#the royal flush

[holmesoldfellow]

"Sherlock Holmes Solo Mysteries" gamebook series by Iron Crown Enterprises (1987-1988, published by Berkley and I.C.E.)

[graviconscientia]

It's been quiet. A calm that seems endless, longer than you've ever had at one time, one you should be so very grateful for. You aren't.

You keep track of the days. You keep track of the hours. You watch the moons shift in their phases, chart the stars as they move across the sky, monitor the shadows a blazing sun casts every day. Things move. Life moves. Planets, oceans, leaves, creatures, people, everything moves. You don't.

You have stayed in the same rooms for perigees, pacing the same hallways, locking eyes with the same photographs, the only changes in your surroundings coming as gifts from others. Tokens of affection from lovers and friends in the forms of food and flowers and fabric… Fine as they are, pieces you are grateful for, but is it enough? It isn't. You wouldn't dream of sounding unappreciative of any of them, but the hive you're holding onto is becoming a museum, full of artifacts of a lost life you're afraid to forget and a new life that you're afraid to live fully.

When you ran into the forest, you thought something would shift. You thought you could ask the the trees your questions, you thought they'd tell you the same things they always had: "you're safe here. this is home. this is where you need to be." They didn't. They offered their embraces, but they stayed silent. You ran to your dad, too, and hoped he'd have something for you. Hoped he'd have wisdom, or at least kindness: "you're safe here. this is home. this is where you need to be." But it didn't happen, not like that. Quiet rumblings, warmth that didn't quite reach your heart, words that didn't match what you thought you needed. What do you need? What are you missing?

You run to the ocean, you wait for something to happen while you stand at the waves' edges, watching the ships in the distance with narrowed eyes. It's dangerous to venture further than this, to test the waters so very literally, but you slip off your shoes, leaving them in the sand, and walk into the water, slow, measured, eyes kept upward even as you slip underneath the surface, listening to what the sea says to you. What do you do? What needs to change? All it says is: "you're safe here. this is home. this is where you need to be." But you know that's a lie. You leave, drenched, angry, frustrated you even asked, and more desperate than ever for an answer.

Nothing changes when you enter your home. The same silence you've become so used to greets you, the same emptiness fills every room and seeps into your lungs. It steals your voice. It steals your breath. It's quiet. You can't stand it.

Messages find you, and they manage to pull you out of the loop of madness you've made for yourself, even if their efforts are short-lived. Your heart softens for their writers, but your mind spends a little too much time with them. You talk of peace. You talk of calm. You talk of quiet, unearned.

"sometimes, peace is welcome. to have the time to be idle. to not have to do anything. it's good, isn't it?" "usually. i can appreciate quiet, but restlessness is usually what i get out of too much of it, yeah." "then we should do something about it."

You decide to do something about it.

You sent a letter, to Asidea, a few days ago. A short one, a frantic flash of words, written through lonely sobs for faces you miss so terribly, on a day where you felt your failures so acutely. There was no response, then. You don't deserve one, you know that. Still, you're trying again. Another letter, longer, with a pair of requests. You send it off, and sit by your transportaliser, waiting for hours. You're giving them three this time. It's terrifying to leave your coordinates unlocked for so long-- what if they come through in person? what if they make demands i can't meet? what if they pull me back before i'm ready to go?-- but you trust your children. You trust that they will not move until all of you are ready.

Before the three hours pass, there's a flash of green, and a box sits atop the transportaliser pad. It's unassuming, a brown box wrapped with a dark red ribbon. You are careful in unwrapping it, nervous that it is a trap laid by someone else, but it is exactly as you had hoped. It's from your children, only, with six letters inside. Your hands are delicate as you hold each sheet of parchment, all held far away from a face wet with tears as you read them. dear mama, they all start, and they all end the very same way. love, forever, always, from the moons and back and beyond. Five letters, written individually, and one penned by Virago with words from all of them. The last letter is heavier. The last letter answers both requests.

