#EXCUSE ME BUT THE NOSE™

[andy-clutterbuck]

THE ONES WHO LIVE | 1x06

[cursingtoji]

5 and 24 with nanami 🤓

(nanami as a grumpy dom bodyguard.. PLEASE SEE MY VISION Y'ALL)

𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅!𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊

plus “you’re doing great” ⊱ brat taming, fingering, a bit of car sex, oral (f -> m); the Clichés ™

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who was hired by your father to keep you safe and away from trouble, though he was warned you could be a bit of handful sometimes.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who can’t stand brats, every time you attempt to escape without him noticing he feels like tying you up and fuck your face until you’re crying begging for his forgiveness and promising to be good.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who’s super professional, wearing a full suit and tie everyday, keeping the mysterious look by wearing sunglasses even inside the house. You of course can’t get a hold of yourself and invade his personal space poking his cheek and teasing him for looking so grumpy.

“Am I not behaving well today? You know why? ‘Cause I got a date” you whisper the last part as a secret, asking him to not tell your father.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who knows he would just cause more trouble to himself if he tells on you, so with a tired sigh he takes the keys and drives you to the restaurant, not failing to notice the way you pushed your breasts and wore a sweet perfume for the date. He waits patiently by the bar keeping an eye on your table, especially on your date that he can tell almost immediately it’s not worth a damn penny. The way he can’t keep his eyes on your face for more than 3 seconds without dropping to your cleavage and always bringing the topic back to himself makes Nanami wants to break his nose.

“Did you listen to our conversation?” you ask your bodyguard discretely after telling your date you were going to get a drink at the bar.

“A little bit, yes” he lies, of course he heard the whole thing.

“What do you think of him?” Nanami studies you, your fingers are nervously kneading a clean napkin, your eyes are shiny and wide expecting an answer from him, the blond side looks your date who was smiling down at his phone.

“Are you seriously asking me this?” his answer is harsh, you should’ve seen this coming.

“Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t had much luck with men lately” you confess in a moment of vulnerability, “Do you think we can sneak out without him noticing?” Nanami empties his glass of whiskey in one go before placing his hand on your lower back and leading you to the exit.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who keeps wearing sunglasses inside, but he uses it as an excuse to shamelessly stare at your body. You’ve grown too comfortable around him, barely using a bra anymore, bending way too low in that little shorts and showering with your bathroom door open where, even though he can’t see you, the smell coming out of the bathroom and your humming is enough to tempt him into joining you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who thinks you have been quite good lately, it’s even a little concerning, but peace doesn’t reign for too long and as soon as his guard is down you leave the house on a little party dress and go club.

You manage to get yourself almost two hours drinking and dancing with strangers before your partner has his hands abruptly taken away from your hips as Nanami twists his arm, you look over your shoulder to see your bodyguard murmuring a threat the man you now see it was not nearly as handsome as the one holding his arm to an almost breaking point. You attempt to tiptoe your way out of his sight but he’s quick to catch your wrist, you gasp when meeting his angered features.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be” he threats tightening his grip on you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who fingers you in the passenger seat of the car, wanting nothing more than to rip that ridiculously short dress into pieces.

“You’re so difficult and for what? Is this what you wanted all this time?” he groans working his fingers firmly while still trying to drive without crashing.

"What you gonna do to me?" you ask biting your nails in antecipation but don't have to wait longer before your bodyguard is roughly throwing you onto the same bed he sees you go to every night with a different nightgown and has to restrain himself from joining you.

Not tonight though, tonight Nanami is getting what he wanted this whole time.

"That's the only way to shut that bratty little mouth of yours, huh" he mutters with your hair around his hand guiding your head between his legs. You ran your hands from the firm muscles of his thigh to the abs under his white shirt feeling it twich on your palm, tugging the material with your other hand as plead through gags for him to take it off.

"Alright, just because you're doing so great" he opens his buttons one by one and gets rid of all the clothes covering his torso, "C'mere" he pulls your hair until his cock slides off with a string of saliva and precum connecting him to your mouth.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who helps you straddle him smiling widely as he sees you pout, "Don't make this face" he runs his thumb on your lower lip, "I'll make it good for us, but before you have to work for it, it's only fair after what you put me through" Nanami slaps your ass, you understand how stressful it must have been for him so you comply, not before picking his tie from the mattress and putting it around your own neck, your bodyguard smiles giving it a hard tug until your lips are on his.

Also part of the Clichés event:

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“Who did this to you?” Sukuna

Drunk Confession — Toji

“What happened to us?” Gojo

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[stevethehairington]

daily drabble day 38 Extended Edition™

find the original drabble here!

The lion pounces as soon as they enter the building.

“Oh, hi, Eddie,” Sheila from the PTA drawls, surprise filtered over her words like it’s a shock to be running into each other at their children’s school. Her sticky pink lips curl into something too familiar. “What brings you here?”

Beside him, Buck masks his laugh as a cough into his hand. Not that he really needs to hide it, when Sheila hasn’t even acknowledged him.

Eddie resists the urge to roll his eyes, and he swallows down the sarcastic, “What brings me here? To my son’s school? Which lets out in fifteen minutes? Oh, you know, just thought I’d get in a light jog.”

Instead, Eddie pastes a polite (curt, Buck would call it, and— shut up, Buck) smile and tells her simply, “Paperwork.”

The shortness of his answer catches her off guard, which almost does make him laugh this time, because when has he ever indulged her like that? Really, Sheila, you should know better by now.

Eddie capitalizes on her falter, though, and seizes his chance to escape before he’s subject to more stilted conversation and— attempted flirting. Her poor husband.

His hand curls around Buck’s bicep, and he tugs him along, towards the front desk. “If you’ll excuse us,” he says, making pointed eye contact with Buck as they pass Sheila.

Amusement sparkles in Buck’s eyes and twitches the corner of his lips, and he twists around to throw a wave Sheila’s way. “Nice talking with you, Sheila,” he says brightly, despite exchanging not one single word with her.

Eddie only just manages to stifle his laugh into his own shoulder.

When they make it to the desk, Eddie lets go of Buck and leans his forearm onto the counter.

“Hi, Louise,” he greets the school’s administrator with an easy smile.

Louise, the bespectacled redhead who works the front office, returns the smile. “Hi there, Mr. Diaz,” she says warmly. Her gaze strays towards Buck. “Mr…”

“Buckley,” he fills in. “Hi.”

“Hi, Mr. Buckley,” she says, just as kind. “What can I help you boys with today?”

Eddie taps his fingers arhythmically against the laminate. “I’d like to update Christopher’s approved pickup list, if that’s not too much trouble.” He lifts his free hand and settles it against the join of Buck’s shoulder and neck, his thumb finding its home over Buck’s collar. “We’ve got to get Buck here added.”

Louise nods diplomatically. “Not too much trouble at all,” she responds before squinting towards the computer screen. She taps a few keys, then looks back up. “Just three easy questions for you,” she tells Buck before jumping right in. “First up, full name?”

“Evan Buckley,” Buck says. “But, uh, I go by Buck.”

“Great. Phone and or email address?”

Buck rattles them both off.

Louise pushes her glasses up her nose. “Finally, relation to Christopher?”

Buck hesitates. “Oh, uh—”

Eddie doesn’t. “Parent,” he cuts in smoothly. Squeezes Buck’s shoulder.

“Wonderful,” Louise says, filling in the last answer. She moves the mouse, clicks a few buttons. Then, “Alright, Mr. Buckley,” she says brightly, “there shouldn’t be any issues for you and Christopher at pickup time now. Let me just go grab you the parking pass for your car and you’ll be all set.”

“Thank you,” Buck says. Then he waits for her to step away from the desk before he turns to Eddie. “Parent?” He asks quietly. 

Eddie shrugs. Doesn’t lower his voice. “You are.”

Something flickers over Buck’s face — soft and warm and pleased — and the corner of his mouth twitches up. His eyes shift past Eddie’s shoulder, though, towards Sheila, who’s still in the front office, lingering not-so-subtly near the bulletin board — the gossip fiend. When he fixes his gaze back onto Eddie, some of the light has faded, just a bit.

“The PTA will talk,” Buck tries to joke.

Eddie shrugs. Thinks, fuck it. His hand slides down Buck’s arm until he can press his palm purposefully into Buck’s. Until he can fold their fingers together. “Let them,” he says, steady and sure.

Buck’s inhale stutters, catches in his throat, and for a moment, he looks a little overwhelmed.

Maybe it is a lot, the parent bomb and the sudden… taste of Eddie’s— feelings… all at once. But Buck’s a part of their life, a big part of their life, and he deserves to know that. To be shown, in every way. And besides, Eddie isn’t going anywhere. If Buck needs— a second, a minute, any stretch of time, to wrap his head around it all, Eddie will be there for him to lean on.

Louise returns then with the parking pass. “Here you go,” she says, holding it out.

Eddie takes it on Buck’s behalf. “Thanks, Louise,” he says.

“Of course,” Louise returns. “You two have a great day, okay? And Christopher as well!”

“You too,” Eddie smiles.

He’s still holding Buck’s hand as they turn for the exit. He doesn’t let go.

When he looks over at Buck, there’s something more settled about him, and that soft smile is back on his face. Eddie squeezes his hand, and the smile grows.

They have to pass Sheila again, on their way to the door. She’s given up on her attempt at subtlety, openly staring now, at their joined hands.

As they walk by, Eddie bares his teeth in an overly-friendly smile. “Bye, Sheila,” he says.

She startles, eyes jerking up to Eddie’s face, an embarrassed flush in her cheeks. She fishmouths, like she can’t quite figure out what to say.

She doesn’t have to, though, because Buck pipes up next. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around, Sheila,” he grins.

Then winks.

And Eddie absolutely can’t hold his laugh back this time, all but yanking Buck right out the door so he can let it fly into the open air and sunshine.

Buck curls towards him, his own laughter spilling out too.

“The PTA is definitely going to talk now,” Eddie muses, and the thought kind of thrills him a little.

Buck’s eyes sparkle. “Good,” he says. “Let them.”

[honeesucker]

Four -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 4,749

Series Content Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

Chapter Content Warnings: depictions of hybrid fights / reader being used as a bait hybrid in a fight | Noncon (brief detail, mention of knotting - hybridxhybrid) | mentions of spit, blood.

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next 

You had finally calmed down from your anxiety attack, the tears long gone but the gentle hiccups that resulted from a hard cry were still jolting your body as you tried to take in steadier breaths. Bakugo was sitting with his eyes closed, breaths coming in a steady rhythm but his hand against your back, fingers rubbing small, gentle circles let you know he was still awake. You couldn’t quantify how much time had passed since the whole incident started, the ache from the release of the rubber bands where burning rings of skin was left told you it’d been long enough for your body to catch up with itself.

You were exhausted.  

You huffed out a quick breath of air, and fell forward on Bakugo’s chest, resting on your chin to look up at him and nose at his throat again. Bakugo cracked one eye open with a quirk of his brow and looked down at you.  

“What’cha think you’re snoofin’ at, Pup?” Bakugo grumbled with no malice in his tone.

“Ah-!” His sudden awareness of you startled you, a sheepish smile appearing on your face. “Y-you smell good, wanted to smell it again.”

“Mm, still smell Red and TetsuTetsu on me, hm?” Bakugo mused.

“No,” when you shook your head, still resting against him, your cold nose dragged against his skin, and it sent a shudder through his body. “S’different than them, something better.”  

Unnoticed by everyone else, but Bakugo could feel the tips of his ears and the back of his neck heat up at your revelation that it was purely him that you were finding pleasant. Bakugo shifted in the seat, legs and ass sore from sitting for so long in one position, and you bounced up on him as he did so – a tiny yelp-like giggle escaping you which he broke a crooked, fanged grin at you. Your guys’ time together finally being interrupted by someone behind you clearing their throat. You whipped your head back, nearly upside down which caused your newly-floppy ears to stand up straight due to the backward angle of your head – this caused everyone to smile at the silly display.  

