#big brother instinct

[catbowserauthor]

The Most Certain of Uncertainties

So there's a hurt/comfort prompt list floating about and I wanted to do it. We’ll be trading off between 1987 and 2003 verse because those are my favs. I suspect this will be heavy on Michelangelo. I'm aiming for 1000 words or less but we’ll see…

Amid a world of uncertainty, the turtles know one thing that is rock solid is their bond with one another.

Chapter One: 1987 “I Know You’re Hurt”

Walking was excruciating.

Michelangelo wasn't sure when in the last battle his ankle had taken a hit but it sure had. Not enough to stop him, though.

Shredder and his minions had fled back into the earth, just like they always did. A victory pizza at Vinnie’s, just like they always did. April playing damage control just like she always did.

The slow walk home through the sewers.

Michelangelo had dropped into the waters, despite his brothers sticking to the walkways. The cold water eased the pain, if only a little, and with all the stuff in the water, his limping was far less noticeable.

Leonardo leapt down beside him, suddenly pulling Michelangelo’s left arm over his shoulder.

Well, he thought it was less noticeable.

“Compadre, I’m okay--”

“Don't lie to me.” The rare ‘I’m the leader and Big Brother’ tone had entered his voice. “I know you’re hurt. We’ve been watching you limp for long enough.”

“We?”

Another splash and his right arm was thrust over another shoulder.

“Yeah, we. You aren’t the best actor, Michelangelo.”

Raphael. With an odd note of concern in his voice.

A third splash and Donatello was knee down in the gunk, prodding at his ankle that had started to swell and turn a lovely shade of blue.

“Definitely sprained. Don't think it’s broken but we’ll need to check it better once we get home. For now, stay off of it.”

As if on cue, Leonardo and Raphael lifted and Michelangelo gave a half sigh of both resignation and relief as the pressure on his ankle vanished.

Feet dangling a few inches above the ground, Michelangelo confessed as his two brothers carried his weight inside. “Sorry, amigos. Getting hurt is not bodacious and was not on my to-do list today.”

“Never is,” Raphael remarked. “Wish you'd told us earlier--”

“I was—”

“—I wasn’t done. I can't clobber the one that hurt you if I don't know you're hurt!”

An odd warmth settled in the surfer turtle’s chest. Maybe a little odd to associate threats of violence with love but it wouldn't be Raphael otherwise.

“Why didn't you tell us, Michelangelo?” Leonardo’s calm voice pulled his attention back. His older brother’s eyes held all the comfort of the universe right at that moment. Enough warmth to melt the Arctic.

“Didn't wanna be a bother. My own fault. Wasn't paying attention--”

“Oh, you know that's not true,” Donatello called back from ahead, opening the door so they could maneuver inside. “I saw you, Michelangelo. You were doing great! The bad guys just got a lucky hit in.”

Raphael and Leonardo settled their brother on the couch, pushing over the old ottoman to rest his foot on. As Donatello took to rotating the ankle this way and that (with a “sorry!” every time his brother winced or yelped) the older two vanished into the kitchen.

By the time Donatello finished his examination with, “Not broken but a pretty bad sprain, stay off of it,” Leonardo was back with an ice pack, bandages, and Raphael with Tylenol, soda, and a slice of pizza.

Michelangelo took it all wordlessly for a moment then with a smile, “Thanks, amigos.”

After binding the ankle and settling the ice pack firmly, Leonardo handed him the remote and took a seat on the couch. Being careful to leave enough room to not jostle his leg, he let Michelangelo lean against his side. A hurt Mikey was a cuddly Mikey.

Donatello selected one of the tapes that had seen this most wear, even though he was fairly certain they could all recite it in their sleep. Lifting it, he asked, “The Thing Versus Bugman in Zombie LA?”

His younger brother’s eyes lit up. “Tubuloso pick, Dude! That's a classic!”

“Naturally.” Inserting the cassette, Donatello took a seat on the chair closest to the kitchen—to retrieve meds or snacks as needed.

Raphael stood for a bit but ultimately shrugged, killed the lights, and plopped down on the armrest, closest to Michelangelo.

As the opening credits began to roll, he nudged his youngest brother who tilted his head up, curiosity on his face.

“Next time,” Raphael said sternly with no kidding on his face, “Those bozos show up…you tell me who did it, got it?”

With a smile amid the low light, as Michelangelo made himself comfortable, the youngest replied:

“Promise.”

