#other baby boi
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wasabi-gumdrop Ā· 7 months ago
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local ladies manā€™s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabruā€™s fumble era at 6
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hinamie Ā· 6 months ago
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I'll rip in hands and teeth and take a bite
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acediscowlng Ā· 2 months ago
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charles going "i'm aces with other people" literal seconds after he died from being murdered by his friends is absolutely fascinating, this kid's optimism and sheer determination to bullshit his way through every traumatic event he goes through and pointedly refuses to examine really knows no bounds
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technically-human Ā· 2 months ago
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Well, I'm seeing a trend...
If you can, how about tv show Payneland but with the ages of the comic? So basically kids Paynland together.
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Kids...
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spacebubblehomebase Ā· 7 months ago
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Here's a Huskerdust headcanon!
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Every other pet name Angel gave Husk before is inferior to their own inside joke that is "Loser" and "Baby~!" šŸ„¹šŸ’• Made some Cherrisnake too! Because my new AU will be heavily focused on Chaggie + Radioapple, so we gotta show them some love before I hyperfixate on the others. Thus, this is the calm before the storm, should I say? I hope to have your support then too! ^v^
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-BubblyšŸ’™
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jedi-starbird Ā· 10 months ago
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Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.
like before Bandomeer?
The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.
"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.
Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.
'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.
"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.
"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.
after Naboo?
Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.
Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.
This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.
the Clone Wars?
The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.
Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)
The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.
"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"
"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"
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egophiliac Ā· 1 year ago
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redesigning my headcanon for Sebek's parents, based on important new information (SCALES)
(you can't see it but they're both wearing crocs)
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dangerpronebuddie Ā· 6 months ago
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We've still got each other, which means we're gonna be okay.
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gotham-snark Ā· 2 months ago
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kettlefire Ā· 3 months ago
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As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)
Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.
No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.
No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.
Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.
Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.
His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.
All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.
The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.
One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.
It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.
The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.
That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.
It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.
Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.
Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.
Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.
Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.
He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.
In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.
The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.
It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.
That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.
It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.
The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.
It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.
The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.
Lazarus pit green.
It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.
As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.
Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.
He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.
That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.
Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.
Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.
Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.
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cyphyree Ā· 11 months ago
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Studio Ghibli's most recent marketable-plushiefied silly lil guys are the marshmallow souls of unborn humans being eaten by dying pelicans forced into starvation, or bloodthirsty parakeet satirical caricatures of the Mussolini facist regime, and that's beautiful.
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alternatively:
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raiiny-bay Ā· 4 months ago
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Love, Dhes
Parker,
It's unfair how time with you feels so short. How the last 10 years have felt like no time at all. I like to think there are other versions of us out there, somewhere. Maybe in another timeline, another universe. I like to think we find each other no matter where we are or what we're doing. That we're together and happy and I get to love you in a dozen different lifetimes. That's what I hope, anyway. And I hope when this lifetime ends, we get to start over and do it all again. Because once just isn't enough. Not for me. Not with you.
I hope the next 10 years pass slower.
Love, Dhes
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stevebabey Ā· 1 year ago
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totally didnā€™t expect the other part to do well at all but šŸ˜³ apparently i donā€™t know steddie fans. as such, have a part two <3 part one is here again, look out for the borrowed hunger games lines
ā€œYouā€™ve ruined your life, you know that, right?ā€
The kitchen had been basking in the lull of the quiet morning before Eddie had spoken up, breaking the silence. Steve blinks, realising heā€™s been zoned out staring at the swirling bubbles atop his mug of coffee and look up at Eddie across the table.
ā€œDoing what you did.ā€ Eddie continues. Thereā€™s this slight in his voice. Steve figures itā€™s not really aimed at him.
Chief Powell had agreed to not release the details of the case to the public for obvious reason. However, it went without saying that of the cops working the case, not all would be so free-thinking. There were plenty who deemed leaking the alibi and letting the town devour Steveā€™s reputation a more than fair consequence.
And, well, Eddie didnā€™t have any reputation left to tarnish or save.
Steve takes a sip of his coffee and lets the warm flavour coat his tastebuds as he tries to puts his thoughts in the right order.
He knows how Eddie sees thisā€” sees it as this burden that heā€™s imposed on Steveā€™s life. That he had been able to accept it at first, the whispers of freedom tempting enough that he could be selfish enough to gasp them.
Then yesterday afternoon, Steve had come back from Bradleyā€™s Big Buy with dried yolks splattered across the windscreen and regret howled through Eddie like a hurricane, fierce and wild. Realisation of what Steve had condemned himself toā€” no- what Eddie had condemned him to finally sunk in.
Steve can tell heā€™s been stewing on it all night. In the couple weeks heā€™s been here, staying in under the Harrington roof just down the hall from Steve, heā€™s surprised by how easily his brain has tacked on to Eddieā€™s habits. His little Eddie-ismā€™s. Thatā€™s what Steve calls them.
