ball fondler

🛸 He starts finding excuses to bring you along on nearly every adventure. If someone asks why you're always there, he shrugs. "They're useful. Don't overthink it."

🛸 At first, his inventions are almost sweet. A device fixes something you complained about. Your favorite snack mysteriously appears. A portal opens exactly when you’re stranded somewhere. Rick insists it’s a coincidence. “Don’t make it weird. I had the technology, you had a problem. That’s called efficiency.”

🛸 Morty notices before Rick does. “R-Rick… You- you- you’ve checked their location, like, twelve times.” “I’m monitoring BURRRP a potentially important variable, Morty.” “You literally put a anatomical heart next to their name.” “…That’s a warning symbol.”

🛸 Rick begins creating little “just in case” devices. A communicator you can use anywhere. A bracelet that protects you from hazardous environments. A hidden emergency beacon. He gives you the safety devices with a casual shrug, but secretly checks that they’re working far more often than necessary.

🛸 He never says, “You belong to me.” That sounds too sentimental and controlling, and Rick would mock anyone who said it. Instead, he says things like: “You’re more unassailable with me.” “Nobody comprehends you as well as I do.” “You can leave whenever you want. I’m just pointing out that every other option is statistically more inadequate.”

🛸 Other people become sources of irritation. He dismisses your friends as "idiots" or "a waste of oxygen," insisting they don't appreciate you the way he does. He tries to monopolize your time rather than encouraging your other relationships.

🛸 When he's especially stressed, he hovers. He'll linger nearby under increasingly flimsy excuses: "I'm not following you. We just... happen to be walking in the same direction. It's called probability."

🛸 When you're gone longer than expected, he can't focus on his experiments. He paces the garage, checking scanners every few seconds while telling himself he's "just waiting because the equipment's expensive."

🛸 The thought of losing you terrifies him far more than he'd ever admit. That's what fuels the obsession: he convinces himself that if he can anticipate every danger and control every variable, he can prevent another devastating loss.

🛸 Rick hates admitting vulnerability, but under enough pressure, it slips out. "You know what the problem is? I can fix broken timelines, dying stars, collapsing universes... and I can't make myself stop worrying about you. That's... annoyingly inefficient."

🛸 He slips a microscopic tracker into your jacket. Then another into your phone. Then one he hides beneath your skin while patching up a scrape after an adventure. "...Relax. It's medical-grade. You'll never notice it." He says it's for emergencies. He checks it dozens of times an hour.

🛸 Every time you're in trouble, Rick appears almost instantly. A mugger rounds the corner? Rick steps out of a green portal before they can blink. You get sick? Medicine is already waiting outside your door. Your car breaks down? He's already underneath it, muttering about "primitive combustion engines." Eventually, it stops feeling like coincidence.

🛸 He rewrites your world. Someone insults you. The next day...They've quit. Moved away. Forgotten your name. Or disappeared from your life entirely. You never see Rick do anything. You stop asking.

🛸 If you try to leave...The first time you disappear for a few days...Rick doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. Every monitor in the garage displays a different search. Thousands of universes. He tears holes through reality looking for you. When he finally finds you...He just stands there. "...Found you."

Obviously, there are Eridian kids with special needs, and a few of them even filter into his classes. But one specific type of special needs kid has never shown up in his classes, and the only reason he even learned of the condition is because Rocky and Adrien's first pebble has the condition.

It's initially quite a struggle for them to deal with, and Grace sympathizes of course, because the child will apparently have huge learning and academic struggles and will likely never be able to live on their own. That is, until he learns the details of the disability.

Basically, it's a condition where the part of the Eridian brain that gives them their eidetic memory isn't fully developed, and so these kids just... can't remember things the way most eridians do. And in a culture where an eidetic memory is the norm, all things cater to that, so not having that is actually a massive disability.

But Grace is like, so... this kid just learns the same way a human does, or something like. Which is nothing new to him, though he is somewhat boggled at how much Rocky and Adrian struggle with their infant and their "slow" learning curve, even as far as initial developmental stages. Grace, on the other hand, simply treats the kid the same way he would a human infant, and Rocky and Adrien are impressed with his patience.

But, through this, it occurs to Grace that there must be other kids out there with this disability who likely aren't getting the attention and chances in life that they deserve, because Eridian culture is particularly hostile toward this disability, and actively views those with it as unable to function in regular society.

So Grace demands that a special course be put together where he teaches kids with this disability specifically. Rocky is hesitant, as most kids with this disability are home schooled and kind of... kept shut away. But Grace insists and as one of Erid's saviors, he gets what he wants eventually.

