Ichigo Grows Up Beautiful. Of Course, Kisuke Doesn't See It For Himself, Careful To Stay Away After Aizen.

I just found the alt!swinging pendulum bits you've done and I am blown away. The really funny thing? I actually remember wondering how things would be going if Ichigo wasn't alone in that verse the first time I read it years ago. Having you explore that and having those bits be UraIchi is beyond my own imaginings! How did Kisuke take waking up in the past? Did he know Ichigo was thrown back too, or did he think he was alone for a while? Any chance you'll ever consider a bit from his POV?

I imagine the Soul King (following SP canon) offered them the same deal when they were both locked up in Muken. They wake up in different places in the past though so that might’ve caused a bit of panic, especially since Kisuke would’ve known Ichigo was in bad condition before coming back, and the Soul King didn’t exactly give them details about where they would end up.

My muse does not want to write anything above in Kisuke’s pov (or anyone’s pov) though so Imma just give you something else in Kisuke’s pov. Takes place sometime in the future after the other two bits I wrote.

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Bruce truly hates magic with every pump and beat of his heart.

What kinda curse is Slang, anyway?

“This is the best day of my life.”

“Bro really thought he ate with that.” Bruce physically feels a full body shiver, charged with nausea and cringe. “This is level 10 cringe. Can’t have shit in Gotham.”

Dick is his earth bound angel, but he laughs like a demon at him, holding onto Jason for support, pledging his eternal loyalty to Zatana and her pettiness.

—

“Hey, old bat, hook me up with an adrenaline shot.”

What he wants to say is Jay, do not try and fight with 6 bullets in your stomach.

What comes out instead, through Bruce’s grit teeth and intense, fierce glaring, “Not you trying to go back to your corpse era. See how I only took 2 shots? Very demure. Very mindful.”

Jason passes out from blood loss, but mostly laughter.

—

“Chat, is this real?”

Stephanie barely bites back a full belly cackle. “I think he just asked us if we copied.”

“I wish I was Jason, 15.”

—

“This is not a slay environment. Killing is flop behavior.” He keeps his eyes shut and buries his face in his hands. Trying to convince Damian not to stab someone doesn’t seem to work.

Damian gives him a pat like he’s a pitiful cat. “I’ll only stab the non lethal areas.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

I just love (thick)Bucky being using any excuse to put his hands on Steve. The Xmas tree is too tall and nobody can decorate the top? ofc he will grab his guy's hips and lift him up so that he can decorate it (plus, he gets to have his face at the same lvl as That Ass). And then ofc when he puts him down he makes sure to rub as much as possible against Steve's back while Tony and Clint have their usual dramatic reaction :')

I have the feeling that if Bucky were eye-level with The Ass, there’d at least be a lot of talk about eating Steve out / enthusiastic rimming and an even more enthusiastic fuck in Steve’s future.

And the rub down when Steve’s being lowered is the filthiest sort of promise. His hands on Steve’s hips, keeping him close even after Steve’s got his own footing, rolling his hips into him nice and easy while whispering something in his ear that makes Steve blush something fierce. 

He’s putty in Bucky’s arms, melting against him. Probably feels so deliciously tiny, Bucky’s broad hands spanning his hips, Bucky wrapped around him like Steve’s still five foot nothing, even though Steve technically has an inch or two on him now.

Clint and Tony are having a breakdown while Rhodey is tucked away in the corner, texting direct quotes to Coulson so that they can use it in their next fanfic.

Reading the Aizen/Ichigo verse is so much fun. I have to ask, how do the captains (Urahara, Shinji and the like) feel about this sudden partnership?

Outsider POV, okay. Here’s a short scene from Shinji. I might do a Kisuke one later but it’s late and my laptop needs to update so I want to get this posted and you only get one scene.

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Bruce Wayne wakes up in the past, five months after Jason Todd died, and spends most days sat beside the grave because he never found out exactly when Jason had come back and he wanted to be there to save him when he did.

From an outside perspective, everyone is extremely concerned.

PROMPT: Dick or any of the other Batfam members see bruises on Jason and think he's in an abusive relationship. Jason shuts any and all conversation on the topic down. They bring their concerns to Bruce, who sort of just...blue screens (those are HIS handprints on Jason's hips, after all) and then seems to brush it off. They're not happy with this response, so naturally a family full of detectives will want to investigate...until they wish they hadn't.

dick is the first one to notice the bruises. they're faint, but unmistakable. a handprint on jason's hip. he doesn't say anything at first, but he holds jason's gaze, making it obvious that he's seen it, silently asking for an explanation, if things are okay. but jason doesn't offer any. he just glares back.

"what happened?" dick then asks.

"none of your damn business," jason sneers, then turns to leave.

tim notices it next—the red marks around jason's wrists.

"what is that?" he frowns.