Like how Eddieā€™s nose will twitch if thereā€™s something on his plate he doesnā€™t like, but heā€™s too polite to say it.
How he thumbs up and down the edge of a book when heā€™s reading, completely entranced. Doesnā€™t even notice his moving, twittering fingers.
How heā€™s always so much twitchier the morning after a sleep laced with terror after terror. It gives him away before Steve even see the bags under his eyes, the hollowness of his face.
Steve recognises that one from himself, from back when heā€™d gone through it all for the first time. The flinch is unshakeable when youā€™re convinced itā€™s all going to come backā€” that the world is going to tear itself up and spit out monsters you havenā€™t even dreamed of.
Today, Eddie isnā€™t twitchy like that. Heā€™s tired, a sunken in face that comes from a bone-deep aching tiredness. He picks at his breakfast, bitterly avoiding the eggs on his plate.
And Steve canā€™t pretend to understand how Eddie grew up ā€” can take his guesses but ultimately wonā€™t get near the experiences he knows Eddie has lived through. Steve has only ever been on the other side. Stayed silent while someone else through snide comments and used the word fag like a jagged blade, to cut someone down.
So, he doesnā€™t know. Not even a year with Robin as his best friend and all her knowledge couldā€™ve prepared Steve for the startling fear heā€™d felt when coming out of the store to the sight of a group of boys around his car, cartons of eggs in hand. One with a crowbar.
They wouldā€™ve smashed his windows if he had come out a minute later, heā€™s sure of it.
It had been like getting doused in icy water ā€” the Letterman jackets on all of them, the sneers, still jeering taunts as theyā€™d scattered across the parking lot. Steve had felt the bile rise in his throat as he got in the car and sat, staring at the steering wheel, his slimy fear melting and mixing with his anger.
Eddieā€™s point of view suddenly resounded within Steve in a way he hadnā€™t known before. Standing on tables, hollering about conformity, leaning in to every foul rumour about himā€” like a person drawing to full height, making himself as big as possible, to scare off a bear.
Steve gets that a little more now.
So, when Eddie tells him youā€™ve ruined your life he knows what heā€™s trying to tell him. Except, Steve doesnā€™t know how to say lightly that heā€™d gladly ruin his life to save Eddieā€™s. Itā€™s too much ā€” but Steve always is. Always loves in these big heavy ways that are too hard to handle.
So instead, he shrugs and says, ā€œConsider it a trade.ā€
Eddie cocks his head, like a dog, just an inch.
ā€œFor following me into the lake and saving my life.ā€
Eddie scoffs and his head lolls back dramatically like what Steveā€™s said is ridiculous. ā€œJesus H Christ, dude, you saved yourself. I told you that I wouldā€™ve been too cowardly to come after you if Birdie and Wheeler hadnā€™t gone in first.ā€
He mutters the word cowardly with a hiss.
ā€œWell then, a trade for drawing the bats away.ā€
ā€œYou mean the time I nearly became hamburger helper for the bats?ā€
ā€œChrist, Eddie,ā€ Steve scoffs. ā€œI didnā€™t take you as someone who fished for compliments so hard.ā€
Eddie frowns, dropping his fork with a clatter on his plate. ā€œIā€” what? Iā€™m not- I donā€™t evenā€”ā€
Steve cuts in. ā€œYou helped us and you saved my life, whether your horrible little brain can admit that or not. So,ā€ He sits back in his chair with another little shrug and sips his coffee. ā€œEqual trade.ā€
Eddie frowns, a crease forming between his brows. ā€œNo, not equal, Steve. You donā€™t get what youā€™ve done youā€” ugh, you just donā€™tā€”ā€
He huffs, cutting himself off, clearly unsure of how to voice his frustrations. He slumps back in his chair and eyes the eggs on his plate again with a glare this time.
Steve waits a moment and hopes he isnā€™t overstepping when he says, voice quiet, ā€œI know, Eddie.ā€
Across the table, Eddieā€™s eyes raise to meet Steveā€™s and he doesnā€™t sound smug, he doesnā€™t sound angry, he just sounds defeated when he speaks.
ā€œDo you?ā€
ā€œMaybe not quite the extent of it until yesterday but, yesā€¦ I know.ā€
His words sink it and Eddie looksā€¦ affronted. His eyes get a little wide and a tremble finds his lips. Like the whole time heā€™d been convinced Steve wasnā€™t sure what heā€™d been getting into, that the reality hadnā€™t set inā€” that any moment he would rescind his alibi and throw Eddie to the cops and let them snap the cuffs back on him.
Steve hates that expression. Loathes that Eddie is so surprised that anyone would do this for him ā€” something as important as keeping him alive and out of prison. Steve hates it because he knows it means that somewhere along the way, somebody had convinced Eddie that nobody would.
