#but he's such a dick about it
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
kira-nerys-rocks · 9 months ago
Text
Every time I rewatch Stargate Atlantis, I love Elizabeth more and like Bates less
19 notes · View notes
inbabylontheywept · 4 months ago
Text
i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.
adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.
right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.
it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.
still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.
i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.
i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.
so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.
coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."
and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.
still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.
i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.
so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went
...oh.
and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.
so i did.
i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.
i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.
it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:
*ptooie.* "that all you got?"
i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!
but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.
my coach did not.
i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.
"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"
and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said
"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."
which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.
and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.
fine.
but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.
and then he left.
and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."
but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.
and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.
he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.
and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.
22K notes · View notes
freefallintothevoid · 3 months ago
Text
Dick Grayson's unmatched success as a child vigilante makes a lot more sense when you remember the Court of Owls was a thing and that Dick was meant to be the next Grey Son.
There is no way that someone at Haly's Circus wasn't there keeping an eye on him while he grew up. A future weapon needs to be trained and monitored after all, and a circus, a place where weird skills are completely normal, is actually a great place to secretly train a child.
You know, just some knife tricks that translated really well into actual fighting. How to get out of restraints and pick locks while under a time limit. Death defying acrobatic stunts that coincidentally do wonders for parkouring. That sort of thing. Nothing that seems out of place for a boy growing up around circus performers to learn, but would literally any where else.
I mean, while I fully believe that most kids would want to kill the man responsible for their parents deaths, Dick was weirdly prepared to go through it. He tracked down Zucco with way more ease than any normal child should have too. He became the first child vigilante, for goodness sake. The first Robin! He only started getting formal training after he basically forced Bruce into it!
Bruce himself has no idea that this kind of competency in a child is unusual, considering he was much too blinded by the similarities between his and Dick's tragic orphanhoods.
Alfred is in a similar boat because he’s desensitized to weird children after he somehow managed to successfully raise Bruce 'The Batman' Wayne, so he doesn't clock the hyper-competency as abnormal either.
By the time the other batkids start popping up (Jason 'The Audacity' Todd, borderline-street rat with no fear) (Tim 'the greatest stalker in Gotham history' Drake, child genius, also bullied his way into becoming Robin) (Barbara 'raised by the only uncorrupt cop in gotham' Gordon) (Stephanie 'daddy issues and spite' Brown) (Duke 'Pretends he's the normal one and people believe him' Thomas) it's too late.
It would also explain how Dick got along so well with Damian out of all of them. Similar childhood with different approaches and all that. On some subconscious level, Dick recognises and resonates with the murderous ten year old assassin with strong familial ties to a secret elite assassin organization.
It isn't until after the whole Court of Owls and Grey Son reveal that suddenly Dick realises a whole lot of things about his childhood that suddenly make a lot more sense.
16K notes · View notes
abisalli · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Jason but he wears this helmet 😼
19K notes · View notes
dudedidujust · 2 months ago
Text
The daily planet runs a front page article calling superman the light of mankind
Cue the batfam launching a counter campaign in support of Signal,  the real Light of Mankind.
It starts as a joke but quickly derails into an all out war.
8K notes · View notes
bruciemilf · 3 months ago
Text
Need a teen! Bruce au where he’s exactly like Justice League! Batman and Battinson in one. That mf put the fear of every god in Ra’s Al Ghul.
Everytime he’s in a room with someone over 30 “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance plays in the background.
Despite that, in his own way, he’s as gentle as can be with his league. Give me a young Diana who’s getting spat on and ripped apart by the media in a way not one of her male teammates get.
And she’s Wonder Woman. She shouldn’t be affected by it. And she is, anyway. Bruce relates to that in an uncomfortable degree.
“When I first became Batman, weak men tried standing in my way, too. “
“And what did you do?”
“I stepped over them.”
He has a tiny Robin he occasionally has to keep on a leash.
Give me somewhat teen mom Bruce who struggles to wrangle his unruly six year old who likes flipping from rooftop to rooftop and thinks fighting Bane is a piece of cake.
