely inside his drivers room you turned to him, your words dying on your tongue as they didn’t feel enough to express just how proud of him you were. Instead you opted to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him, hard, tears falling down your cheeks as you did. When you finally parted from him you saw that the smile had never left his face.

“I think you’re more emotional about that entire thing than I am.” He teased you softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Stop it,” You laughed, swatting at him pathetically, “I’m just so proud of you and so happy for you. I can only imagine what that meant to you.”

“Yeah, it was surreal, never had so many emotions at once. It felt incredible, it truly felt like a dream come true.” He said as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you toward him.

“I was right you know, there was no one more suited for that than you.” You tell him softly.

“You were absolutely right, that felt perfect, Viviane was so kind and so grateful, I will never forget this.” He sighs and you can tell the weight of the weekend is leaving his body with it.

“Nothing else that happens this weekend matters, okay? This was what it was all for.” You assure him, placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Thank you, you’re right, that was truly the only reason I am here this weekend, none of the rest matters in the slightest.” His eyes are soft as he melts into your touch.

“I know you said you wanted to be Senna or Superman but I think you may have achieved both just now. You are more than a hero to just about everyone here, me included.” You tell him softly, staring deep into his eyes as you do.

“That means a lot, I felt it while I was out there. It was a crazy feeling, getting to be that for everyone.” He says earnestly.

“You do it way more frequently than you think, even if you haven’t been feeling it lately.” You assure him, wanting him to know just how much you mean it.

He doesn’t respond but you can tell he’s just taking it in as he lets out a breath and traces circles on your hip. He’s a confident man, cocky at times, but even the strongest of soldiers can be weak in the face of defeat.

“I know you are a natural born competitor, but let's make a deal that your only objective today is just to come back to me in one piece. That’s all I ask of you.” You say after a moment, listening to the rain pickup against the roof.

“I will absolutely come back to you, but I ain’t making any promise about not also trying to pull that tractor as far forward as I can.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay fair enough, just need you in tiptop shape to be my superman when we get back to the hotel tonight.” You smirk, pinching his bicep.

“Well when you put it like that why don’t we just leave on a high note and head back right now?” He asks playfully, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m down, but you’ve gotta go keep being both Senna and Superman.” You giggle.

“Okay, I’ll do my best, but I’m still holding you to that even if this race is shit.” He says, pinching your bum.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[cypherscript]

Linchpin Part 2

"I am not familiar with this group. Batman? Superman," Wonder Woman asks the two with the most hidden knowledge of Man's world.

Hal Jordan just groans into his hands, "Not those buffoons. I used to hear jokes back when I was in the Air Force. They're almost as bad as the area 51 conspiracists. Always claiming our bases were haunted by high level ecto beings. Ghosts aren't even real!"

Batman is listening to something on his earpiece, "Ghosts are real, Lantern. One is a member of the JL Dark "

"When was anyone going to tell me?! Now I look stupid."

Red Robin mouths to batman, 'Now?'

Batman pointedly ignores that and continues, "That knowledge has always been available if you read the reports properly. Regardless, Oracle has provided me with some more information on this organization; a comparatively small G-List government group tasked with hunting down, capturing and experiment on beings of ectoplasmic origins or ghosts to civilians."

T̵̪͗h̵̬̊ē̴̤y̵̪̅ ̸͇͗h̵͙͂ẽ̸̘l̶̎͜d̸̗̃ ̵̼̆o̴̪͐ȕ̷̞r̸͚̚ ̷̗́c̸͚͐i̶̙̔ť̵̟y̷͔̚ ̷̧̒h̴͕͑o̵̼̊s̸̰̈t̷̙͝a̷̯̓ģ̶͊e̴̦͐,̴͔̋ ̸͉̒t̵̩͌ḩ̴̋r̵̜̐e̵̙͝a̷̡͋t̵̜͌e̷͉̕n̸̼̾ě̸̩d̴͎̕ ̸͖̏o̵̱͒ụ̴̑r̴͈̚ ̷̨͂p̴͓̎e̴͍͝o̸̼̍p̶͕̋l̴̛͔ȇ̵̟/

(They held our city hostage, threatened our people.)

