#Clockwork wouldn't have done it because he's bored too

[nelkcats]

Don't let King Phantom get bored or he will do meaningless things

Danny got bored and decided to have a tennis competition, even though he had no idea how to play Tennis and had never held a racket in his life. He thought it would be fun.

He joined Dan because incredibly he knew how to play tennis (he was also quite fed up with Danny's presence, but he didn't have many options since the halfa had promised him his freedom if he won), and his opponents were Jazz and Dani.

In a very short time Danny got tired of losing. Clockwork suggested him to get new players to practice, and he took it seriously. Maybe he would have to look for superheroes to practice with.

He abused his Ghost King powers and transported the Justice League to the Realms to, you guessed it, play tennis. He explained that he and Dan would be their opponents in the final round, and if they didn't win, Dan would be free.

Dan was quick to explain that he was a prisoner of war after destroying a universe, but the King promised his freedom if he won (which wasn't entirely a lie), and wished them luck, commenting that perhaps he would visit their universe next.

Jazz and Dani sighed at their brothers' behavior; Dan would visit to annoy someone, though he surely wouldn't do anything, and Danny didn't even know how to play tennis but somehow made all the heroes panic. It was pretty obvious that they were both playing.

After this interaction John Constantine wondered what the fuck was wrong with the universe. Was the balance of his world really tied to a hyperactive teenager and his weird family?

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[senka-mesecine]

What would spending a lazy day with a dom!esticated Bob include? 🥰 🫣

---

― Whatever the case, lets cut to the chase and open up with the practically realistic fact that a weapon still stays by his side or at least somewhere close by; be it a firearm leaning on the wall or hanging off of it, a knife under the pillow or in his boot or perhaps even fully and blatantly on display somewhere if he feels like it, a gun on the nightstand or a blade hidden somewhere on his own person for a quick and deadly draw, but however lazy Barnes seems to be he is never sloppy or careless, domesticated situation or not --- be the circumstances civilian or otherwise; he is simply innately vigilant and him being docile and well aware that he is seems all the more reason for him not to get soft and stupid. As such, the weapon(s) remains at hand at all times. Same goes for the boots.

― That being said, not that he probably ever says it verbally but what would be considered daytime napping together is a prefered activity; that is, you nap on his chest and he's fully awake while you do it which is, perhaps, inherently restful for a man like Barnes or at least as close to rest as he could get. In fact, you might not even be aware Bob probably doesn't sleep when you do. Or sleeps very little out of dyed-in-the-bone, ingrained habit and a need to be aware of his surroundings at all times. Two or three hours at most a day and that's it for him. You might just figure he always wakes up before you do, like clockwork, but unspoken probability is that he has a major penchant for silently watching you sleep and doing genuinely nothing but zone out and stare off, tuning out all the shit. Again, he'd never confess to it being therapeutic nor would he use that phrasing in a million years, but it is.

― Poker? Thing is, you don't even have to actively play. Or know how. Or be particularly good or proficient at it. He's there demonstrating how it's done instead of doing too much explaining, showcasing the rules, shuffling cards while you watch his hands at work, being unusually patient when you lose and if he feels particularly cheeky in his own way, he might just teach you how to cheat and get away with it too. Point is, somehow you sat for hours engrossed in the task of losing to him and undoubtedly being severely bested by an infinitely more experienced player time and time again and you weren't bored. Strip poker technically may be the game of the hour but it is not unlikely that Barnes is already halfway stripped and sweaty as is during rounds by default as is. It is possible that lazy days are spent with him being naked to the waist.

― Man's from the deep South; who's to say that during the most leisurely days he wouldn't want to sit on the front porch listening to some Bluegrass on the radio or alternatively, in a rare bit of tenderness and perhaps personal vulnerability, lay down his head on your lap while he has a smoke? Or while he just looks at you do it, your fingers in his curls? Vice-versa is just as likely as he combs your hair with his fingers for hours, somehow managing not to say anything and hyperfocused for what seems ages. I envision Barnes's pleasures are simple like that and if it's something overly complicated just for the sake of being complicated he doesn't consider it unwinding, in fact, he'd consider it a chore; as such, commonplace, homegrown type unwinding is where it's at with him. It's a day where quite literally nothing of specific note is done, because I do envision Barnes as a manner of man where doing nothing specific by default equals as a lazy day.

― Even though these are intended to be dom!esticated headcanons, I genuinely can visualize a lazy day with Barnes where the subject of intimacy and sex is concerned him specifically having and wanting you atop of him, placing his arms behind his head like a leaning pillow while he watches you ride him or suck him off. It's a lazy day, right? Well, lazy it is then. Get to lazing. He is still in charge, of course. His eyes tell you what to do, how to do it, how long to do it for, he sets the pace effortlessly, stops when he wants to edge you, continues when he wants to rattle you, he gives out orders, heck, he might be smug enough to take a swig of his liquor, blow cigarette smoke into your face as you do it or do something unfathomably arrogant like playing around with the safety of his gun or cleaning, right in the middle of it all, cementing this air of cocky nonchalance he'd have going, but fact he is going to lay down (quite literally) and have you do the pleasing.