[sleepyking]

I can’t wait for if any of my friends start dating cause I can play the overprotective big brother role and do the whole “break their heart I break your bones” thing

PLUS with my leather jacket and shark tooth necklace and combat boots n shit I look like a gang member which will add to the fun

And most of my friends are only children so like

Me: hey, my sister/brother said you’re their partner now

Them: uhhhhh…but they don’t have any siblings…?

Me: we’re adopted

[silmalope]

Thinking about the timeline where Maedhros is older than Finarfin always fries my brain, but it would be so cute.

[5rozebub5]

Nothing to see here, just Jason being an annoying little brother:

[queenlucythevaliant]

clean your sword

i. Peter had thought many times about dying for his brother, killing for his sisters, as all oldest children do.

ii. He'd imagined it a hundred times: how if his mother and father were ever killed, he'd get some low-skill job and make sure Lucy's clothes still fit her as she grew. How he'd make fists and fight dirty if Susan was ever threatened. What he'd do if Edmund ever had to flee the country on a dark, windswept night.

iii. Yet when he heard Susan's horn that day, he still froze. Only for an instant, he thought, "this can't be my job, right?"

iv. The blood on his sword shone red when it was all over. When he wiped it on the grass, the stain it left was almost black.

v. They'd put Susan in his arms when he was two years old. Peter didn't remember it, but he knew he'd been waiting for her till then. He wasn't a real person until he was a brother.

vi. And when they walked back to the pavilion, Rhindon bumping Peter's hip, all he could say to his sisters was, "I'm sorry I didn't come faster."

vii. The High King was almost obsessive in the way he cared for Rhindon. When he grew older and required weapons larger than those made for a child, he obsessed over them too.

viii. He told the others, in no uncertain terms, that if it ever came to it in battle, they were to leave him and live. As their brother and high king, he commanded it.

ix. The first time Edmund risked himself for Peter's sake, Peter didn't speak to him for a week.

x. He was oiling his sword when Edmund found him. "See, the thing is, Peter, being brothers goes both ways. If you can love me enough to die for me, than I get to love you just the same."

xi. Peter agreed with him then, to avoid the argument. He was sick of not talking to his brother. Yet privately, he knew that Edmund was wrong. That sacrifice was Peter's special prerogative, as the first-born.

xii. Back in England, his mother noticed that Peter had become more fastidious. She didn't notice that his protective streak has grown - and maybe it hadn't, really.

xiii. It was uncanny, how Peter would always show up just when his siblings needed him. He'd round a corner, and there was Lucy stamping her feet and scowling at a bully. There was Susan, crying, and now his knuckles were bloody.

xiv. He cleaned the blood off in the sink so carefully. The water ran red for a second, and it almost seemed black.

xv. When Caspian asked for the High King's advice, looking so very young, Peter jerked his chin towards the sword a Caspian's hip. "Be ready to use that," he said. "Keep it clean, and close."

xvi. Susan forgot Narnia and she forgot Aslan. Yet selfishly, Peter still hoped that she would never forget how quickly he came when she called.

[catbowserauthor]

The Most Certain of Uncertainties

Chapter 3: 1987 “Just Breathe”

Takes place directly after “Adventures in Turtlesitting”

The turtles worked in relative silence.

Master Splinter had been so thrilled to see them working as a team. They had been a bit at each other’s throats lately but now, it seemed so foolish. The little things didn’t really mean that much.

Their master, always one to reward when he saw progress, insisted on making a traditional Japanese meal for dinner. He cooked seldom—mainly because Michelangelo was usually their chosen chef. He enjoyed it and Splinter loved to encourage that.

So, the old ninjutsu master enjoyed having a chance to once again relish in his old culture. When he took the time to do so, it was a lengthy process.

But as much as the turtles loved pizza, a homemade traditional Japanese meal they loved even more. Given the Food Revivifer was delicate and dangerous, they still had plenty to do.

“Not that way, Michelangelo.” Donatello cautioned his youngest brother. “You have to remove the three sections above it first.”

Blinking, the surfer turtle looked over the tubing and the different sections divided by various metal clamps. He’d already disconnected it from the main unit. Did it really matter in what order he did the rest?

But he stopped. If her listened to his brother in the first place. If he’d not been so selfish. If he’d bothered to…

But he hadn’t. His brothers had been made young and on top of having to deal with Shredder and Krang, plus about a dozen other bad guys, he’d had to try and handle three five-year-olds.