Ť̵̹h̷̙̓e̴̯͗ ̵͎̑G̷̣̀r̷͜͠e̴̩̽ą̴̍ẗ̷̪́ ̵̜͌O̵͕̿n̸̲͒e̸̤͝ ̴͇̄t̴͈̋r̴̡̍i̶̩͊é̴͙d̷̞͋ ̶̬͌t̸̮̀ö̸̢́ ̸̯̎f̷͍̽r̸͚̿e̶̬̎e̶̯͠ ̶̡͛t̴͙͗h̴͖̓e̷̥͝i̸̞̎r̶̳͑ ̶̭͐c̷͔̀ì̵͎ẗ̶̙ỷ̴͚

(The Great One tried to free their city.)

B̵͔͆a̷͖̔b̵̧̑y̶͕͒p̴̪͝o̶̰͗p̵̪͛ ̴͒͜s̸̱̊a̴͇̐c̸͍͠r��̩̃í̸͕ḟ̶̤ǐ̷̘c̴̛̱ȇ̷͙d̵̮͆ ̴͓́h̴̙̓i̵̲͌m̵̗̌s̶̥̓ë̶͜ḻ̴̑f̶̖͝ ̵̥̆j̸̫̆u̷̮̍s̷̖̀ṯ̷̀ ̵̨͑t̴͔͛o̵̦͘ ̴̗͊g̷̠̎e̷̱͗t̶̘́ ̵͔͠t̷͎͆h̸̬̀o̷̟͆s̷̤͝e̸̹̓ ̴̮̈́j̸̛̮ê̶͓r̸̤̈́k̷̮̄s̷͎̽ ̶̨̅o̵̖̊u̴̺͑t̶͍̃ ̶̭̂ö̵̮́f̶̖̕ ̸̺̌A̶̯̋m̸̯̿i̴̲͆ẗ̵̡́y̷͕̓.̸̛̭

(Babypop sacrificed himself just to get those jerks out of Amity.)

T̴̨̉h̸̻́e̶̲̊ỳ̸͕ ̵͚̊r̴̥̔ë̶͈́ṅ̸̫e̸͓͝g̷͔̎e̷̖̕d̴͚͌ ̵̹͒ó̶̤ṉ̵͒ ̷̹̚t̷͔͌h̵̿ͅè̷͜i̴̐͜r̷̪̄ ̵̩̒d̴̛̮ě̴̠a̴̞͛l̸̻̐ ̴̹̿t̴̙̓h̴̯́ó̴͍u̷̠̾g̷̟͝ẖ̵̏ ̸̭̚a̷̤͌n̵͖̎d̷̬̔ ̴̈́ͅA̵̜͗m̵̬̕ȋ̵̠ṯ̸̓y̷̟̓ ̵̺̄P̶̥̉ä̴̫́r̸̪̂k̵͈̑ ̵̥̈́î̸͇s̸͓͂ ̴̡͒n̷̩͛o̵̰͑ ̸̠̚m̵̨̀o̴̭̔r̶̥̔e̵̼̋.̷͙̆

(They regened on their deal though and Amity Park is no more.)

Red Robin takes this new information and inputs it into the Watchtower's computers and pulls up a satellite image of Amity Park, IL and just finds a blackened hole in the ground several miles wide.

Batman's suit groans as his fist clenches before turning away from the table, "Superman with me, Red Robin contact Cyborg. We're bringing this group to justice. No organization should have the ability to wipe an entire city off the face of the earth."

"Right behind you, Batman." Superman quickly takes off after him.

"What about the rest of us," Flash yells at him as he leaves.

"Everyone else should pool their resources together and try to come up with a way to slow down, stop or even reverse the Decay Field. Technology, magic, I don't care even ask your rogues if need be but this needs to be stopped."

______________________________________________

Base Gamma-5, IL

Superman and Batman stare down on an old seemingly unused military base. Superman's eyes shimmering as he looks over the area with his x-ray vision.

"So?"