Inside the envelope is a stack of photographs, copies of originals kept in albums locked away, pictures of the life you left behind and the people still there. Selfies of your family that you managed to sneak in taking, candids of young people enjoying moments between duties and responsibilities-- Virago and Jagara doubled over and laughing in beautiful ballgowns, Perygl grinning by an arrow in a bullseye, Cyther Kaiser and Haakon smearing frosting on each others' faces, Izerti excitedly pointing to a book with her name printed along the bottom edge. More photos of them posing by statues, reading in nests of pillows, holding onto each other in snow, on shores, in sand, on sofas… And there you are, in some of them, pressing kisses to their cheeks, beaming proudly as you stand behind them… There are a few that you've never seen before: one has you looking out a window in your imperial regalia, another is of you giggling with your ex-husband in plainclothes, a third is one taken of the five remaining royals, all of them smiling warmly and holding each other tightly. The date is written on the back of it; it was taken six days ago. It was prepared for a day they knew mattered to you. It was prepared for their mother.

The photos were the first request, and if that was all they gave you, it would've been more than enough. But the second part was answered, and at the bottom of the envelope sits a ring, golden band with cut alexandrite atop it, exactly the same as it was 67 sweeps ago. You slide it on your finger gingerly, then press one of the gems. Slowly, you stand, and glance at your reflection in the mirror in the hallway. It still works. Your perception disruptor still works. There you are, human, with bright blue eyes surrounded by white, a shock of red hair, freckles and scars smattered across pink skin. This is not who you are, but it's what you asked for. An option. A change. A choice.

Everything that's been sent to you is returned to the box, brought to your room, and placed on your desk between a beautifully wrought dragon in a gardenia, and a tiny pillow with a crisp game-like module resting on it. Paper is pulled out of a desk drawer, and teal ink is drawn across it, letters swirled along with frenetic speed, a simple message dressed in verbosity. i love you. i miss you. please wait a little longer. i need more time. i want to see you soon. i promise, we'll be together again. somewhere, somehow. Folded carefully, sealed with wax, monogrammed on the back, you send it off, and you're quick to lock your coordinates. You fiddle with your necklace for a moment, eyes fixed upon the transportaliser, staring at the numbers you've input from memory.

You think this will be one of the last letters you need to send. You think, as well, this is one of the last times you will do this song and dance of scrambling your coordinates, of locking the doors behind you.

Something has to shift. Even in the quietest moments of life, everything moves. Now, you must too.

[vxnuslogy]

— pasalubong.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: kinich wasn't a sentimental person at heart, until you left to travel. neither was he easily upset, but here he was, undoubtedly upset that you didn't give him a gift with your recent package.

— warnings: ooc-kinich and ajaw (still havent done the new aq), he's a bit down bad, and misses you dearly.

— author's note: this is not angst despite the premise LMFAO. art credits to @.n429g on twt. | 1.6k words.

“delivery for kinich!” a mail man shouted, trying his best to not look down over the ledge the scions of the canopy is held. “delivery for ki—”

“i heard ya!” the small dragon yells, taking the sealed letter and small box from the man’s hands and throws a pouch of mora as thanks. 

the man sweat drops at the comical sight of the tiny dragonlord floating up to where kinich was. said man was dangling his legs over the ledge, hair swaying with the wind and an indifferent look on his face as he swats away his small companion and roughly takes the letter in his hands. he could only assume that the two had started another argument once again.

with a sigh, he cups a hand to his mouth and shouts, “thank you for your patronage!”

kinich looked in his direction and gave him a small nod. there were few postal workers here in natlan, so he made sure to at least pay the man generously—especially with how his legs shake and hand clutch the side of the mountain for dear life.

ajaw continued to punch and tug at his head but his attention had zeroed in on the envelope. it felt heavier than the last and you had sent a small package with it. ‘for my dearest, kinich & almighty dragon lord, ajaw.’ the small note said with your signature right below it as well as a wax seal at the corner. your penmanship makes kinich smile and before ajaw can open his mouth, he takes the grapple on his waist and zips away to find a secluded place to open your gifts. they were sacred to him and therefore had to be treated with utmost care.

when he lands on teticpac peak, he sits down by one of the rocks and gently peels away the seal. kinich makes a mental note to stop by a market to get a new container for all your letters, after all, his bedside drawer can only hold so much of you over the years. 