“Puppy,” the Director had come forward, just shy of a foot away from the pair as she smiled fondly down at you, letting your head rest in her hands as she raised them to cradle your head, her eyes darting up to meet Bakugo’s quickly as he simply nodded. “I think it's time for us to let Mr. Bakugo go home for today, and we need to get you to the facility Doctor to check on your ears – they have to be hurting you, yes?”  

“Mmm... yes, but-” you shifted your eyes, looking back at Bakugo with a conflicted expression. “You don’t want to stay longer?”

“’Course I do, Pup,” Bakugo said, reaching up to gently pat your cheek. “But it’s been a long day for everyone, and I think getting some rest would be good for us, too, don’t you think?” You just nodded with a sigh, and let Bakugo lift you up in his arms, carrying you like a toddler with your arms around his neck as he followed the Director into a different building in the facility where one of the many highly trained hybrid doctors would be able to check you over. Bakugo noted the way your ears seemed to flatten a little further against your head as he said a quick goodbye, telling you he’d see you again soon and left the room. Hana had excused herself to walk Bakugo out, the Director giving her a nod as she followed the blonde Pro. The Director finally turned to you, sitting with legs swinging atop an exam bed awaiting a doctor to come and see you.

“Puppy?” The Director asked, and your response was a small hum as you glanced up at her, shoulders drooped and demeanor a bit more down. “You like Mr. Bakugo, don’t you?” The Director had her answer in the way your cheeks tinged pink and your ears and whole body seemed to perk up at the idea, fluffy tail swishing behind you as it lazily thumped in time with your thoughts.  

“I do,” you finally said out loud, not looking up to meet her gaze.  

“Would you ever want to be adopted out again?” She pressed further and you drooped again, clearly thinking hard about the implication of what that meant for you. “Would you want Mr. Bakugo to adopt you?” Your eyes widened but you didn’t say anything, didn’t move but you were soon betrayed again by your fluffy cloud of a tail, thumping wildly behind you at the idea.  

“H-he wouldn’t want to adopt me,” you finally sighed, tail still technically wagging but clearly dejected. “I caused so much trouble, and I bit him-” you were startled as the Director cut you off.

“Puppy, what if I told you he had already put in an application for you?” You froze.

“For me?” You whispered, more to yourself. “He did?” Your mind began running through so many different scenarios – the most prevalent thought being why Bakugo would ever want a hybrid like you. You didn’t feel like you could offer him anything, felt like trouble only followed you wherever you went, and bringing it to Bakugo’s doorstep wasn’t something you wanted to do.  

“What’s holding you back, Puppy?” The Director’s calm voice brought you out of the string of incessant, negative thoughts and you glanced up at her while nibbling down on your bottom lip.

“What if he decides I’m not good enough and sends me back?” Your voice was so tiny it was almost imperceptible.

“Puppy,” the Director had kneeled in front of you, meeting your pouty expression with a kind smile as she took your hands in her own. “Mr. Bakugo has been taking all the classes, and learning about you, and has come to the same decision over and over again – that he still wants to adopt you. I think he’s really hoping you’d consider it, too... there’s also a good support system in place with him, too, since you’d be able to see Mr. Kirishima and TetsuTetsu as well,” she finished, watching as your tail picked up at the mention of your silver-haired friend.  

“Who’s Mr. Kirishima?” You finally asked, and the Director simply chuckled.

“Tall, red hair, he brought TetsuTetsu to visit a while back – do you remember?” Your eyes lit up as you nodded vigorously.

“Red! M’sorry I didn’t know the other name,” your sheepish grin was a welcome sight as the Director patted your shoulder. It wasn’t much of a wait after you finished speaking with the Director that one of the hybrid doctors – Dr. Sato – entered the room and began to examine your ears. He was careful with his handling of the newly exposed areas, dictating his findings to the Director as she sat in the far corner of the exam room. Dr. Sato took his time cleaning the area, stating that he wasn’t certain your fur would grow back, but the area that was nearly necrotic, and was caught just in time to be treated and you wouldn’t have to have any surgery to your ears which you were grateful for – slumping a little at the realization of what could’ve happened in you continuing to avoid your real ears. Dr. Sato prescribed some antibiotics to help with the minimal infection around the area and gave you a cream to spread on the hairless ring at the base of your ears to help with accelerating the healing of the area. You nodded along, promising to follow the treatment plan, and the Director chimed in that she would help in reminding you about taking the medication and doing your daily cleanings.  

Dr. Sato and the Director both had continued having a conversation, while you were waiting to be released, your mind swimming with the fantasy of being adopted again.

Being adopted by Him.

Something about Bakugo drew you in, even with his terrifying stature and harsh demeanor; something about the blonde man simply made you feel the safest you had ever felt in your life that you could remember. He was friends with your friend, and his owner. He didn’t hurt you when you bit him, didn’t get angry or yell or throw you off. You caught the tail-end of the conversation between Dr. Sato and the Director, and as she was leaving the room to follow the Doctor with the expectation you would follow as well, you spoke up.

“I do,” the Director stopped at your sudden words. “I want to be adopted,” your body felt electrified with the uncertain future, but you knew at the very least you’d be around people you felt the safest with. “By him,” you clarified, “I’d like to accept his application.”

The Director took in your apprehensive demeanor, noting that it didn’t seem you were truly afraid of being adopted by Bakugo, just appeared to be nervous in general which she didn’t blame you for given your history. The smile spread across her face as she held out a hand for you to take, and you did as you jumped down from the exam table.  

She was excited to make the call – her only dilemma was wondering if she should wait for morning to give the explosive hero the good news.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Bakugo had finally arrived home, the events of the day and the high emotions left a heavy weight tied to his ankles, dragging him, and to his heart; his body on autopilot as he took off his gear from the day, leaving them scattered across the table and floor of his genkan – he stripped down to his pants and the black tank worn underneath his hero costume as he slipped into his slippers and shuffled to his bathroom. His mind was running a mile a minute, going over the day's events as he tried hard to fight off the exhaustion he was suddenly hit with. While Bakugo was always vigilant and expecting something to happen given his understanding of the world, he truly didn’t anticipate encountering a scumbag extra like the piece of trash who thought he could even come close to touching you today. Bakugo wanted to blast that son of a bitch sky high and then some, but when the officers had come for the man, and he noticed you, he simply couldn’t bring himself to fight when it looked like you needed him more.

Bakugo swallowed hard. His heart thumping wildly in his chest as he remembered how light you felt in his arms, how soft and warm you were against him – how easy it felt holding you and toting you around. His mind then switched to how terrified you looked when that rubber band snapped, how your instincts overrode everything else when you bit down to get out of his arms. Bakugo couldn’t help but wonder just what memory was triggered when that rubber band broke, when he held you tighter and you fought with an admirable strength to escape – wondering what you had to fight to escape in the past. He swallowed the hard lump that formed in his throat and just shook off the heavy feelings. He showered, he drank nighttime tea and quickly downed a spicy instant noodle just to have something in him before he dropped down into bed and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before Bakugo’s thoughts stilled, and he finally fell asleep.

Bakugo awoke in a place he had never been before, or rather, it felt vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows on an uncovered mattress, filthy and creaky, with a spring jutting out into his forearm as he put pressure there. His face contorted in a disgusting scowl as he looked around the vaguely familiar room, the piles of trash and various half-broken boxes revealing equally trashy contents. Bakugo stood up, kicking around the room before settling himself by a dresser near the door, thumbing through the scattered papers with half-written nonsensical sentences in chicken scratch handwriting.

He couldn’t explain how, or why, but he knew he had to be somewhere important. Someone was waiting for him, and his feet took him down a dingy hallway, and out into the dusty expanse of a rundown warehouse yard. He could hear a hushed road of shouting, cheering and curses in the adjacent building and he walked over, treading carefully, not knowing who he would encounter there. When he pushed open the heavy metal door where the sound was coming from he was met with cheers and wide, yellow-toothed smiles and some missing more than half of their teeth before he was patted on the shoulder and led closer to the center of the warehouse where men and women of various scummy degrees were shouting and waving tickets, cursing at each other and drinking as their eyes all stayed toward the center.  

“Thought you wouldn’t make it, man!” The man leading Bakugo shouted over the rest of the noise around them. “Fight’s already been set up, but you haven’t missed much, just the intros, bro, time to take your seat center stage man!” Bakugo just followed along as the grimy extra kept a grip on his bicep, leading him toward the center of the large room. Between the smell of smoke and liquor, body odor and dust Bakugo wanted to puke but he let himself get absorbed into the atmosphere, waiting to see what waited for him as he was led to a bench at the top center above an in-ground pit where Bakugo could see two incredibly large wolf hybrids chained up, just enough slack in the metal to allow the brutes to get attacks in on each other. What froze Bakugo’s blood the second he heard it, and then saw it, was the scared yip! As one of the hybrids decided to take his attention away from the hybrid opposite him and snap hungrily at a tiny hybrid chained to the wall.

It was you – his little Puppy.

Bakugo watched in rapt horror as the wolf hybrid caught your tail and bit down, a fresh, wet matting of blood ruining the soft look of your fur. Floppy little ears were pressed back against your head, nearly flat, as Bakugo took notice of the flood of tears welling up in your eyes and spilling over your cheeks. Bakugo wanted to shoot up, to jump down into the pit and knock out the two hybrids just to get to you – to tell you everything would be okay, that you’re safe with him. Bakugo soon learned, however, that his part in this play was one of control – being in control of this whole situation, being the one who put you in the pit.

The people around him cheered on as the wolf hybrids took turns attacking each other to near-death before turning their aggression on you, only barely being able to reach you just enough to mark you and get a taste of blood.

The fight was called not long after, Bakugo watching at a limp wolf hybrid was pulled away by a downcast man, apparently having lost the fight. The winning hybrid was in no better shape but could be led away by his chain with no additional support. You were shaking on the ground as the man who led Bakugo into this horror show earlier picked you up and threw you out of the pit, walking over to your collapsed form to grab the chain around your neck and drag you behind him with no care if you could keep up or were even capable of walking. Bakugo shot up after him, trying to get him to let you go but he just gave a dry laugh, saying you had to go be seen by the Boss.

The Boss – the mention of the name caused you to shrink further in on yourself, and Bakugo wasn’t sure how that was even possible with how small you already were making yourself. You were led back into the house where Bakugo had come from, being pulled toward a room he didn’t see earlier until you were thrown to the ground in front of a man dressed in all black. Slick black hair and even colder, lifeless black eyes regarded you and tsk’d as he lent down and tugged on one of your floppy little ears until you screamed.

“Didn’t I tell you to get this shit taken care of?” The man scowled, spitting in your face as you flinched away from him. “Floppy fuckin’ mutt ears, what kind of prize are you to offer up if you look like a piece of mixed breed trash, hah?” The man kicked forward, knocking you down onto your face where you stayed, too afraid to get up. Bakugo had been led to a couch just two feet away from this scene, where he watched the man from earlier strip you of the worn little dress you were covered by, hands immediately fighting for the fabric as you clawed at the man trying to take your cover away. You received a swift boot to the back of the head by the man who Bakugo recognized from earlier: the owner of the winning hybrid. Wondering what was going on for only a second longer before it all clicked – what the Boss had said, how he said it, why you were being stripped... Bakugo’s stomach turned as he watched the victor lead his wolf hybrid forward, the large brute leaning forward to sniff and lap at your exposed body before you were mounted. Bakugo found that the only movement he was capable of (that was his own in this dream body) was a tight grip of his hands. He could almost feel his palms heating up to explode as the grotesque scene in front of him unfolded, sparks burning into his fingers as they curled into his palms. Bakugo could nearly force the explosion he so desperately wanted to set off as he heard your crying turn to screams, his eyes deadly at the sight of the knot bullying its way into your body.