"Skeleton crew of scientists, minimal guards but there is definitely activity underground."

"Any centralized location?"

"What, hoping for a big open room where all the bad guys can get together and start throwing hands?"

"..."

"Don't look at me like that, I blame Kon and Jon, I don't even know how that phrase became a common thing."

"Hn. I was asking for a central area to reduce any unnecessary structural damage our encounter is likely to cause."

Superman focuses as he resumes looking, freezing in place as a rictus of anger covered his face and he takes off. Explosions of steel and concrete echo through the forest as Superman flies through the base's defenses and high speed. Bruce gives a withering sigh as he fires off a grapple and follows behind Clark.

Shortly after Bruce finds Clark deep into the base, a large metal door ripped off its track and him threatening a scientist. "What is the meaning of this, who is this?!"

"What is this, you mean. It's ectoplasmic scum."

"You better pick your words carefully, that is a dead child in a TANK. I have VERY short patience for people like you."

Batman appears behind him, "I'd listen to him if I were you."

The scientist sneer at the sight of him, "Batman. I see you managed pull yourself out of that ecto-contaminated cesspool you call a city. You still reek of it."

Superman lifts him even higher and shakes him in one hand, "Don't look at him, looks at me and answer my question. WHO. IS. HE."

"P-Phantom. He was an ectoplasmic entity that breached the veil five years ago. He was the strongest power level in decades. The last time something like him was detected was in 1902 in North Carolina. Psychics all over three states surrounding it felt it appear."

"Who killed him?"

"Agent A, just over four years ago. He bagged him in a small town called Amity Park. There's records he had been there for over a year, check them."

"We can't, Amity Park has been a smoking crater for some time."

"What? Did the ghosts do it?"

"You did it, your organization did it," Superman shakes him hard to make his point.

"Superman."

Superman drops the scientist on his ass, "Fine, you deal with him. I'm likely to do something we'll both regret if he stays in my sight. I'm going to go get Phantom's body."

"Why is the Justice League even here?! You should be thanking us for purging this planet of that ectoscum!"

"That is a child."

"It's scum! It just looks like a child, there have been records putting its age at over 2 millennium in Rome where it burned-."

Batman sighs internally before giving a swift jab to one of the scientist's pressure points making him drop like a sack of potatoes. Clark mutters something as he removes the poor boy's body from the vat.

"I don't want to hear it, Kal."

"I didn't say anything, Batman."

"Hn," is all Batman says as he throws the scientist over his shoulder and plugs a USBat into a nearby server and has Oracle let off some of her rage st this organization.

______________________________________________

Flash is staring over batman's shoulder at the body on the gurney, "Is it just me or does he look familiar?"

The boys black and white hair now dry is fluffy over his face, scars litter his form in lightning strike patterns.

Batman gives him a look as he starts scanning the body.

"I mean not like I know the kid, just like I feel like I seen him around somewhere."

"I understand. I also have that feeling but it could simply be the radiation talking."

"Radiation" Flash screams before he zips across the room.

"Low levels, barely over a smoke detector's level."

"You think you're real funny don't you?"

He just raises and eyebrow, "do you have any information on our issue? Have your rogues anything to add?"

"Nah, even the ones from from the future don't know anything. Which is weird if you think about it; how can there be a future if the universe is eating itself?"

"Because time is most likely fluid right now, we're in the middle of the choices that make it set in stone and affect our future."

"Since when do you know about time travel?"

"I have some experience in it, unwanted experience but experience none the less."

"Right... so who is he?"

Batman pulls up a medical record on one of the doctors tablets that soon span into multitudes of windows, "Daniel Fenton. Son of Drs Fenton and Fenton. Saver of the critically endangered purple back gorrilas, Senior at Casper High, suspected meta but proved negative after a lab accident when he was 14. Godson and beneficiary of deceased billionaire Vladimir Masters. Lifetime ban on handling chemistry equipment..."

"Lab accidents? Lifetime ban in chemistry class? Sounds like my kind of kid."

There is a puff of thick sulfury smoke as a british voice speaks out, "Oi Batsy, I heard ya discovered the universe was ending, just came to see if- BLOODY FUCKING HELL. Why is there a dead kid on the table?!"

