Berry

is wanting to be a wife and mother a requirement for being a woman?

why might OP be annoyed with replies assuming that this post is about being aroace or transmasc if a woman doesn’t want to be a wife or mother?

are there reasons unrelated to sexuality and romantic interest that might make a woman not want to be a wife or mother?

are there reasons unrelated to gender identity and expression that might make a woman not want to be a wife and mother?

core concept: what is gender essentialism?

is it gender essentialism to imply that all women inherently want to be wives and mothers? could this be what OP is critiquing?

look at the notes OP responds to. is it gender essentialism to imply that being a wife and mother is so affixed to womanhood that to not want to be those things means you’re incapable of sexual/romantic feelings, or not a woman?

Closest match: Bombyx mori BmN4 cell DNA, chromosome 24, sequence Common name: Domestic Silk Moth

reblog this post if your account is a trans safe space or owned by a trans person!

There are fan accounts dedicated to it. Snapping pictures of Batman dragging his Robins away by the scruff of their neck.

Dick had a habit of, so long as they weren't in immediate danger if he messed around, flipping upside down and hanging like a koala.

Jason would just pout and glare, his little lip jutting out adorably.

Tim would just cross his arms and glare back.

Steph always kicked. Bruce had to hold her so far out from his body that one time Mr Freeze blasted by and snatched her off him and Steph howled with laughter while Bruce chased after.

Damian just hangs there like a pissed off cat and takes the lecture.

If it's not to immobilise them for a lecture, if it was to get them out of danger, it only went two ways. If Bruce didn't immediately bring them close to latch onto his armour while he legs it, it means they're getting thown.

At a villain, out of a blast zone, towards an ally, they're not always sure where they're ending up, but they know they're being thrown.

Dick adores it, when he's older. It reminds him off the old days, when it was just him and Bruce. It's harder to grab him without the cape and collar, but Bruce always finds a way to make it work. It feels like flying again, and he'll never object.

Jason didn't know he could still be grabbed by his scruff until he was running to the extraction point and suddenly he's plucked off his feet and yanked into the helicopter above him by his scruff.

Cass giggles every time she's grabbed. It scares the shit out of villains, but she can't help it. She likes being thrown as an attack move.

Tim resents that he's still so easily tossable. Doesn't let the others throw him unless it's a tactical necessity. Takes great pleasure in launching Damian, somehow it morphed into bonding. They are not allowed to do it inside the manor.

Bruce scruffs Steph and she kicks him out of habit. Both of them freeze, and she laughs so hard he has to put her down and let her catch her breath. Cluemaster is in the background frowning at them waiting for them to indulge his questions.

Damian is scared, when he starts to grow taller, that he won't be able to be scruffed anymore. Tim sees it when Damian hesitates before letting himself be thrown when they're playing, and snitches to Bruce. He gets scruffed more than necessary, and tries not to smile.

Duke gets scruffed for the first time and freaks out. Goes stiff as a board as Bruce sprints away with him, and is trembling when he's eventually set down. "What the fuck?!"

Duke, slightly older, doesn't have the innate trust that comes from being a tiny Robin under Batman's wing. Can't see Bruce's intentions in every movement like Cass, so didn't react well. The solution is then training so he's used to it, as it's an incredibly useful maneouvre, so the entire family traipses up to the Watchtower because they have rooms padded on every surface including the ceiling.

The photo's were taken from a secruity camera in an Alleyway. They were grainy and dark but you could still make out Batman, carrying a sleeping Robin in his arms, rubbing his back soothingly as he walked to the Batmobile, setting him gently in the passenger's seat.

The first one to see it was Bruce, but he didn't say a word. Than Dick, than Stephanie... and so on

Eventually Jason, walking out of a dingy warehouse he just made a deal in, comes across a newspaper stand. He lifts the picture up to his face, unsure of if he was seeing this right. He swallowed back some emotion he didn't quite have a name for.

He remembered that night...

He was faking and he knew, that Bruce knew.

He walked home, holding the paper underneath his arm trying to ignore the memories, trying to ignore how good it felt to be held, and how much he missed that night.

Yes, he’s loud. Yes, he can be annoying. He jokes too much, talks too fast, and pushes until someone reacts, because at least that’s something. At least that means they’re still there.

But no one stops to think about what happens when Nicky doesn’t push.

No one notices how closely he watches everyone. How he tracks their moods like it’s instinct. Who’s eating and who isn’t. Who’s sleeping and who’s pretending. Who needs a distraction, who needs space, who needs to be dragged into something ridiculous just to keep them from spiraling.

He knows.

He always knows.

And he adjusts himself around it.

He laughs louder when things get too quiet. He talks faster when tension starts building. He throws himself into arguments just to redirect them. He lets people snap at him because it’s easier than letting them hurt each other.

He makes himself the easiest target on purpose.

Because if they’re focused on him, they’re not focused on tearing each other apart.

People call it annoying. They say he doesn’t know when to stop.

But the truth is: Nicky knows exactly when to stop.

He just doesn’t let himself.

Because if he stops, everything else keeps going.

People forget where he came from. That he was raised in a home that didn’t accept him, that tried to change him, that sent him away to be “fixed.” That he learned early on that love could be conditional, that molding himself to be someone less different was how he could survive. And he chose to still be himself, even though it wasn't as safe, because it felt right.

So he's the glue.

For them.

He is the glue in a group that was never meant to hold together, the one smoothing edges, filling gaps, absorbing the strain before anything can snap.

And the worst part?

No one really notices when the glue starts to crack.