"you've never seen a bruise before? that happens in our line of work. sounds like you've been slacking off," jason says, shrugging it off before exiting the room.

the family discusses it among themselves. they've seen the signs before, they know what they're looking at. jason's unwillingness to talk about it speaks volumes. those are not some incidents that occurred during a mission. so they're determined to help, whether he wants them to or not.

they decide to go to bruce, to see if he knows something—because nothing goes on without bruce knowing about it.

but when they tell him, something strange happens. bruce freezes. and for a moment, he doesn't move, doesn't speak. it's almost like watching a machine short-circuit, something behind his eyes going blank.

when he finally speaks, it's dismissive. "jason's fine. leave it."

they don't. of course they don't. they're a family full of detectives, they can't just let something like this go.

so they do what they do best instead. they investigate.

they start by tracking jason's movements, try to figure out who he's been seeing. it's a breach of privacy, they know this, but they tell themselves it's for jason's well-being.

but the more they dig, the more confused they become. because nothing adds up. there's no one suspicious in jason's life, no new relationships. none of his enemies would leave marks like that. none of it makes sense.

then they notice something odd.

jason's occasional training sessions happen more frequently, stretching far longer than necessary. and they always happen late at night, when no one else is around.

suspicious, tim pulls up the surveillance footage from the batcave, expecting catch something. but after a few nights of reviewing, he notices something strange—the footage is incomplete. the cameras are turned off for a few hours, right around the time jason shows up.

it's strange, to say the least. they're detectives, and speculation isn't enough. they need hard proof.

they debate it briefly, knowing they're about to cross a line, but eventually they decide that there's no other way. they have to actually spy on jason.

so they do.

they carefully set up their own hidden cameras and microphones in the batcave. they justify it by telling themselves it's for his own good—they're only trying to protect him.

a few days pass until they decide it's time to look at what they've caught. they fast forward through a lot of the footage until something catches their attention. jason is there, late at night, just like before. but he's not alone.

he's sparring with bruce.

they watch, not really alarmed at first—it's normal for everyone to spar with each other. but then the session takes a turn. bruce's hands starts to linger a little too long on jason's body. each hold, each grip seems deliberate.

jason's back hits the wall, hard. bruce steps in close, his hand finding jason's hip, fingers digging in. the bruise that had been there before suddenly makes sense. jason doesn't pull away, doesn't really resist, but something in his expression shifts. there's almost a defiance in his eyes, as his hand shoots up as if to strike.

bruce is faster, or maybe jason didn't even try. but his grip locks around jason's wrists in one smooth motion, pinning them above his head, trapping him against the wall. for a long moment, neither of them moves. their breathing is labored, heavy in the silence, and they just stare at each other.

bruce's hold tightens, his thumb pressing against the pulse on jason's wrist. jason doesn't even flinch. a wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. the hand on jason's hip travels up, fingers trailing along the line of his body. it moves with purpose, until bruce's fingers splays across his throat, settling there with a grip that's perfectly balanced—tight enough to thrill, not enough to really hurt.

bruce tilts jason's head, angling him exactly the way he wants him, and then he leans in. the kiss is slow, sensual, bruce's lips claims jason's like it's the most natural thing in the world.

like it has been going on for god knows how long, right under their noses.

the room is silent, the footage still playing, but no one moves to stop it. both of them are frozen. tim feels his stomach twist as he tries to process what he's seeing. dick looks like he's stopped breathing, eyes locked on the screen.

they should have seen it earlier, should have put the pieces together before it got this far.

tim shuts off the footage in a sudden, quick motion. the screen goes dark, but the image of bruce and jason stays burned into their minds.

they got what they came for. they uncovered the truth, just like they set out to do.

but now, they wished they hadn't.

i got inspired by THIS amazing post 🤠 The room was dim. The only source of light was the soft glow from the streetlights outside, filtering through the moth-eaten curtains. Bruce's hands were gripping Jason's hips, the cheap bed creaking under their shared weight and movements.

Earlier that night, Bruce had been out on patrol, moving across the rooftop with practiced ease. He had spotted Jason below, next to a group of drug dealers bleeding out in the alley.

Bruce had reacted immediately, dropping down without a sound, landing behind him. He couldn't remember the words they had exchanged with each other. It always went the same anyway, stuck in an infinite loop, like a curse.

Jason had thrown the first punch, and soon they had been locked in a dance of violence and bruises.

But the second Jason had ripped his helmet off, revealing his flushed face, unruly hair and dark eyes, Bruce lost the fight.

The rest of the night was a blur after that. They had stumbled into the first hotel they could find, somewhere where no one asked questions. The receptionist had barely glanced up from her phone when they asked for a room, and even if she had, she would be under the impression that Batman was investigating a crime.

And now, here they were. It always ended the same these days. For each time Bruce interacted with Jason, his willpower crumbled more and more.

Jason's Red Hood gear was carelessly scattered across the wooden floor, along with pieces of the Batsuit.

Then Jason leaned in, his lips brushing against Bruce's ear. "Come on, dad..." Bruce froze. His thrusts slowed, until they stopped completely, his body going rigid. The word hung in the air between them, and for a moment, he forgot how to function.

Jason always tested him, pushed his limits, but this—this was different. Bruce could feel his smirk against his skin as Jason pressed his mouth to his neck. "What's wrong, dad?" he hummed against his skin, feigning innocence.

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. He felt a flash of heat roll through his body, his arousal stirring inside Jason. The word ricocheted inside his head, over and over. He shouldn't like it. It was wrong. This was wrong. But his body didn't listen to him.