Batman counts to ten in his head and turns to Constantine, "What have we said about teleporting into the Watchtower?"

"Forget that! What have I said about keeping bloody dead kids out in the open?"

"You haven't."

"I shouldn't have had to, its implied!"

"Hn"

"Wait a second... this kid looks like... no couldn't be. That was ages ago."

"You too" Flash asks him as Constantine ponders on the boys face.

Constantine's face turns sharp, "what do you mean? You think you've met him as well?"

"Yeah but we just can't place it. Who does he look like to you?"

"Reminds me of a protector spirit I made a deal wit a couple decades or so ago. It was tasked to guard a rune for me. Indigenous populace referred to it as the Great One Who Breathes the Cold."

"Oh yeah? A spirit huh," Flash interjects, "What'd he ask for in return, Booberries?"

"An Astrolabe of all things, smartarse."

"He's not a spirit, we can see him so it's not like Boston and he has DNA. We were able to track his medical and public record. I've got what I need, I'm calling a meeting to collaborate ideas on how to fix this."

"Right, Bats, I'll just-"

"Mandatory meeting, Constantine."

"...Right."

__________________________________________

"What about those noxious pits one of your villains constantly uses?"

"We can't use the Lazarus Pits; they don't bring back the dead only the dying."

"Besides," Constantine interrupts, "Body doesn't have an ounce of soul tethered to it."

"What about time travel," Booster asks, "I can just pop back before these MIB wannabes kill the kid. Boom, Problem solved."

"We don't even know what changing that much will do."

"How about a localized time rewind," Raven asks, "If we just rewind him and not everything else."

"Nah, love. Decay field's already in play. The likelihood we rewind him and he doesn't know how to reverse it is to bloody high and we wasted the energy to only fail."

"Lantern, how much time do we have before the wave comes back?"

"The guardian's projected a time frame of two weeks before it returns to the earth."

"Not a lot of time but we've had shorter timeframes to save the universe."

"Hn" Batman turns to the Flash, "If need be we may need you to Flashpoint the event."

ALERT: Intruder in Medbay 1.

ALERT: Intruder in Medbay 1.

"I got it," Flash says before zipping off to the medbay, hoping to graze past the point of the Flashpoint.

"Isn't that the medbay with the body," Wonder Woman asks as Batman gets up to follow after the flash.

"Yes."

Everyone's comms went off with the Flash's voice, "You guys better get down here. I found our intruder but I can't touch him. He's just standing-"

"Flash," Superman puts a finger to his ear. "Flash do you copy?"

__________________________________________________________

Amity Park, IL 4 Years, 4 Months ago

"-Over the body of the kid... Wait where am I?" Flash frantically looking around at what was obviously not medical bay of the Watchtower and instead looks like a back alley of a moderate city frozen in time.

"Amity Park, Wallace," The old man says with a smile in his voice.

"That's not possible. Amity Park was obliterated off the face of the earth."

"Use your process of elimination, Wallace."

Thoughts zip through Wally's head as he comes to the obvious answer, "This is before the city was destroy. Do you know what you're doing?! Time travel causes nothing but problems, after the last flash point I swore I would never do it again!"

"I know more about time travel than you will know in multiple lifetimes. I am known as Clockwork here, I was once the master of time; it was my job to maintain the structure of the timelines even when you 'Flashpointed' a timeline to make sure the right outcome comes to be."

"Then why is the universe ending?!"

"I miscalculated the hatred some of my kind felt towards young Daniel. As such to betray our dimension to those that would sooner purge us. I cannot physically intervene in a past event but you can and for once I give you permission to fix the timeline and save your world. You have two weeks to save Danny Fenton."

"Wait, betrayed? I don't even know how they killed him how do I save him?!"

"You'll figure it out, you always do. By the way you may want to destroy your comm. Time in."

Flash's comm comes to life with his own voice, "I don't know who you think you are-." Flash rips his earpiece faster than could be seen and smashes it into the ground.

