#rated for language

[kabukiaku]

caved and put aside what I was doing to draw terzo getting hickies from omega. this ask prompted me to do so.

[zu-is-here]

in my DBH phase again but with the power of au sanses >:)

[idontcaboose]

Haunted Car Au part 13

Previous. Masterpost

“You done figuring out the sound files yet?” Duke asked while tapping on the hood of the Batmobile.

He was excited to hear a campy “Yes, Sir!” Come out of the open windows of the car.

“Neat, first off, any files that have your name in it?” He was a little disappointed, but still snorted to hear the tragic ‘Noooooo’ from Darth Vader.

“I think Red Robin has some pronoun type files in there, what are yours?” A mix of sir’s, dude's, and bro's were played until Duke had to stop the guy.

“Ok, what about age?” He wasn't expecting to get a straight answer, but when the car played a Scooby-Doo cut of ‘those meddling kids’, he was confused.

“So a kid?” Duke questioned. He got a weird mix of 'Ehhh', 'Kinda', and 'close enough' type files.

“We can worry about that later, any ideas how you got stuck?” A short ‘Nope’ with a pop on the P played.

Talking to the car guy was strange. Getting answers could be easy or turn into 20 questions trying to clarify an answer. So far, Duke knew the person:

is male or male presenting

a meta

has no clue how he possessed the car

has a good understanding of current memes

was possibly in their teens (probably a bit younger than Duke, but older than Daimian)

was a street kid? (When asked where he lived the car played “Why should I worry” from an older Disney movie about homeless animals in New York or something. He had to look it up.)

has a good sense of humor

and is taking their situation in stride.

Duke really had to wonder what their life has been where this is not a vast problem to fix…. And whether or not he should argue his ‘notification tone’ being a choir singing.

He really does not get paid enough for this, but it is better than the other stuff Gotham throws at the Bats.

“Mind if I get you up on the lift and check the engine? Might give us some clues.” After an affirmative from the car guy, Duke got to work.

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[sysig]

Two skeletons in a trench lab coat (Patreon)

Bonus:

He’s very careful! Everything was fine before you interrupted!

[somerandomdudelmao]

Hi Cass! Wanted to spread the word about a video coming out on the 7th from Saberspark about RotTMNT. Lots of people are thinking that this might get the show back on Nickelodeon's radar!

I work at the studio. So I personally believe the thing that brings a show back to life is money. Not fanart or reviews. If the studio realizes that Rise can bring in money, they'll bring it back. It's simple. You want to save Rise, buy official merch and subscriptions to services that show it

[scruncheduppaper]

do you guys ever think abt v1 getting stained more and more with blood as they go thru hell and ending up looking like v2. like ik that not how it work but man even in death theyre still there yknow. like how v1 keeps v2 alive technically thru their arms.

[loafbud]

I WAS POSSESSED TO DRAW THIS FROM THE DREAM I HAD THIS MORNING 💀💀💀

[isabelleadjani]

TOP FIRST-TIME WATCHES OF 2024 tagged by @gael-garcia thank you 🫶🏼

Rules: Post 9 (or 12 if you can't make up your mind) of your favorite films you saw for the first time this year that are not new (2023/2024) but are new to you, and tag 9 others to do the same.

Eve's Bayou (1997) dir. Kasi Lemmons Green Snake (1993) dir. Tsui Hark Diabolique (1996) dir. Jeremiah S. Chechik Event Horizon (1997) dir. Paul W. S. Anderson May (2002) dir. Lucky McKee The People Under the Stairs (1991) dir. Wes Craven House (1977) dir. Nobuhiko Obayashi Clear Cut (1991) dir. Ryszard Bugajski Shallow Grave (1995) dir. Danny Boyle Thesis (1996) dir. Alejandro Amenábar Pulse (2001) dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa Under the Shadow (2016) dir. Babak Anvari

Big year for the 1990s sdgbsdkjgb... I'm only going to tag @quercusrobur and @ashmp3 because I feel like most people will have done this if they were going to at this point but I would really be very interested in seeing Aleks and Teo's choices so if you did already do it I want to know regardless.

[evilhasnever]

First comfort character and newest comfort character meme… yeah

[eyesofshinigami]

No Fucks Sundays

Rating: T

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, language, mentions of sex

Prompt: From @steddieasitgoes "Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing"

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 6

WC: 1031

Sometimes, it just feels good to sit around and do nothing.

