#all the dads suck

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Into the pit got William Afton a new hater..

[demaparbat-hp]

Toph as a Goalball player 💪💚

[phantom-0-writer]

original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

scene 1

table of contents

------------

scene 2: tim’s arch nemesis 

“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Alfred wished, as they all got out of the car. 

“Later, Alfred.” Duke waved as the car left the drop off zone.

The three of them walked together until Tim remembered the conversation from Bruce’s study. He peered over his shoulder at Damian who was trying to act nonchalant as he ditched the principal's office. Tim turned and stopped right in front of Damian ``Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” Sneaky little plans for a sneaky little kid, huh.

“Tsk.” He rolled his eyes at being caught 

Tim smirked at him, the words hillbilly civilians echoing in his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?” 

“I was just on my way.” Damian said, trying to seem unbothered as he walked away. 

“Y’know one of these days he’s gonna snap and finally murder you.” Duke mused next to him, before they split into their separate hallways. 

“Better people than him have tried.” They shared a small laugh. Finding his usual seat in homeroom, Tim scrolled through his phone until class started. 

At the bell Ms. Kross stepped to the teacher’s podium to start the daily announcements. “Hello class, happy Wednesday.” She smiled at them, “You’re all chipper as usual,” she commented humorously to herself at the silent audience. “Well today is the day I’m sure all of you have been waiting anxiously for. Before I announce everyone’s placements after the midterms, I just want to remind you all that grades only matter so much in the grand scheme of things, and if you did not score as well as you would’ve liked, there's still time to do better.” Ms. Kross gave them the yearly pep talk, as the system booted. 

Tim had been attending Gotham Academy since the first grade, and he was familiar with the ins and outs of the system now, as opposed to the many students that often filtered in and out of the Academy. Gotham Academy is one of the best schools on this side of the coast and many affluent families would send their kids here. So naturally the Academy was incredibly competitive and so much as one point could move you from 5th place to 50th. 

The competitive atmosphere of Gotham Academy had never been too hard of a burden on Tim’s shoulder. Since grade 3 Tim has easily been placed first in his grade without so much as a sweat, no matter the amount of Robin, or Red Robin responsibilities on his shoulders. Knowing this year would be no different, Tim let his chair lean back leisurely as his other classmates sat forward in anticipation. 

“With no further ado, this year’s first place as for now is Daniel Fenton.” Yup, just like every other- Wait. 

“What?” Tim asked, the front two legs of his chair hitting the floor hard. Tim looked at the screen in disbelief, only to have his suspicions confirmed. 

“Mr. Drake, is there a problem?” Mr. Kross asked, surprised. 

“Are you sure this is right?” Tim asked incredulously pointing an accusing finger at the screen, there's no way that he- Timothy Drake - placed second?

“Yes, Mr. Drake, I assure you this sheet has been double, triple, even quadruple checked. There are no errors.” Ms. Kross smiled exasperatedly. 

Ms. Kross continued down the list of names in the class, announcing their places but Tim wasn’t paying attention. Tim glared at the spreadsheet at the front of the class, waiting for it to correct itself. But no changes were made. The name placed at the top of the list had been burned into Tim’s skull. 

Who the fuck is Daniel James Fenton? 

----

Bonus:

Bruce waited his turn in the pick up line, ready to see his kids' surprise when they found out that he came to pick them up instead of Alfred. When it was finally his turn to pull up to the curb he smiled happily as Tim, Damian and Duke entered the car. 

“Surprise.” Bruce smiled at them.

“Oh, Bruce. Alfred didn’t come today?” Duke asked with a smile. 

“Nope!” He said driving into the street. “Since it’s just us today, how about we go grab ice cream?” Bruce offered, looking at his passengers in the rearview mirror. 

“Ooh ice cream after school!” Duke cheered. 

“I could appreciate some ice cream.” Damian nodded from his seat. 

“Oh how did meeting Daniel go today, Damian?” Bruce remembered. 

“It was fine. Daniel is not entirely despicable.” Bruce blinked in surprise, Damian seemed to have taken a great liking to the kid if he was already calling him by his first name, especially on day one. “Not entirely despicable” and “it was fine” in Damian-speak usually meant that he had had a phenomenal time. 

“That’s great, buddy.” Bruce turned to tell him when he stopped at a red light. “Duke, how was your Chemistry Test?” 

“It went okay, I think. We’ll just have to wait till the results come out, I guess.” Duke shrugged. 