Bakugo awoke in a cold sweat to the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table. Sitting up as he coughed and choked on nothing, the recollection of his dream burned into his mind's eye as he tried to shake the residual hopelessness he felt at seeing you like that, and not being able to help you. He grabbed at his phone, not even glancing at the Caller ID screen before answering the call with a low growl of a ‘Wha’dya want?’ before the familiar voice instantly set him on high alert.  

“Is everything okay? Did something happen? I can be back down there in an-” Bakugo was cut off by the Director’s quick apology, and explanation.

“No, Mr. Bakugo everything is alright, I’m so sorry to call so late. It sounds like I disturbed your rest,” her tone was truly apologetic, and Bakugo had grown quite fond of the woman over the last few weeks, unable to hold onto his anger. “I wanted to relay some news to you and felt it couldn’t wait until morning.” This had Bakugo sitting straight up in bed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as the edges of his vision blurred, the panic already taking a hooked hold in his chest.

“I’m listening,” is all he could manage out with his normal tone of voice.  

Did you decide to reject his adoption application?

Did something happen when she took you to see the hybrid doctor? Was everything alright?

“I wanted to extend my sincerest congratulations,” she finally said and Bakugo’s whole body froze. “I had a talk with our little Puppy, and she has accepted your application for her adoption. We can have arrangements made for you to bring her home by tomorrow if that’s suitable for you?”

You said yes.

You said yes?

YOU SAID YES!

Bakugo’s whole body buzzed with relief, excitement and anticipation. He couldn’t hide the stupid grin he felt taking over his face as his right leg jumped anxiously hearing what the Director had to say about the process of scheduling a pickup.

“Yes,” Bakugo finally agreed, “I can be there first thing in the morning.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Morning couldn’t come soon enough for Bakugo, rushing through his shower, throwing on an outfit of all-black casual clothes... rushing out the door to meet Kirishima who offered to drive him again instead of letting him take a paid service, or use the agency provided drivers he knew Bakugo disliked.  

“Good morning, Bakugo, ready to go?” Kirishima’s bright voice greeted the rough blonde as all he got in return was a deep grunt... or a growl? but was met with a content sigh as Kirishima held up a coffee he picked up for Bakugo on the way. The exhausted blonde inhaling a deep breath of the coffee steam before tipping the cup for a drink.  

“Thanks,” Bakugo muttered, sipping the hot liquid as he put his seatbelt on and sank back into the seat.  

“Are you excited, bro?” Kirishima asked, peeking at Bakugo from his peripheral, to see Bakugo’s body go rigid as he looked out the window.

“M’nervous,” he finally said after a momentary pause, on bad days I can barely take care of myself... hell there was that month you had to come and stay with me just so I’d eat and shower... what if I fail at taking care of her when she needs me the most? It’s not just my rehabilitation, it’s hers too...”  

“Hey man, don’t worry too much about it,” Kirishima’s voice still held his normal joyful tone, but the underlying was he spoke was deep, and comforting to Bakugo. “I think you’ll be better at taking care of someone else than you are yourself, and she’ll help to remind you of how important it is to take care of yourself - because if you’re not feeling good enough, you can’t do good by her... and you know you always have me to ask for help, too, I’ll always be there for you Kats...” Bakugo just nodded, holding back a strangled sob in his throat as he continued to face out the window, afraid that if he saw the loving, understanding look on Kirishima’s face he’d just burst into tears.

The drive was quiet except for the music Kirishima was playing at a low volume, the sounds of the comfortable silence mixed with the occasional stuttered sip of hot coffee had the moment feeling perfectly... regular. It calmed Bakugo down to have his friend here with him, although the closer they got to the facility, as the large building came into view on the horizon, Bakugo felt a rush of acidic bile rise in his throat with his nerves. This was it. This was really happening!

Kirishima had pulled up and around the circular driveway and parked in front of the building... Bakugo was frozen in his seat as his eyes were glued off in the distance to something other than where he was, his head visibly out of the moment.

“You good, Kats?” Kirishima’s voice was a soft, reassuring tone, gentle but firm as his hand reached over and patted Bakugo’s thigh, before his large hand wrapped around the muscled thigh and squeezed. The action brought Bakugo back and he glanced down at the hand on his thigh and then up Kirishima’s arm to his kind, friendly face.

“Yeah, m’good just...” *Bakugo shuddered a little, this vulnerability making him a little queasy. “Nervous, is all... more than I thought I’d be.” Kirishima couldn’t help the way his toothy grin widened even more at Bakugo’s admission, and gave him a pat on the shoulder.  

“Don’t sweat it, Kats,” Kirishima reassured the blonde. “She chose you, too, and there’s a whole system in place to support you guys... everything will be fine.” Bakugo just nodded, hesitating for a moment more before downing the rest of his coffee and finally steeling his nerves enough to walk in.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Mr. Bakugo, welcome in!” A new desk worker greeted Bakugo, one he had met briefly at the recent community day, his smile bright and friendly.

“I’m here to see the Director...” Bakugo’s normally brash and aggressive voice was closer to a meek whisper, though his baritone always carried a strength to it.

The staff member continued to smile kindly, making a quick call as he motioned down the hallway, hanging up. “The Director is expecting you; did you need an escort to her office?” Bakugo just shook his head, already heading the now familiar route to the Director’s office as the pit of anxiety in the bottom of his stomach expanded and threatened to swallow him whole. Once he reached the familiar door, he knocked softly and was greeted with a soft ‘Come in!’ and upon opening was met with the sight of the Director, and you... you who looked so small and happy with your newly floppy ears tilting cutely as you leaned back and looked up at Bakugo.

“Mr. Bakugo, welcome back... we were just going over our little Puppy’s ear care, please, sit,” the Director said with a friendly tone, motioning for him to sit in the chair beside you. You, who despite looking away from Bakugo with a slightly nervous expression now, still wagged the fluffy little cloud of a tail behind you, unable to hide your emotions. “Now, she must apply this antibiotic cream morning and night to the areas affected where the rubber bands were, and she also has a pill she needs to take to ensure no spread of any internal viruses, right, Puppy?”

You only nodded, biting your lower lip as you looked down at your folded hands, fidgeting with them in your lap. “Yes, rub on ears and take the pill...” you said softly, nodding to yourself.

“Good girl,” the Director praised, and then turned to Bakugo, but not before adding. “Puppy why don’t you go and get all your stuff together and make sure you’re not forgetting anything? We’ll come meet you shortly, okay?” You nodded, hopping down from the chair and padding out of the room softly as you closed the door behind you... The Director now turning to Bakugo. “Before we finalize everything, are there any concerns you have at this moment?”

Bakugo thought for a moment, good and hard before shaking his head. “No, I think we’ve covered everything up until this point, and I feel pretty supported by you... and Kirishima has offered to help me adjust as well.” The Director nodded, a genuine smile on her face.  

“I, as well as my staff are here to be a resource for you, Bakugo, and we will keep in touch via email, and I am only a phone call away... I’m happy you have a friend supporting you as well, it will make the transition easy knowing someone who has been through the same thing.”

“I appreciate all of your help, and all of the courses you provided too,” Bakugo admitted with a soft look on his face. “I feel better prepared now, even if I still feel like I’m out of my element here...” The Director gave Bakugo a soft look before standing up and motioning him to follow.

“Let’s go get our little Puppy, shall we?” She said gently, leading Bakugo down a new hallway he hadn’t yet been to, to finally land in front of a white door. The Director knocked and then slowly cracked the door, peeking inside as she smiled, calling your name. “Are you all packed up, Puppy?” She said softly, opening the door and Bakugo’s heart almost melted at the sight of you sitting on your bed with one little bag beside you on the floor, your legs swinging on the overhang of the bed as you glanced up, a small, nervous smile on your face as you nodded. Bakugo watched you jump down, grabbing the bag and walking forward, opting to take his hand as you smiled up at him.

Bakugo almost fainted from the varying emotions in his body: fear, anxiety, happiness, love, a little cuteness aggression.... when you held his hand, looking up at him with a smile when you said... “Ready!”

@winnieslut @ryantryan6969 @natsukicookies @littlnika @im-better-than-your-newborn @ssc7514 @romiinlove @theequeenofcurses @xbieditz @hypernovaxx @craxy-person​ @archer-fb @sadgyaltings​ @kllrkitty @meiimeiichuu 

[crimsonwolf715]

What Have I Done?

{I know canonically that Dick’s fears are all mental hurdles (failure, his family not loving him, etc), but I like the idea of that soul eating guilt. So enjoy this definitely far (maybe not really far, but still far) from canon fic about Dick on fear toxin 🫡}

Scarecrow’s been out of Arkham for three days. Tim managed to find his location and the Bats are at the place so they can get him back to Arkham before he causes a major incident. 

“Scarecrow’s in the warehouse, so proceed with caution,” Bruce says. 

“You got it, old man,” Jason says. 

“I’m always cautious,” Damian says. 

“That is a lie,” Tim replies. 

“Don’t fight, you two,” Dick says. “Focus on Scarecrow.” 

The five split up and start searching the warehouse. 

Dick’s cautious when walking into each area, making sure he has an exit route. After searching half of his area, he walks into a room with his escrima sticks at the ready. There’s nothing in the room beside a large bookcase partially against one wall. Dick checks behind it for anything, then turns to leave. The door slams shut and he hears some kind of click. He runs over and starts trying to open the door. 

Gas starts coming in through the vents and Dick pulls his mask on. He keeps trying to manhandle the door open when something comes flying at him. He ducks and realizes that it’s a small rock. He turns the way it came from in just enough time to see another rock hit his mask. His mask cracks and he starts cursing. Gas fills the room and Dick continues to try to get out, but the door stays firmly in place. 

He’s holding his breath, trying to avoid inhaling any at all, but that doesn’t work. He can’t hold his breath long enough. He breathes it in and starts coughing immediately. It feels like it’s burning his nose and throat. He keeps trying to get out the door until he hears it. 

“Richard.” 

Dick turns and Bruce is standing there in full Batman uniform, giving Dick the full power of the Batglare™. 

“You’re a disgrace, a plague on this family,” Bruce says. “You failed me. You’re not a part of this family anymore.” 

“No, don’t do this,” Dick pleads. “I’m sorry, Dad.” 

“You should be. You’re a sorry excuse for a partner and a son.” 

Tears well up in Dick’s eyes. “ Please, stop. ” 

“You should just go back to Blüdhaven and never come back.” 

Dick starts crying. “ Dad. ” 

Bruce starts shouting that Dick needs to leave and Dick claws his comm out of his ear so he can better cover his ears. He hears his family start screaming in pain. He opens his eyes and sees all of them being brutally tortured by Joker, Two-Face, and Scarecrow. Dick squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to believe that’s what’s happening. A loud bang interrupts his family’s screams. Dick turns and Scarecrow’s there with a big ass sword. Dick pulls out his escrima sticks and attacks Scarecrow. The two start sparring, Dick having the upper hand. 

“Dick, snap out of it.”  

Scarecrow’s not going down with the usual amount of force, so Dick stops pulling his punches as much. 

“You’re worthless. You’ve failed the city and your family. My toxins will turn this city into a hellhole of despair.” 

Scarecrow uses his sword to disarm Dick. Dick throws a kick at him but he manages to dodge it. Scarecrow raises the sword and Dick grabs the knife out of his boot that he only keeps for emergencies. He throws it and it nails Scarecrow in the side. Scarecrow drops as Dick’s vision blurs. 

“No, I need to get him into custody and stop the bleeding.” 

Dick’s body gives out and he passes out. 