‘to my dearest, kinich,’

with just four words, you had him smiling like a fool. one hand propped behind his back to support his weight as he leisurely soaks in your stories like a sponge. ajaw sits by his shoulder, impatiently demanding him to open the box that came along with your letter. kinich was not even half way with reading before he relented—you always had a knack for making pages and pages of stories, but he didn’t mind. you have been away for nearly 7 years now and send only a letter or two every few years. kinich learned to appreciate the pages of your love every time they arrive.

“hurry up!” ajaw demanded, waiting with bated breath as kinich opened the box. “learn to be patient, ajaw.”

the dragon only huffed and turned around but it didn’t take long before he dove head first into the array of gifts. while his little companion drowned in material luxuries, kinich took out items in piles and made a mental note to give them to their respective owners.

kinich tucked the small pouch with xilonen’s name along with your letter for her at his side. he will deliver these to her first, he concludes. as he’s sifting through the items, kinich catches a glimpse of ajaw sitting on a toy fox’s head with a small note with kachina’s name. the final item that seemed important was a small box containing colorful seashells with mualani’s name on it.

his brows furrowed in confusion as he sets all the gifts down carefully and sifts through the package one more time. and again, and again, until his lower back felt sore. ajaw noticed his antsy behavior and decided to look at what all the fuss was about. kinich sat down, head lowered with his bangs covering his eyes—ajaw was beginning to worry (but he would rather die than verbally admit it).

“hey!” ajaw turned to kinich who had stiffly stood up. clutching at your letter as the sliver of expectancy in his eyes dimmed. “don't tell me they actually forgot about you?”

“let’s go back,” he says with a subtly sullen voice. “we have to deliver these to the others.”

ajaw makes no further comment and sits on his shoulder as they zip from one place to another. he doesn’t point out the way kinich’s eyes looked duller and the way a frown tugged at his lips—he was upset. 

“hmph! i'll be sure to show them a piece of my mind when they get back!" the dragon complains to him as they arrive back home. kinich beelined his way back to his residence, a bit more aggressive than he normally would.

he doesn’t want to admit that he was upset—it was stupid. so what if you didn’t get him a gift after not hearing from you for almost a year? but how come everyone else had one? hell even citlani and mavuika received one, so why didn’t he?

with a click of his tongue he pushed past all the people in his way, muttering half hearted apologies here and there as ajaw kept calling his name. kinich was not upset nor was he disappointed—he wasn’t a child chasing after the trail of gold you left behind anymore. he was an adult now, someone people look up to and admire. kinich was no longer the shy kid that always wondered if he could ever chase after you.

“kinich!”

with the shout of his name, he was taken back to memory lane. how you would call to him from the ground, a pair of wheels at your feet as you glided through the rocky terrain as if it were made of ice. the smile you flash him as you point to your finish line makes his heart skip a few beats, rendering him only to reply in a nod because his mind has turned into a mushy puddle. 

“kinich!”

you have always been golden in his eyes. smiles bright like the sun, kindness gentle like its morning rays, and hypnotizing in the starry trail you leave behind. kinich remembers the first time he tried his hands on rollerblades. he felt unwittingly afraid of standing on his own two feet, the possibility of his world turning upside down with one single step scared him. but you were always there to ward away his fears. it wasn’t long before he took them off and said with a dead expression that he will never try them again. the laugh that he managed to steal from your lungs made all his suffering worth it.