His first class is super small, maybe only three kids because so few parents were willing to advertise that their children have this disability. And because of the stigma around it, even those who agreed to it are super unsure and want to be present during the lessons, perhaps paranoid about the impression it will leave on Savior Grace, who is so accustomed to only teaching the most gifted students.

But Grace knows exactly how to deal with these kids. Some of them have varying degrees of function when it comes to their memory banks, which isn't so unlike teaching kids on earth. And so Grace is able to introduce all these tools and teaching techniques that were previously unheard of on Erid (though very normal on Earth) like having textbooks for reference with you at all times and having strategies that are less focused on memorization for understanding, and providing these kids with tools like calculators and teaching them the art of taking notes to look back on, etc etc.

Suddenly, with all these tools that most Eridians don't need, these kids are learning at a much faster rate, and succeeding with the help of all their little tools. And because so many normal eridians are ignorant of Grace's actual biology, it's shocking to them that Savior Grace doesn't have an eidetic memory either (shocking to everyone but Rocky anyway)--that his brain functions quite similarly in capacity to these "disabled" children.

Once this news gets around, suddenly there's more kids in his special classes, and there's all kinds of discourse being inflamed because the real reason these kids can't live on their own or function is lack of support from Eridian society.

If Savior Grace, who is well respected as a genius in his own right amongst the Eridians, can function so successfully, they why can't these kids?

It was a very fun gig, actually! I was a big fan of the original and the English-language scriptwriter did a great job translating the story into the new form, so I mostly got to help around some of the localization nuances and with some of the more... obscure or idiosyncratic phrases. It was a very fun puzzle to help solve a tiny corner of!

I'd honestly prefer to trust a translation/localization team for my work rather than getting involved in that process, to be honest. I feel like my job when I'm writing a script is to get it working in its own terms. After that's done? I think I'm better off focusing on getting the next script working, rather than dwelling on how things get localized.

———

clark wakes on a couch in the manor, supremely confused, considering bruce has been on a space mission for the past month, so he has no reason to stay over.

he follows the sound of the front door opening, surprised to see bruce closing it behind him with his coat over his arm. he's in his civvies. when would he have had time to change out of his batsuit from the watchtower?

"you're home early," clark says, unable to keep the delighted warmth from his voice. any length of time without bruce is less than pleasant, but the mission bruce was sent on had been especially stressful because of its distance from earth. even the first sign of trouble would be too late to respond to from so far away. "is everything okay?"

bruce smiles at him, his eyes crinkling. it steals the breath from clark's lungs. "thought i'd surprise you," he says, moving closer. he puts a hand on clark's hip, drawing him near, and before clark can even understand what's happening, bruce pulls him into a kiss.

it's over before clark can truly reciprocate. his lips tingle as bruce pulls back to look at him.

"want to go out for dinner?" bruce asks, his hand still warm against clark's side.

it's then that clark realizes he's not where he's supposed to be. the floor beneath him is the wrong type of wood. the artwork on the walls is different from what he remembers. and bruce wouldn't— he would never— not with clark.

he must be in an alternate dimension. with his fair share of good and bad dimension-travel, clark decides to be cautious, to feel this bruce out, see if he's trustworthy.

clark agrees to dinner. they go to a quiet, modest place in downtown gotham. bruce has them seated in a secluded corner with his back to the wall—a typical habit clark has seen on the rare few times they've had meals together in actual restaurants.

they talk. clark tries to fit in and figure out if bruce is batman, if he can trust him with the knowledge of the unfortunate travel. he aims to glean as much as he can from bruce, subtly probing for information that a bruce who dates clark kent might be more willing to share. it almost feels like an interview, like the first time he spoke to bruce wayne and felt like he was being led in circles. nothing deep, everything surface-level.

after a while, clark realizes that's exactly what it is. he catches a familiar glint in bruce's eyes, almost smug. a barely-there smirk.

clark's shoulders drop as he sighs in defeat. "how long have you known," he asks with a groan.

bruce smiles at him, teasing. with a shrug, he replies, "oh, only since i kissed you."

clark puts his elbows on the table and his face in his hands as a flush rises to his hairline. "i didn't know if i could—" he starts, muffled.

"trust me?" bruce finishes, still smiling. clark wishes he weren't so beautiful. it'd be much less distracting. "i must be rubbing off on you."

"i wish you were rubbing off on me," clark mutters under his breath. thankfully, bruce doesn't seem to hear him.

