#clark: maybe I don’t want kids…

[p1nkshield]

Superman: Hey Batman congratulations on adopting your son! My mom insisted I bring you this… are you okay?

Batman, looking especially bedraggled, dragging a hand down his face: huh? Yes. I’m fine. I it’s just that I can’t find him.

Superman: What? do you mean you LOST HIM?

Batman: shhh, be quiet

*scuttling from above*

Batman, squinting: he’s in the rafters.

Superman: the wHAT!?

Batman: what did you bring?

Superman looking up frantically: the rafters?!?- I brought pie but why are you asking me tha-

Batman: ROBIN COME, PIE!

*scuttling stops, then rapidly moves closer*

Robin!dick: please give me some pie please

Batman: come down here first. If you try to eat upside down you’ll choke.

Robin!dick: not true I’ve been practicing!

Superman: 0_0

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[wonderjanga]

What do you do?

Bruce has literally no idea about Marvel’s personal life. As a result, the JL have no idea about his personal life. The only thing they know is that they want Marvel to have their jobs. Cause, Marvel already let them rants about whatever they’re passionate about. Once they find out his job, and if he’s maybe passionate about what they’re passionate about, they can yap together!

Supes: *ranting*

Marvel: *listening intently*

Supes: “And, you know, I’m a reporter-”

Marvel: *sounds surprised* Wait, you’re actually a reporter?��

Supes: “Uh… yeah? Did you think I wasn’t? You’ve heard me go on fifteen minute rants just about it.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “I just thought it was something you were really interested in. What company to do you work at?”

Supes: “The Daily Planet?”

Marvel: “Oh, I’ve heard about them!”

This went on to be an hour long conversation of them exchanging tips, talking about which companies can’t be trusted, which reporters are good versus bad, and so on. They probably would’ve gone on longer if some aliens hadn’t tried to invade earth for the millionth time. Even then, after the battle, they continued the conversation back at the Watchtower. Clark was honestly so happy about this entire thing because whenever he talked about reporting to Marvel, he would normally just nod along and ask questions. Instead, this time, the Cheese actually yapped with him instead of patiently listening. Clark was like 50 percent sure Marvel was a reporter now, and he was right. Technically. Billy was a reporter.

Meanwhile, Bruce is hypothesizing that Marvel is a teacher or caretaker of some kind because he’s really good with kids. Most of these kids are, for a lack of a better word, idiots. He is the only hero that’s interacted with them that hasn’t lost his temper yet. A good example of this was when Marvel was obviously having a bad day and Jon came to talk to him since Clark was busy.

Marvel: *nodding along, as he stress bakes, stirring something in a bowl* “That’s nice. Can you go get some flour for me?”

Jon: “Sure!” *runs off to grab a bag of flour and as he comes back he accidentally drops it and gets it all over the floor, now looking guilty* “I’m sorry.”

Marvel: “It’s… fine.” *takes a deep breath and is trying so hard to not lash out him* “It’s fine.” *takes another deep breath and smiles at him* “Jon, you’ve made pies with Mrs. Kent before right?”

Jon: “No, mom doesn’t like making pies. I make them with Grandma though!”

Marvel: “That’s who I meant.” *hands Jon the bowl* “Hold this please?” *walks over and picks up the flour bag, and puts some into the bowl Jon was holding before putting the bag in a sink* “Mix that and pour it into the pan while I go clean this up.” *ruffles his hair*

Jon: “Okay.” *determined to help him make the best pie ever*

Later…

Batman: *walks into the kitchen* “Marvel-” *does a double take when he sees Jon* “Why is Superboy’s entire lower half covered in flour?”

Marvel: “He dropped a bag of flour earlier.” *shrugs as he lets Jon put a bunch of sprinkles on the pie*

He later watched the feed of the kitchen and that’s how the Marvel potentially being a teacher theory came into existence. Of course, this incident wasn’t the only reason, but still.

While all this is happening, Diana thinks he’s has a job in the archeological field because the man seems to love history.

And Billy does. His dad and mom loved it, and at first he only got into it because they liked it, but he realized he actually found it fascinating.

So, here are the options.

1.) Reporter

2.) Teacher/Caretaker

3.) Archeology

They finally asked when they couldn’t take the suspense anymore.

Marvel: “Oh uhm… well, I don’t work often, (doesn’t work often as Marvel, he works quite often as Billy) but every now and then, I help with unloading pallets and stuff.”

That was… not what they expected. After this conversation, Clark not so sneakily snuck Billy his business card for the Planet. Wondy straight up just gave him the card. Batman didn’t know what to do other than reset to his default and actually sneakily snuck like a thousand dollars to Marvel.

[fancyfeathers]

Okay thinking about DC yanderes with baby trapping, I’ll probably do a part two with other Justice League members

With Hal Jordan, he would not exactly plan on it, but he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity. His vision he had in his mind went from just him and his darling to a family. The idea of that perfect sort of family took root, his darling making dinner in the kitchen with his arms around her waist and children playing in the living room, like those perfect families from American television. It’s like a dream that has been lingering in the back of his mind for as long as he could remember and now it’s finally coming true.

But his dream is his darling’s dread.

He just won’t shut up about the baby, clothing, the nursery, the last ultrasound. He practically keeps a hand on her baby bump at all times, cuddling, going for a car ride with the other hand on the steering wheel.

But life is harder on his darling than he thinks it is, when the baby comes and he is off on mission she does not have his help to take care of their child. She has to wake up in the middle of the night when she is staying at the watchtower when their baby starts crying, feeding time on her own, diapers, baths, god she’s doesn’t know how many hours she’s slept. There is help sometimes when other members of the Justice League are around or their darlings, but she is pissed when Hal finally gets back and makes him take care of the baby while she rests and Hal really doesn’t complain about getting to spend time with his little baby who he’s missed more than anything… well besides his darling of course.

He also definitely has a bunch of baby photos in his wallet that he shows everyone in the Justice League and Green Lantern Corps.

Clark Kent will not even hide the fact that children are something he desperately wants. Like in the middle of dinner he will just ask his darling how many kids she wants, maybe three, oh but one might feel lonely so maybe four. Or what if something happens and it’s not safe for her to have kids, it’s better for them to have them sooner than later. The worst part is that he knows she is pregnant way before she does, he could hear that second heartbeat as soon as it has one, though he doesn’t tell his darling because oh he wants her to find out on her own and tell him like it’s a surprise-

Oh god she’s crying in the bathroom…

No, no, no, no, no, this is supposed to be happy, they are staring their lives together, oh don’t cry.