"Rightrightright... Right, two weeks to save some kid from bargain bin men in black... How hard can that be?" He spins in place, replacing his costume with his civilian cloths and stepping out of the alley to walk around the city.

___________________________________________________________

Thanks to @phantom-things and @a-lost-time-traveler for the Zalgo text translations. It didn't occur to me that people wouldn't be able to read it even at its lowest setting. I've learned and just parentheses'd the translations. I tried to make the two timeline but I just couldn't get the dead squared idea to flow properly so unfortunately I can only give this one. I'm gonna start working on the part three when I have time tomorrow. sorry if the quality's terrible.

[ungoliantschilde]

“The Mother of All Jams”

“Here is the mother of all Jams!! Two years in the making for me after Wizard gave up,lol. Wizard wanted to do a special anniversary piece for the magazine so they got George Perez to do the layouts on most and then sent the piece all over the world to get all the star artists to do their key characters they were most associated with. The project kept getting held up and it was just too much trouble to get it completed. There are almost 150 characters in this mammoth Jam Poster Illustration.I love how the whole piece has direction. All the characters are either moving right on their respective side,left, or right in front of ya.

We have here..

Full figure pencil and inks of Spawn and Spiderman by Todd Mcfarlane. There is no other piece to my knowledge that has spidey and spawn hand drawn by Todd on the same board. They have a combined image of 11x11in with that incredible spaghetti webbing.

Alex Ross- Superman

Travis Charest- Grifter

Jim Lee/Scott Williams- Batman

George Perez-Wonder woman, Starfire, Scarlet Witch, Beast, and the Thing

Erik Larsen-Savage Dragon

Danger Girl, Fairchild, Grunge, Roxie, Burnout, and Rainmaker are all by J. Scott Campbell

Then I had David Finch do everyone else over George Perez's layouts.It is huge, 23X39in

David Finch is one of my favorite artists out there today and it was an honor to have him finish this incredible piece of history. Parts of it were published in a 1990's Wizard Magazine.”

[artbyblastweave]

So I recently had the thought that Superman as depicted in the DCAU canon probably has the best-articulated-by-the-narrative and most-consistent character flaws of any Superman I’ve seen, in a way that’s enabled by the long-formedness and consistent creative vision of the series.

He’s got an Atlas complex that grinds the gears of his equally-durable, equally-capable colleagues in the Justice League. He has deep-seated fears of moving the wrong way and breaking something or someone, which is then upstream of some moderate control issues. He’s got anger problems, although it’s rare for someone to push him far enough that this takes center stage; you see this with Prof. Hamilton in the series finale of STAS, but also in a number of fights against opponents strong enough that he starts getting frustrated. When the stakes are lower, he can be cocky bordering on genuinely vindictive; there are lots of examples of him rubbing his opponents' noses in it when he finally gets them on the back foot, and it’s shown in flashbacks that he was genuinely kind of a dick when he was a teenager and hadn’t completely sorted out what proportional responses looked like. He doesn’t always think through the implications of his grand projects, be that the implicit threat-escalation posed by the expanded JLU, or the massive disarmament project he spearheaded that turned out to be part of an alien invasion scheme. There are probably more of these that I’m forgetting. The final roundup here is that he’s a good guy. He’s far and away from a perfect guy, with perfect judgement. All of this amounts to something that’s more coherent and specific than the contradictory, subject-to-eternal-revision mess you could assemble from his 60-something year publication history in the comics, but nonetheless with a substantial-enough runtime that all of these traits can be put on display again and again.

In turn, this allowed the collective DCAU continuity to get away with at least three “what if Superman went rogue” plots- four if you count the mind-control situation in Legacy- specifically because they did the legwork to establish the concrete neuroses and psychological vulnerabilities that might cause this specific version of Superman to go rogue. It was never completely insane that Luthor might figure out the exact set of words, actions, and personal losses necessary to coax this depiction of Superman into an authoritarian partnership for the supposed greater good. It’s not completely insane that this depiction of Superman, if pushed far enough, might lose faith in the collective judgement of humanity and decide to put the world and all his loved ones in a bottle. And when the Cadmus plot rolls around in JLU, it’s as effective as it is because they’ve already advanced two roads-not-taken, established what levers you need to pull to make this specific version of this guy cross the line, and that Cadmus and Luthor are pulling all of them. 