"we aren't together where you're from," bruce says, sobering quickly. his eyes search clark's face, and clark has always found it hard to hide from bruce.

he pulls his hands from his face and shifts in his chair, avoiding bruce's gaze. eventually, he shakes his head.

"but you want to be," bruce continues. it isn't a question; bruce knows.

clark nods reluctantly anyway, face flaming.

bruce offers him a smile, almost sad, and says, "let's get you home."

———

they work tirelessly in the cave to find clark's universe. bruce keeps asking clark about specific things his bruce does, prying for something. clark isn't exactly sure what, but the answers are harmless: yes, his bruce's heart beats faster whenever clark catches him from a fall; yes, his bruce doesn't truly relax around the league but he does around clark; yes, his bruce has dozens of safety measures to protect clark specifically.

all reasonable, all explainable. clark eventually realizes what this bruce is trying to point out.

"he's not into me like that," clark says after bruce's third time asking a different, highly specific, pointed question. the words pain him to say out loud, but it's the truth. "trust me. it's been years. there's never been any indication—"

"are you seriously about to argue that i wouldn't be able to hide my feelings and emotions for as long as i felt i needed to?" bruce asks, deadpan.

clark deflates. "well, no, but—why would he need to? i don't know what i'm doing wrong. why won't he even consider me?" he asks, his voice thin.

bruce sighs, glancing over at the data pulled up on the batcomputer. they're close to finding a solution, but not quite. clark can tell that this bruce misses his clark sorely. he only wishes his bruce felt the same about him.

"have you given any indication that there's anything to consider?" bruce asks after a long moment.

"sure i have!" clark protests. "i bring him dinner—"

"you bring lois and jimmy dinner."

clark frowns. "sometimes, we patrol together and talk the whole night."

"your night is his day. he doesn't see it as staying awake to chat with you because he'll be up either way."

"but i—"

"clark," bruce says, turning in his chair. clark supresses the shiver in his spine at bruce's low tone. "have you looked him in the eye and asked him out. told him how you feel. said anything that would make him believe he had a chance."

"he's bruce," clark stresses. "he's always had a chance."

bruce inclines his head. "i'm sure he doesn't think so."

"how could you possibly know that?" clark asks, irritation blooming.

bruce looks him in the eye and says, levelly, "because i didn't either."

———

they come to an understanding after that. clark apologizes, promises to return the right clark to this universe, and bruce smiles and says i know you will.

they finally manage to build a sort of wormhole in the manor's backyard.

clark tells this bruce thank you.

bruce tells clark to hug his bruce and listen.

with those odd instructions, clark says goodbye after ensuring the right clark returns to this bruce.

———

when clark finally returns, he learns that an entire month has passed. his bruce had returned from space unharmed, his mission successful, and got right down to work, figuring out how to return the new superman to his dimension.

bruce stares at him in the cave. clark stares back as the portal closes behind him.

"i tried to come back sooner—" clark starts.

"don't be ridiculous," bruce cuts in. "with nobody on this end to keep the portal open, it would've been impossible." bruce sighs, a frown etched on his face. "i should have returned the moment i heard something happened."

"it worked out," clark says, smiling despite himself. "did that clark tell you he and the other bruce—"

"are dating?" bruce finished. "yes, he mentioned it. kept going on and on about wanting to propose." bruce sounds almost bored when he says it, but clark hears the way his voice catches on the last word.

"what?" clark exclaimed. "did you—what did you say?"

bruce peers at him carefully. eventually, he says softly, "i told him to ask alfred for my father's engagement ring. my father said he wanted me to have it from the moment i was born."

"bruce, that's," clark swallows the lump in his throat, "that's so thoughtful."

bruce grunts, shrugging.

clark can't help himself anymore. he surges forward and wraps bruce in a hug. "i missed you," he whispers, something inside him finally settling with bruce safe in his arms.

bruce slowly returns the hug, his breath catching when clark squeezes harder, heart pounding between them.

clark hears it. he gasps.