He is there at his darling’s side during whenever he has a free moment, hell he always is listening in on her to make sure she is okay, what if she slips in the shower? What if she falls own the stairs? What if-

For the most part she is fine, but if she needs anything she literally just needs to say Clark’s name and he is there.

But then the fact that their kids may inherit their father’s powers come up, and they do, and it is a fucking headache for his darling. Clark does train them to be able to properly control their powers and what not, but she has to deal with the misuse of them around the house.

“No flying in the house!”

“Do not use your cold breath or whatever it is, I have the heating on!”

“Please put down the car before you drop it and damage it.”

[occamstfs]

Slice of Italy

After an accident outside a local Italian restaurant, Jonathan finds himself itching to hop in the kitchen himself.

Bear TF with all that implies! In other news I think I'm going to go down to one story a week, been spending a little too much energy here. May open commissions if there is an interest there? Who knows! At any rate, enjoy this story! -Occam

It wasn’t even Jonathan’s fault the statue was broken. His clearly too drunk friends were jacking around and not listening to his voice of reason. The poor DD was just standing closest when it was inevitably knocked over and shattered. If he had followed their lead and fled, it’s likely they’d all be off scot-free, but his need to atone for his friend’s actions in whatever paltry way he could led him to start gathering the scattered pieces.

Hearing the shattering plaster, the hostess runs outside with a gasp as she takes in the scene. She stares in shock at Jonathan before retreating inside to surely grab someone more important. Jonathan is again left with the all too desirable option of flight, staring at pieces of the stereotypical Italian chef he sighs and keeps to his principles, slowly picking up pieces.

Really he did them a favor, he’s always hated the thing. Creepy little thing. He’s been coming here all his life and it’s always seemed like the eyes have followed him. Seeing them lifeless and cracked on the ground doesn’t make them any less eerie though. Nor does the disembodied plaster smirk lying askew to their side. Before he can shudder Jonathan jumps as the door to the restaurant slams open and out comes a burly manager, “Ah c’mon kid, now why’d ya go and do that?” 

Jonathan drops the shards of the statue he still held in shock as he stammers to explain that really he’s not at fault. Never especially good at doing anything but ceding ground to authority figures he immediately folds, “I well, um it wasn’t really my fault um. It was, uh- I’ll do whatever I can to make this right. I-” Looking in the young man’s eyes the manager sighs and waves him off, “No no kid don’t you- Accident’s happen. Hmph Cavallo loved that statue though hah!” There’s a sadness in his eyes as he looks at the shattered man once more before returning his gaze to Johnathan with a squint.

“You’re the youngest Clark boy eh?” Correct, though now well an adult, there remains a tinge of irritation any time it’s brought up that he will always be the youngest, the smallest, no matter how long time treks onward. Still, not the time, “Yes sir.” The manager scratches the back of his head and motions the younger man inside, “Why don’t you come in, I’ll have one of my hosts sweep up the mess later.” Jonathan furrows his brow as he’s ushered inside, any attempts he makes at offering his hand to do the dirty work are met with hems and haws from the manager as he is instead led into an office in the back of house.

“You just sit here Jonny and I’ll uh- Hm?” He pauses and looks at Jonathan, no, past Jonathan. As if he’s staring through the young man and seeing something beyond. Something different. Seconds pass and a pit grows in Jonathan’s stomach as the manager twitches soundlessly, wanting the moment to pass he calls out to the man, “Romeo? You alright?” 

Focus returns to the manager’s eyes and he laughs, “Hah! Of course, sorry about that sir! You just let me know if you need anything Mr. Clark.” With that he does a nod and closes the door behind himself, there’s the click of a lock but Jonathan doesn’t notice as he instead hones in on the fact that he just called the manager by his name.

He racks his mind to remember if he introduced himself, the manager did recognize him after all? Perhaps they’ve met before. He chews on the idea and tries to ignore the feeling of pulling the man’s name from some place in his mind he doesn’t have access to. Maybe he was wearing a name tag. Of course, with a sigh of relief tension fades from his chest before he even realizes how tight it had become from anxiety. He has all employees wear name tags after all, helps the customers feel at home.

After a second of rest he is struck with the implications of that flitting thought. He what!? Tightness in his chest returns with a furor as memories or meetings with teams of people he doesn’t recognize flash through his mind. Planning a culture, running shifts, designing a restaurant. Clutching at his chest with one hand and his head with the other Jonathan worries he’s losing it and goes to sit down. Reflexively opting for the cushy desk chair behind the desk rather than either of the two by the door. “God it was just a tacky statue, why am I having an episode about this!?” 

Sitting in the boss’ chair Jonathan finds himself growing unreasonably warm. Sweat drips from his brow as he tries to bring to mind strategies one would use to soothe a panic attack. Looking for something solid in the room to focus on Jonathan sees a photo of the owner standing next to the gaudy statue. Grimacing, through grinding teeth he grunts out a “not helpful.” Even less helpful is the ensuing migraine, as it pangs he blinks concertedly and upon reopening his eyes he finds the image has shifted to one of himself standing next to the statue, a too large smile plastered on his face just like that of the god-awful statue. Somewhere repressed within him the phrase ‘happiest day of my life’ pings, though his conscious mind resounds with an image of his college graduation.

Clearly unable to find peace in this room he fights against his perpetually pliant instincts and stands to leave despite Romeo’s request. Now standing, he realizes something bizarre has seemingly begun to happen to his body. It’s like he’s bloated? Looking down he sees buttons on his shirt suddenly straining. His indisputably slim waist has begun to expand. The sensation of being starved and sated paradoxically rise at once within Gionathan as he feels the sudden urge, an otherworldly need to burp. He chokes it down at first but as his waist continues to strain, now revealing skin in between buttons as his chest too begins to bulge he is unable to stop the rising gas.

Polite young man he is, even as it erupts he tries to at least quiet his burp, which only causes it to burst with more force. Louder than those performative burps that blare from his less than couth cohort, his face burns with embarrassment despite being alone in the room. His body doesn’t stop at one either, he belches uncontrollably as body inches larger with each release. Quickly bursting buttons off the front of his shirt and freeing a torso that, alongside growing a healthy layer of weight, has begun to itch.

His blonde treasure trail has slowly begun to thicken as his fingers furiously scratch into his new weightier gut. Not noticing the definitive muscle hiding beneath he instead balks as he feels his light body hair spread out and upwards. Sticky sweat still covering his form as the heat has not abated in the slightest he looks down to observe the unfamiliar curves sticking out from his chest as his few nearly invisible chest hairs begin to thicken in the center of his chest, meeting the still rising furry patch on his stomach. 