Dick wakes up and he’s in the warehouse. He sits up and Tim’s beside him, bleeding. It seemed like he was trying to stop the bleeding, but he passed out before he could. Dick goes over and realizes that he can’t move his right arm without excruciating pain. He ignores it and starts putting pressure on the wound. Jason runs into the room. 

“What the hell did you do?” Jason asks. 

“What did I do?” Dick replies, confused. 

“Tim was fighting you, so yes I’m asking you.” 

Dick backs away from Tim, realizing that he wasn’t fighting Scarecrow. He was fighting Tim. Jason rushes over to Tim. 

“What is wrong with you right now?” Jason asks. 

Dick’s back hits the wall and pain shoots through his shoulder. He ignores it as tears well up in his eyes. 

“What have I done?” Dick asks. 

Dick runs out of the room and he hears Jason shouting his name but he ignores it entirely. He makes it outside and trips. He lands on his knees, then throws up. Once he finally stops throwing up or dry heaving, which takes almost ten minutes, he looks for his comm. He doesn’t find it though. 

I must have left it inside. I remember I took it out because all I could hear was Bruce saying that I was a… I am a failure. I almost killed my little brother. Tim’s been through so much and I probably just gave him so much more trauma. He’ll never trust me again.  

Tears start falling and Dick quietly sobs there, unsure what else to do. 

“Dick.” 

Dick turns and even though he can barely see past the tears, he recognizes the outline of Batman. He starts crying harder, all of the things Bruce said earlier rushing back into his head. He feels Bruce’s hand on his good shoulder and he tries to push the hand away. He doesn’t deserve any kind of comfort. 

“Jason’s gotten Tim to Leslie and he’s gonna be fine,” Bruce says. “We need to get you there too.” 

“No.” 

“Tonight isn’t your fault.” 

“Yes it is. I’m supposed to protect my siblings, and I almost killed Tim. How am I supposed to live with myself, Dad?” 

Bruce pulls Dick into a hug, careful of Dick’s shoulder even though he didn’t tell him about the injury. Dick hugs Bruce back tightly and the sobbing resumes. 

“You’ll take it one day at a time, like we always do.” 

Bruce rubs Dick’s back until a small beep sounds. 

“I hear you. We’re on our way back now,” Bruce says to whoever’s on comms. 

“I… I can’t face him, Dad.” 

“I’m gonna take you to Leslie. We can discuss you talking to Tim once you’ve completely detoxed. I’m going to pick you up now, is that alright?” 

“Sure.” 

Bruce gently picks Dick up and takes him to the Batmobile. The drive is silent, Dick silently crying. When they get to the Cave, Tim’s nowhere to be seen. Leslie’s waiting for them though. 

“Go see Tim, Dad. I’ll be fine,” Dick says. 

“Are you…?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Leslie gives him a checkup and aside from having to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood when she checks his shoulder, she doesn’t seem concerned. Dick’s barely hearing what she’s saying, but nothing concerning. 

“I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with your shoulder.” 

Dick turns to look at her. 

“I want to take you in to get scans,” Leslie says.

“Great, sounds perfect,” Dick replies.

“Don’t be sarcastic with me.” 

“I’m not. Get off my ass about it.” 

Leslie looks surprised and Dick sighs. “Sorry, I don’t mean that. I just… I don’t really want to be around right now, and I don’t really want to go to the hospital.” 

The elevator opens and Damian comes out. Dick watches as Damian makes a beeline for him. He braces himself for a lecture or criticism, anything to live up to how people should be treating him. 

“Are you alright, Grayson?” 

“God only knows what’s wrong with my shoulder, but other than that I’m peachy. Is Tim alright?” 

“Yes, Timothy’s fine. He didn’t lose too much blood thanks to the three of you and I apprehended Scarecrow with Father. Nothing for you to worry about.” 

“I hurt Tim.” 

“Under the influence of fear toxin. You clearly thought that you were protecting yourself from someone that would cause you permanent harm. No one blames you.” 

“Other than me,” Dick says. 

“Other than you,” Damian echoes. “I’m going to stay here with you for a while. Father’s speaking with Timothy and Alfred’s otherwise occupied.” 

Dick notices that Leslie’s in the elevator, but he doesn’t care to say anything. 

She’ll be back.  

Damian sits in front of Dick and leans against him. Dick runs his hand through Damian’s hair, quietly humming. 

“What song is this?” Damian asks. 

“I don’t know,” Dick answers. “My mom used to sing it but I can’t remember the words well enough to look it up.” 

“My mother used to sing to me as well.” 

“Yeah, it kinda seems to be a thing that moms do. Jason said that his mother always used to sing this one song to him and he always knew that it was time to settle down. He didn’t tell me what song it was because I would abuse that, which he technically isn’t wrong about, but even Tim said that his mother sang to him when she was around.” 

Damian nods and Dick goes back to humming. Damian falls asleep after a short while and Dick keeps running a hand through his hair, trying not to cry again. Jason comes down with his hands in his pockets. 

“What the hell did you do?”  

Dick looks back down at Damian so Jason can’t see the tears starting to fall. 

“My sweet baby,” Dick whispers. 

“Hey. Can we talk, Dickie?” Jason asks quietly. 

“Sure,” Dick answers, surprising himself with how steady his voice is. 

“I… You…” Jason takes a breath. “I’m sorry.” 

Dick looks up at Jason. “For what?” 

“I… Tim told us that you possibly had been affected by some kind of drugs and I blamed you the second I saw Tim’s condition.” 

“It’s my fault, Jason.” 

“It was the drugs.” 

“It was me. Drugs or not, it was my hands that hurt him. That wasn’t Scarecrow.” 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Jason says. “That’s not how this works. Those drugs make you completely hallucinate something different than what’s really there. As someone who’s killed people on that before, it’s not black and white. Tim’s fine and that’s great, but you need to get out of your head.” 

Dick goes to snap back at Jason and he finds he has nothing to say. Jason’s not wrong, but all Dick can think is that he hurt his little brother. That it could have been Damian. That Tim could have been a little less prepared and died because of him. 

“Jason…” 

“Yeah?” 

“I forgive you. You took the exact approach I did.” 

“Thanks. Leslie’s probably gonna be storming down here any minute.” 

“Did she tell Dad that I was refusing the hospital?” 

“Oh, she was going when I saw her. If that approach doesn’t work, then she’ll just come down here and give you a lecture.” 

“Yeah, sounds nice. As long as she isn’t too loud and wakes Damian.” 

“Oh, Damian got the normal fear toxin and the cure administered. He’ll be sleeping till morning regardless.” 

“Well, that makes him falling asleep in this position make more sense.” 

“He likes you.” 

“I’m sure he does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s sleeping on me in a way that was perfectly normal for me with Bruce.” 

Leslie comes down with a triumphant look. 

“Bruce must have told her that you should go,” Jason says. 

“When was the last time he was the boss of me? I’m not moving.” 

“Alfred said that you had to get your shoulder checked out,” Leslie says. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dick says. “Jason, can you take Damian?” 

Jason gently picks up Damian, who huffs, but doesn’t wake up. Dick gets up and follows Leslie. She drives him to the hospital and she must have called ahead because it was ready when they got there. Dick goes through the process without complaint, even though he’d rather complain a lot. 

“How did this happen?” Leslie asks as she looks over the scans. 

“I don’t know,” Dick answers. “I barely remember most of tonight. That probably won’t stick, but I don’t know.” 

“Alright, I’ll see if Tim can let me know. If not, that’s fine. Your injury, thankfully, isn’t as bad as I thought it was. You’ll still have a recovery time for it, but it’s not too bad. No working while this is healing.” 

“I think I’m just gonna stay at home and hug my baby brother.” 

“I doubt Damian will let you hug him that long, but feel free to do that with one arm.” 

She goes through the plan with him and gets his arm in a sling, which is annoying. She takes him back to the manor and when he walks in, Bruce is sitting at the dining room table. 

“Hey, Dad,” Dick says. 

“Hey,” Bruce replies. “How’s your shoulder?” 

“Fine. I’ll be in this thing for a little while, but that’s not the end of the world. Why aren’t you with Tim?” 

“Tim wants to talk to you, so I was waiting for you.” 

Dick takes a breath, then nods. The two walk upstairs and Tim’s arguing with Jason about the proper way to hold Damian. 

“I am holding him just fine. He’s still asleep and he’s not complaining,” Jason says. 

“Hey, Dick,” Tim says. 

Jason turns. “Hey, Dickie.” 

“Hey, you two.” 

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Jason says. “I’m gonna get Damian into his bed.” 

Jason heads out and Dick takes a seat. 

“I’m not mad at you,” Tim says. “I know it wasn’t you.” 

“Thanks, buddy. I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Dick replies. 

“Did I hurt your shoulder?” Tim asks. “I don’t really remember the end of the fight.” 

“I actually don’t know. I don’t really remember my shoulder getting hurt. I’ll be in this for a while and be fine, so it doesn’t really matter who hurt my shoulder.” 

“Hey, Dick?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You still see us as equals, right?” 

“Of course.” 

“So no hard feelings then. Batman’s kicked the shit out of ninety percent of the Justice League and they still don’t hold a grudge, much.” 

Dick nods. “Okay, deal. I didn’t think of it like that.” 

Tim shrugs. “Sometimes you need a more objective view. I’m trying not to be so objective about my relationships with you guys, but it’s good for things like this.” 

Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “Alright, I’m gonna try to get some rest.” 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Dick.” 

“See you in the morning, Tim.” 

Dick heads to his room to try to get some rest.

[goshilovemesomemonsters]

… I hear you.. AND BOY DOES THAT GIVE ME IDEAS!! 🤩

An image of how Reader heals the Pilgrim gang~

✨Wukong✨

Gentle as can be~ takes her time to slowly heal every possible (or imagined) scratch and bruise, all with a loving hand~ …. And while teasing the absolute shit outa him… 😜

🤝🏻 Sandy 🤝🏻

Her bestie? Her BFF?? The go to method for healing the big blue good-boy��️ is of course their secret best-friends handshake~ 😎

😐 Pigsy 😐

Every time this guy tries to go in for a hug.. and every time he gets slapped in the face.. healing through violence… somewhat contradictory? Perhaps, but it works~

🙏🏻 Tang 🙏🏻

… She pinches his nose in a firm grip, and start lecturing him.. “repeat after me, I will NOT listen to Pigsy and go near the obviously suspicious Bogota in the distance, especially when everyone else tells me not to!” basically a Mom moment~

🐴 Ao Lie 🐴

Gentle head pats.. after his own Father sentenced him to death, the poor kid deserves some form of genuine affection.. another Mom moment~

YOU. You get it.

And if you don’t mind me adding on to this~ because this in turn gave me more ideas lmao

Honestly Wukong doesn’t even go to you for healing to begin with. He’s the Monkey King??? Immortalx6???? He doesn’t need your healing he can just heal himself 🤨. Yes it does hurt him to have to regrow or repair himself, I imagine it’s less that he heals himself and more just…speeds up the process of the injuries healing themselves meaning he gets a fuckton of pain all at once, but given he is both immortal and impatient, he doesn’t really think much of the pain…or he tries to tell himself that anyway.

But after one of the battles where he’s forced to go to Guanyin for help he finds himself angrily sulking because he doesn’t like having to ask for help. But then you come over and just…place a friendly hand on his shoulder and heal him. He is prepared for it to hurt like how he heals himself but it doesn’t?? In fact it feels nice??? What the Fuck™. He could have been getting THIS the whole time??

Every battle after that he is first in line to get healed (listen it’s just quicker if you heal him ok don’t look too deep into it-) even going so far as to push Pigsy out of the way at points. Don’t come between the monkey and his (excuse to get your hands on him) heals. See he thought he knew what he was getting into. A quick heal and (your touch…) he’s back to full health. He was wrong because reader is wise to his schemes and makes it their personal mission to fluster the shit out of him.