So, if heā€™s got to be the one to convince Eddie that someone willā€” that he will make the effort, will put his neck on the line becauseā€¦ well, isnā€™t that what Steve does best?
Heā€™ll do it gladly.
Eddie picks up his fork and stabs his fork into the egg, the buttery yolk spilling onto the plate. Steve takes it as a truce, as him meeting him in the middle.
"So,ā€ Steve swirls the mug in his hand and swills another sip back. Swallows it and takes a page out of Eddieā€™s book and goes the joke, leaning forward, forearms on the table. ā€œIf Iā€™m gonna be your boyfriend for the foreseeable future I should probably know more stuff about you. Yā€™know, like, uh, the deep stuff.ā€
Eddieā€™s sunk back down in his seats but at Steveā€™s final sentence, he perks up. A smirking sort of grin crossing his face and Eddie twists a piece of his hair in front of his mouth. He hasnā€™t kept eating yet, too focused on the conversation.
"Uh-oh, the deep stuff.ā€ Heā€™s got that teasing tone in his voice. ā€œLike what?"
"Like...ā€ Steve scrambles to pull something from his brain. ā€œUm, whatā€™s your favourite colour?"
ā€œOh well, now you've stepped over the line."
Eddieā€™s sarcasm melts into a chuckle as Steve laughs, ducking his head instinctively. When he lifts his gaze, heā€™s relieved that Eddie looks a little lighter. Not much but a smidge of difference ā€” Steve can see it if he squints. Heā€™s sure it wonā€™t be the last conversation theyā€™ll have about this but for now, itā€™s settled.
Curiosity piques in Steve and he tries to sound casual when he says, ā€œNo, really, what is it?ā€
Eddie blinks and curls his hair around his finger once more, tugging it lightly. He seems to be considering his answer, eyes dropping to the sweater Steveā€™s donning.
ā€œYellow.ā€ He finally says. ā€œNot mustard but, yā€™know, lighter. Colour of the moon on Halloween orā€¦ā€
ā€œCheese?ā€ Steve suggests.
Eddie laughs. ā€œYeah, the right kind of cheese, sure. What about you? Favourite colour?ā€
Steve considers it ā€” for the longest time, it had been red because Tommy had told him that red or blue were the coolest colours to like, way back in third grade. No one has asked him since then.
ā€œPink, actually.ā€ Steve admits, hand coming up to brush across his nose, trying to hide behind the motion. He envies Eddieā€™s long curls suddenly. He feels the need to explain, more words rolling off his tongue. ā€œLike, yā€™know, when the sun starts to set, like all dusky, itā€™s justā€¦ nice.ā€
Eddieā€™s staring at him peculiarly, his lips parted yet quirked up in this faint smile. If Steve didnā€™t know any better, heā€™d call it awe. Breaking his stare, Eddie chuckles again, finally properly picking his fork up to finish his meal.
ā€œSteve Harrington.ā€ He murmurs warmly, more to himself. His lips twitch with a smile. ā€œYou just keep surprising me.ā€
ā€”
some people wanted more šŸ¤² uh get tagged idiot - normally i donā€™t do taglists but u were all so kind as to reply to the post & i didnā€™t get a chance to say thank u for ur lovely words! this is my thank u! have sum more!
@friendlyorange @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @lostinadmiration @life-love-musicaltheatre @oldlovershippiemusic5 @phoeniceae @catateme9 @lolawonsstuff @justagaypanda @pluto-pepsi @whoopstie @scenesofobx @justforthedead89 @musical-theatre-gay @theperksofbeingstjimmy @ikilledabuginthewall @imauselessartist @fridgebaby @lingeringmirth and uhhh @corrodedcoughin cos i still do a little squeal when u rb my tings even tho weā€™re mewchies :D
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puppetmaster13u Ā· 6 months ago
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Prompt 296
Through a series of miscommunication, the League is now under the impression that Batman, strange cryptid that he is, may or may not have given birth to the other vigilantes running around in Gotham. This was not helped by Bruce referring to all of his children, no matter how big they get, as his babies. Nor was it helped by Red Robin, in the middle of a narcolepsy-fueled imminent crash, mentioned how he had no mother.Ā 
It also doesnā€™t help that no one is aware that they are in fact completely normal people, and not aspects of Gotham itself brought to life. Though really thatā€™s on the bats themselves, because at this point they should at least count as undead.Ā 
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aroaceleovaldez Ā· 6 months ago
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underappreciated Nico detail that I like - he seems to be an angry crier! very frequently he's angry when he cries and he cries when he's extremely angry. very AuDHD of him. emotional regulation sucks my guy and he's just going through it.
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ofumofu Ā· 7 months ago
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1st years
"Isn't he too close?"
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