Who had nearly gotten killed more than once.

If he’d been a minute too late. A second too late.

His hands were shaking, trembling.

“Hey,” Raphael put a hand to his shoulder. “You okay?” Not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

Was he okay? Well, yeah, now. Everything was back to normal. Everyone was safe. But his mind…it was like a dam had been broken:

He saw every mistake he made.

“Michelangelo?” Donatello’s voice sounded so far away.

Like he’d been…when he should have been there. When he needed to be there…

Every time his brothers had been put in danger. By Shredder, by the mobsters, by just plain not recognizing danger because what five year old recognized danger?

Why should they? It was a guardian’s job to protect them, to hide them, to keep them safe and they still wound up in that island.

If salt water hadn’t been the reversal….Michelangelo wouldn’t have been able to save them. He’d been caught, confined and if luck hadn’t been on their side like it always….

Putting a hand to his plastron, Michelangelo took an inhale. Then another one, quick and fast.

Not enough, felt like he was choking. Suffocating. More air. Needed more air.

“Hey…Michelangelo, look at me.” Was that Leonardo? Hard to tell. Sound was fuzzy. Felt like all he could hear was when they had called out for him. Asked him to help him. Looked at him with those huge trusting eyes

Trust he hadn’t earned. Trust he had no right to…

They’d have died.

I’d have let them get killed.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

His heart pounded, thundered in his ears, so powerful that he felt like his skull was going to rattle loose. Each breath was a struggle, like pulling air in through a straw. With holes.

They’d have died and it would have been my fault.

My fault, my fault, myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault…

Something grabbed his hand and it was against something warm, smooth but riddled with a scar here, a scar there. Moved up and down at a deliberate pace.

Up….down.

In and out.

Breath in. Breath out.

Without realizing it, probably because of muscle memory, he started to adjust his breaths to match that rhythm.

“There we go.” Okay, definitely Leonardo’s voice. “Just breathe. I’m doing it with you. In. Out.”

In. Shaky, uncertain.

Out. Wheezy. Half choked.

In again.

Out.

In.

Out.

Something cold and smooth entered his free hand and now it was Donatello’s voice in his ear. Less far away than before.

“What’s in your hand, Michelangelo? What does it feel like?”

In his hand? He moved his fingers, caressed the coolness. Hard. Made of metal. With odd edges. Like a circle but…wait. Angular cuts.

“Wrench.” He managed.

Breath in. Deep, cool. Breath out. Cleansing.

After a moment, his fingers came across rough kanji, several blocks, carved into the side. Crude, with edges not quite sanded down, that spelled out…

Spelled out…

“What does it say, Michelangelo?”

Say. Say. Was a popular phrase in English but direct translation was never quite the same. What did it—

“Don’t worry about translating it to English. Just read it to me.”

Read. Read. He could read Japanese, yes.

“Oitsume raretara chishiki ga michibiite kureru….” A phrase Donatello had made his mantra. A reminder when he got frustrated. So, important that he had carved it into…“Your favorite wrench.”

Warm skin on his. Soft cheek on his. Tight arms around him. Gentle circles on his shell.

Donatello’s voice. “Yoku yatta, otōto. Yoku yatta.”

Something right under his nose. The smell of pepperoni, cheese. Dumpling skin.

Pizza potstickers. Something Master Splinter regularly made to tide them over while waiting for dinner. A fun blend of his culture and their favorites.

Raphael jiggled one right in front of his face. When Michelangelo opened his beak, even just a bit, his brother pushed one in.

The tanginess of the sauce, the pepperoni. The richness of the cheese. The chewiness of the dumpling. Bite and chew several times.

Michelangelo closed his eyes. Savored the breathing pattern. Focused on the cold tool in his hand. His brother’s arms around his shoulders. The rich taste on his tongue.

Slipping his hand down to the ground, releasing the wrench, he dug his fingers in. The packed dirt ground. Rough, dry.

He swallowed. Let out his next breath with a deep sigh. His body shuddered and it was like he’d run three marathons in the last few minutes. Sweat coated his skin.

“Are you back with us?” Raphael that time.

Another deep breath in. A long exhale out.

Opening his eyes, Michelangelo took in his surroundings.

Hunched on the ground, Leonardo right in front of him, Raphael on his right side, Donatello on his left.

They were here. Alive.

Another deep inhale and exhale and the surfer turtle gave a nod. “I’m here, Dudes.”