Jason shifted slightly, leaning back against the pillow, looking up at Bruce with sparkling eyes in the dim light.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a vibrating through Bruce. "You like it." His tone sounded triumphant, taunting, like he took great pleasure in finding out how fucked up Bruce was.

Bruce swallowed hard, trying to regain some sense of control, but every rational thought was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears, the haze in his mind.

He wanted to deny it, but all he could think of was how badly he wanted Jason to say it again. But to his disappointment, Jason remained quiet now, his legs wrapping around Bruce's waist and tightening around him to try and create some friction, silently telling him to move again.

So Bruce did, picking up the pace again, each movement harder than the last. The sound of Jason's teasing voice still on repeat in his mind.

Jason's breath hitched, his hands grabbing Bruce's arms, digging into his skin. His name was spilled from Jason's lips as he moaned softly, but that's not what Bruce wanted to hear, and he was too ashamed to admit it out loud.

Another moan escaped Jason's lips, and it should have been enough. It should have been.

But it wasn't.

Jason had planted a seed and Bruce couldn't think about anything else.

Jason's head tipped further back against the pillow, exposing the sharp line of his sensitive throat. "Bruce—" He moaned again, his voice breaking as his legs pulled Bruce closer, impossibly deeper. He was doing it on purpose, deliberately withholding the word. Jason could—much to Bruce's dismay—read him like an open book. This was just like another game between them. Jason would push, tease, and taunt, to see how far he could go before Bruce broke. And Bruce, no matter how hard he tried to resist, would always end up playing along, drawn deeper each time, like a moth to a flame.

Jason's hands slid from Bruce's arms to his neck, pulling him down until their lips nearly touched. "Say it," he murmured. "Say you like it."

The words clawed in his throat, refusing to leave him. The pace slowed again, almost coming to a stop.

Jason kissed him. Bruce's blood from his split lip mingled between them, a gift from Jason during their earlier fight.

"I... I like it," Bruce confessed when they broke apart.

Even in the darkness of the room, Bruce could see Jason's smirk, the cocky satisfaction radiating from him. "You like what?"

He was going to make him say it.

"You know what," Bruce muttered, his voice strained. He didn't want to play this game, not when his shame was threatening to consume him.

Jason's fingers tightened around the back of his neck. "Do I?" he teased.

Bruce's heart pounded. The need for Jason to say it was greater than all the other shameful feelings. "I like it when you call me dad," he finally admitted. Jason's smirk widened into a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with delight. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" His voice then dropped even lower. "Are you going to keep fucking me, dad?" Bruce's entire body tensed, a surge of arousal pulsated through him. Jason's hands trailed down Bruce's back as he whispered the word again, "Dad." The sound of Bruce's voice—that word—was all it took. Bruce's movements grew desperate, almost erratic, each thrust deeper into Jason, as his soft moans dragged him closer to the edge. "That's it," Jason groaned. "Just like that, dad."

Bruce couldn't hold back any longer. With one last thrust, he reached his climax with an unexpected intensity, his vision going white and blurry from the sensation.

Jason followed shortly after. His body tightened around Bruce as he choked on the word that had destroyed Bruce completely. "Dad."

For a short minute they were both still, breathing heavily. Bruce finally pulled out, before collapsing onto the mattress beside Jason.

Jason laughed, breathless, his white strands clinging to his forehead. "You're sick."

And Bruce silently agreed with him.

jason: why are you looking at me like that?

damian, age 4, wondering why jason looks white if he's his brother: you're colored wrong

jason: what the fuck?

I am a firm believer of the fact that that all the teen superheros had a crush on Nightwing at one point and he is just completely oblivious to this fact.

Dick: Hi guys, Batman let me to give you guys a training session, because Robin mentioned you all wanted to learn how to do a backflip!

All the teens staring at Dick's abs and thighs with red faces: Oh, cool..!

Tim: OH MY GOD YOU'RE ALL DISGUSTING!

Dick: Robin! Don't insult your friends, they didn't even do anything!

Kon, shuffling to the side to peer at Dick's ass: Yeah Rob, we didn't do anything.

Tim, seething: I CANNOT WITH YOU PEOPLE!

For Guard: Are you planning on doing anything from Ichigo's POV, a scene or anything? Yoru-nee's reaction to what Kisuke did to Aizen? Does Kisuke get a medal or reward for LITERALLY tearing Aizen apart?

Hmm, well I did a bit of Ichi POV in the snippet before this one (an age and a half ago) even tho it was mostly Yoru talking. Yoru really just takes the whole Kisuke with bankai in stride, she knows Ichigo won’t stand for it if she tries to shanghai him into anything he doesn’t want, and she’s clan head enough to want to keep a Shihouin resource within the clan. And Kisuke’s not really one for medals/rewards (and honestly when is the Gotei/government ever prone to giving out rewards for services rendered), he’d much rather keep his abilities under wraps. But here’s a little something of Ichi and Kisuke discussing some of the fallout.

Edit: Uhhh the discussion devolved into really pointless UraIchi fluff sorry?

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