I emphasize the specificity here, because the flipside of this are Superman-gone-rogue narratives that jump right to that as the cornerstone of the continuity, with no real opportunities for juxtaposition. A major issue I eventually developed with the Injustice franchise is that despite its pretenses of being an alternate universe, there’s no established continuity that it’s deviating from, bar its own. To some extent I feel as though it’s banking on the audience transposing their gestalt-understanding of Superman and the broader DCU- hell, their understanding of the Justice Lords arc in particular- in order to elide that they’re playing extremely fast-and-loose with the specifics of what has and hasn’t happened to Superman in this continuity. The DCEU is a runner-up- jumping right to the Damocles-sword of a bad-future after two movies is jumping the gun, in the same way everything about the 2010s DCEU was jumping the gun. I think you could plausibly attack TDKR’s portrayal of Superman under this logic, although I personally wouldn’t- but that’s its own post.

Point being that you can’t sell me the upset of a paradigm if you never established it-you need to set up the pins before you can bowl worth a damn.

[ri-afan]

Thought posed:

Danny does the college stuff and interning for stuff at Wayne Enterprises while living in Gotham, but he doesn’t catch the Bats attention because he simultaneously is both Just Normal Enough while the Bats are Slightly Out Of Step of normal long enough that things with Danny don’t catch their attention. (Gotham as a whole is a huge ‘well this might as well happen’ place and after however many years…the threshold is a bit off for weirdness. Pair that up with normal Batdrama and role-code-switching and minor things are likely going to be subconsciously overlooked if not clocked as Dangerous.)

(Does Danny know the Bats’ IDs? … He would deny it if asked. Not his circus business though. He does think it’s smart that they at least try to cover their faces, unlike when he played the hero. He meets Clark before Superman and feels like he’s on the Office or something.)

Danny moves on with the astro-stuff (whether an astronaut, an astrophysicist, or whatever else) in another city and catches the attention of another hero as Not Normal, What’s Up With That Guy?? (two parts coincidence, one part Danny’s willingness to trust for the better, one part Uncanny) and they track his history to Gotham/WE and decide to ask the Batclan if they knew anything.

They find out nothing really is wrong with Danny (…the JLD was not called or conferred with, unfortunately for all) but it does spark the reeducation refresher of the Gotham Clan for Human Weirdness (that also educated the rest in just how messed up Gotham can be).

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Character Flaws

Nobody is perfect.

By depicting characters who mirror that sentiment, it’s easier for us to understand and connect to them.

Flaws don’t just add character depth though, they can also drive the entire story.

They can create personal arcs that raise the tension of the main conflict.

Flaws make the character’s success (if it comes) that much more rewarding.

But when we’re developing our own characters, how do we build flaws into them? There’s no one-size-fits-all answer to this question, but we can pull some tips from some examples.

A lack of flaws: Characters like Superman who don’t have a lot of character flaws need other kinds of things to create compelling stories. Superman was intended as a symbol of hope. The fact he fights people or lifts heavy things is rarely ever interesting these days, but the way he handles problems and fights for the downtrodden still resonates with people.

Flaws & plot work together: A character flaw should have some meaning to the plot. Haymitch’s (from The Hunger Games) drinking isn’t particularly interesting until you learn about his history and realize that it’s a coping mechanism. Irving’s (from A Strange Loop) get-rich-quick schemes create the conflict in the story. And Hinata’s (from Haikyū!!) flaws are something that he’s constantly working to overcome to reach his goals.

Proceed with caution: Finally, character flaws are an important part of creating well-rounded and believable characters, but if you treat sensitive topics too lightly—or misunderstand them—you risk upsetting part of your audience.

While you might have the best of intentions, if you’re dealing with serious issues that real people deal with, it would be a good idea to do some research or get a sensitivity reader. Or both.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ "Well-Rounded" Character Worksheet