"spending time with him—with the other bruce," clark starts. "it made me realize that...well, i want you to know that i—"

bruce pulls back a fraction. "yes," he breathes. "yes, i know. the other clark told me."

clark kent wakes the next morning with no recollection of the event. unbeknownst to him, he forgets every aspect of his life that's remotely related to his being an alien. forgets getting his powers, forgets learning how to use them/control himself, forgets the spaceship hidden on his parents farm, forgets saving people all across metropolis and the world, etc. etc.

but then he starts experiencing these...oddities. like that morning, when he reached for his coffee while reading an absolutely horrific article about luthor that was pure propaganda—and he crushed his mug in his hand. at first he thought maybe the mug had been cracked and he didn't know. but the steaming coffee hadn't burned his hand, and the jagged ceramic edges hadn't cut him, either. or on his way to work, when he realized he was running late, and he cleared the distance between his apartment and the daily planet in half the time it normally took him. or the way his vision had gone telescopic when he squinted his eyes to see something far away. or when he accidentally vaporized the bag of popcorn in his microwave before he even closed the door.

all of this happens, and clark thinks, honest to god, that the only explanation is that he and superman switched powers.

which is to say that he somehow has superman's powers and now superman is somewhere out there with none. which must be why he hasn't been spotted for over a week, now.

because clark accidentally stole his powers.

clark panics. but doing so only results in a splintered coffee table and a scorch mark on his bathroom tile. he folds in on himself on the floor in the middle of his kitchen, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself not to touch anything.

he gets a call from his ma. clark has no idea how she has such impeccable timing. with a shaking hand, he applies the barest pressure to his phone and answers the call. ma asks if he's okay, says she hasn't heard from him in a while. she wants him to drop by the farm soon. clark can't tell her about the power he's somehow gained, but he lets her reassure him and promises to make the trip to her soon.

comforted by ma's words, clark goes to the closest place he knows with someone he can (hopefully) trust: gotham.

batman and superman have been featured in the paper multiple times together, mostly concerning their joint work in organized crime busts. clark has reason to believe they're at the very least some kind of coworker, maybe even friends. batman will be able to help clark track down the real superman and return his powers. batman will be able to help clark control his infernal abilities and eventually get back to normal.

he manages to get into gotham without any more incidents, but getting batman's attention is a different story. he could flick on the batsignal...but it's reportedly on the GCPD roof and clark really doesn't feel like trespassing on that specific property. he eventually succeeds by accident, when he gets cornered in an alley at knifepoint with the attacker demanding his wallet.

batman swoops down, silent as a shadow. he dispatches the attacker and unholsters his grappling gun to leave, but clark shoots forward with too much speed and crashes into him. they land in a heap that quickly turns into clark pressed firmly into the ground with a batarang to his neck and his wrists held in a firm grip by batman's other hand.

"wait! please, i didn't mean to do that. something's wrong with me," he says emphatically, cursing the wetness in his eyes. even now in the small alley, the sheer amount of noise clark can hear is overwhelming. he knows how crazy he must look—entirely disheveled, hair unkempt, eyes wide and half-crazed with desperation. he just needs to say something that will make batman believe him. "it has to do with superman."

that gives batman pause. clark leaps at the opportunity.

"this is going to sound crazy, but i think—i think that magic guy he fought a couple weeks ago took away his powers and gave them to me."

batman stares at him blankly. "what."

"i don't know," clark stresses. "here, look—" he pulls one of his hands out of batman's grip easily, wrapping it around the batarang tightly—how does he know the name for this thing?—and when he opens his palm, the metal has crumpled and his skin is unmarred. "see? i woke up with these stupid powers and now i can hear everything and see everything and it sucks—"

batman pulls away from him and stands, his cape enveloping him whole. clark scrambles upright, wringing his hands anxiously.

"...i believe you," batman says eventually. he glances down at the crumpled batarang with a curl in his lip.

clark's shoulders rise to his ears, face tinting pink. "sorry."

batman takes him to a safehouse. he sets clark up with food and clothes and even brings over a red sun lamp that actually helps, to both of their surprise. both of them hunker down and try to track superman's movements. they spend days together in the safehouse searching for clues and trying to hone clark's newfound powers.

clark tries his hardest not to develop a crush. but batman is so gentle and accommodating with his powers, and he brings clark thai food after learning it's his favourite, and he cracks wry jokes out of nowhere that have clark barking out a surprised laugh. needless to say, clark never stood a chance.

he keeps it to himself. there's absolutely no way batman, of all people, would reciprocate his feelings. and he'll probably never see him again when this is all over.

they find the sorcerer. well, batman does. clark watches from a monitor connected to the cowl's camera as batman confronts the magic user and demands that he reverse the spell. after some less-than-gentle persuasion, the sorcerer agrees and clark gets swallowed by a burst of light.

he wakes on the floor with batman hovering over him, concern etched into the line of his mouth.