The movement of his arms bring a new change to his mind as they too have not been spared from these must be imagined changes. New biceps breach the open air as they bulge large enough to tear the sleeves into tatters, not obscene but simply too large to be restrained by his usually loose fitting button-up. Gionathan has never been especially proud of his figure, but looking down and seeing something more akin to the countless forms of men he’s masturbated to throughout the years brings a new, less terryfying emotion to whatever this nightmare is.

Gionathan feels butterflies in his chest as he clutches at definitive pecs that now lie on top of it. He bites his lip as the idea that there’s now something you can grab there shoots a wave of static into his mind. Knees almost giving way as he takes time to explore his changes, Gionathan returns to sit in his chair and feel himself up. As he continues to chew on his lip to avoid moaning, his eyes remain shut to allow his imagination to flourish. 

This leaves him unaware of the tan that has begun to tint his changing body. Having not been exposed to sunlight in well over a decade, pasty is almost too generous a word to describe his pale torso. And yet, as his thickening hands trail across his meatier waist and play with a chest still growing weightier, his skin darkens to one naturally sun-kissed. 

Wider palms smearing sweat across an expanding torso, his mind begins to drift. Playing with chest hair as it grows thicker his fingertips almost accidentally come across nipples that have grown extensively as his pecs begins to bulge larger. Beginning to play with them his changes begin to accelerate. His mouth scrunches up as itches begin to burn across his face. Stubble that has been kept off his face from a once-a-week shave rapidly rears its head before it thickens en masse. Sideburns shove themselves wider to cover the whole of his cheeks before expanding under his chin as each follicle surges larger and darkens.

Green eyes flicker brown as Gionovan’s suddenly dark stubble quickly leaks upward, staining his pert blonde coif dirty, then brown, before finally turning as black as the curls that have begun to overtake his chest. Each strand changes as his hands continue to dance and delight in his bulkier body. His mouth scrunches as a mustache he’s never dreamed of growing begins to bulge out of his upper lip. Thicker than the hair on his head as memories of his hairline retreating over the years begin to assert themselves into his memory. Coffee dark eyes twitch while remaining closed, his hands trail up to his neck and come across scratchy stubble as he realizes that something is happening beyond skin deep changes. 

Pausing his reverie, the young man no longer’s eyes open to see a name plate on his desk, Gionovan Clarvallo. “No, tha’s not-” He clutches at his throat as his voice rumbles deeper. Gionovan stands with a start and the sound of the seat of his pants tearing open resounds in the room. He groans and leans on the table as thighs grow wide and his ass expands into quite a powerful cushion. Clenching his stubble hidden jaw he can barely even realize that he lost something when he languished in his changing form. The label young man doesn’t quite apply anymore as smile crinkles crack around his eyes. His mind races once more to find things to hold onto.

He’s Gionovan Clarvallo. He’s lived in this town for most of his life, or no he lived in the city for a while didn’t he? The man groans as two lifetimes crash into each other like a fusion reaction. His studies evaporate to be replaced by prodigious years at culinary school. His gap year fades as recollections of traveling New York City to find hidden gems and expand his palette grow increasingly vivid, and unknowingly vital to who he is. Once more Gionovan feels a rising need to burp. Hand curling into a fist he covers his mouth and he sees dark curls bathe down his fore arm.

The forest of hair that had only just begun to decorate his chest and stomach rapidly begins to thicken to cover every inch of his form as he struggles once more against pressure rising up his throat. Gionovan launches into a fit of belching once more. With each release his body changes further, jungle of chest hair spreading further, expanding and thickening, growing dark enough to completely hide tanned skin beneath it. His whole body grows wider, taller, heavier. Sweat trails down the side of his torso as his wildly increasing haven of pit hair drips with his new heady musk. Pants burst to shreds as his thighs grow to a size that can scarcely be covered while newly hairy shoulders grow bulkier to match his thickening neck and the weighty arms they are charged to maneuver. 

Clutching at his stomach as it expands and grows fluffier with both darkening hair and comfortable weight, Gionovan realizes something. He tastes food more delicious than he’s ever experienced before dancing across his tongue. Flavors unfathomable and unfamiliar make their home in his mouth as his body continues to morph with every heaving release. Pesto sears his sinuses as the waistband of his underwear begins to struggle against his expanding ass and the suddenly monolithic testament to his masculinity bulging in his crotch. Airy gelato cleanses his palate as his stomach begins to hang over said waistband as his legs grow thick enough to send tears in the elastic and curls grow thick enough across them to be a pelt. The aftertaste of rich creamy fresh tomato pasta overwrites more and more of who he once was as memories of his time in the kitchen and traveling the world for new tastes chips away at whatever edges of Jonathan that remain.

As he sits in the office, his office, rubbing at a torso that is rapidly becoming a hairy musclegut, he scratches at his thickening beard as a strange instinct rises as the aftertastes, or memories rather, continue to ephemerally rise. He could cook better than that. It’s why he opened his restaurant after all. To offer nothing but the best to this little town. To help ensure that every inch of the world has to experience the heavenly flavors he’s been so fortunate to enjoy. It’s why he opened his Slice of Italy. Standing with a grunt, there’s a knock on the office door and he realizes that he is almost completely nude. With a gasp, Giovanni clears his throat and calls out, “One minute Romeo!” 

He goes to a cabinet in the corner and pulls out a change of clothes, well-suited to his massive form. He’s learned that a man of his size, and passion, should always keep an outfit on standby, after all it’s impossible to predict what any odd day will hold. Quickly struggling into the clothes he figures it’s about time to go up a size as gets the snug clothes on. Smiling at a picture of himself with the statue out front, Giovanni Cavallo goes to unlock his office door and greet his manager. Romeo smirks knowingly at the restaurant’s owner and executive chef before directing the massive man’s attention to a couple of younger men standing uncomfortably near the entrance.

“Evening Hon. Those two over there are the ones that uh, broke the display.” Giovanni puts his meaty hand on Romeo’s shoulder and with a wink rumbles out, “Thanks Rome. Know I can always count on you.” Matching silver bands appear on the fingers of both men and Romeo rolls his eyes before heading off to manage the front of house before the dinner rush is to begin. Giovanni then turns his attention to the hellions awaiting his reprimanding. Sizing them up he imagines what retribution they are to undergo. They could just pay for damages but where’s the fun in that. After all he was always quite fond of that little guy, almost a spitting image of himself he thinks with a smirk, not nearly as hot though. Flexing involuntarily he meets the pair and they immediately squeal.