“Why is this taking so long??”

“Because you keep fidgeting”

“Well you need to hurry up!!”

“I’m adding on a minute of heal time for every time you rush me.”

“What?? No just finish up already!”

“Three minutes.”

“Stop going so slow!!”

“Four! Do I hear five?? Goodness your gonna give me the wrong idea if you keep this up. It’s like you want my hands on you~”

All the while you’re slooowly dragging your hands across him and he’s doing everything in his power to not think about how good it feels, how nice it feels to have your gentle and delicate touches on him and looking anywhere other than at you. Jokes on him though he may not blush super easily but his ears are always the first to show it.

Sun Wukong was NOT prepared for this. He’s used to admiration from his subjects, fear from his enemies, respect from those he’s fought. But this??? This is new. He’s not used to this. Even back on flower fruit mountain he was never subjected to this kind of attention. He doesn’t…hate it per-say, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He might try to cross his arms, make himself look intimidating he doesn’t know-

“Nah-ah, uncross those arms mister I need access to your chest.”

He is suffering. Your going to kill him he’s sure of it. This is how he dies. Just by being subjected to your ministrations. Yes he knows he could leave at anytime but he’s not going to.

It doesn’t really occur to him that you’re taking your time on purpose at first because it’s not exactly like he was paying attention the first time you healed him and he accepts your explanation of it being more precise when you touch him like that readily enough. To his credit he does eventually catch on to what your doing by being purposefully slow and handsy. But like by that point he’s down bad and doubles down.

He flips the script BIIIG time when he goes from “feelings are dumb” to courting/relationship status though. If he was a menace before now he is INSUFFERABLE.

“You missed a spot”

“Oh? Where?”

“Move your hands lower”

“WUKONG.”

“I am injured! Don’t you want to see me get better? 🥺”

Or otherwise now he is intentionally doing whatever he can to increase how long it takes

“Hey you still intend to go slower if I rush you right?”

“Probably? Why do you ask-“

“WOW you are going so slow you need to hurry up and finish already because this is taking forever, we’ve been here like all day seriously how much longer is this going to take??”

“…”

“How long does that buy me?”

“…”

*Insta-Heals him*

D:<

As for the others,

Sandy/Sha Wujing is an absolute sweetheart, always patiently waiting for his turn to be healed or for you to finish. Always asks for heals with a please and thanks you every time. Secret handshake is absolutely how he gets healed. 10/10 would heal again. Best patient ever.

Tang is….fine most times. He’s real sorry for making you go through the trouble though. Really sorry. Has he told you how sorry he is? Because he is. He’s really really sorry. Swears he won’t do it again. A simple shoulder pat is all he really needs as he feels reaaaaally sorry and just feels the worst about this. No but fr he feels SO GUILTY. Healing him is part actually healing him and part feelings jam because he probs needs to be reassured that what happened wasn’t his fault.

Oof but when it’s because of Pigsy starting shit again and pulls him into danger? That’s when the pinching starts. How many times have you and Wukong told him not to listen to Pigsy?? So many times?? AND YET??? …he’s still really sorry tho

Ao Lie doesn’t really need healing all that often due to being a horse most of the time but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally sidle up to you and push his head under your hand to ask for it. Carrying the monk all that time has gotta be tiring, even if he is a dragon. Especially since he isn’t even doing it in his natural form! So that little boost of energy you give him really helps him out. Also a sweetheart 10/10 (why can’t Pigsy be like you and Sandy FR)

Pigsy tho…bless Reader’s heart you TRIED to actually properly heal him once. But unfortunately with Pigsy being Pigsy that went about as well as expected. As soon as he found out you heal through touch it was all over. “Oh my fair friend I am dying!! Only your sweet kiss can heal me. 😚” which did result in the slap heal. To his…tiny tiny bit of credit he does stop the antics after the first few times. Not because he realized that it won’t happen, but because Wukong won’t let him. Literally, he tries to be his fail-suave self during a time when Wukong is standing right behind you and one very intense glare coupled with a hand going to his ear to pull out his cudgel is all it takes to get him to stop….mostly. Still tries it when Wukong isn’t around though. Always results in a slap.

[thegreatyin]

*claps* alright lets go over my own master bat species kin assignments then. most of these takes are either based on things i've seen from other people and adopted into my own worldview or just. completely and utterly based on how cute the bat looks. mostly the latter, actually. i have a weakness for cute bats.

The Bandaged Scoundrel/This blog's resident Mr Cards - i simply cannot make a bat list without including her on at least an honorary level. you know her, you hate her, you (debatably) love her, the scoundrel is destined to look like an eastern red bat!!!!! she is so so so fluffy and so so so cute and all of her war crimes are excused forever and ever because look at her itty bitty little face

Mr Veils - going completely with the grain of fandom opinion here, veils is 100% a spectral bat in my eyes. it just. it works so well. it's the largest bat in america. it's one of the few bat species known to eat other bats. its jaw strength is absolutely insane. it's one of very few monogamous bat species, which may seem like an odd detail when listing reasons why it's like veils, but also that beast is incredibly divorced and to this day struggling to cope with said divorce and you cannot convince me otherwise. just. just look at that thing. just Look at its face. that is the face of a creature who knows what its done and is completely and utterly unrepentant about it. veils spectral bat numero uno

Mr Spices - this lazy evil milf is a pygmy fruit eating bat!! there is no strong reasoning behind this choice besides "looks like it would roll around in a pile of crack" and "is very small". i have nothing to say beyond appreciating the little racing stripes on its head. i think they add character. speaking of size differences-

Mr Wines - i've seen a lot of people dub wines a golden-crowned flying fox, which i mostly agree with, except i also discovered spectacled flying foxes exist and have you SEEN their little faces?? their big ol eyes?? their funky little guy swag?? there's not really any particular reason i chose this species above golden-crowned flying foxes (in fact, that one probably does fit wines better), i just really really like their cute little face markings and figured wines having the same thing would be cute. it's a distraction from how unapologetically vile its personality is

Mr Pages - pallid bat. i also have absolutely no justification for this choice. i just think it Looks Like A Pages™. the big ol ears and little snout to balance glasses on?? come on. you can see it. i'm not crazy. that's just a pages creature right there

Mr Fires - HOARY BAT MY BELOVED!!! there is some actual reasoning behind this choice (the bright orange fur around its neck can be used as an analogue for fire, the powdered donut swag on the rest of its body is a bit like smoke, etc) but mostly it comes down to me thinking it'd be really really funny if fires did all of the crimes that it does while being really tiny and having a baby face. look at it. joy and whimsy in its eyes. i just know it's thinking about tormenting union workers as we speak.

Mr Apples/Mr Hearts/Mr Happles/Mr Seriously Needs To Pick One Name And Stick To It Already - this one is just here for completionist's sake. happles is a common vampire bat. we have canon artwork of its face. i'm just using this as an opportunity to force more bat pictures upon ye.

Mr Iron - it is the swords bat. it is the grumpy bat. it is the grumpy swords bat. there is no bat that suits iron more than a literal swords-nosed bat, on account of the fact that it has a sword for a nose and looks kinda grumpy in this picture.

Mr Stones - everyone's dearly beloved little hoarder is BALD BALD BALD BALD BALD BALD BALD a naked bulldog bat. my reasoning? stones feels like the type to compensate for its lack of fur by way of strutting around dressed to the nines in jewelry. also, it's gotta be developing some insane muscles from being weighed down by diamonds 24/7, and what better way to let that show than via a bat that has no fur to obscure them?

Mr Cups and Mr Mirrors - whatever their relation may be, these two share a species in my mind, and that species is the mexican free-tailed bat. this is, much like pages, purely a vibes thing. it just looks like a cups. if you told me this little guy used its whiskers to dig around for trash i'd 100% believe you. mirrors mostly just shares its species by virtue of association, though i do like the idea of it being a silver-haired bat of some kind.

and those are all of my bat takes! feel free to tell me how much i suck and am wrong lmao

[olailamajnoon]

The Justice League was mid-discussion about a No Doubt Very Important Mission™ when Zatanna suddenly raised her hand and, without waiting to be called upon, said as loudly as it was possible for her (which was loud enough, given that she was trained in opera) “Batman, have you been snooping on my ChatGPT history?"

Since this was both a ridiculous question from Zatanna as well as a plausible thing for Batman to do, the rest of the team looked at Batman.

Batman looked up from his notes, fixing Zatanna with his trademark deadpan glare. "No."

"Hmm.” Zatanna frowned into her screen, tapping away. “Maybe I'm paranoid. I've always suspected that I was paranoid." There was a smattering of throat-clearings from around the room. 

“You know,” she continued, “snooping would be a really creepy thing for you to do. ChatGPT is my best friend.” She was seemingly being unironical. 

Batman did not miss a beat. "That’s sad."

The room was not silent, but neither was it noisy. There was just the right amount of sound to indicate that people were amused, but not willing to be audible about it.

Zatanna looked up indignantly at the sound. "Excuse me, I’ll have you all know that ChatGPT is very supportive. For example I asked her ‘Is Batman an asshole?’ And she keeps saying, ‘No, Batman is a superhero and a symbol of justice in Gotham.’"

Batman sighed the put-upon sigh of someone dealing with something they considered too beneath them to acknowledge. Zatanna shot a look at Batman. "But then I asked a bunch of people around you, and they say you are. So who should I believe?"

His face was unamused. "Believe whatever gets this meeting back on track."

The meeting went on, but with Zatanna typing furiously into her tablet. After a minute, she groaned dramatically. "Ugh, GPT keeps fighting me! ‘Batman isn’t by definition an asshole because he saves lives!’ Blegh."

“You have a problem,” said Batman. 

Barry grinned. “Maybe ChatGPT’s just scared of Batman."

"I mean,” said Cyborg, considering, “it—sorry, she” (this was from Zatanna’s stare) “knows everything, right? She’s probably seen what he can do."

Two seconds later, Zatanna almost jumped out of her seat with excitement. “Aha! I got her to admit that Batman’s sometimes an asshole."

The League was looking at her, intrigued and trying to hide it. Batman exhaled a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had finally recognized this wasn’t going anywhere. "Really,” he said, not having to feign any feigned interest. “How did you manage that."

"By informing her how you boss everyone around, and beat up people you don’t like."

"She’s… not entirely inaccurate,” said Superman. 

Batman ignored that and fixed Zatanna with a steady glare. "Do you plan on contributing anything useful to this meeting, or should I add you to the list of people I ‘beat up because I don’t like'?"

Zatanna narrowed her eyes at him, and pressed a few keys on her tab, putting her ear to the tinny voice emanating from the speaker. “Congratulations. GPT’s upgraded you to ‘complete asshole’,” she informed him.

“What a tremendous blow to my ego,” said Batman. "How will I ever survive." He tried to carry on with the mission briefing. “Where was I.” 

“You were talking about how the world was going to end in seventeen minutes,” Superman supplied helpfully. 

Batman glanced at his watch. “Fifteen, now. Thank you, Zatanna.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, unhelpfully.

[seiya-starsniper]

Could I humbly request a Dreamling 1 or 19 for the Soft™ fic prompt meme 👉👈 

1. slow dancing or 19. ‘it made me think of you.’ 

I somehow managed to fit both prompts in here 👀 👀 

Sorry for being slow about this one friendo, work’s been kicking my butt lately but hopefully this was worth it! <3 

Fic could be considered a companion piece to this fill, since I'm such a sucker for weddings ahaha.

—----------------

“Please welcome the newly wedded Gadlings!”

Hob pulls Dream excitedly through the entrance to the ballroom as soon as they’re introduced. They’re both flushed with excitement (and wine from the Dreaming) as they wave at all of Hob’s friends from his current life.