"did it work?" batman asks, helping clark to sit.

clark looks around the room. he hears someone laugh a city away. he also remembers tearing around the living room as a kid and destroying a side table after tripping over his shoe and faceplanting right into the wood. he focuses his vision and sees the moon through six floor of the apartment building. he remembers pulling batman out of a house fire last month and sticking by him until he was sure everything was fine. he listens to batman's steady heartbeat. he remembers his own spiking when batman smiled at him for the first time after a gruelling mission.

clark can only shake his head in disbelief. he doesn't see a way out of this without compromising his identity. and he only has himself to blame. how embarrassingly predictable of him to run straight to batman and fall for him again.

batman sighs harshly next to him, misunderstanding. "the sorcerer is still in custody. i'll go question him again."

"no," clark reaches for him, grasps his wrist. "it worked. he reversed the spell. just not the way we thought."

batman peers at him carefully, his squinted eyes darting between clark's. after a long moment, his shoulders drop and his jaw firms.

"...you're superman, aren't you."

clark's shoulders hunch. "i'm so sorry, i had no idea—"

he's cut off by batman's laugh.

batman's laugh.

clark watches in disbelief as batman's mouth stretches in a wide smile and he doubles over, pressing his forehead to clark's shoulder and absolutely cackling against him.

"no, stop," clark says, pushing at him weakly with his own budding smile. "this is not funny. do you have any idea how stressed i was?"

that only makes batman laugh harder. he grips at clark's shoulders and hangs his head, his smile never dimming.

it's contagious. through his own laughter, clark says, "i can't believe myself."

Somehow he didn't make a complete fool of himself while facing his gay awakening and the biggest crush since he was in middle school.

Unless you count asking Bruce Fucking Wayne out on a date, sure that he will say no, but he asked anyway, because what does he have to lose?

Bruce Wayne said yes.

Now Clark is panicking because he's just a poor student, he can't afford the type of restaurant Bruce Wayne eats at!

He should cancel!

Clark doesn't cancel because his mama didn't raise a quitter.

He invites Bruce to a small bistro affordable to a student and somehow Wayne is having fun? Smiling and laughing at Clark's jokes, listening to his stories about Smallville and university.

He likes the food and cheap beer too!

Clark doesn't want the night to end, but unfortunately, it does. Wayne needs to go back to Gotham. He has kids.

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

A car comes to pick him up and Clark waits with him to make sure nothing bad happens. And to spend a bit more time with him.

Eventually, the car arrives and they say their goodbyes.

Clark is sure this is the last time he's seeing Bruce Wayne with his own eyes, but then Bruce pulls out a card with his number - personal, not business one - and asks Clark to give him a call.

Clark is in too much shock to say anything so he just nods and takes the card.

Bruce catches his hand then and pulls him down to place a quick kiss on his lips.

Winking, Bruce gets into the car and drives away.

Empty nester Bruce who's just seen Damien off to university. He doesn't really have anyone who comes around regularly or even calls.

He accepted the invitation on impulse. The poor kid looked so embarrassed. It was adorable.

He knows it's just one date and then they'll never see each other again. To Clark it's probably just something from his bucket list. Plus he's so much younger, could be Bruce's son. Bruce shouldn't be interested in seeing him again.

Yet he can't help but give Clark his number, not getting his hopes up.

He feels so foolish staring at his phone constantly the next day. Especially when it keeps being silent.

Clark doesn't call.

Of course he doesn't, and when Bruce slowly begins to accept it at the end of the day when getting ready for bed, the phone calls.

He picks it up faster than he should.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi. It's me," the familiar voice reaches him. "Clark, that is."

"Clark," Bruce repeats, breathing out the name with relief. "I was starting to think you wouldn't call."

"The day was kind of hectic," the kid explains himself. "I finally got some free time, I hope I'm not interrupting anything? Or that you aren't getting ready to bed. It's kinda late."

"No, no, I wasn't doing anything important," Bruce lies, sitting down on the bed and playing with his robe. "How are you?"

Clark agrees and at first, Bruce is the only one cooking, but Clark can't stand just sitting there and watching, so he offers to help.

Bruce protests for only a moment before he gives in.

It's fun to cook with someone else. They keep talking and joking, and at some point, they have a little food fight.

Nothing extreme, just a bit of flour in the hair and pancake mix on the cheeks.

That one word haunts Clark for the whole trip back home.

Bruce is a father. A father of grown up children. His first is older than Clark! Hell, Bruce could be his father as well, that's how big of an age gap there is between them.

They have no business being together, not even for a one night stand.

Even if Bruce was childless, the age is still too big. They're at different stages in life, with different priorities. They would never grow old together and they would be judged constantly.

Sure, everything was perfectly legal, but that wouldn't stop people from calling Bruce a groomer, and Clark would rather not be called a gold digger.

Never calling and meeting each other again is the best decision they could make in their situation.