“kinich!”

he doesn’t like letting things go, not when you’ve taught him how to cherish every little thing. but he’d hate himself if he kept you from your dreams. so there he was, all those years ago, standing by natlan’s borders, unable to say goodbye as the rest bid theirs. you had to make him face you—gently cupping his jaw with both hands and flashing a small smile, giving him a tempting offer.

“let me stay,” you said. you were willing to give up your dreams if it meant making him happy. kinich didn’t want his happiness, he wanted yours.

“leave,” he said bluntly. it made you laugh because it sounded incredibly rude, but the way he held your hand in his shaking hold, lip bitten until it almost bled, everyone knew he was struggling the most.

“i’ll give you souvenirs,” you offered as consultation and it took every willpower he had to say he only wanted you. 

“i’ll keep them safe.” he replied and you smiled.

“kinich!”

urging you to travel has been the best and worst decision in his life—you were enjoying your life but he was stuck missing you. his longing for the sun in his life greatly outweighed his happiness for you. how can he be happy when happiness is spelled with your name? the way you smile, and the way you leave a golden trail?

“kinich.”

“ajaw, enou—” his sentence was cut off when he turned to look at the smiling faces of his tribe. brows furrowed in confusion as he searched the crowd for a certain green dragon, but all his eyes could see was gold.

the wind in his lungs was stolen as the images of smiling faces turn to fade, his attention solely on you in the distance, ajaw by your side as you both waved him over. as fast as the winds could take him, kinich ran straight in your arms—his home. your laugh ringed like morning birds and your hands felt warm like the afternoon heat. you were home; you were his gift.

“pasalubong, for kinich,” you say with a teasing lilt to your voice. 

“pasalubong?” he repeats, hands coming to cradle your smiling face. “what does that mean?”

you smile wider and hold his hands with your own. “it means gifts given by homecomers. but,” you tuck away a stray piece of his hair behind his ear as you tempt him in another embrace. “it can also mean ‘to meet again.’”

kinich laughed—airy and bright, like the setting sun. this was so you, he thought, burying his head in your neck. trying to make up for all the lost physical contact he had missed. 

“thank you for the gift.” he said with a smile.

you pat him on the back and hummed in delight. “i came back just for you.”

“i’m honered,” he jests and takes a step back, not letting your hand go. “you should be! the trip back home is nothing short of tedious!”

he chuckles because kinich knows he’s a goner. no need for xilonen’s amused teasing, mualani’s persistence and kachina’s curiosity. everyone in his tribe and maybe even natlan knew, kinich would wait for you knowing you’ll eventually come home to him.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[transmechanicus]

The audacity of well established bands to only sell merch for their most recent album. You bastards, you fiends, your peak popularity was in 2007, sell me a tshirt with old album art for the love of god.

[incorrectbatfam]

I feel like Bruce is really, really thankful for Cullen sometimes. Finally, one kid who looked at vigilantism and said “screw that noise.“ Bruce doesn’t have to worry about Cullen fighting clowns in his underwear or trying to run Gotham’s entire crime scene or jumping off buildings by the power of Cape or threatening people with swords. This one is normal and Bruce will never see him on the eight o’ clock news cussing out the Riddler.

Bruce: I just want to say, Cullen, although I love the rest of my kids equally, it's a relief knowing you would never get yourself in trouble with this messy vigilante business.

Cullen, climbing out the window to see his Royal Flush gang member boyfriend while wearing a jacket Midnighter gave him: Yeah, for sure.

[blitzy-blitzwing]

A quick applecider doodle. :V

[silkenbow]

havent drawn in 10 billion years i miss benny

(inspired by this Columbo scene)

[ramavoite]

Starlights Royal Straight Flush!

[grailknightmonty]

jacks of the hermit poker round table :D

docm assignin hermits to face cards has reawoken several of my demons so have some designs for a medieval royalty AU sorta

[0ketinha]

oh, i did this

the babygirls:

Canon JD

Brotherhood JD

Royal Fush (by @year2000electronics ) JD

[numahachi]

[graviconscientia]

[now honestly] which of your children do you think is most like you?