The crowd for their wedding reception is sizable, not nearly as large in attendance as their wedding in the Dreaming, but still large enough to cost Hob quite a bit of money in food and alcohol. He doesn’t care. The glowing and easy smile on Dream’s face is worth far more than any worldly currency.

“And now,” the DJ announces once they’ve reached the center of the room, “it’s time for the newly wedded couple’s first dance.”

The lights dim everywhere except for where they are standing. Hob pulls his husband (his husband) flush against his own body and wraps one arm around Dream’s waist, the other settling into his open palm. They move easily together once the piano intro begins to play, and Lionel Richie’s voice echoes throughout the room.

My love There's only you in my life

“You’ve always had a strange sense of humor,” Dream says, brow raised in amusement as they sway and step easily around one another. Hob knows Dream’s body like he knows his own breath, and it is little effort for him to step back and easily maneuver Dream into a quick twirl.

“Excuse you,” Hob says with mock offense as he pulls them back together. “Endless Love is a classic wedding song.”

“Is that so?” Dream asks, eyes literally glittering with stars and mouth turned up in a challenge.  

Hob nods assuredly. “It was Diana’s Ross’s best selling single,” he says, diving into his encyclopedic memory for music. Dream’s expression lights up as he continues to talk.

“Couldn’t escape this song on the radio back in the 80’s,” Hob continues. “It was nominated for a lot of awards. too. You could say it’s one of the defining songs of the decade,” he adds, then wrinkles his nose. “Film’s absolute shit though.” 

“You say that about many films,” Dream notes, probably remembering the time Hob had given him a twenty minute mini-rant on the origins of Tears in Heaven. Or maybe it was Can’t Help Falling in Love. Come to think of it, most of Hob’s favorite records were tie-ins to terrible movies. 

“Yes, well,” Hob shrugs before he pulls Dream closer to him. “Sometimes great music is made for shit films.” 

“So I take it ‘Endless Love’ is not on the list of your ‘must see films’, then?” Dream huffs, tilting his head playfully towards Hob.

“Not even close,” Hob grins before he leans and captures Dream’s lips with his own. The crowd around them erupts in applause and cheers.

When they pull away, Hob twirls Dream once before, before he tilts the Endless backwards into a dip. Dream’s back arches beautifully, and it steals Hob’s breath for a moment before he remembers to pull Dream back up. When their bodies are pressed together once more, Hob dips his head and admits a secret against Dream’s ear.

“I also may have picked this song because I’m a sap,” he whispers, grinning as he feels Dream shudder beneath him. “It made me think of you a lot, you know.”

“Did it?” Dream asks, pulling his head back to meet Hob’s gaze. 

Hob nods as he begins to mouth the next verse, his focus solely trained on Dream: 

And love, I'll be a fool for you, I'm sure You know I don't mind 'Cause you, you mean the world to me

“I think I’m beginning to see the appeal,” Dream says before he kisses Hob once more. 

[7official7moose7]

Here's a Chase doodle and some headcanons because he is seriously my favorite

He always has a pack of mentos mints on hand. No matter the circumstance, there's always mints in his pocket

I think its because he used to smoke cigarettes

He calls them "cancer sticks" now

Speaks pretty good english, but forgets some words/gets them mixed up and often just opts for replacing it with the French word

This is more common when he's tired or frustrated

Julia often corrects him with the english word he was looking for

"Miss Argent, could you pass me the- uh. The um. What is the word..."

"The white board?"

"Yes that thing. Thank you."

He's a bi disaster and didn't even know it until fairly recently (Ivy told him she was dating Carmen and it made him do some reflecting)

I honestly don't know if I hc him as trans or not, but I really love the concept and all the fanfics that come with it jgdgjhkdsh

Chase probably didn't have the nicest family

He has a sister named Angeline that he hasn't spoken to in like. Seven years or something

He rarely speaks about them to anyone, but when he does, it's either a very brief/vague mention or a whole oh shit that got real moment

Chase is very aware of his arrogant/egotistical tendencies, and he has a lot of guilt about it

("I feel like Im the worst so I always act like I'm the best" - Oh No! By MARINA)

He is very prone to migraines (especially after the truth extractor) but often works through them until someone forces him to stop or he is on the verge of Death Itself™

Same thing with sickness in general, despite taking days off with that excuse, you would never ever catch him taking an actual sick day off

He treats Zack and Ivy like his own kids despite claiming he's terrible with children

They get up to extremely stupid shenanigans and Julia is the mom friend that pinches the bridge of her nose in the background

CHASE DEVINEAUX PLAYS ANIMAL CROSSING AND SPLATOON, DO NOT ARGUE WITH ME

He and Julia both moved from Poitiers to San Diego to be closer to team red and ACME

They live in the same apartment complex, you can pry this one from my cold dead fingers

He's honestly just a silly goofy man with an unknown traumatic background fr

[yellowocaballero]

'there's such a thing as too honest' sounds interesting to hear about <3

Yes!!! That's actually a Flash fic :D. There is an unmentioned and unposted "New Wave!Steph and Tim harrass Superman" fic, and this is the "New Wave!Steph and Tim harrass Flash" fic. I have an extremely specific vision of the Flash. This is my design.

I've never posted it because I wanted to post the Superman fic first and I never finished the Superman fic :). Someday tho!

I seriously have this whole internal idea and schema for Barry and Wally and this is just my excuse to write it. Wally and Linda's relationship is largely sourced from my other Wally story, which I'm still inordinarly fond of. I grew up in a fantastic Natural Science museum, and you can tell.

Un-copping characters under the cut. Yet again, this is my design.

“I have a secret to tell you.”

It was practically impossible to get the undivided attention of an assembly of elementary schoolers drunk off life, but the man standing behind the table at the front of the room managed it. Maybe it was the way he said it - soft but clearly audible, conspiratorial but welcoming. 

Or maybe it was the bow tie? The bow tie was hypnotic. Stephanie was hypnotized. 

With great relish, the man in the bow tie and white lab coat announced to the group, “I’m the king of Atlantis.” The group broke into giggles, and Bowtie affected a faux-hurt look. “What, don’t believe me? Don’t I have enough muscles?”

“Aquaman can talk to fish!” A third grader at the front volunteered imperiously. “And he controls water! He’s Jake’s favorite superhero.”

Next to her, a boy shoved her arm. “It’s the Flash, I said the Flash -”

“I’m pretty socially awkward around fish - but that coelacanth fossil in the Paleontology exhibit can talk and talk for days.” Bowtie held up his hands in faux-defeat. “I admit it, I’m not King Arthur. No long and flowing golden locks on me.” It was literally always so funny hearing people call him that. He couldn’t have picked a more on-the-nose landlubber name. “There’s one big difference between us, besides our stunning good looks: King Arthur controls water with magic. But I control water with science.”

The crowd rippled with incredulity. Next to Steph, Tim was still disinterestedly playing the new Link’s Awakening on his Gameboy Color. Tim always had his head ducked over some game or phone when they were on Batman business. He insisted it was part of his cover as Disaffected Teen ™, but Steph was pretty sure that he just completely failed to find a kid’s science museum demonstration interesting. 

On Steph’s other side, another slightly-too-old-for-this kid sat with a chemistry textbook on his lap. He was pretending to be fully engrossed in the textbook - which looked like it was for high schoolers and not a twelve year old - but Steph could see him sneak peeks up over the textbook every few minutes. Steph had to agree with him: there was something magnetic about Bowtie. It wasn’t just the charisma or sense of humor, either. There was something about him that drew you in. Steph had to presume it was his negative charge. 

“Let me guess: science and magic can’t do the same things, right? Dr. Fate, Zatanna Zatara, all those heroes - us normal people can never do something that cool, right?” Tim snorted softly. Bowtie continued setting up his experiment, taking a deflated balloon and using a hand pump to inflate it.  “But Superman doesn’t fly with magic. Superman flies because of his biology! With some special biology, some amazing science - anybody could be a Superman. Because, as Arthur C. Clarke said, ‘sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic’.”

“What about the Flash?” A kid cried. The other kids murmured in agreement. The kid sitting next to Steph jerked his head up to look at Bowtie, eyes shining. “Flash’s magic!”

Bowtie took the balloon off the pump, tying it neatly. He arched an eyebrow at the kid. “Really? The Flash’s given a few interviews where he says differently. We got any Flash fans in the audience?” The entire audience broke into the loudest claps and cheers of the night. Bowtie’s grin widened. “Mr. Popular. Last time I checked, he gave an interview to CCN explaining his powers. Anybody know what he said?” 

“That his only superpower is speed!” The kid said instantly. “He doesn’t have intangibility powers, like everyone’s saying - he just vibrates his atoms so fast that they can pass through solid surfaces! He can’t control the wind, either - he creates tornadoes and whirlwinds by spinning the air with centrifugal force!”

“Looks like we have a Flash mega-fan in the audience.” Bowtie grinned again, and the embarrassed kid ducked his head back into his textbook, cheeks as red as his hair. “The Flash goes pretty fast. We don’t actually know how fast - he’s never found his upper limit. But that’s not his real weapon. Without his real weapon, he’s just some guy who runs fast. Does anybody know the Flash’s real weapon?”

“Science,” the kid whispered worshipfully. 

In tattered chorus, the assembly of children cried, “Science!”

Bowtie laughed. “You got it. Who knows - with enough knowledge of science, maybe any of us could be the Flash!” Tim and Steph glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. Leaning against the wall behind them, seemingly engrossed in a newspaper, Bruce was undoubtedly losing respect for this man by the second. “Who here wants to learn a superpower now? Anybody?” The crowd went wild, and the man gave a little bow. “If the people demand it! Now, I need a volunteer from the audience. Jake, how about you?”

With impressive efficiency, Bowtie managed to rub a balloon on the heads of several enthusiastic children. Tim glanced at Steph out of the corner of his eye, and she shrugged in agreement. A long time ago, when he first took this job, he probably rubbed the balloon on his head himself. These days, that was probably a bit more dangerous…

“Take a look at the chalkboard behind me. You see it? This is a diagram of an atom. We have another class on the atom, so stay tuned for that if you’re interested. Now, the little guys flying in circles around the bigger part is called electrons. When we rubbed the balloons against our hair, we just collected up a bunch of electrons. And these electrons have a negative charge. Remember that, it’s important!”

Bowtie turned on the faucet in his desk, letting thin stream of water flow from the faucet into the little sink built into the desk. “This balloon’s like a magnet now. It’s full of negative charges, so it’s looking for something with a positive charge. And this water has just what it’s looking for. So let’s look carefully…”

Bowtie held the balloon next to the stream of water. Sure enough, the water began to bend towards the balloon. The kid next to Steph was paying full attention now, the pretense of a textbook left abandoned on his lap. Bowtie pulled the balloon further and further away, sending the water spreading out from the sink in a flowing ribbon that stretched out halfway along the table. 

The children ooh’d and aah’d. The kid next to Steph looked excited too, but Steph noticed that he looked a little confused. On Steph’s other side, Tim clicked his tongue. 

“That water’s stretching real far for some balloon static electricity, huh,” Tim muttered quietly.

“Yeah,” the kid said, as if Tim was remotely speaking to him. “I did this at home forever ago. The water only moves a few inches.” 

“Look at that,” Tim told Steph. “The water only moves a few inches.”

“He’s so cool,” the kid whispered. 

“Look at that,” Steph told Tim. “Bowtie’s so cool.”

“Bowtie?” the kid hissed, affronted. “He has a doctorate.”

“Dr. Bowtie,” Steph allowed. 

All three of them sat patiently through Dr. Bowtie’s explanation of static electricity. And Steph thought she was good with the kids who come through Dr. Leslie’s clinic. Dr. Bowtie made her look like a chump. With a few strategic jokes, some physical comedy, audience engagement, and the inherent mysticism of the bowtie, the kids were captured. Even the patient adults standing around the back wall were engrossed. Although Steph was pretty sure that the moms in the back were more interested in Dr. Bowtie’s pretty face. He was alright. Cass was prettier. Tim told her to stop saying that Cass was prettier than women, men, and the Grand Canyon, but it was true. 