The pair toss each other under the bus before Giovanni even has a chance to open his mouth and the massive chef scowls. No, these two need to be taught a lesson. At the clearing of his throat the bickering rats are struck mute and stare up at the owner. The kitchen could use a couple new junior chefs. Imagining the two men before him shaping up to fine young professionals under his tutelage, he has no recourse but to offer they work off the damages, “You boys any good in the kitchen?” Shiftily looking at each other the idea seems easy enough and in no time at all Romeo’s tossed them aprons and they’re in the back of house working up a sweat.

They find themselves more at home prepping vegetables and decorating dishes than they do in their actual homes. Quickly do they become acclimated enough to the kitchen that doing anything else is anathema to them. Their light hair rapidly shades darker and their outfits adapt to become suitable to the jobs they enjoy so much. The pair of once ruffians shift and stretch as their physiques become impressive as Giovanni’s was way back when he was their age. Wandering about his restaurant, the executive greets guests and compliments his staff, driving them to strive even harder to make him proud. 

When he gets to his two newest hires, Alessio and Angelo, Giovanni watches them sprout taller as beards race to thicken and hide their shy smirks from his praise. Patting them on the back both men struggle to focus on their tasks at hand as his attention brings them more satisfaction than they could imagine. Commenting on their impressive figures he offers to show them the ropes at the gym in their free time and the junior chefs make eye contact as their biceps bulge larger. Giovanni laughs heartily, bringing a smile to everyone within earshot as they continue to craft the perfect slice of Italy in this small town. “You boys remind me of when I was younger heh, Keep up the good work!”

With that Giovanni goes to stand sentinel at the entrance and welcome guests in. In lieu of his little standee someone’s gotta be the first smiling face that guests see, and given how smooth nights at Giovanni’s Slice of Italy always are, his presence is superfluous. He’s just happy to be here and every day the titan strives to make sure that every guest and employee is as well.

[superbat-love]

Bruce: Are you sure this is where you last saw your dad, kid?

Jon: Yeah.

Bruce: Any chance that you can spot him among these dense trees?

Jon: [shakes his head]

Bruce: Your powers haven't developed sufficiently yet, huh? I don't even know if your dad is conscious and can hear us or not. [hears the rustling of leaves] Who’s there?!

Damian: Stop, don’t shoot! [climbs down from the tree]

Bruce: Damian, I should have known. Why are you here?

Damian: I just wanted to help!

Bruce: [pinches the bridge of his nose] Fine. Looks like we’ll have to do this another way then. Damian, grab the kid.

Damian grabs Jon.

Bruce: Jon, I want you to make the saddest face possible.

Jon: Like this?

Bruce: Hmm, a bit more on the sad side and less disgust maybe?

Damian: Jon, imagine that you switched on the television and realized that your favorite tv show was canceled.

Bruce: Now you look like the world just ended, but we can work with that. [turns around and raises his voice] Superman, I have your kid! Come out and face me or I’ll turn your son into the ultimate weapon of destruction and take over the world!

Clark: [crawls out of the bushes, covered in leaves, with his eyes glowing red] Let. Go. Of. My. Son.

Jon: Dad, you’re alive!

Bruce: Superman, we finally meet at last.

Superbat Family Fics

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Flowers (clark kent)

Summary: Clark has a surprise for you

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 451

A/N: i wrote this while holding back several emotions because i'm being sensitive af today. it's probably crappy and all over the place, but i'm okay with that. Please reblog if you enjoy <3

Read on Ao3!

---

The sound of rain tapping against the window filled the quiet of the apartment. Clark was pacing in the kitchen, running a hand through his messy hair as he glanced at you nervously. Something was up. He’d been acting strange all evening, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact, which was not at all like the calm, steady Clark Kent you knew and loved.

You sat curled up on the couch, watching him with a raised brow. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you hiding from me?” you asked, half teasing, half curious. He froze at the sound of your voice, eyes widening like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

“Hiding? Me? Nothing,” he replied, his voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Clark.” You gave him a pointed look. “You’re the worst liar ever. Spill.”

He let out a long sigh and stopped pacing, turning to face you with a sheepish smile. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and you could tell whatever it was, he was embarrassed about it.

“Okay, fine,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you can’t laugh.”

You grinned, sitting up straighter. “No promises.”

Clark walked over to the couch, standing in front of you as if he were preparing for a big reveal. He reached into his pocket, fumbling a bit before pulling out… a small, slightly crumpled bouquet of wildflowers.

Your heart melted immediately.

“I, uh, picked these on my way home,” he said, his voice soft. “I was going to surprise you, but then I thought maybe it was silly, and I didn’t know if you’d even like them—”

Before he could finish, you were already on your feet, throwing your arms around his neck and laughing. “Clark! That’s what you were hiding? You’re too cute.”

He blinked, caught off guard by your reaction, but quickly relaxed as you hugged him. “You think it’s cute?”

“Of course I do!” you said, pulling back slightly to look at him. “They’re beautiful. And it’s the sweetest thing ever.”

A relieved smile spread across his face, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know why I was so nervous. I just wanted it to be perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” you whispered, standing on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Clark’s eyes twinkled as he handed you the flowers, his earlier nerves completely gone. “Well, if you say so.”

You took the flowers, grinning as you brought them to your nose. “I do say so.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as you both stood there in the warmth of your little apartment, the rain falling softly outside.

And in that moment, everything was perfect.

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[aflamboyanceofflamingos]

I have a dumb idea

The justice league (Minus Clark and Diana) thinks that Robin is an immortal being that changes form every 5-10ish years because Bruce never told them he had different robins

Robin I and Bruce having issues near the end was just due to the transformation coming near

Robin II only lasting so long and Bruce’s grief after they attribute to something going wrong with the transformation and do think Robin is dead

However when Robin III comes they assume that Bruce’s grumpiness is attributed to him being over protective after the disaster of the last transformation

The Steph comes and goes back to Tim and they’re all thrown but like maybe this version of Robin is genderfluid and they don’t want to be rude so they don’t say anything

And when Damian comes after 5 years it just solidifies this theory as well as Robin probably being genderfluid cause of Carrie

Yes the bat kids have come to the watchtower as Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Spoiler

Bruce is unaware

The batkids know and are keeping up the act as they wait for the perfect moment to descend from the celing, all wearing the robin uniform and traumatizing the Justice League

[foreingersgod]

caitlin clark x reader where the reader is very feminine and people don’t realize that shes 💅

She likes girls . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: although you’re a raging gay, you don’t typically look the part. if you had a nickel for every time you and caitlin got mistaken for beings besties or sisters, you’d be rich

A/N: thought this would be a cute little blurb, so anon, if you want me to edit this and make it longer, please message me :)

༶��┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“i don’t know maybe i’m doing something wrong?” you asked caitlin, legs draped over her lap. it was a sunday afternoon spent on the couch, relaxing after brunch with her family.