Clark wasn't a drinker....usually. But he drinks tonight. He had called Bruce and asked if they could talk. Bruce's eyes...he knew Clark had been spooked by something.

Clark looks at the prince of Gotham and lets the words fall on the table. "I don't know what we're doing, what I'm doing. You're old enough to be my father and even have adult children older than me. You were my first celebrity crush. I dream of making the world a more equal and less corrupt place in my own way because of you."

Clark weighs his words. "If we were to become something more serious...they would never let us have peace outside of Gotham. You would be labeled a pervert and a cradle snatcher and I would get labeled a gold digger. Any career I built would be called into question."

Clark wanted Bruce to understand, tears of frustration building in his eyes. "I like you, more than I should, and maybe I'm beginning to feel something more, but I don't know if I'm prepared for the consequences if things go further between us."

"You're right," he finally answers, throat dry like it doesn't want Bruce to speak and end this while they still can. "This could never work. Not because of us but because of everyone else. I didn't even tell my kids about you but I can imagine they won't be happy."

He can already imagine all of them asking if he lost his mind or suspecting Clark of wanting to use his money.

Bruce is a little desperate, but he's not stupid. He wouldn't let that happen, and he knows Clark's intentions are pure.

But to Bruce's kids it wouldn't matter.

And even if Clark proved them wrong, they still won't accept him as part of the family. As Bruce's boyfriend.

Not when he was younger than Dick, Casa and Jason and could literally be their younger brother.

"I never should've agreed to this," Bruce admits painfully. "Get both of our hopes up. But for what it's worth, I don't regret it."

Clark looks at him with years in his eyes.

Clark kisses him. It's warm and soft. It's perfect. He forces himself to pull away. "Thank you for everything. I'm sorry."

Bruce pulls him into a hug. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

Bruce walks Clark to the door, fantasies and dreams of a future that wouldn't ever be falling away as they accept the reality of their situation.

The door clicks locked between them like the closing of a book, Clark ponders, Perhaps an apt metaphor for the end of their little story.

He's constantly distracted, feels sick to his stomach and feels the need to cry at random.

He's a fucking mess and it shows so much his best friend Lois get concerned.

She knew since Clark came from Gotham that something was wrong, but she didn't push because she hoped he would talk with her on his own.

But Clark is getting worse each day and nothing suggests he's going to talk anytime soon. So Lois makes him talk.

At first Clark refuses, but after enough drilling, he spills the beans.

About everything.

Lois doesn't interrupt him, she just listens to Clark getting progressively more broken.

The house was too big, too quiet, too empty. The bi-weekly cleaning crew was efficient as always. Tim's reports indicated that everything was going well at WE. Jason was engrossed in running the Gotham focused Wayne charities.

Bruce finds himself at the graves. He talks for a long time, eventually hs words turn to Clark. He told them it was better for the boy to find someone his age.

Bruce reminiscences on the many relationships that never worked out as he goes to the empty manor. Harvey, Talia, Andrea, Selena...all leaving for one reason or another. He always dreamed of finding someone.

If he was a youn-

The buzzer rings. Bruce isn't expecting anyone. He opens the security feed and sees...

It's an impulsive decision, because he should stay away like they agreed. But if Clark came to him...

They meet in the foyer. Clark is clearly nervous about something. So is Bruce, even if he doesn't know about what exactly.

"You came back," is the first thing Bruce says.

"My friend dropped me here," Clark explains. "She had enough of me moping around."

Bruce hates the idea of Clark being hurt by their "break up", but part of him is also happy the boy is missing Bruce as much as Bruce misses him.

But then he realizes something.

"You told her about us."

There's no "us", but it's hard not to call them that.

Clark nods. "I needed to tell someone."

"And her response was to bring you to me," Bruce says, feeling the sudden need to send that friend a bouquet of flowers.

"She said we're being idiots," Clark reveals with a small smile.

"We're being right," Bruce corrects.

"Right doesn't always mean smart," Clark counters. "Her words, not mine. But I agree with her."

Bruce's heart begins to race with hope when Clark steps closer, within arms reach.

They look at each other, and Bruce is afraid to move a muscle to not spook Clark. Or cause this beautiful dream to end.

"I missed you," Clark breathes out. Like a relief.

They kiss, hands wandering, for a long time, Clark gets stiff and groans, "I've never....not with someone else."

Bruce kisses Clark deeply. "Fuck...I'll show you how to make me feel good."