“Good.” Donatello took hold of his brother’s wrist, found a vein, and watched the clock. “Heart rate is still a little fast but it’s coming down.”

“What happened?” Leonardo’s inquiry was so simple. So innocent.

But it was enough to wrench sobs out of the youngest turtle. Soft, deep, emotional ones as he all but flung himself at his oldest brother, crammed his head under his chin, and wept.

Leonardo squeezed him back, began rubbing circles on his shell. “Shh. It’s alright, Michelangelo. I’m here. We’re here.” He looked at his other brothers who just returned his baffled look.

“I…I…” Struggling to find his words, Michelangelo crumbled. “Being a big brother is so hard!”

Now, a warm smile spread over the other three turtles’ faces. Leonardo shook his head. “It can be…”

“You woulda died if the sea water didn’t fix that stupid ray and there was nothing I could a done about it! I was the most horrible big brother ever!”

Donatello gently rubbed his sibling’s head. “Hey. None of that. You were not.”

“I was! I got caught, you almost got caught. You almost got run over—“

“News flash, Michelangelo.” Raphael cut in. “Sometimes, little brothers do stupid stuff. No matter what you tell them.”

Michelangelo laid there, pulling his emotions back in check. Trying to listen, trying to hear and understand. “Do…do I give you heart attacks like you gave me?”

Leonardo laughed then. His warm, happy, everything-is-gonna-be-alright laugh. “You have. And you probably will in the future.”

“How do you handle it, Dude?! I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Donatello kept rubbing his brother’s head. A consistent and predictable motion. “It’s just how life is. We look out for you. You look out for us.”

“Donatello’s right.” Raphael smirked. “Much as we’ve saved your tail, you’ve returned the favor. Or come up with some wacky idea that actually works for some bizarre reason.”

“But…I was so scared for you! So terrified I’d fail you. And then I did.”

“No, you didn’t.” Raphael countered. “If you’d failed, we wouldn’t be here.”

“And we are.” Leonardo wiped the tears away from Michelangelo’s face with his thumb. “You took control as best you could. You did the best you could. Sometimes, the best we can do is all I can do.”

Rubbing his eyes with his wrist, Michelangelo asked, “I didn’t want anything to happen to you. If I lost you…”

“You didn’t.” Leonardo held him tight. “Michelangelo, you can’t go over all the what-ifs. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

The younger turtle nodded, faintly, against his brother’s chest. “I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

Pondering, Leonardo went quiet for a moment. While he and the others didn’t remember everything that had happened they remembered enough. And as far as Leonardo was concerned, his brother had done excellent. For more reasons than one.

He decided to go with honesty.

“It must have been hard for you, suddenly thrust into a role you’ve never had to play before. We all have responsibilities but you’ve never had the “big brother” responsibility. It can be a shock.”

“Mondo shock, Dude.”

“But you did it. You didn’t panic, you asked for help when you needed it. And part of being a big brother is passing onto your little brother, or brothers as the case may be,” Leonardo added with a smile to Donatello and Raphael, “how they can learn to handle themselves. It’s trusting that they learn and they know what to do. That way, even if you’re not there, you sort of are.”

Tilting his brother’s chin up so he could look right into his eyes, Leonardo smiled. A smile of pride. Of love. Of trust. “And while I might not remember everything about today, Michelangelo, I do remember that not once did I ever think we were in trouble. Because we were together.”

“Exactly.” Donatello rubbed his brother’s shoulder. “We knew what to do…because we watched you.”

“You dud?”

Raphael rolled his eyes but in a playful way. “That’s the annoying thing about little brothers. They might forget your words but they never forget to watch you. And I’d say you showed us how to be a pretty awesome ninja turtle.”

Michelangelo lifted his head, “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” Donatello gave him a squeeze.

Leonardo sat back as his youngest brother straightened up entirely, drying his eyes.

“Well, if it’s all the same to you guys, I think I’ll stick with ‘little brother’s role.’ It’s what I’m good at.”

Raphael pulled his sibling into a hold, giving him a light noogie to the skull. “Suits us. Then I get to boss you around!”

“You do not! Not part of the deal!”

“Is so!”

“Leonardo!” Michelangelo exaggerated his whine on purpose though with a wide grin on his face.

“Let him go, Raphael.” Shaking his head, the oldest stood, pulling his youngest brother to his feet and into a tight hug.