They all clapped politely when he finished. The kid had gone back to his textbook, making careful annotations in the margins. A group of kids attacked Dr. Bowtie with sheer enthusiasm, which was pretty expected, but Steph saw plenty of adults walk up to him and shake his hand too. It was obvious to an expert in body language: even the adults admired Dr. Bowtie highly. Everybody around him looked at him with respect and awe. You could hardly tell just by looking at him joking around and adjusting his bowtie, but the humbleness was part of the mystique. 

But Steph was cheating. She already knew all about this guy. Uncle Clark had asked her very politely to stop putting together extensive dossiers on their targets, but Bruce had looked at him as if he was crazy. Steph had to agree with him. As if they would ever approach dangerous people without a background check? Uncle Clark had also asked them to stop calling them targets, which was slightly more fair. Uncle Clark had an overdeveloped rigamarole of kindness. It was the Kansas. In Gotham, stabbing you was a handshake.

Once the crowd thinned out, leaving Dr. Bowtie to clean up his station in preparation for the next group, Bruce finally rolled up his newspaper. Steph and Tim glanced at each other, but Bruce made a small hand signal as he walked towards the front. They quickly stood up and ambled in his wake, chatting meaninglessly about what five star restaurant they’d check out after this. The Central City Michelin situation was dire, but apparently there was a legendary burger place. Ohio was a desolate land.

Bruce stood on the other side of the table, waiting until Dr. Bowtie crouched down behind his desk before removing his baseball cap and sunglasses. He tossed them over his shoulder and let Stephanie catch them, stuffing them in her purse. 

“That was an awesome show,” Bruce announced. “Never seen anything like it. How long have you been doing this, Dr. Allen?”

“Please, it’s just Barry.” Barry stood up, holding a glass flask in one hand. “And it’s been -”

For one microsecond, Barry looked shocked. His hand twitched open. And just as quickly, his hand twitched closed and his expression smoothed out. Nice. Somehow disappointing. Steph loved the ‘holy shit, it’s Bruce Wayne!’ heart attack. Can’t you tamp down on the superspeed and drop the flask anyway? For the entertainment value?

“Just a few years,” Barry said smoothly. He looked at Steph and Tim, loitering behind Bruce in different levels of disaffectedness. “The show’s not really designed for high schoolers, but I hope you two got something out of it anyway! We have a show for teenage audiences later today.”

“I learned so much about electrons,” the girl who spent the last eighteen months swallowing forensic textbooks said solemnly. The boy who spent his thirteenth rotation around the sun making bombs gave him a thumbs up. “Bruce was the one who made us stop by, though.”

“I had no idea electrons were so interesting,” the med school dropout said earnestly. To be fair, he was a dropout.  He shook Barry’s hand firmly, before passing over a business card. Barry took the card, and his face twitched slightly when he looked at it. Another missed opportunity for shock. Sad! “The name’s Bruce Wayne. Would you mind lending me a bit of your time? I already talked it over with Ms. Landis - and you have a free hour before your next show, right?”

Slowly, Barry said, “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne, can I ask what this is about? Ms. Landis didn’t…mention this…to me.”

“Mention what?” 

The red headed kid popped up at Barry’s elbow, blinking in confusion between the four of them. Barry’s eye twitched again. Steph didn’t blame him - mostly because Tim’s dossiers were very thorough. 

“That I have a business meeting after the show.” Barry patted Wally on the back. The two looked nothing like each other, but there was some indefinable similarity anyway. “Wally, why don’t you catch up with Linda in the Exxon exhibit? I think I have some stuff to talk to Mr. Wayne about.”

Wally had never looked so wounded. “You said that you’d eat with Linda an’ me at the cafe after the show” He turned his righteous attention onto Bruce, who looked politely attentive. “If you wanna talk with my uncle then you gotta make an appointment.”

Barry’s face twitched again. “Mr. Wayne, this is my nephew Wally West. Wally, this is Bruce Wayne.” Wally still looked unimpressed. Tim looked a little incredulous that somebody in this world didn’t know who Bruce Wayne was, but Steph didn’t know how to break it to him that normal middle schoolers weren’t hip on other city’s billionaires. “You know how Linda’s parents work at a Wayne Industries biotech lab?” Wally nodded, uncertain of where he was going with this. “That’s Wayne.”

“He’s rich?” Wally looked at Bruce with new, appraising eyes. “So that’s what rich people look like…”

Bruce grinned at him, sticking his hands in his pockets. Barry looked a little like he wanted to die. “Sorry for stealing your uncle, kiddo. But what’s that book you got there? Isn’t that for high schoolers?”

Wally brightened, pulling out the textbook from underneath his elbow. Steph couldn’t help but be a little surprised - it was advanced high school Chemistry, for juniors and seniors. “I’m on the pressure and volume chapter! Uncle Barry’s been helping tutor me. Did you know about Avogadro’s Law? It’s the rule that equal volumes of gasses at the same temperature and pressure have the same amount of particles!”

“Wow,” Steph said, impressed. “I didn’t know what an atom was when I was your age.”

Wally lowered the textbook, squinting at her dubiously. He pointed at the chalkboard, which still had a well-drawn image of an atom on it. “Even little kids know about atoms, dude.”

Steph crossed her arms, amused despite herself. “Inner city Gotham doesn’t really have guys like your Uncle Barry. We’re all scienceless orphans.” 

“You caught me,” Tim said, seemingly bored. 

“That’s actually what I’m here to talk to your uncle about,” Bruce said lightly. “The Wayne Foundation’s thinking about expanding into science education outreach. We’re focusing on inner city Gothamite kids like Stephanie here - oh, Barry, this is my ward Tim Drake and his girlfriend Stephanie Brown, say hi -”

“I could do with less science, frankly,” Tim said. 

“You’re just still pissy that Mr. Freeze robbed us so many times.”

“I just think Batman and Robin could have done a better job catching him.”

“They did a great job -”

“Before he stole five hundred thousand dollar’s worth of tech and research.”

“But we’re looking at donating funds to free children’s programming at museums across the nation,” Bruce said beatifically. “I’m thinking about investing into this program, and your boss said that you were the real shining star of the department! I’d like to speak to someone passionate about the program, and apparently there’s nobody more dedicated than you, so if you have some time to chat…?”

Even Wally understood what that meant. In their endless quest to harass other superheroes, Bruce had sneak attacked another unsuspecting middle class suburbanite. Barry’s boss had officially thrown him into the lion pit of businessmen and put him in charge of securing hundreds of thousands of dollars in funding. Bruce said that this was his way of seeing how they operated under pressure. 

And Steph could already see that Barry was the coolest head she would ever meet. Which - duh. He was a total cheater. Anybody could be chill if they had thirty internal minutes to chill out. Barry obviously took a few mental minutes to recover from the power of Bruce’s pocketbook, but he didn’t waste a physical second before looking down at his nephew. “Hey, Wally. Could you give Stephanie and Tim a tour of the museum while I talk with Mr. Wayne?”

“Of course I could,” Wally said, unimpressed. “I practically live here.” 

“Consider it practice for your future life as a docent,” Barry said importantly. He ruffled Wally’s hair again, making him grin. “Thanks, kid. I’ll be back in a flash.”

Wally groaned. “That’s so bad.”

“You’re funny,” Bruce said. Steph and Tim fought dual winces. If they were in costume then Bruce would be tearing the man a new one for ‘cuteness’. “Where’d you get your doctorate, Barry? I went to Harvard myself, but some things you just gotta get out of the way.”

“He has a doctorate in education from Brown,” Wally informed Bruce imperiously. Steph had never met a kid who was the expert in his uncle’s life, but judging by Barry’s embarrassed look he would have skipped over the Ivy League part of the equation. Which - what? “He’s got a bachelor’s in Chemistry and Physics from Ohio State and a master’s in Applied Physics from University of Chicago! Pretty cool, right?”

“Dude,” Tim said, “pick a field.”

Steph elbowed Tim, but Barry just looked a little embarrassed. “I was going to go into forensics. But…well…you know. Life happens.”

“The cops told him to ignore some evidence and he refused so they fired him -”

“Let’s say a little less, Wally.”

A failed cop. Counter-intuitively, Steph was surprised. Guess he hadn’t learned his lesson until later in life. Bruce (Gothamite) and Uncle Clark (Literally Uncle Clark) had known that path would be a fool’s errand from the start. 

“Physics to Education is a big jump,” Bruce said. He already knew the answer - they had copies of Barry’s personal statement in his Brown application - but a cornerstone of interrogation was asking the same question in different ways. Liars couldn’t keep their stories straight. “Why the change of heart again?”

Barry shrugged helplessly. “I wanted to help people. Don’t you, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce didn’t say anything. 

Of course he didn’t. He didn’t understand at all. As he hadn’t understood Uncle Clark, as he hadn’t understood J’onn J'onzz, he didn’t understand Barry Allen at all. The two other people on Earth most like himself - present company excluded - and he was faced with a horrendous and complete lack of understanding.

How could he? Bruce had poured his life into creating justice and vengeance and fighting against cruelty. It was Bruce. He had fed his life into his mission, and it was just barely enough to succeed. He couldn’t afford to half-ass this. For a very long time, nothing else had existed in his world. 

Uncle Clark and J’onn J’onzz hadn’t needed a teenage girl to beat the power of hope into his brain. Uncle Clark was dedicated to Superman with his entire heart, but it wasn’t why he got up in the morning. J’onn was just a sentient person who couldn’t stand to see people suffer, and maybe his own altruism had saved his broken heart, but he was powered by empathy and kindness. 

Barry and Uncle Clark had weird definitions of helping people. To them, it was as simple as making people smile. Giving them a bit of hope in their day, or restoring optimism to a tired crowd. A lesson that sparked an interest in science, a newspaper article that opened up a reader’s mind to new perspectives - to them, that was enough. If they were ordinary people, it would have been enough. 

Bruce did not respect the complete lack of hustle. There was a reason why he only hung out with Alfred, Steph, Tim, Leslie, and Gordon - the only other real hustlers in the world. Bruce was an ordinary person, and gratuitous acts of million dollar philanthropy were nowhere near enough. Nothing was enough for him - not even Bruce. But he liked Uncle Clark and J’onn J’onzz and Barry Allen anyway, and Steph knew that was what he really didn’t understand.

“Paleontology, huh?” Tim asked Wally. He turned off his Gameboy and stashed it in his cargo pants pocket. “You got any T-Rexes?”

“Oh, man,” Wally said. “Do we ever.”

[andy-clutterbuck]

Andy™: Behind the scenes of The Ones Who Live

[schwarz-san]

Pokemon x DP

This idea just won't leave me alone for some reason.

So yeah, it's been a millenia and Danny has been the ghost king for a very long time.

Probably longer since time flows inconsistently and in a nonlinear fashion in the infinite realms.

He just finished all of Pariah's Neglected paper works and messed up and he's Stressed and Dead Tired™ that he needs to relax.

He completely skim through every media entertainment he could get his ghostly hands in to, managing to finish One Piece, Detective conan, MCU, DC, Spongebob, the entire pokemon franchise (games, manga, anime, movies included), complete slew of movies of different genres, games and many, many more.

He's still stressed though…

So Vacation it is!

He had a hard time deciding where he would go before someone joked about going to another multiverse just for a vacatiin and you know what? Danny like that.

(Tucker wasn't serious obviously, he was just kidding!

"Danny! Wait—! Aaaaaan he's gone."

Sam entered the office with a bunch of ghost behind her carrying ghostly paper works and request from multiple Gods, Death Gods, and Eldritch entities.