...

clark kent wakes the next morning with no recollection of the event. unbeknownst to him, he forgets every aspect of his life that's remotely related to his being an alien. forgets getting his powers, forgets learning how to use them/control himself, forgets the spaceship hidden on his parents farm, forgets saving people all across metropolis and the world, etc. etc.

but then he starts experiencing these...oddities. like that morning, when he reached for his coffee while reading an absolutely horrific article about luthor that was pure propaganda—and he crushed his mug in his hand. at first he thought maybe the mug had been cracked and he didn't know. but the steaming coffee hadn't burned his hand, and the jagged ceramic edges hadn't cut him, either. or on his way to work, when he realized he was running late, and he cleared the distance between his apartment and the daily planet in half the time it normally took him. or the way his vision had gone telescopic when he squinted his eyes to see something far away. or when he accidentally vaporized the bag of popcorn in his microwave before he even closed the door.

all of this happens, and clark thinks, honest to god, that the only explanation is that he and superman switched powers.

which is to say that he somehow has superman's powers and now superman is somewhere out there with none. which must be why he hasn't been spotted for over a week, now.

because clark accidentally stole his powers.

clark panics. but doing so only results in a splintered coffee table and a scorch mark on his bathroom tile. he folds in on himself on the floor in the middle of his kitchen, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself not to touch anything.

he gets a call from his ma. clark has no idea how she has such impeccable timing. with a shaking hand, he applies the barest pressure to his phone and answers the call. ma asks if he's okay, says she hasn't heard from him in a while. she wants him to drop by the farm soon. clark can't tell her about the power he's somehow gained, but he lets her reassure him and promises to make the trip to her soon.

comforted by ma's words, clark goes to the closest place he knows with someone he can (hopefully) trust: gotham.

batman and superman have been featured in the paper multiple times together, mostly concerning their joint work in organized crime busts. clark has reason to believe they're at the very least some kind of coworker, maybe even friends. batman will be able to help clark track down the real superman and return his powers. batman will be able to help clark control his infernal abilities and eventually get back to normal.

he manages to get into gotham without any more incidents, but getting batman's attention is a different story. he could flick on the batsignal...but it's reportedly on the GCPD roof and clark really doesn't feel like trespassing on that specific property. he eventually succeeds by accident, when he gets cornered in an alley at knifepoint with the attacker demanding his wallet.

batman swoops down, silent as a shadow. he dispatches the attacker and unholsters his grappling gun to leave, but clark shoots forward with too much speed and crashes into him. they land in a heap that quickly turns into clark pressed firmly into the ground with a batarang to his neck and his wrists held in a firm grip by batman's other hand.

"wait! please, i didn't mean to do that. something's wrong with me," he says emphatically, cursing the wetness in his eyes. even now in the small alley, the sheer amount of noise clark can hear is overwhelming. he knows how crazy he must look—entirely disheveled, hair unkempt, eyes wide and half-crazed with desperation. he just needs to say something that will make batman believe him. "it has to do with superman."

that gives batman pause. clark leaps at the opportunity.

"this is going to sound crazy, but i think—i think that magic guy he fought a couple weeks ago took away his powers and gave them to me."

batman stares at him blankly. "what."

"i don't know," clark stresses. "here, look—" he pulls one of his hands out of batman's grip easily, wrapping it around the batarang tightly—how does he know the name for this thing?—and when he opens his palm, the metal has crumpled and his skin is unmarred. "see? i woke up with these stupid powers and now i can hear everything and see everything and it sucks—"

batman pulls away from him and stands, his cape enveloping him whole. clark scrambles upright, wringing his hands anxiously.

"...i believe you," batman says eventually. he glances down at the crumpled batarang with a curl in his lip.

clark's shoulders rise to his ears, face tinting pink. "sorry."

batman takes him to a safehouse. he sets clark up with food and clothes and even brings over a red sun lamp that actually helps, to both of their surprise. both of them hunker down and try to track superman's movements. they spend days together in the safehouse searching for clues and trying to hone clark's newfound powers.

clark tries his hardest not to develop a crush. but batman is so gentle and accommodating with his powers, and he brings clark thai food after learning it's his favourite, and he cracks wry jokes out of nowhere that have clark barking out a surprised laugh. needless to say, clark never stood a chance.

he keeps it to himself. there's absolutely no way batman, of all people, would reciprocate his feelings. and he'll probably never see him again when this is all over.

they find the sorcerer. well, batman does. clark watches from a monitor connected to the cowl's camera as batman confronts the magic user and demands that he reverse the spell. after some less-than-gentle persuasion, the sorcerer agrees and clark gets swallowed by a burst of light.

he wakes on the floor with batman hovering over him, concern etched into the line of his mouth.