A tricky question! I do think all of them have traits that mirror mine, and none of them had the influence of their fathers. So while they do have aspects of their fathers, mine are a bit easier to spot. It is the game of nature versus nurture. Six of them are Alternian trolls, with Alternian parents. Davodign was the only non-troll, beloved all the same, but my genetics weren't present in his. He picked up my sense of humour, most of all. He was clever and kind and giving all on his own. He was a full person before I came into his life, and was one after it, too.

Izerti had my genetics, but wasn't from the same... brood? (Litter? Event, truly.) as the other five. She had my face, my curiosity... She always had her nose in a book. But she was trouble, too. How I loved her curiosity, her willingness to try new things. She truly was a wonder.

Virago has a strong sense of duty, a sharp gaze with a gentle heart, and hasn't stopped being stressed for sweeps. Cyther Kaiser is a very charming young man who is happy to flirt with any individual who enters his line of sight. Haakon is bright, observant, so much more dangerous than anyone gives him credit for (even though they do know he is very dangerous). Perygl is so fiercely loyal and defends what he cares for without hesitation. Jagara has my face, too. A perfect copy of mine, without any of my history on it. We have been told she is the most like me, with a romantic streak, brutal wit, and fair features. But she is so different, too. Far more confident than I have ever been, certainly.

I do not know who is most like me. It really does depend on the task at hand. I hope they all want to be a little like me, but they never want it so much that they would change their beautiful individual traits for it.

[vxnuslogy]

– jealous charms.

pairing: wise x gn!reader

premise: when jealous, wise had an interesting habit of trying to outdo whoever caught your attention. he needn't worry though, he'll still be your favorite forever.

– warnings: none

– author's note: another filler fic until i finish that one sunday fic that i've been marinating for 2 days now. | ~1.7k words.

“master, is it safe to conclude that you’re jealous of miss grace howards from belobog industries? you’ve been awfully engrossed in trying to replicate her creation for [name].”

a loud clatter echoed in the room as the pair of pliers in wise’s hand suddenly dropped to his work table. your head darts to wise’s hunched figure. his back was awfully straight and shoulders tensed as you raised an amused brow at him when he stood up from his seat and marched his way to fairy. muttering quiet curses as the bangboo on your lap tilted its head at him.

“is that why you’ve been glaring at her whenever we visit the construction site?” you questioned with a teasing tone. wise swiveled his head to your direction and narrowed his gentle eyes at you but you only let out an amused snort. he looked more like a wet cat than a big shot proxy with the way his cheeks burned red all the way to the tips of his ears. the color could probably rival the red tassel earring you gave him last year on chinese new years.

“firstly, i am not jealous–”

“i would beg to differ, master.”

“second!” wise turned to fairy, a hand to his hip while the other ran down his face, voice raising slightly as he tried to rid off the flustered tint on his cheeks. “if i were to be jealous of someone, it wouldn’t be grace.”

“will mister anton from belobog industries be the next candidate?” the ai quipped at him making the gray haired boy groan in frustration.

a laugh rippled from your chest as wise pouted and begrudgingly went back to his work station. but not before narrowing his eyes one last time at a glowing blue eyeball (?) that was fairy.

“aww wise it’s okay,” you gently place the bangboo down on the floor and make your way to wise. trying your hardest to take a peek at whatever he’s been working on. or at least get confirmation that he was actually making what you thought he was making. “everyone gets jealous sometimes.”

wise didn’t appreciate your teasing remark because he rolled his eyes at you and threw a piece of paper at your face. “seeing as though you’re not doing anything, do me a favor and pick up some more films for the store.”

it was your turn to pout. “jealousy doesn’t suit you at all, wise.”

with a sigh, you reluctantly left the room when he raised a brow at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. you hated how such a small quirk up of his lips melted all of your teasing. but then again, when it comes to anything related to wise you didn’t put up too much of a fight, no matter what it was.