“If Tati can do it, so can I!”
“Dick,” he paused, before handing him a handfull of candy. “Wonderful emotional manipulation. Good job.”
“:D”
9K notes · View notes
emotional-piece-of-meat · 2 months ago
Text
Let me introduce you to this concept: batkids pick a silly t-shirt of the week, in which Brucie will be “accidentally” caught by the paparazzi.
Dick, as a millennial he is, chooses something with mottos like yolo or jokes about coffee. He also has a special love for quotes and puns, which nobody but him finds funny.
Jason does not participate, because he refuses to think about Bruce more than it’s absolutely necessary. And if some t-shirt reminds him of his dad Bruce, well, he just passes by.
Barbara, although she has a wonderful sense of humour, uses her power to spread awareness instead. When an important social or political event takes place in Gotham and beyond its chapels, the choice is hers.
Cass loves matching t-shirts, because it makes her feel that she belongs. Every time it's her turn to pick, newspapers spread out the touching headlines like “Bruce Wayne was caught with his daughter in I'm with stupid t-shirts”.
Steph simply goes to the women's department and chooses one of those ugly Eiffel Tower or a rhinestone “princess” t-shirt. They're also usually pretty tight, and, trust me, the press just loves it.
Tim wake up and choose violence Drake prints t-shirts himself, always putting some brainrot words on them. That's how “what a sigma” and “skibidi toilet rizzler” appeared in Bruce's wardrobe.
Damian takes great pride in his t-shirts, because he draws pictures on them by hand. Nobody could convince him that it's not, in fact, a competition, and he has to make sure that he is winning.
Duke always gives Bruce some niche band t-shirts. Plot twist? These bands do not exist. He just creates them himself and then proceeds to gaslight people, because “what do you mean you don't know batshit on the rooftop? You, uncultured pig! Their music literally changed my life!”.
7K notes · View notes
everwalldigan · 5 months ago
Text
Bruce: *waking up in a hospital that he drove himself to after having a heart attack and telling absolutely nobody* hey…
The entirety of the batclan looking over him with Dick in the centre, an absolute terrifying grin on his face:
Dick: hello Bruce, nice evening isn’t it? Got something to share with us?
Edit: the fic is now out on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57780508
9K notes · View notes
logicallyblind · 1 month ago
Text
something there’s a distinct lack of in batman fanfics, especially ‘brucie wayne’ centred ones is the networking he’d have to be doing on the daily to maintain that sorta reputation
like, we all know the man knows how to throw a gala but where are the brunches? the happy hour gossip session with his cover’s clique of the week? the golf club dinners he has to attend every third week of the month? what about visits to hospitals or schools or the soup kitchens for his philanthropy? come on now
you’re telling me he’s the most sought after celebrity in gotham city and beyond, an infamous playboy and supposed extroverted people person who can use long holidays that can last weeks at a time away in tropical islands supposedly partying it up as a plausible excuse to hide his injuries sometimes but when he’s in gotham he’s either at wayne enterprise meetings or tucked away at home alone? nah
i want to see bruce having to really utilise those meditation breathing skills he learned in the league while he’s having to sit upright in a chair with 4 broken ribs, a sprained wrist and a minor concussion in a painfully bright restaurant at 3pm on a wednesday having to listen to bethany-anne titter on about the latest gossip about her neighbours affair with the maid that’s basically an open secret by now like pls there’s so many different routes you can go with this depending on the genre,,, make bruce have to REALLY commit to that cover of his lmao
6K notes · View notes
puppyeared · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Bridge to turnabout doodles
7K notes · View notes
notrobinsomethingworse · 14 days ago
Text
Dick, deadpan: You hid a racoon in your room.
Jason, crouched by a sleeping racoon currently sleeping on a pillow. Theres scratches all over his arms and legs. He doesn’t seem bothered: yeah? What ya gonna do about it?
Dick: Un-hide? The goddamn racoon in your room?
Jason: But I’ve named him.
Dick: Well, un-name him.
Jason: He’s Barty.
Dick: I don’t care.
Jason: …
Jason: We can use him to fuck with Bruce.