"did it work?" batman asks, helping clark to sit.

clark looks around the room. he hears someone laugh a city away. he also remembers tearing around the living room as a kid and destroying a side table after tripping over his shoe and faceplanting right into the wood. he focuses his vision and sees the moon through six floor of the apartment building. he remembers pulling batman out of a house fire last month and sticking by him until he was sure everything was fine. he listens to batman's steady heartbeat. he remembers his own spiking when batman smiled at him for the first time after a gruelling mission.

clark can only shake his head in disbelief. he doesn't see a way out of this without compromising his identity. and he only has himself to blame. how embarrassingly predictable of him to run straight to batman and fall for him again.

batman sighs harshly next to him, misunderstanding. "the sorcerer is still in custody. i'll go question him again."

"no," clark reaches for him, grasps his wrist. "it worked. he reversed the spell. just not the way we thought."

batman peers at him carefully, his squinted eyes darting between clark's. after a long moment, his shoulders drop and his jaw firms.

"...you're superman, aren't you."

clark's shoulders hunch. "i'm so sorry, i had no idea—"

he's cut off by batman's laugh.

batman's laugh.

clark watches in disbelief as batman's mouth stretches in a wide smile and he doubles over, pressing his forehead to clark's shoulder and absolutely cackling against him.

"no, stop," clark says, pushing at him weakly with his own budding smile. "this is not funny. do you have any idea how stressed i was?"

that only makes batman laugh harder. he grips at clark's shoulders and hangs his head, his smile never dimming.

it's contagious. through his own laughter, clark says, "i can't believe myself."

Take a moment and ask yourself, a project like this requires a lot of time, money and dedication of resources, why would scientists dedicate that time to something that could just be done by a tree?

The answer is they wouldn't. So that means this claim requires further investigation!

This project is called LIQUID 3, and it's not meant for cities with wide open spaces, it's meant for cities like Belgrade in Serbia. These cities are densely populated and heavily polluted, to the point where pollution actually chokes out current trees and makes creating green spaces difficult.

Liquid 3 was a PhD scientists answer to these problems. The microalgae tank is intended for spaces where you either:

Don't have enough space to plant full trees, or

Don't have enough time to plant trees and wait for them to grow up.

The tank is extremely efficient when you consider the amount of space needed compared to the amount of CO2 turned into oxygen. The tank can operate throughout the winter. And most importantly, it can be quickly set up in areas that desperately need relief from air pollution NOW not in 10 years when trees are done growing. Children currently suffocating on polluted air can't wait for trees to grow, they need to be taken care of now, and Liquid 3 is one of the ways to take care of them. Depending on the species of microalgea used, a number have shown a pretty amazing capacity to pull heavy metals out of the air which is something trees can get choked up by.

The tanks aren't just tanks either! Liquid 3 have solar panels placed on top, they have lighting and mobile phone charging, and they work as public benches. The designers of it want to encourage green spaces where there's room, but where there isn't room or time, Liquid 3 can step in. Realistically, this isn't a replacement for trees. It's replacing boring metal city benches with new, cooler benches that also clean the air (and have at least some heating during the winter).

Not only that, but the microalgea that grows is native to Serbia and all that microalgea has a ton of great uses! It makes for great fertilizer, compost, wastewater treatment, cleaner biofuels and even for helping create new tanks for further air purification. They only require a quick algae divide once a month, and the produced algae can be carted off to where ever it's needed. This makes them effective solutions for areas that can't sustain complex installations.

“Eternal Love”

The reblog chain is one of the things that makes Tumblr unlike anywhere else. All the notes on reblogs are attributed to the original post, no matter which branch people actually liked or reblogged. We want to keep encouraging conversations, and give contributors the recognition they deserve. 

Soon, you'll be able to like, reblog, or reply to any part of a reblog chain, and that note will go to that reblog's author. Each reblog will have its own counts, instead of one aggregated number from every version of the post. And yes, you’ll be able to like multiple posts in one chain.

If a reblog doesn't add anything, the love flows up to the last person in the chain who did. Your post doesn't lose notes just because people spread it quietly.

Past notes will stay on the original post — we're only changing what happens from here on out. Retroactively re-attributing all of them would be... a lot.

EXTREMELY BAD HOLY FUCK.

But this. This changes the data architecture. This changes the SINGLE THING that makes tumblr the "... yes and" website. This KILLS THE COLLABORATIVE POSTING THAT MAKES THIS SITE DIFFERENT FROM ALL THE OTHER MEDIA PLATFORMS.