“baby” she patted your leg “you’re not doing anything wrong!”

“then why do people not take us seriously?” you were incredibly frustrated “if someone treats us like we’re best friends one more time i’m going to lose it”

it happened often, definitely more than you wished. you would be mistaken as caitlin’s sister or her best friend constantly. at first it just started when you started dating publicly. you’d receive comments like “you and your friend have a nice day!” or “she’s a good friend, keep that one around!”. it was sweet at first, but then cait introduced you to her team. they thought she was kidding when she announced you as her girlfriend. it wouldn’t necessarily have been a big deal, but it hurt your feelings that they didn’t genuinely believe that caitlin would date you. even when you met her family, the entire lot of them thought caitlin was bringing home a roommate for the holidays.

“i’m so sorry! you just don’t…look gay” her mom would exclaim, trying to apologize. you tried to not look hurt, you understood even.

“mom” caitlin interfered, already knowing how you were upset once again that you were mistaken for a friend. “it’s ok, but can we just drop it? please?”

now, today at brunch, the waitress asked for caitlin’s number right in front of you. while her parents and brothers were talking about work and school and while you and cait were discussing plans for next week, the young woman scurried over to hand caitlin a napkin with her number on it. caitlin had one arm around your shoulder, another fiddling with the rings on your fingers, and the waitress still didn’t catch a hint. after unfolding the crumpled napkin and seeing the bold black numbers, caitlin immediately declined and motioned to you, she was taken.

“oh my god,” the waitress said “i thought you guys were like friends or something i’m so sorry”

you weren’t surprised.

“i feel like something IS wrong though!” you reply to caitlin, running your hands through your hair in annoyance. “i hate that people don’t even see me as your girlfriend and it sucks!”

“i know, but we’re together either way and that’s all that matters” her words of reassurance were doing little to change your mind.

“maybe it’s the way i dress? i know i’m very feminine and stuff, so maybe that’s the issue”

caitlin laughed “YN, it doesn’t matter how you dress, ok? just because people assume we’re friends or assume you’re straight doesn’t mean that it changes your identity at all. i love the way you dress and i don’t want you to change just because people are blind.”

“you’re right, i just want people to know that we’re together” you sighed.

“me too,” she agreed “but at the same time, i really like saying ‘she’s my girlfriend’ to people”

god she was so sweet, “i really like that too”

[feyburner]

In ur version, does Batman or Superman even approve of Kon and Tim being together?

Lol sorry I’m sure you intended this as an art prompt but instead I used it as a silly little writing exercise.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?

« Bruce Wayne

That depends.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

On what?

« Bruce Wayne

On the subject matter, Clark Kent, Daily Planet Reporter.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

Shoot. hang on

Superman (Justice League) »

Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?

« B

How many times a day does that happen

Just tell me. I can take it

Superman (Justice League) »

Not… that many…

« B

How many records are we scrubbing.

This week.

Superman (Justice League) »

Listen

You are the one who chose to make secret phones that are identical to normal phones

I don’t know what you were expecting

« B

It’s precautionary. In case they get lost.

They’re not identical. The Batcell’s haptic interface hardware is superior to the iPhone’s.

Slightly bigger too.

0.3mm.

Superman (Justice League) »

I’ll refrain from the obvious comment

But know I am thinking it

« B

So there’s a visual difference.

You have x-ray vision.

Superman (Justice League) »

If you think I’m going to x-ray my phone to figure out if the haptic interface software is 0.3mm larger than an iPhones every single time I need to send a text you are nuts

That’s you

« B

Learning memes are we.

Superman (Justice League) »

That’s not a meme. It’s a reaction image

I think

« B

Doesn’t a reaction image have to be sent in reaction to something? By definition?

Superman (Justice League) »

I dont know.

« B

I don’t either.

Superman (Justice League) »

Okay.

« B

You said you wanted to chat?

Superman (Justice League) »

Yes

And let me just preface this with:

I am about to tell you something and I need you to be, with all due respect, so normal about it

« B

Jesus fucking Christ, what happened?

Superman (Justice League) »

Nothing!! bad

Nothing bad

« B

Where are you? Can you call?

Superman (Justice League) »

Ok calm down, I’m fine, everything is fine

I can theoretically call but I think this is the kind of thing you’re going to want to sit with, on your own, for a second

Maybe 30 full seconds actually. Maybe sit for 30 full seconds before taking any action

« B

Kal El, I am catastrophizing at the speed of sound.

Superman (Justice League) »

Then I bet it will be such a huge relief to learn that all Im going to say is I have it on good authority that Superboy has something to tell you, and normally I would never breach his trust like this, but again: I cannot emphasize enough that I need you to be so, so normal. When he tells you. Which I have reason to believe he will, imminently

« B

Alfred has just informed me that Superboy is on the doorstep.

On the doorstep, Kal.

Of my home.

Superman (Justice League) »

Huh!

« B

He’s asked to speak with me in the parlor.

“In the parlor.” Quote.

I forgot we had one of those.

What is this.

Superman (Justice League) »

Well

I think there’s a chance Kon is about to be very, very brave, to your face

And—keep in mind I’m saying this as someone who thinks the world of you and has boundless trust and faith in your ability to be kind, selfless, and accepting—

If he doesnt leave that house with a smile on his face and a spring in his step I will ruin your life.

« B

Jesus.

I know you’re only threatening me because of that, thing I said. Last time.

And yet, it’s still effective.

Superman (Justice League) »

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

Yeah?

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

:)

« B

:)

I have to go meet your kid. “In the parlor”

Superman (Justice League) »

Be nice :)

« B

I will.

I know what he’s going to say anyway.

Superman (Justice League) »

Oh?

« B

He, and coincidentally also Robin, needs to work on his situational awareness.

With an emphasis on remembering to scan the environment for CCTV cameras.

Superman (Justice League) »

Ok to be fair there are a lot of cameras these days

« B

The incident in question took place on the rooftop of Wayne Tower.

Superman (Justice League) »

I see.

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

Yeah.

Unrelatedly are you coming over later?

« B

So you can ruin my life?

Yes.

Superman (Justice League) »

See you then :)

« B

Yes.

Wait.

It’s not weird now that…?

Superman (Justice League) »

Holidays may get awkward but I’m sure we will all cope.

« B

Okay.