– –

wise was not jealous. he repeatedly reminded himself of those words like a broken record. reciting it like a mantra in his head as he continued to bend and break the pieces of metal in front of him.

“master, now that the subject of your affection is gone, will you finally admit to being jealous?”

fairy’s words sent a shiver down his spine, silently thanking belle and you for going out to the arcade and prolonging your inevitable return even more. if either one of you heard fairy, he wouldn’t be able to live it down. a defeated sigh left his lips when he dropped his tools and buried his head in his arms.

“fairy, please just shut up.” wise’s voice was no more than a muffled plea as fairy continued to torment him.

“but all the data i’ve collected all share the same conclusion: you are jealous master.”

wise turned his head to their hdd system that glowed blue as fairy’s avatar floated. “okay so maybe i am a little jealous.” 

“but why, master?” wise felt an oncoming headache approach as fairy listed out the reason why he shouldn’t be jealous. “hollow raider [name] has made it clear on many occasions that they favor you the most. their sudden interest in miss grace howards cannot compare to their interest in you.”

wise knew that but it still didn’t feel right to him. with a groan he dropped his head back on the desk, his free hand coming to inspect the silver band he’s been working on for the past few weeks. “you’re making me feel stupid here, fairy.” an uncharacteristic pout graced his lips when he remembered how your eyes shined like bright diamonds when grace showed you her newest invention.

“it’ll help you in the hollows!” she had proudly proclaimed. and ever since that day, you’ve been wearing the bracelet that doubled as a tracker for both your health and your position to every mission you took on. wise felt the pricks of jealousy whenever you praised the older woman with a dazzling grin and an excited “it was very helpful!”

“i’m also helpful.” he muttered to no one in particular. 

“of course you are! you’re my proxy after all.”

wise felt his heart lurch out his chest as he hurried hid the band inside his hand when you appeared in the room. like a deer caught in headlights, he stiffly smiled at you. “w-when did you get back…?” he cooly asked, or at least he hoped it sounded cool enough for you to brush off whatever you heard.

with your hands behind your back, you stalked your way to his desk. “just a moment ago. belle is shelving all the new films now.” you lean in closer to wise’s space, trying for the second time to catch a glimpse at whatever it was he was working on. a tentative smile forming on your face when you ask him, “will you finally show me what you’re making? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

you certainly wouldn’t laugh, but you would tease him relentlessly. a final sigh escaped him as he leaned back on his seat and opened up the hand that hid his creation. “it’s… really nothing.” his voice was unusually timid when you walked over to his desk and took a peak. being in such close proximity with you has his poor heart and mind swimming. you wore perfume today and it was all wise could think about as you gingerly pick up the silver band.

“you need to give yourself more credit, wise.” 

this wasn’t good. if you continued to look at him like that he would surely melt into a puddle, and that would be incredibly embarrassing. a smile broke out from your face as you unclipped grace’s wristband and put wise’s creation on your wrist.

“does it have any functions?” wise has always enjoyed your curious nature. sure, it got you in trouble most of the time, but he found it incredibly endearing. he shook his head and opened up the closest drawer and pulled out a matching band several sizes smaller. “not any advanced ones, not yet at least.”

wise stood up from his seat and picked up the bangboo peacefully dozing off in one of the corners. taking its small arm gently, he slid the band over and glowed a soft white. the same thing happened to the one you wore and wise swore he felt his heart skip a few beats when you looked at him with big eyes filled with wonder.

“but it can accurately track your ether aptitude and send me an emergency message when you’re reaching your limit,” picking up the bangboo in his arms, wise made his way back to his desk and placed the little creature on it. “it’s still a work in progress, but i hope it’ll eventually be able to map out full hollows without much trouble.” 

your silence made wise nervous. you were never this quiet and he didn’t dare to look at you. that is until he felt a pair of arms wrap around his head and the scent of your perfume invading his senses. his breath started to quicken as you nuzzled your face into his hair, hands resting on his shoulders. wise felt his entire body tingle when your chuckle vibrated through his entire body and left a fuzzy feeling in his chest, a swarm of freed butterflies fluttering inside his stomach when you pulled away. warm hands holding both of his cheeks that were no doubt burning a bright red.