Dick: …
Dick: Would Barty like some food?
4K notes · View notes
sidewalk-cracks · 1 month ago
Text
The batkids encountering distressed children and calling them "sweetheart", subconsciously mimicking how Bruce would and will call them sweetheart when they're distressed, and not even realizing it?? Don't speak to me. I can't.
5K notes · View notes
demonicsuffrage · 2 months ago
Text
Bruce showing his kids affection, aka, gift-giving
Tim, who finally got a spleen transplant after Bruce had begged him a million times, returning home from the hospital: Hey Bruce
Bruce, extending papers towards him: Welcome back. These are for you, sign here
Tim: Aren't these are Wayne Enterprises papers
Bruce: Yeah it's your company now :)
Tim: What do mean it's my Company now?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
16-year-old Dick, returning home after winning his mathlete championship: What're the papers for, Bruce?
Bruce: It's your new mansion's paperwork
Dick: What?
Bruce: On your new private island :)
Dick: WHAT?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jason, running into Bruce on patrol: Sup
Bruce, with a man in tow: Thank god I ran into you, Jason
Jason, eyeing the guy beside Bruce: Who's that?
Bruce: You couldn't get to family dinner last time because your bike was broken so
Jason: So you got me a guy?
Bruce: He's the new pilot for your new helicopter :)
Jason: My fucking WHAT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cass, day after she defeated Bruce in training for the first time: Bruce, where's my suit?
Bruce: Oh I gave it away to charity.
Cass: What? Why?
Bruce: I'm getting you a new suit made with triple weave Kevlar and titanium dipped resin lined with memory foam
Cass: Expensive?
Bruce: Just $1,058,600 :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Damian, in his initial days as Robin, who hadn't killed anyone in an entire month: Good morning, Father, what are you doing?
Bruce, choosing a colour scheme for the new zoo he's about to make for Damian: It's a surprise:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Duke, listening to music: Man i wish someone would buy me Spotify premium so I can listen without all these ads
Bruce, handing him the deeds of Spotify the next day: :)
7K notes · View notes
varpusvaras · 1 month ago
Text
Jason gets shot once with a gun with enough punch that it completely pierces his armor on the side, and there is a moment of panic because oh that was definitely his kidney right there, but Jason just keeps going like nothing happened and takes the guy down and then turns around like what are you guys staring at.
And he still doesn't look like he even noticed it.
"Jesus Christ Jason lay down!"
"What? Why?"
"What do you mean what, why? You just got shot!"
"What? Ah, damnit, I hate fixing up these, bullet holes in armor suck"
"Be less worried about bullet holes in your armor and more about bullet holes in you!"
"Relax, it didn't even hit me."
"What?"
And Jason proceeds to strip off his body armor and show that a lot of it is just, you know, armor and padding. His actual bodyline is a lot further in than where his armor makes it look like it is. And he is very confused over why everybody is confused about this because this is the whole fucking point of armor? You know, to shield his actual body? So he doesn't take the brunt of the hits? Oh, what is he even talking about, of course you would be confused, you spandex-wearing weirdoes.
Later they ask him what else is a lie, because apparently Jason is not actually a hulking mass of muscle, and Jason proceeds to take his boots off, and immediately shifts from being 6'2+ to just 6 feet tall.
"Why are you wearing platform combat boots?!"
"I stepped on glass and other shit too many times while wearing those pixie boots! Not anymore! Nothing can get through these soles! Oh and also I like the height."
3K notes · View notes
ghost-bxrd · 3 months ago
Text
Prompt:
Brucie Wayne gets into a mild accident in public (read-got hit by a car). And Batman would just walk it off (“it’s barely a bruise”), but Brucie obviously… can’t.
So he has to suffer the ordeal of having civilians call paramedics, getting fussed over, and having-
Having his dead son get into the back of the ambulance with him.
Oh- oh no. He must have hit his head worse than he thought. He thought he was past this…
5K notes · View notes
clarisse-doodles · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
inspired by this post, in which Damian does not know what Vine is
11K notes · View notes