― Bathing. Filling an indoors or, say, outdoors tub with water and just washing his scars for him. Tending to them. Cleaning them. Easing the muscles and knots (knots he'd never admit were sore or painful) accumulated in his back throughout the years and then washing said back too. Massaging his shoulders. Shaving him carefully around his facial scars even though he can well enough do it on his own and has done so successfully for ages, but allows it for the simple reason of feeling your pretty fingers on him and watching you focused, almost wishing you'd slip up and leave a tiny, impossible to notice scar behind, but that's just Barnes being Barnes for you. Ultimately, it falls under one of those activities that are too elaborate and ritualistic to be had and indulged in quickly and in a major haste, within the confines of an army life or out on the field, but in a domesticated life where there's time a plenty? Yeah, it's game. Possibly his favorite thing in the world too.

[spooki-spaghets]

Dumb stuff that the creepypastas have done (any idrc)

Oooo-

Jeff convinced Sally she could paint her bedroom walls by herself and she didn't need to move anything to do it

Slender was pissed

Hoodie was on a sleeveless jean vest kick for a week, and decided to try iron on patches and insisted he didn't need any directions

How hard could it be, right?

He dropped the patches thing very fast after putting the iron settings too high and causing a fire at the dining room table

Hoodie burnt the table cloth, the patch, and part of his vest

He still wears the thing from time to time

Jeff and Toby squeezed orange and lemon juice into their eyes to see who would give first

Jeff was a dumbass who forgot that Toby wouldn't feel pain from it-

BEN was the asshat who watched and also forgot Toby wouldn't feel anything

Toby was a dipshit and knew they forgot but did it anyway just to say Jeff gave first

EJ could smell the citrus and found them

"TOBY!"

Jane was playing with Lost Silver's hair and BEN yelled for him saying the new Pokémon Scarlet and Violet trailer dropped and he got so excited he shocked the hell out of Jane

Helen was chilling out with EJ while he was playing around with some chemicals and didn't put his respirator on correctly and passed the fuck out from fumes

EJ fell asleep on the roof during his free time and rolled off

Slender saw him fall past his office window

He landed on top of Masky who was doing yard work

Jane and Clockwork were sitting in the living room floor trying to do the marble swirl stuff with nailpolish and BEN tripped over stuff and fell face first into it

Clock is pretty nifty and is good at patching stuff up but accidentally sewed Hobo Heart's pants to the table cloth

That table has been through some shit

Masky woke up early for work and accidentally put salt in his and Hoodie's coffee instead of sugar

Slender puts the salt and sugar in shakers then hides the sugar bag so SOME RESIDENTS LJ, Toby, Jane, Sally, BEN don't go ham with it

Other residents beg him to use a different method

Slender refuses

Jane snuck into LJ's room to grab some candy and satisfy her sweet tooth and grabbed the bad ones on accident

It was pieces that are meant to cause paralysis and LJ found her flat in his floor a few hours later

She ignored the sign on his door that says "DON'T TAKE CANDY FROM MY ROOM (you might die) -Your Favorite Clown, Laughing Jack"

Cody was mowing the lawn and got bored after a while and decided to try and make "cool lawn art"

He was actually really good at it

But he ruined the bushes

All the residents enjoy scaring BEN because he buffers and glitches out

Poor baby just wants peace-

Slender can sneeze

He gets these little tingling sensations and he kinda sneezes

When he does it's bursts of static and he occasionally teleports

He accidentally teleported in front of the TV when BEN and Silver were playing games in the living room

BEN lost his winning streak that day

Liu is the good baby that doesn't get involved in the shenanigans of the house

Although he was letting Sally put makeup stuff on his face and he fell asleep but she kept going

He walked around with a face full of maybe kinda not the best makeup and toughed through it for her because he promised

Sully didn't like it, but he tries not to be an asshat with kids so he toughed through it also

Jeff made fun of him but promptly stopped when Sally kicked his shin really hard

The residents said he looked nice after that

[fanficsandfluff]

Tickletober 2022 - Day 7: Massage

A/N: Lucky day, @ticklishraspberries! Two for two! I know this one's a day late! I was quite busy yesterday so I couldn't finish it. Hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Barry

Characters: Barry Berkman, NoHo Hank

It was like clockwork for a while. Barry and Hank had gotten into a routine of sorts. Barry would go to Gene's classes every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday night, and he would come home with such energy and a zest for life that Hank chatted the night away with him. And that was great for Hank, too, because Barry was never a chatter.