She take one glance to the office and to tuckers sheepish expression and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Okay spill, where's Danny?"

"Funny, you see—"

After the explanation, Sam sighed.

"You do the paperworks then."

"What?!"

"You dig your own grave and your own coffin, you sleep on it."

"Excuse you! I'm not Vlad! And FYI! I sleep on my Sarcophagus!"

"Don't care, what ever.")

Danny then remembered pokedex entries:

[Phantump–the Stump pokemon]

[These Pokémon are stumps possessed by the spirits of children who died in the forest. Their cries sound like eerie screams.]

Just like the kind of universe he belongs to!

Ignoring Tucker's voice, he opened up a portal and immediately dive in.

(He could sense the presence of the dreadfull paperworks getting closer, better skedaddle before he got caught)

He grinned and transform himself into human before shifting his age to that of a teenager, this is gonna be fun.

___

If you tell Paul previously that he would end up travelling sinnoh again with a fresh team and a traveling companion like a certain World Champion from Pallet town does all the time, then he would have scoffed or sneer at you before insulting youe intelligence.

"GET DOWN HERE YOU MENACE!!!"

Paul screamed at the tooof his lungs towardshus travelling comoanion. The said menace just grin before—

"WAIT—STOP!!!"

The menace jumped off the fucking cliff.

Paul almost have an heart attack before his companion harmlessly lands on the ground with both of his feet.

There was a big explosion of dust and dirt that Paul had to cover his eyes. The ground gave in and he could see the dark haired teen standing on the crater unharmed.

He gawked, before sighing in resignation.

Of course, he just have to get a super human, just like a certain boy from Pallet, for a travelling companion.

"Come—on Paul! Live a little would ya? Look at me, I'm half dead yet I'm having more fun than you! Give it a try for a yourself!"

Its official, this is karma for being awful and for all the things he did and said before.

[raw-law]

thank you L for encouraging me to share my dramatic life i think i will occasionally save these stories as i remember them✨

starting off with "how the FUCK did no one catch on that i was autistic" a series of mini stories from like- elementary school.

so when i'm like 6, my mom got custody over me during the school year (we will get into when/why they weren't living together and got divorced in another story) and that meant i had to leave behind my old tiny small-town school where i spent kindergarten. a lot of schools have this like- open house thing where kids can see their new classrooms and such, and i was at this open house, sitting at a desk in my new classroom and not looking at the other things around the room. so obviously the teacher comes up and asks how i'm feeling, and i respond by looking at her VERY seriously and ststing that i was "very concerned" about the upcoming school year. small reminder, i was 6.

around 2nd grade was the time i got SUPER into pokemon. like i was utterly obsessed from the moment i watched a couple episodes on my mom's ipad before bed. i liked many pokemon, but if i had to pick one, i would have picked pikachu. my mom got me a small pikachu plushie as a tooth fairy prize (there's an interesting story there too, believe it or not) like about the size of a hamburger. i LOVED this pikachu plush (and still do) and carried it with me everywhere. i cuddled with it every night. i had a frantic meltdown any time i didn't know where he was. and that was my first comfort object. i kept carrying him with me up until like 6th grade, where i went to only taking him to things like therapy or doctor's appointments because those places are scary, yet i still need to know where he is to feel okay.

the second comfort object was this pikachu jacket my mom got me from target one day because i begged her to. as soon as i got home, i Immediately put it on and went to watch one of the pokemon movies with it zipped up, hood over my head, my knees to my chest. my mom still has a picture of me from that day. and good god, i wore that jacket EVERY day, carrying little figures around in the pockets, and NO ONE could get it off of me. even in the middle of midwest summer. and as such, it got super ratty and dirty, but i refused to let it get replaced until mom finally just had to do it because it was 'unsalvageable' as she put it. keep in mind, maybe somewhat odd but excuseable behavior for a young child, but i had this jacket up until 7th grade when my mom finally managed to wrestle it away from me and replace it.

i have more similar ones but this ask is getting godawful long, i'm cutting it off now lol.

-rainbow dash

L:

my god.. this is. very amusing.

i feel like any child with an oddly sophisticated vocabulary and an odd obsession with pikachu should automatically be suspected of having the autism™. it's just too on the nose at that point.

i guess i can use this as an excuse to relate and share some weird things i did as a child.

i think i brought up the mancala set i had before in another ask, but i don't know if i properly emphasized how much i really liked that game. because, i think when i was around 7, i met a girl who liked mancala as well, so we would only ever play that each time we saw each other. i wasn't good at talking to other kids my age, so playing together was the only way we could really have conversations. it was just easier to communicate through the game. but then one day, for a reason i can't remember, i got really mad at her halfway through a game, pulled the board to where she couldn't reach, and started playing the game by myself.

she then proceeded to stomp on my foot, say i was stupid, and she refused to play mancala with me ever again.

i'm not sure if that was proof i was autistic, but at the very least i knew it was when i realized i liked girls. so.

i suppose i haven't changed much.

Light:

Um.

I'm very sorry, but I can't relate...I'm very neurotypical, so.

But I did rather enjoy listening to both your life stories. RD, kudos to you for managing to weasel a little of Ryuzaki's back story out of him. I'm very proud of you for that.

And I'd love to hear more of your stories, RD! Feel free to share them anytime, or when you're comfortable too.

[redbelles]

Ok how about the ⭐️ thing for chimneys?

oh hell yeah! i'm going to be insane about this in an aviation direction (shocking, i know) so, uh, here:

It’s Marge, prettier than any Vargas girl his boys ever painted on the nose of a Fort [...]

i did this because a) the image of bucky thinking of marge as a vargas girl grabbed me by the throat and shook me half to death, b) we were fucking robbed when it came to nose art* in masters of the air, and c) it's funny to me, personally, because of the dick bong of it all. gale cleven if he hadn't fallen in love with the big bird:

bucky, sulking just off camera: Maaarge.

in all seriousness though, i'm very fond of this moment for chimneys!bucky because while he's,,,,, sort of kind of maybe acknowledged to himself that he's in love with both of them, he hasn't really looked at it. he's wrapped it all up in misery and the unshakeable certainty that he'll never have either of them, that he's awful for wanting them in the first place, and tried to pretend it away. buried it, ignored it, run away to the east coast trying to get away from it, and yet! it's been there the whole time! you measured every woman you saw—painted pin up girl or flesh and blood dame—against marge! three years on from the war and she's still the standard! you can't escape it, buddy! and that's not even touching on the whole paulina thing. which: lol. lmao, even.

anyway, i'm insane about that line both for Meg Redbelles: Aviation Nerd™ reasons and also because it does a lot of character work. and you know what? fuck it, i love it because it's sexy! the trifecta, if u will.

*someone please ask me about wwii nose art i was a heartbeat away from writing my thesis on wwii nose art i am d y i n g for an excuse to talk about wwii nose art

send me a director's cut ask!

[alan-duarte]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: A latte to love PARTIES: Boyd Adkinson Jr. @saveah0rse & Alan Duarte SUMMARY: Alan and Boyd meet in an overcrowded café and share a chair and a chat. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

Having a large family often meant that there were rarely enough chairs around the table for all of them. Alan’s parents, his nieces and nephews were seated already. The elders were waiting patiently for the rest of them to get chairs, the kids weren’t nearly as quiet about it. 

It wasn’t his problem, he left the parenting to his brothers and sisters. He wasn’t precisely trying to be the cool uncle™ but it never failed to make him gloat whenever the kids went on about how Uncle Alan was less of a bore than the lot of them. Thank you very much. 

He gave the barista a glance and an apologetic smile. They’d put the chairs back where they belonged, and tip accordingly, obviously, but even he agreed that the Duarte table could have been any introvert’s definition of hell. There were 16 of them now, but as far as family reunions went, this was a small party for the Duartes. The cousins weren’t even there, you see. And their spouses, and their children. 

Looking around at the diminishing chair supply, Alan finally set his eyes on one that appeared to be free. The man who sat there might have been waiting for company. Still, Alan made his way toward him, fixing his hair mechanically as he asked : “Excuse me, is the chair free?” 

So, maybe letting himself be goaded into doing a couple shots with the regulars at the bar last night wasn’t his best idea, but the coffee Boyd was nursing was soothing his pounding head. It had been nice to get a sound sleep for once, even if he paid for it in the morning. Eventually, he’d have the energy needed to keep hunting the Agropelter he’d been looking for for the last couple weeks. For a sick animal, the thing was elusive. He was sure at the bottom of this coffee lay the energy boost he needed. Boyd had been prodding at a danish for the better part of an hour when a huge group walked in. A Latte To Love was great for people watching, and today they just didn’t stop coming. The number of people in the little cafe made him happy he’d already ordered. They made him want to duck out as soon as possible. 

Boyd wasn’t at all surprised when a member of the large party approached him to ask for the chair across the table from him. The man had kind eyes that caused a little flutter in his chest. Maybe that’s why when he tried to respond, instead of saying “go ahead,” or “take it away,” like he had intended, he blurted out, “Go away.” Cheeks flushing, Boyd cleared his throat. “Sorry, sorry. I meant to say, go ahead. Take it away,” he clarified. He tried to deflect with a small chuckle. “One of those days,” he said with a dismissive shrug. 

“I’m so sorry, I startled you, didn’t I?” Alan gave the other a bashful smile, his eyes drawn to the shade of red on his cheeks at first, then at the dark sweep of the man’s long lashes, the brush of freckles on the bridge of his nose. Right, the chair. Feeling heat rising in his own face, Alan rubbed at the back of his neck while he clarified. With light laughter, he nodded, wrinkles intensifying at the corner of his eyes while he crunched up his nose. “It’s fine, I’d also be at loss of words if I saw that walking in on Sunday morning,” a nightmare that Alan only appreciated because it was composed of people he loved dearly. 

With a happy sigh, he set his hand on the back of the chair, ready to take it away. “We all have those days. I hope it gets better,” a pause, “maybe I can pay for your next coffee cup? To pay for the chair,” right. Of course, Alan, to pay for the chair. 

The crinkle of his eyes, the light blush that lit up his cheeks–if Boyd didn’t know better, he’d say there was still some booze in his system the way he was feeling. Was this guy flirting? It had certainly been a minute since the cowpoke had been on the receiving side of any flirtation, and he was feeling rusty. “I won’t say I wasn’t a bit taken aback. You got a big family,” he said with a nod in the direction of the large party. “Always good to have your people, though.” 

The wish for a better day could be brushed off with a friendly smile, but the comment about repaying him caught him off guard. It seemed this handsome stranger was full of surprises this morning. Boyd looked down at his coffee cup and then back up to the man before him as his smile grew. He nodded with a chuckle. “Right, for the chair. I just might have to take you up on that.” 

"It's like that every Sunday," except on full moons. Alan never knew how he'd feel when he woke up, and every now and then, skipped Sunday meetings under pretext of a business trip or an important seminar. "We'll try to keep the volume reasonable," that wasn't a promise he was sure to be able to keep, though he would at least try. The key was to keep anyone from mentioning sports or politics.

"Just tell them to put it on the tab for Alan Duarte," he didn't need his family name and he was just asking to get stalked online. He'd allow it because he'd first find his business' page, then his social media pages. "Nice meeting you," he smiled. "Thanks for the chair," and with that, he left, shaking his head as his youngest sister gave him a knowing look, as if to say again?

“Nice meeting you,” Boyd repeated, watching as the man–as Alan departed. He hadn’t even told Alan his name, he couldn’t just charge the man the price of a cup of coffee for nothing. He turned back to his coffee, his danish, and questioned if it was strange to look Alan up. Maybe it was. Maybe he shouldn’t do it. Maybe Boyd would just have to come back another Sunday. The thought had his cheeks warming up again. Yeah, he’d definitely need to be back next Sunday.