“For what it’s worth, Michelangelo, you made a pretty awesome big brother.”

Warmth swelled in the surfer turtle’s chest and he accepted the light kiss his oldest sibling gave to his head. They did those rarely but right now…it was just what he needed.

And those words…no higher compliment could possibly exist.

“Thanks, bro. Coming from you…that means the world.”

TRANSLATIONS:

Oitsume raretara chishiki ga michibiite kureru—-Japanese equivalent of “necessity is the mother of invention” Directly translated: when you’re backed into a corner, knowledge will guide you

Yoku yatta, otōto—(Informal) Good job, little brother

[feralforbeanix]

Phoenix and Franziska's relationship is honestly so underrated because people forget that Phoenix is just as petty as Franziska. If not more.

Like it's such a missed opportunity when (mostly wrightworth) fanfics act like Franziska completely hates Phoenix or that Phoenix fears Franziska when their canon relationship is way funnier than that.

Like when he beats her for the first time, he really thought gloating and taunting her was a good idea. Nevermind that she has a whip and has already used it on him several times before.

Phoenix gets on her level when it comes to pettiness and immaturity. In fact he's arguably worse.

And people forget that their antagonism towards each other in JFA mostly stems from their grief of Miles. Once Edgeworth returns and they can't resent each other for that anymore, their relationship in T&T is a lot more lighthearted.

Franziska whips him now more as a defense mechanism or to wipe that smug grin off his face and teases him for "Your American methods" and Phoenix thinks Pearl telling her off is hilarious and even finds Franziska almost cute at times.

Like, I know Miles is Franziska's brother and I don't want to take away from that, but you know the big brother who throws his young sibling across the room? That's what Phoenix and Franziska's relationship feels like to me.

[biteytiefling]

So I had an idea and it won’t leave me alone so I’m going to post about it if anyone wants to continue this prompt please do

so starting this off with the fact of ghost hunger exist, they feed off of emotions and ectoplasm. This is for regular ghosts though for halfas though they require emotions, ectoplasm, and living meat/ fresh blood because of this all halfas have the air of an apex predator and all halfas are the children of life and death and they all become morally gray because of it also halfas are capable of Shapeshifting

Finally having enough of the GIW Danny and a de aged Dan(10) and elly(5) decide to lay low in Gotham for a while, while plotting how to take down the GIW and run across someone that they instinctually know is their older brother they’re very sickly older brother who calls himself killer croc they decided to stay with him and teach him how to live as a halfa and he teaches them how to live in Gotham they all try to avoid the bats while wreaking havoc

Gotham City and the bats are in alarm as killer croc has found his shapeshifter siblings and they are all causing havoc as they help out rogues and disappearing talons ( taking them to the ghost zone ) and making sure to cause extra destruction in government buildings ( because petty) and even stealing things from museums and private collections ( ghost artifacts ) and the bats are in confusion as they try to catch them ( all the Shapeshifting forms that the bats have seen are dinos, gator person, and Merfolk, I think that Danny Dan and elly would stick to more scaly forms ) 

[donelywell]

If you're still taking requests, I'll take any excuse for sibling cuddles!

April 22 2024

Doodle Request #28!

Sometimes Tails has to find Sonic while he's napping. It could be for any reason: Eggman's attacking, he made a new invention, their friends came over to hang out, or a new adventure is opening up for them to embark.

But if it isn't time sensitive or important enough at the moment, Tails will sometimes catch some zzz's with his brother too. That or tackle him into a surprise sibling fight.

[0vergrowngraveyard]

more baby tails variants this wednesday: nine edition

(new yoke sonic belongs to @myymi)

[penstrokes]

Crosshair, for months: There is no escape. Go away Omega.

Crosshair, the second Omega asks him to distract the guard: yup, on it

[hitwiththefandomz]

☆*:.｡.Fancy Party.｡.:*☆

(rottmnt Raph x OC) based off @dancingdonatello ‘s writing

BACK | P2

Sometimes you just need a hug to find out you got a crush :}

[captain-krow-drozdov]

Movie!Shadow: Ok.

Game!Shadow: What Are You Doing?

Movie!Shadow: Talking To God?

Game!Shadow: Is He Telling You To Kill Everyone?

Movie!Shadow: Yeah

Game!Shadow: Oh That's Black Doom... *Loads Gun* Hello Father.

Black Doom: Hi Boys

[the-kinning-hour]

Kurogiri doesn’t remember what it’s like to be human. He didn’t even really know that he was human, at any point in his life.