Then on other nights, when Barry would stop by after a tiring shift at work or even after completing a job, the mood was understandably tense. Hank would let Barry go about his business, watching him dropping his keys off in the dish by the door, letting a backpack or sachel of his drop to the floor. Sometimes he would shower, other times he wouldn't. But the part here that was consistent was Hank would give Barry back rubs on these especially straining nights. The back rubs turned into more serious massages as time went on.

And by now, that was just expected at a certain time of night when Barry was home and stressed.

Another thing Barry liked about these massages was that there was seldom any talking to be done, which was a rarity for Hank to accomplish. Hank had stopped asking Barry how his day was after maybe the third night like this. So now it was just: undress, bed, massage.

On one particular night just like the rest, everything was going according to plan. Barry shut his eyes and exhaled when Hank's fingers started kneading away the knots in his back. Hank's rubs went lower and lower, and this is where things entered uncharted territory. Hank pressed his palms down Barry's butt, the backs of his thighs and knees, his calves, and he lifted his hands up before he got to his feet. Barry opened his eyes and he rose a brow. He turned his head to see what Hank was up to. And there he was, sitting there with excited doe eyes, biting on his lip; that was a tell he'd always have to do when he was just bursting with something to say.

"I was thinking I give you a foot massage," Hank smiled Barry's direction, finally voicing his thoughts.

"The back stuff is fine," Barry didn't want to make it harder on Hank or give him more work.

"Yes, but it's boring by now, no? Come on, roll over, and I will give you a relaxing, calming, rejuvenating foot massage," he sat with his legs folded criss-cross applesauce and he patted his pale thighs showing through his lounge shorts, "Your feet go through a lot more than you may think. They need their pampering, too."

Barry sighed and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer and thumb, giving himself a minor massage for a second. Barry grabbed some of the pillows on the bed and shoved them under his head as he lay his feet in Hank's lap. Hank had already produced a pillow of his own for his ankles to lay comfortably on.

"Okay, now just shhh," Hank smiled sweetly at Barry and immediately buried his thumbs into the tense nerves right above Barry's heel, dragging the pressure up up up until it dissipated by his toes.

The hitman's brow was furrowed while Hank began administering the new technique. It felt different. But he just had to get used to it, and after a few more passes, Barry didn't have to squeeze his eyes shut, as they moreso just laid shut.

"Bet this feels good, huh?" Hank asked softly when he felt Barry relax.

"Y-Yeah," Barry cleared his throat, "Feels nice. Relaxing."

Hank kept up his massaging, his hands not getting tired since he'd done this for Barry for some time now. He tried pressing his knuckles into the soles of Barry's feet like he'd do on his back sometimes. But the first touch was a little too light, before Hank would ramp up the pressure. And when four knuckles made light contact with the bottom of Barry's foot, his whole leg jerked and he pulled the leg more towards his body. Barry's eyes were wide and he was sitting upright now.

Barry and Hank just seemed to stare at each other for a beat too long, two different kinds of surprised expressions being exchanged.

"What was--"

"You know, I'm good for tonight," Barry cut whatever Hank was going to ask off and he made to stand up off the bed. Hank dove over to Barry's side of the bed and grabbed the man's wrist, "Hey! What do you think you're doing, honey? Come back! This is your time to be basked over," he definitely had confidence in the way he used that word incorrectly.

"No, I'm fine, Hank."

"Put them back here, Barry," Hank became a little more stern and he rose his brow bone when Barry returned his gaze to him.

Without another word having to be exchanged, Barry laid back down and placed his feet into Hank's lap. Hank hummed, content. And not even trying to play coy anymore, Hank stroked one finger up from Barry's heel to the base of his toes.

"Ah-ha!" the breathless, surprised laugh came from Barry without him being prepared for it.

"Oh yes yes yes yes yes!" Hank was happily chanting and he put Barry's feet in a headlock before the assassin could do anything to stop him. Barry was desperately trying to rip his feet from Hank's grip, but the guy was strong, he had to give him that.

"Hey, Hank? No, uh-uh, nope. Just stop, I do not like this, I don't want it-- fuhuck," Barry stifled another giggle when Hank repeated the stroke of a finger on his foot.

"This is much better than massage," Hank concluded, grinning wildly as he now skittered his fingers all over Barry's clenched, wrinkled soles.

And for the next few minutes of Hank's torture, Barry was laying on the bed with both his hands covering his face as embarrassing squeaks and laughs poured from his mouth. He'd squirm as much as Hank would allow, but he just couldn't get his feet out of his grip. So Barry resigned himself to the laughing, which wound up quickly causing his ribs to ache, having not had many moments of pure, uninhibited laughter in his recent life.

Hank liked the change in routine. He thought of keeping it around on future massage nights.