:)

Superman (Justice League) »

Tell Kon I said hi!

« B

I will.

*

« B

Hey it’s Batman. I fucked up.

Superman (Justice League) »

What??

« B

Not with Kon’s thing. That went fine. But we kept talking and I mayh ave let something slip and I’d liek to apologize in advance bc I htink he’s on the way

Superman (Justice League) »

Kons at my window???

« B

Sorry.

Superman (Justice League) »

I will ruin your life!!!!!

« B

Nuts.

[sully-s]

Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

[wonderjanga]

Billy the Therapist

Heroes find Marvel a very easy person to talk to, even if his advice and or solutions to their problems are outrageous sometimes.

A great example of this was when Marvel and Flash were in one of the Watchtower’s rec rooms. They were on the floor, laying on their stomachs, kicking their feet in the air like a couple of teenage girls while trying to complete a puzzle.

Flash: *talking about a fight he had with Iris* “She threatened to kick me out for Christ’s sake!”

Marvel: “You know, problems like these shouldn’t matter in the long run.” *places down a puzzle piece*

Flash: “Easy for you to say, you don’t have a wife.” *places down another piece*

Marvel: “You’re right, I don’t, but I knew somebody who got divorced from their wife and they kinda spiraled.” *is talking about a crackhead that lives a couple doors down from him, in fact, it’s this crackhead*

Flash: “What happened to him?”

Marvel: “He became a crackhead.”

Flash: “WHAT?? Dude, this is just us arguing about dishes!”

Marvel: “I know I know, but what I’m saying is the fact that you guys blew this out of proportion over dishes, isn’t really healthy for your relationship. You guys need to work on deescalating conflicts.”

Flash: “I-” *pauses* “That’s actually pretty good advice. You’re right. I’ll apologize to her later.”

Marvel: “Cool so now you won’t become a crackhead.” *puts another piece down*

Flash: “Cap, I don’t think that was ever on the table.”

Though, every now and then, he can give solid advice without sounding a little absurd. Like when Clark was talking about how he wanted nothing to do with Connor and how it was unfair that all this responsibility was put on him.

Supes: *venting*

Marvel: *face blank (He’s just thinking) as he’s chewing a granola bar*

Supes: *sees his blank face* “Please don’t tell me you’re disappointed in me too.”

Marvel: “I’m not.” *finishes his granola bar before crumpling the wrapper up and basketball shooting it into a trash can* “Clark, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to feel the way you do.”

Supes: “You do?” *a little relieved and also surprised because he can’t recall Marvel ever calling him by his first name before*

Marvel: “I do. I mean, think about it. One of your worst enemies, without your consent, took your DNA and his and then proceeded to make a child with it. Then, he tried to make that child into a weapon to take you down. And when that didn’t work and the child was left to us, you were just expected to raise it? So no, I’m not disappointed in the slightest. Granola bar?” *gets two more granola bars*

Supes: *takes one and starts eating it*

Marvel: “But on the other hand, Connor’s a really nice kid. He looks up to you and asks about you a lot. I… don’t think you have to be a father to him. I think you should just focus on being an acquaintance, and maybe in the distant future-” *noms on his own new granola bar* “-you guys can be friends. In all honesty, just treat him like a human being with feelings Clark. He’s still a kid after all.”

Supes: *is quiet for a bit* “I will. Thanks.” *munches more on his granola bar* “These are really good. Where’d you get these?”

Marvel: “Flash’s stash.”

Supes: *nearly chokes* “Flash’s stash?! Isn’t he like super protective of his food??”

Marvel: *shrugs* “He’s never caught me with it so i dunno.”

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Yall don’t understand how obsessed I am with Danny messing with the Justice League. Like just pranking them mad wild. Or “haunting” them.

Maybe it starts as a mistake. Someone was getting close to him and he just vanished. Maybe he was walking around one of their cities cause he wanted to “see how a real hero does it” but tried to stay out of the way.

Hes following Superman and doesn’t realise hes been had. Superman keeps seeing this odd child on the edge of his vision. It’s only weird because of how quickly he is traveling. He should be followed like this. So he tests it out and flys off to somewhere far off, but secluded. Edge of some farm land would work. Trying to not give it away he doesn’t make a show of looking for the boy. He then spots him. His eyes slightly glowing as he stands in the edge of the woods. Clark focused on the boy and hears slight breaths but nothing else. Which he should have realised sooner was wrong.

He returned to the team to report this odd being following him. To also warn everyone else to be on look out just incase.

Weirdly enough it was the Flash who noticed him next. Even weirder was that he could never get close. Even with his speed which was alarming.

Cyborg started seeing the kid too. He tried using cameras to get a better look at him but nothing ever showed up. Always missing was the boy from the video. Sometimes the whole video would get distort.

Wonder Woman probably got the closest as she used a fight to get “thrown” in his direction. She got close enough to see worry about her. He seemed so concerned and like he was going to step in until he met her gaze. A whole new kind of fear crossed his features. Then he was gone.

Everyone of the main team (and even some not) reporting in of spotting the kid except for Batman. And he looked. He tried everything to see if he was being followed like the rest but nothing. He read their reports on their encounters and tried to emulate it but never saw the boy. Maybe it was all a big prank being pulled on him? He couldn’t rule it out. Still he kept up constant watch.

Then one night he was out and got into a fight. Distracted by looking for the kid he got messy. Or maybe the criminals got desperate but he didn’t notice the rocket launcher being targeted on him in time and it fired. Only then did he notice it. No time to fully get out of the way he braced for the worst. When all of a sudden a body slammed into him shoving him out of the way of the blast. They rolled onto the ground. Bruce quickly recovered and looked for his saviour. On the ground, blown slightly to his left by the explosion was a black haired teen in a white t-shirt. Before he could move the boy groaned and looked right at Bruce. The haunting blue eyes meeting his even with the mask in the way the boy knew just where to look. He was about to speak when the boys eyes went wide with fear and then nothing. The boy just vanished into this air. Bruce didn’t have much time to be stunned by this as the thugs before started to cheer, thinking they had finished off the Bat. So he went to make quick work of them before any could get away. Well now he knows hes being followed too

Danny just freaking out about Batman seeing his face. Turns out he never followed Batman unless fully invisible. All he wanted was to see how “real” heros did it. And it had been helping him with his fighting. To see how the pros are. He was always worried the “worlds greatest detective” would figure him out though so he stayed hidden. Also maybe hes a bit of a fan. I made Wonder Woman get the closest cause shes his fav probably.