Bruce nodded at the information. He was doing a good job. Engage, Assess, Appreciate. That’s what Dick had said. 

Tim. There was something today, he had mentioned it offhandedly. What was it? Right! The placement release. 

“Tim, how did your-”

“Shut up.” Tim seethed from the back seat. Bruce saw the irritation radiating off of him and decided that today, nor any day, would he be ready to deal with that.

“Ok.”

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[hecksupremechips]

Mizuki and Date though like. Imagine being 8 and your parents are filthy rich and going through a bad divorce. Your mom treats you like shit, lashing out at you, hitting you, saying she wishes you were never born all because you were behaving like a child. Your dad is more comforting, but he doesn’t do anything to stop the abuse and he spends his time invested in a completely different family, a girl who you love and look up to but he loves her more than you and it fucking shows. Then your dads new friend, some fucking bachelor in his late 20s, is just like "wow you guys are the worst fucking parents ive ever seen" and next thing you know your dad is sending you off to live with him. And it’s just a massive kick in the head cuz you go from a rich lifestyle to living in some really shitty tiny ass apartment with this guy who’s clearly never been around a child in his entire life and he doesn’t know how to behave and does a really bad job of censoring himself like he has a bunch of dirty magazines that he can’t hide very well cuz it’s literally a studio apartment and also he talks to himself sometimes, it’s really weird. He doesn’t even have the slightest clue what he’s doing

And he’s the best parent you’ve ever had

Because fuck, it all really hurts. You have to cope with having never received any love from anyone, and with the fact that your parents clearly don’t want you and can’t even be bothered to send you with anyone even kinda responsible. And this guy has a scary job with crazy hours and you don’t know anything about him and neither does he. But still, he never once hits you or tells you you’re not allowed to cry. He just gives you space and doesn’t push you to feel any sort of way about him. And sometimes, he’s even kind. He makes you some stew, even though it’s a bit chunky. He lets you sleep in the bed and takes the couch for himself, even though he complains about the massive back pain he’d never trade his spot for a second. He pays attention to events at your school and gives you your favorite stuffed animal when you make good grades, even though you called it ugly. He gets worried sick when you come home with bruises and puts on a goofy voice and trains you to defend yourself and you develop some highly deadly skills and even though it’s really abnormal, he buys you a bench press so you can get stronger. There’s this distance there, and you feel really weird caring about someone who you aren’t related to, but you find yourself wishing it was meant to be like this all along, that maybe, he’s secretly your real dad and he loves you like his real daughter

And when you say "I’m back" he says "welcome home"

[didderd]

so. so.. Corrupted Rebirth is pretty cool. :3

(if u tag as ship, ur days are numbered, make sure to say goodbye to ur family before ur ass is dust.)

[ivypond11]

it's been a week and i still haven't recovered </3 so i did a little sketch with this scene between normal and scary because it fucked me up and i need more moments of them comforting and caring for each other

[bruciemilf]

Crazy thing is, every cell in my body knows Metropolis is such a boring ass city where Superman's the best hero because no major shit takes place, BUT.

Metropolis, to me, is very interesting due to it's portrayal of politics, and the impartial stance the citizens take regarding Superman.

As long as he provides them with service and protection, they see him as valuable and worthwhile or deserving of rights. Granted maybe not all, but too many!!

While in Gotham?? Bruce straight up sends Nazis to the hospital nightly. Gives the mfs the meatball treatment.

He has more beef with the underfunded art programs than any rogue. Wears ACAB pins while working with the GCPD.

Like, -- Clark can't freely express his favor to a specific party cause That'd be a shit show,

but Bruce? He's out here like, " I don't believe in murder. I do believe in self-inflicted murder. That being said, if you're a nazi, kill yourself any day. It's okay."

[yunyuis-remade]

sorry. we have Zero groceries. none. my mom is broke and i barely have enough to get me to and from work until i get paid again in 2 weeks, if i even have that. can anyone help out with like $100 or $150 or. man fucking anything. im sorry i have to keep asking but life is getting worse here and this isnt even touching the bills

pp

[br1ghtestlight]

*thinking to myself* bobs burgers is like the simpsons if it was earnest and also if it was good.....

[ifbrd]

Weird Gravity Falls question:

As fans, we’re all aware that Filbrick sucked as a dad.

But do Stan and Ford understand that?

It seems obvious to us outside viewers, but I don’t exactly recall any comments by either senior Pines twin that would suggest they have connected those dots. I believe it’s fairly normal for children of abusive, neglectful or just simply bad parents to think their parent’s behavior was normal or that they deserved it or whatever, and in addiction to not being able to remember a moment where they admit their dad sucked, they certainly have both internalized his words.