“did you make this for me?” wise didn’t like the way your eyes crinkled into amused crescents. “or did you just want to outstage miss grace?” he heard your laugh ring out when he turned his head to the side and murmured a soft maybe into your palm.

“god you’re so cute you know that?” a wide smile spread across your face as you smothered the boy into another hug. “don’t worry, no one could ever replace my proxy.”

wise wasn’t a physically affectionate person, not by a lot at least. but right now when he feels your laughter so close to his heart, he can’t help but wish to stay in your embrace. his arms slowly snaked to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, wanting to hug you like how your skin hugs the bones that make up your entirety. how lovely it must be to live inside your heart, to feel every beat pulsing through him as he listens to your heartbeat. slightly erratic but still calm, so unlike his that was beating so rapidly he feared it might escape his ribs and offer itself to you. 

“maybe i was a little jealous.” he didn’t know what urged him to say that but the laughter it stole from you made him smile like a fool. wise would stay jealous forever if you would hug him like this every time to assure him that he was still your favorite form of protection.

“thank you for always caring about me, wise.” there was such vulnerability in your voice that made wise tremble in your hold. all he could offer was a hum as he buried his head further into your chest making you chuckle. if only you knew the lengths he would go to just to keep you glued to his side, away from all harm and danger.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[hauntingjasper]

Are we gonna talk about these two being Card Wars nerds and being so good at it that they actually injured two people + Gumball being The Floop Master

pls bring back my unhinged Card Wars bfs

[makingdonalddrumpfagain]

Now don't that make you feel better?

[whorangi1104]

If Jor-El was always there with the milk

Inspired by this tiktok about a Tumblr post… also because the comments are begging me: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8Nojvct/

TW: description of a torture method

Everybody knows the story of how Superman crashed to earth after the destruction of his home planet, but not everyone knows of his father who arrived with him.

Jor-El, who had somehow gotten his clothes hooked onto some part of the capsule his baby was in when they fired it, was honestly surprised he survived the deep space for so long without losing his son's capsule, although weakened somewhat. It seemed that they crashed on a lesser developed planet, as the beings here were still living in small structures built of basic natural materials. With his son, Jor-El knocked on the door of the nearest settlement for help.

Pa Kent was quite surprised, to put it lightly, when he answered the door to a strange man wearing clothes that seemed quite out of place and carrying a sort of carrier containing- is that a baby? And it turns out they were aliens, and none of them could understand the other, but he knew wasn't hallucinating when the man demonstrated boiling a pot of water with his lasers for eyes. But he was taught to do the right thing and trusts people (or aliens) until they give him a reason not to, so he let them stay. He told the neighbors they were distant relatives who were tired of city life, and because they coincidentally needed a helping hand on the farm. Within a short time, they'd learned the language, became quite a help with their speed and strength, and were delightful company. Although Pa Kent still worried his wife might gravitate towards this “Jor-El”, for he was far better looking, but semi-co-parenting the adorable baby was worth it.

Jor-El quite enjoyed this simple life, and the years passed quick. He had started courting both humans, though he could not gift them his wealth, he helped whenever he could. He learned earth customs, and apparently what he thought was courting wasn't how they did it, but oh well. He would still teach he son the ways of his roots, and keep the customs of suitors.

Clark grew up like any other boy, except for the time he almost burnt down the barn, froze the lake, drifted into the clouds as a baby… you get it. His biological father taught him to control these things so he could blow on his food without making an iced sundae out of his soup, but it was Ma and Pa Kent who helped him with his school work, tucked him in most nights, and read him stories of snow white and little red riding hood. Jor-El mostly taught him a Kryptonian curriculum, and was the only one he could really let loose playing catch with without the worry of accidentally hurting him. It was kinda like having divorced parents, if the divorced parents got along just fine and still lived together, and one of them built an extension to the house that tripled its size to do experiments in (scientist on any planet). Sometimes Clark would catch his Father staring at a sketch of a woman and look up into the stars, but it was a mutual agreement not to speak of her (after Clark grew out of his ‘why’ phase anyway).