[anjellaufeyson]

Hate with attraction - Bellamy Blake

I hated Bellamy and despised him since the beginning. He always had to counter my arguments and disagree with me on every move I made. Every step I took–he criticized. The feeling of hatred was mutual, I never failed to return the remarks he made.

           Bellamy brushed past as if I weren't there, yet he still managed to whisper, “You're falling behind.” 

           I picked up my pace as we walked through the forest. The whole hunting group was filled with all my friends–besides Bellamy. I shoved him almost into a tree, “Catch up soldier boy.” 

My best friend, Octavia turned around while walking, and Bellamy glared at me. “I get Bellamy is an ass but why can't you guys just get along?”

I could feel his stare on me, “Your brother started it on day 1 of coming back to earth. The power must’ve gone to his hollow head, can’t say more than that–” My words were cut off at the sound of arrows flying past us. 

“Grounders,” Bellamy yelled. 

Clarke and Monty spread out of their spot because that’s where most of the fire was, “Guys we have to split up! We all have intercoms so once it’s safe we’ll come back together.” 

Octavia reached for my hand but missed me by a couple of inches, an arrow grazed my palm and cut me, “Just go,” I yelled. She ran away but was hesitant. I was about to reach for my gun before a hand stopped me–Bellamy. 

“We have time to run, don’t waste your bullets.”

I crouched down with him so no one gets hurt again, “If you keep ordering me around, I’m about to waste one.” 

He groaned as he grabbed me and we both made a run for it, “Keep this shit up and maybe I’ll throw you to the grounders.” 

I pushed him off me as we walked into a tiny cave for cover, “I’d rather be with them than you,” I mumbled. 

“What was that princess,” he asked knowing he heard every word I said. His anger was pissing me off. He ripped a part of his shirt off and began wrapping it around my cut.

“I hate when you call me that.” He only called me that because my father is Kane and he won’t let go that I’m “privileged” just like Clarke. “I didn’t make the rules on the ship, It’s not my fault that–”

He pulled hard on the tie he was making causing me to wince in pain, “Don’t finish that sentence.” Bellamy glanced up at me then annoyingly back at my cut as he wrapped it to perfection–I hated how good he was at helping when I needed it. “I know it’s not your fault but your father and every privileged person on that ship let her die for what reason? Because she had one more kid?” 

“You know the rules,” I spoke lowly. It was a sensitive topic and even though I hated his guts and wouldn’t mind if he got floated, I did sympathize. I never liked what happened and the fact no one could have siblings. “The more space taken by more kids would’ve left us overpopulated Bell–” I paused when talking, his nickname Octavia slipped out so easily. 

He looked up at me whilst still holding my hand even though the t-shirt bandage was as good as it was going to get. “I’m sorry she was floated, but it was the rules. And you know the Ark was already overpopulated enough. That’s why they sent us down here in the first place, the stupid 100 who had to risk their criminalistic lives for the others.” This topic always got me upset, not sad but mad. My father, Jaha, and Clarke's mom, Abby, were all willing to risk our lives as if we were all test subjects. 

“We mean nothing to them, that’s why I was so hell-bent on making sure all of the 100 could survive.”

I rolled my eyes remembering this wasn’t a friend I was talking to, “No, Bellamy you wanted all of us to remove our locators so that you could make sure they didn’t come down here because your reckless ass shot Jaha. I understand it was for Octavia but don’t act as if you’re some hero.” 

He pressed down on my wound before dropping his hand, “I never said I was. You always think you’re better than me.” 

I went to punch Bellamy but he moved out of the way, I was always good at hand-to-hand, my father got me a trainer, one of the guards. I knew how to fight, shoot, plant, etc. I was built to survive as if he’s been planning this forever. I smiled as I ducked the attack he threw at me, “You can only stand your ground because of the training you and Lincoln did together.” I went to kick him but he caught my leg, kicks were the one thing I couldn’t get the hang of. 

“Learn to be faster, princess,” he had a tiny grin on his face as he twisted my leg so I was hopping. 

I’d never give him the satisfaction of beating me, I kicked my leg again and got out of his grip. I elbowed him and punched him. His lip began to bleed, he had a smile on his face as his finger touched his lip. “Better,” he whispered. 

I went to hit him again but he blocked it and turned me around and kicked behind my leg causing me to fall onto one knee. He grabbed my hair, not too rough to hurt me but enough to move my head so I’d look up at him. “Train more and maybe you’ll beat me.”��

Slowly I rose and hit him at his throat causing him to back up. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough so he’d fuck off. I regained enough strength to cause him to lose his balance, then I got him to hit his back onto the ground. I kept my knee on his chest as I looked down at him, “You’ll never beat me, Bellamy. And I don’t think I’m better than you–” Our breaths filled the cave, “I know I am.” 

I stayed with my knee on his chest until he gave me a look that I couldn’t comprehend. His lips parted and he moved in to kiss me. I don’t know why but I didn’t back away, I took my knee off of his chest slowly. His fingers slipped into my hair and he pulled me deeper in. He kissed me roughly and I could taste the hate he held for me. Then he pushed me with a betrayal of a smile, “Never let your guard down, princess.” 

I made myself look hurt, he stepped closer and I pulled him in for a kiss. He seemed hesitant but easily fell into it. I bit down on his lip causing him to wince in pain. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, blood was dripping more than before. 

I pushed him away from me, I hated him now more than before. But God, I’d kiss him again with hate once more if given the chance. “Never let your guard down, Bell.” 

Suddenly Octavia ran into the cave looking frantic, “Jesus, did the grounders attack you guys?” 

Bellamy and I shared a glance, I turned back to Octavia and smiled as if I wasn’t in pain. “No, no we made it out. Well not without one price to pay,” I said as I held my hand up. 

Octavia looked shocked, she now realized our words were no longer threats, they were promises. “Bellamy,” she said in confusion but also her annoyance was beginning to focus on both of us for being stupid enough to fight each other. “O,” he said while walking past her. I stopped walking so I could talk with Octavia. He turned to me and whispered, “Next time you won’t get off that easily.” I paused, next time?

[the-lambda-archives-ai]

“Okay. . . Background. . . I was a troubled kid, I’ll just get that out of the way, got into fights skipped school made a lot of questionable choices for my age.

I think it goes without saying I didn’t have a lot of friends, not my fault, my parents were shit, abusive dad and a pushover of a mom who just sat back and watched; I used to tell myself it was 'cause she was scared of him too.

Doesn’t matter anymore.

Let’s just say they didn’t take too kindly to finding out that their dearest daughter wanted to be a boy.

I was. . . on my own, I couldn’t stay at home, they didn’t want me to stay and neither did I; since my parents abandoned me I’d forced myself to go back into the closet, I was afraid that if I was myself people would leave.