Ford continued to pursue his education and was obsessed with academic excellence, as that seemed to be the one and only thing that made his father show him any kind of appreciation.

Stan continued to obsess over money, as his dad told him that was the only way he was allowed to return home. And let’s not forget his comment in the finale “dad was right, I am a screw up”

But again, and please please correct me if I’m wrong, I can’t think of anything either of them has said that criticizes their father’s actions. There’s the comment that he “wasn’t easily impressed” which I think more than anything, serves more as an excuse for his actions. Heck, in the flashback of Stan taking boxing lessons, I felt that whole scene was framed as Filbrick being a good dad, personally, I thought he was a good dad up until A Tale of Two Stans.

Idk I guess I just always assumed that after several decades they started to understand that Filbrick wasn’t a great dad, but it’s perfectly realistic for neither of them to have come to that conclusion, and frankly, the tiny bits of evidence from the show support this being the case.

I rambled a bit here, but what do you all think? Did I forget a moment that proves they do see their dad wasn’t a good dad? Do you think they have processed that part of their childhoods?

[nobodymitskigabriel]

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Gabriel should have lived and become Jack's favorite uncle

[becca-e-barnes]

I think too much in real life to fully let myself enjoy some activities so I'm going to live vicariously through the characters I write 🙃

He's here for pleasure. You're not under any illusion about his intentions. Sure, he'll let you snuggle up beside him afterwards, playing with the little soft curls on his chest. He'll kiss your forehead and smooth your hair and you'll laugh together about the silliest things but it's no secret that it's the sex that keeps him coming back.

Secretly, it's exactly what you need too. It works well for both of you. You get someone who has the confidence and experience to show you things you didn't even think you'd be into and you get to simply enjoy the way he gets off on pleasuring you. There's no need to feel shy around a man who's told you his secret filthy fantasies.

"What's one thing you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance to?" You probe one evening, taking your necklace off and placing it on the bedside table, well aware he's probably wearing more of your lipgloss that you are after the way he greeted you at the hotel room door.

You hop onto the bed to take your shoes off, enjoying how the mattress bounces you slightly.

He doesn't answer right away, pouring two glasses of a sweet, chilled Riesling before handing one to you. You take a sip, trying not to put him under pressure but the time he's taking to consider your question makes you even more curious.

"If I tell you, I'd like you to try it with me. So how badly do you want to know?" He stands in front of you and places the glass to his lips and in that moment, you couldn't want anything more than you want to fulfil a fantasy for him. You want to be something he's never had and offer him opportunities to enjoy your body that he might never have again.

"Tell me. We'll do it." You hardly even have to think about it.

"I'd like to lick you. All of you. Run my tongue all over your body. Find what makes you shiver. Find what makes you moan. Find the places that are so ticklish you need me to stop. I want to lick all the places you've never been licked before. If you'll let me." He really could make anything sound appealing.

Excitement fizzles in your core and a real desperation begins to build. Just being around this man makes you wet so you can't help the fact you're ready for him already.

"If that's what you want to do, I'll let you." If you're honest with yourself, you'd probably agree no matter what he asked for. You trust him enough to know he won't take you further than you're comfortable with.

~~~

You knew what you were signing up for but you didn't think it'd feel like this. Why the hell haven't you tried this before?

He's kneeling at the end of the bed, stroking his cock while his hot, wet, stiff tongue flicks gently against your asshole and there's no denying how much you're enjoying the pressure there. You couldn't hide it if you tried. You're so wet, you're practically dripping and it only spurs him on. It's intimate in a way you don't think you'll ever recover from while being one of the most erotic things you think he's ever done. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it when it's clear he's enjoying it just as much as you are. Maybe more.

The way you're gripping his hair has you wondering whether the strain on his tongue or his neck will overwhelm him first but he shows no signs of relenting. That is until he stands up, already looking delightfully over-pleasured and sinks his cock into your fluttering, neglected cunt without a word.

If he goes too fast it's all over and he knows it but he can't resist holding both of your ankles, watching you while he places open mouthed kisses to the soles of your feet, thrusting into you with slow, calculated strokes.

[rystiel]

sorta not-too-shitty stepdad stan takes tate fishing

(he’s that weird guy who’s always with his dad when tate visits on the weekends after his parents’ divorce)

[cyberniix]

hey regretevator fandom throws these freaks at you