Clark grew up, had his farewell, moved to Metropolis, you know the story. Sometimes Jor-El would visit him, check up on his Kryptonian, though Clark knew he could hear him just fine across the country. Clark eventually started dating Bruce Wayne after interviewing him. Then there was some confusing things where Bruce kissed Superman, (that's still him, but he didn't think Bruce was really smart enough to figure that out at the time,) then BATMAN of all people kissed him, and they had a good laugh about how Bruce thought they both knew each other's identities, and Clark was a mess of confusion during it all. But this isn't about superbat interactions in the wild, plenty of other fanfics for that, this is about Jor-El about to have way too many adopted orphaned grandkids. So then came the time for Bruce to meet Clark's parents.

Meeting the Kent's? They were charmed, happy that Clark found someone financially stable and made him happy. The regular human stuff. Mr.El on the other hand?

Jor-El looked down at the man in a suit standing in front of him. He had never really listened in on his son's personal life, as a respectful Kryptonian, but this one seemed a bit… dim. Famously a playboy bimbo, honestly. This was the guy Kal-El was into? Well if Kal thinks he can pass the test, then so be it.

Bruce looked up at the imposing figure in front of him, tall as a mountain, calm as a river, arms crossed with a glare that could shake a lesser man. Bruce was no lesser man, but with his Brucie act, Jor-El probably thinks that he was just too stupid to be intimidated.

“So, Jake, was it?”

“Jor, of the house of El.”

The alien's glare deepened, while Bruce rivaled him with a smile.

“Potato patata, pleased to meet you sir.”

“Oh no, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Sarcasm, glad to see our species aren't so different.”

“You will need to complete the courting ritual to have my son.”

“I was thinking of breaking the ice a little, but straight to the point, a very efficient man I see. Could I interest you with a job at Wayne Enterprises?”

Jor-El ignored the job offer and switched to Kryptonian, which Clark sighed and translated, although Bruce had already learned the language and had surgery to implant an invention of his in his vocal cords to physically be able to pronounce the words that would be impossible for a normal human.

“He says the suitor may pick any activity as long as the rules are fair. If they fail to win, the parent can,— dad, I'm not translating that.”

Bruce understood it of course, giving a thoughtful “Hn.” in response. These Kryptonian rituals were certainly high stakes, and he certainly doesn't look forward to being strung up with barbed wire and left to marinate in a gas chamber for however long it would take for Clark to break through a bulletproof window with blue kryptonite strapped to his back. A Kryptonian might survive that, but certainly not mortal Bruce Wayne without his batsuit.

He knows what he has to do.

“What do you know, a royal flush!”

Batman can see Jor-El seething in the corner as this ditzy little human took the last of Clark's poker chips, an utter and undeniable victory. Bruce flashes the Man of Titanium- his new nickname- a signature Brucie smile, watching with glee as big, bright, and angry gave him a look that almost rivaled his batglare.

“...Did you just win Clark in a game of poker?”

“I also won an apple pie. The infamous Kent pie, try not to get too jealous when I take both of my hot, steamy, homegrown prizes home.”

Clark buries his head in his hands, but Bruce can feel his smile and the heat radiating off of him.

“Øh, åñd ßy thê wãy, try çœlîñg dòwñ ā bìt wíll yā? Rèd īßñ’t rælly yøúr çōlòr. Î prëfér Kål ïñ ìt mœrè.”

Bruce smirked at the brief flash of surprise on the older Kryptonian’s face at the use of his planet’s language, pulling Clark with his apple pie out the door before he can respond.

Ma Kent is cackling in the background :)