For this reason, caring for Tomura was often hard. Despite being hardwired as a protector and a guardian, he was much less naturally proficient at the delicate empathetic touch that parenting needed. He didn’t know the smallest of things. That was very obvious the first time Tomura fell ill under his care. While the boy himself didn’t seem super concerned despite his abject misery, Kurogiri panicked. He couldn’t possibly ask All For One for assistance—the man clearly wanted to leave the nuances of raising a child to Kurogiri, and bothering the Master would prove no good for anyone.

Thus, Kurogiri taught himself how to use the internet. He scoured every forum he could understand how to open, searching for just what Tomura could be afflicted with (the amount of results were extremely worrying, just how fickle were humans?) and how to treat it.

Eventually, he settled for simply gathering as many of the offered treatments as he could. Over the counter medicines, antibiotics, vitamins, a humidifier, what are these patches even for again?, heated blanket, but also plenty of ice packs, is there a difference between chicken stock and chicken broth?, vapo-rub, hydrating lotion and oils, so much honeyed tea that Tomura became repulsed by the scent of it, and more cough drops than any sane person should have in one building.

These things quickly became Kurogiri’s fallback for any illness. Tomura would sometimes hide his sickness, when it came about, to avoid the intensive remedies, but Kurogiri insisted. It always worked before, hadn’t it? The misty nomu was proud of his ingenuity and his medical abilities.

At least, until the League came in.

When Kurogiri had broken the news that Tomura would not be present—sick, with what could probably range from influenza to appendicitis to a moderate cold as far as Kurogiri was aware—it garnered a myriad of reactions. Spinner, Magne and Compress at least had the mild manner to look a bit concerned, to varying degrees. Dabi just laughed.

All of them responded with bewilderment when Kurogiri began rounding up his usual treatment measures, however. Dabi asked rather bluntly, “Hold up, the fuck is all of that?”

Kurogiri looked at them all blanky and responded simply, “I must look after Tomura Shigaraki while he is ill.”

The League exchanged some looks then. A silent conversation he wasn’t privy to seemed to play out before his very eyes. Twice got too bored to bother involving himself, Toga soon to follow when she supposedly caught the drift that Kurogiri was missing. Spinner shuffled his feet and looked away. Compress, Magne, and a very disgruntled Dabi broke what remained of the staring competition all at the same time. Compress in particular put a hand on Kurogiri’s arm and insisted, “Actually, why don’t we assist you? You can put all of that down, dear. We don’t need it. …Any of it. Really, put it down.”

Kurogiri watched anxiously as the eldest of the League shuffled around his own kitchen. Compress pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, letting it sit on the counter for seemingly no reason at all. He then dug around the extensively filled medicine basket for a particular bottle, plucking two pills from it. Dabi set about making the angriest miso soup Kurogiri has ever witnessed. Magne busied herself with tea, because apparently the water wouldn’t be enough.

When the three of them were ready, they all ventured to Tomura’s room. Kurogiri tried not to worry too much. Some food and water? That’s all? Compress did grab some medicine—but not much at all! He trusted his colleagues, but he wouldn’t leave Tomura’s health to anyone else so confidently. Tomura has always had a poor constitution. Kurogiri resolved to check on the boy later discreetly, when the others’ feelings couldn’t be hurt.

When he went up to Tomura’s room that night, he was stunned to see the boy peacefully tapping away on his “switch” that he normally avoided in sickness because of eye aches and nausea. When Kurogiri asked after his health, Tomura had no response beyond a grunt of affirmation. He had healed… within a day? That had never happened before, not once! What sort of sorcery was this?

When he expressed his bafflement to Compress from the other side of the bar counter, the magician only laughed and patted his arm again. “You worry too much,” he said with what sounded like a grin. “Heaven only knows what quack doctor told you to get all of that other stuff! Some water and medicine every few hours can kick even the worst of sickness.” When Kurogiri was still confused, Compress tilted his head. “Haven’t you ever fallen ill? Toughed out a cold with some cough syrup?”

When Kurogiri still did not answer, the magician sighed. “You are a mystery, my dear,” he said ruefully.

Kurogiri felt the silliest he had in a while.

[daily-hanamura]

[kstarlitchaotics]

For one it's weird to see Wade teaming up with them two oh sweet innocent Tim three Bruce is not amused

Batman the Adventures Continues