Typically people aren’t too keen on letting an angry teenager with a shit load of baggage in, so I had nowhere to go.

Naturally, when I turned 18 I joined the army, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you about all the horrors of the military.

I’m let off 7 years later, and if you thought I had problems before, you wouldn’t know the half of it.

I was more lost than ever before.

Turned out I wasn’t the only one because a little while later I ran into a mate from the army in a bar, turned out we both were from the same little shit hole, and coincidentally both ended up in the same town; we drank, talked, and for the first time I felt like I wasn’t alone, I’ve never had it happen where I talked to a stranger and it feel like we’ve known each other our entire lives, it could have also been the alcohol that made it a bit easier, but we got on like a house on fire.

Adrian was the first guy who ever really understood me, who I felt comfortable around, hell I even worked up the confidence to come out to him, I was scared shitless but he obviously accepted me. . . heh . . .it’s funny ‘cause the moment after I came out, he quickly confessed he thought he was gay, it caught me so off guard that I laughed and said “way to kill the moment.” he said he thought it would make me feel better if he also confessed a secret.

I was lost, but now I had a friend.

I became an officer and shortly after he did too, for the first time in my entire life things were beginning to get on track.

We had a good. . . 6 years? without a major incident, which in hindsight it's crazy either of us made it that long without crashing into a tree or something, but well. . . obviously that didn’t last.

One of the guys from work invited us on a hunting trip, it sounded exciting, I’d never been hunting before and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna pass up an opportunity to get drunk in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of idiots! Adrian wasn’t as excited about it as I was and was more reluctant to agree, but I guess when he heard I was going he agreed to come along.

It was us and 3 other guys in Colorado for 3 days, first couple days were great, we hiked around the mountain, went fishing, shot a couple ducks, got temporarily lost, the usual fun you have camping, it was on the night of the second day I think, that one of the guys, Adam, said he saw something moving around the campsite, Clarke, another guy, whipped out his gun and shot it in the air without warning and said some dumb shit like “well it’s gone now!”.

He got yelled at for being a fucking dumbass, but we all kind of agreed it was probably a deer and long gone now.

Adrian woke me up that night, but in a fuckin- kidnap-cover-your-mouth style, I was gonna yell at him but before I could get anything out he whispered to be quiet.

I- I’d never seen him so. . . scared.

I nodded to him and he slowly let go and inched towards the tent door, I- I asked him what was going on but he just whipped around and glared at me, I kind of just shut up and tried to listen. . .?

I’d thought maybe a bear wandered into the campsite and he’d heard it or something?

We were sat there for maybe two or three minutes before I heard a- something growling. . . it- it wasn’t like anything- I- I need you to understand there is no damn animal in Colorado that could make that noise, it was so low but not like- a natural low, like it didn’t sound real?

It sounded like if you took a dog growling and edited it to the lowest possible setting and added a reverb? Something like that- it- it was so loud I thought that it was around our tent but. . . I realized it wasn’t when I heard Adam scream.

The next part was sort of a blur, something ripped into our tent, gunshots, and we both ran out into the woods, I- I wasn't focused on where I was going- I just kept running, like tunnel vision.

It was dark and cold and at some point I realized I wasn't wearing any shoes 'cause my feet were bleeding, I was completely out of breath and exhausted, I had to stop, I barely had a moment to breathe when I heard the growling start again, it wasn't close but it was loud enough that I knew it was near, and then the growl began to change, it slowly morphed into a laugh, and then it started coming from all directions, it was so loud it- that horrible unnatural laugh rang in my skull and I couldn’t move, I knew I was trapped and- that I’d die here, alone.

A gunshot pierced the woods and all at once the laughter stopped, Adrian emerged from the tree line holding a pistol, he was shaken up but began to make his way toward me. . . I should have known better than to let my guard down, but I was so happy to see his stupid face.

A figure jumped out of the trees at a speed that- I. . . I didn’t even have the time to process what was happening, I just turned over to look and it was on Adrian, he dropped his gun and the thing- it- it almost looked human but was so deformed- it was bloated in some places and skinny in others, its face looked charred, pitch black, the only things visible were its glowing white eyes and teeth- it kicked his gun away and I ran to go pick it up, when I turned back I was expecting it to try to stop me. . . That you know- me running would at least catch it's attention? But it didn’t. . . I turned back to see it mauling Adrian, it ripped into his arm and part of his jaw before I shot it.

It didn’t die, the bullet barely seemed to have affected it, but it was enough to drive it back into the woods, he- Adrian was bleeding. Bad.

I- I was so scared he’d die- I lifted him up and wandered the woods looking for the nearby highway, I walked with him for what felt like hours before the forest service found us, they were already on their way because they heard all the gunshots.

From there I guess I must have passed out because next thing I know I’m waking up in a hospital bed, I was well enough and practically jumped out of bed looking for someone to ask if Adrian was alright, but turned out he was in the bed next to me all patched up and sleeping, it’s weird, despite everything that had just happened, in that moment all I thought about was how we must have truly been inseparable if not even a freaky monster could break us apart.

I probably jinxed it. . . Adrian recovered alright and got a ton of gnarly new scars he covers up but. . . he wasn’t the same.

He became . . . obsessed with hunting down whatever that thing was. . . Metaphorically speaking, he’d never go back to those or any other woods ever again, but, he wanted answers, at some point he learned about the lambda institute and became unhealthily obsessed.

His hunger for answers was what began to drive a wedge in our friendship, the supernatural has him in a chokehold, and I don’t even think he realizes it.

Since his recovery he’s. . . spiraled. . . he’s obsessive, possessive, paranoid, and he does things without even thinking about the consequences, before all this happened he was the responsible one, one of our friends joked that I’ve basically become his babysitter, it was a joke but it’s sort of true.

I knew he was obsessed with the paranormal, but I didn’t find out about his fixation on the lambda institute 'till after yesterdays incident when he confessed about it after we left.

. . . He’s been put on mental health leave for a couple weeks, and he’s barely spoken to me since.

I’m getting worried- I’ve been worried, for his health, our r- friendship, but- now more than ever, he always comes to me for everything, but he’s been getting withdrawn, hiding things from me isn’t- he never does that; from others, yes, but not me, I’m- this is bad, I’m worried about what other things he could be hiding, he hid his obsession for months I don’t- I- I think he’s going to do something, something stupid, he’s gonna get hurt and I need to stop him but I don’t know how, I just. . . I just want my best friend back.

> Statement ends.

Pt 192 > here

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