Had a dream recently where I was trying to get home from boston through the back roads (roads that obviously avoid the highway cause i hate driving on the highway irl) and driving through cities both kinda looked like driving home from work and walking through a mall/trader joes/omega mart, las vegas you know the one.
Anyway after checking a map, which was actually somewhat legible though was far too short of a distance to be plausible, me and my traveling companions passed through this coastal town that featured a salt water cranberry bog maze as it's main tourist attraction. Since we missed out on the local traveling carnival, we said fuck it, and decided to try it out.
The idea here was to go through the maze on your little paddle boat- imagine an innertube from a roaring rapids theme park ride but swan boat style -through the deep water with not only the bog spiders in mind, but also the cranberry dolphins that not only looked and acted like mini orca whales, but frequented the maze with the sole intent to terrorize patrons. Mostly because these paddle boats had open bottoms like flinstones cars and peoples feet looked like delicious, delectable swedish fish to these guys, but that's beside the point. (This was also, very much, a large part of the point.)
These dolphins immediately were the main concern over the bog spiders, as you can imagine. As soon as we found out about the dolphins, we paddled towards the exit.
The dolphins then capsized our vessel and we were forced to wade to the docks for safety.
My favorite part about this was not the burgandy psuedo orcas, but the little nature walk/dangerous jungle style signs warning us about them and the bog spiders, despite the spiders not even making an appearance, though the signs were kind of small and too far away from where the boats tended to travel to be great warnings... Also the cranberry bog looked more like an overgrown yet nicely organized saltwater marsh but taller and more jungle like.
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"Careful", you snag the boy's shirt before he can step into the road. The boy's head snaps away from his phone and towards you.
He looks pissed but you watch his face shift into a blank sort of stare.
"Sorry-", you release the grip on his shirt, shifting the carrier on your hip, "you should pay more attention when you're this close to the road."
You offer him a weak smile and he blinks up at you, then turns and scurries across the road, focused back onto his phone. Sighing, you adjust baby carrier and begin walking again.
The walk isn't a horrible one, ten minutes is nothing on the half hour walk it takes you to get to work. It's just a little more difficult with a awkward sized baby carrier.
Typically you'd take the train, but you need to get to the grocery store before it gets dark. The air is already chilly but the forecast calls for snow and the baby doesn't need that.
-
The store is a little warmer when you step inside and you even manage to snag a buggy.
The store is relatively quiet and you find what you need to...except for the box of baby rice towards the back on a shelf you can't reach.
You groan softly, glancing at the snoozing babe. She loves those...
You stand on your very tiptoes, grabbing at air. Then, a hand reaches up and grabs them. You turn, about to ask them for the box, when the man passes the box to you.
"Here, you looked like you needed help." He holds the box out with one hand, running his fingers through his black hair with the other.
You blink curiously at him, then take the box.
"Thank you so much, hon." You grin, placing the item in your cart and hurrying to check out.
-
The walk is still cold, despite the sun barely starting to set. You shiver, somehow managing to carry the groceries and the baby carrier at the same time.
About half a mile from your apartment, you bump into a chest. Dropping a few bags and praying the eggs aren't in them.
"Sorry about that", a masculine voice mumbles above you. You tilt your head up to meet the eyes of a boy a little younger than the one who helped you before. He tilts his head, a tuft of white hair hanging in his eyes.
"Would you like some help?" He starts grabbing the dropped bags before you can answer. He makes a gesture for you to lead the way.
"I'm Jason, by the way. We live in the same complex."
You swear you've never seen him before, but maybe that's just you.
-
That night, groceries put away and a baby snuggled happily against your chest, you lay in bed.
Oblivious to several pairs of eyes watching you and the bickering from the rooftops above.
"Ummi spoke to me today, with the baby!" Damian speaks.
"Yeah, well I helped ma with her groceries!" Jason gives him a playful shove.
"Well, the baby smiled at me!" Dick jabs a thumb at his chest triumphantly.
"All of you hush!" Tim speaks up, crouched next to Duke, eyes focused on a familiar window.
Bruce looms nearby, caught up his daydream where he's the sweater wrapped so tightly around you. Someday.
Someday sooner than you think.
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could you do a batfam x oblivious reader who’s so close to finding out they’re a vigilante, but she doesn’t even know if that makes sense? like nightwing crawling in through the window when he thought she was asleep, only for her to be awake and go “wrong house?” not realizing it’s her boyfriend.. who thought she was asleep
this made me laugh. very good thinking brains y'all have
Masterlist
Oblivious
Dick Grayson
The sound of your window sliding open prompts you to look up from where you lie your head on the pillow. You can't seem to get to sleep and maybe it's a good thing— you grab for the lamp on the bedside table and raise it high over your head.
Climbing through the window, however, is not a common thief. It's Nightwing.
"What are you doing here?"
The vigilante freezes, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. "I was told there was domestic abuse occurring in this apartment," he says smoothly. "You have a boyfriend?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Where is he?"
You look over to Dick's spot on the bed and only just now do you realise it's empty. There's a note written on paper that reads, OUT TO GET FOOD.
"He's grocery shopping."
"Ah, wrong apartment, then. Sorry to bother you." The vigilante then ducks outside.
Jason Todd
A loud crash prompts you to wake up— far earlier than you're used to. The sun isn't even up yet. Glancing to the side of your bed, you forget Jason's out on a business trip, what ever his business is.
You carefully climb out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and slowly pushing it open. In your living stands Red Hood himself, dismantling an assault rifle.
"What are you doing in my house?"
The vigilante whips his head around, frozen like a deer in headlights. There's a long few minutes of silence where the two of you stare at each other.
"Gun's not working. I'll be out in a minute, just need to fix it. My apologies."
"Oh," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "Stay safe, then."
Red Hood nods, watching you return to your bed with a quiet sigh.
Tim Drake
Waking up at your usual time and kissing Tim gently on the forehead, almost as a reward for sleeping.
After eating breakfast as quickly as you could, you were surprised to see Tim still asleep and give him another gentle kiss, this time on the nose.
You've only got half an hour until you have to go to work, so you rush to the bathroom to get ready.
The Red Robin suit is draped over the shower wall, unmistakeable.
In your bathroom.
"Tim?" You shout, forgetting your boyfriend's need to sleep. "Tim!"
"What?" he replies groggily, slowly getting out of bed.
"The Red Robin suit is in my bathroom."
"Oh, uh, he asked me to clean it for him. We're sort of like, friends. I guess. It's weird."
"You never told me that," you say.
"It's a recent thing. Sorry."
You shrug and get ready for work, ignoring the suit at is it hangs in your bathroom.
Damian Wayne
"Emergency at work," your boyfriend had said. He gets a lot of those, you think. "Be back in the morning. Maybe later."
Now, going to sleep late— towards midnight, where Damian would have already dragged you into bed— you realised you didn't have on of his shirts to sleep in.
When he wasn't with you to sleep, you always sleep in one of his shirts.
You begin scrummaging through his wardrobe— which you never do— only for a shirt. You find one, your favourite black one, and pull it out.
Underneath the shirt, revealed as you yank it from the drawer, is a katanna.
"Oh. Oh."
It's late. You're tired. You've got the shirt.
It's probably just an antique piece anyway. Rich people have all sorts of things.
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