Steve had spent most of his life constantly on the go. Between having to take care of himself in the absence of his parents, to ferrying himself to the various activities that were expected of him, to graduating to being a glorified babysitter and chauffer, Steve felt like he’s constantly in motion. Add in getting cut off completely and having to work to make his own way, there were so many days where Steve forgot what it was like to sit down. Rush, rush, hurry, hurry.

Sometimes it made him feel like he was running himself into the dirt. That he and the wheels of his car were just going to fall off, leaving him stranded on the side of the road. Like taffy pulled too tight; those days were the worst, when the stress he put his body through finally caught up with him and he was down for the count. Gone, done, stick a fork in him, find someone else to run your errands or bring you places.

Which was why Eddie, mad genius that he is, instituted No Fucks Sundays.

Steve was pretty skeptical at first. It was one thing to say “we’re not going to give a fuck on Sunday” and another to actually go through with it. But Eddie was nothing if not determined and stubborn, so it became a tradition in the Munson-Harrington Household.

No Fucks Sundays meant no errands. No chores. No work. The only thing that was allowed was morning sex, and even that was slow and lazy, where they would take their time and enjoy each other the way they couldn’t do during the week.

Meals were simple; cereal or frozen waffles for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, and some kind of takeout that meant neither of them had to lift a finger. The rest of the day was spent doing absolutely nothing. The phone was taken off the hook (though the walkie-talkie was kept on the coffee table, just in case) and both their car keys were tossed into the bowl beside the door, covered with a ratty dishtowel to remind them that they weren’t fucking going anywhere.

The kids were pretty upset about it at first, until Eddie helpfully reminded them that he and Steve did a lot of shit for them, the least they could do is figure their own shit out for one day a week. “Steve might be the best goddamn babysitter on the planet, but he won’t be for long if you assholes kill him by making him bend over backwards.” (Of course, Eddie had no problem bending Steve over backwards, but that was between them and their bedframe, okay.) Steve also helpfully reminded them that they could probably also benefit from No Fucks Sundays, just chilling out and doing shit they couldn’t do during the week.

It caught on after that.

Frankly, it became Steve’s favorite day of the week. It meant not having to put on clothes. It meant not having to worry about how he was going to get this person here, or that person there, or whether he was going to have to work a double or not. It meant being able to just sit down on the couch with one of his favorite people in the whole world and do nothing.

Neither of them would talk for hours, but it didn’t feel crushing. It was comfortable. Steve could watch the game in his underwear, with Eddie sprawled out in his lap reading a book, or writing in his notebook, or just napping like the big lazy cat he was sometimes.

Sometimes it would turn into more sex, the two of them lazily getting each other off for nothing more than the pure pleasure of it. It wasn’t something to fill the time, it was something to enjoy and take slow.

Sometimes it wouldn’t. Sometimes it was literally Eddie playing on his NES that he finally managed to save enough money for while Steve watched, or Steve would try to pick up the knitting project that he swore he would conquer even if it killed him first. He found the repetition of it relaxing, soothing. The most they would speak all day would be simple questions like, “What are you doing?” and “Hey, pass me the remote” and it was glorious. Not that Steve didn’t enjoy talking to Eddie, or listening to him ramble about whatever he was fixated on that day, but sometimes it was nice to just… exist together. Be lost in their own thing while still spending time together. Steve had never really had that before. As much as he loved Robin and the kids, they weren’t quiet.

He wouldn’t have thought Eddie would have been able to settle like that, but his boyfriend was constantly surprising him. He was a flurry of motion on a good day, but No Fucks Sundays seemed to quiet something in him. He could see the peace and relaxation written across Eddie’s features when they spent the whole day doing nothing but watching tv and fucking.

“You good?” Eddie asked one Sunday afternoon. The two of them were lounging in nothing but their briefs, passing a joint back and forth as some movie Steve had never seen played on in the background. “This all right?”

“It’s the best,” Steve replied, letting out a plume of smoke as he sank back into the couch. He was delightfully high, well-fed and well-fucked, and he felt… stationary. In a good way. Like nothing else mattered except for him and Eddie right here, just existing together. Breathing each other’s air. He’d probably flip the tv over to whatever game was on, and Eddie would grab his guitar, and it would be perfect.

Eddie smiled, wide enough that his dimples pop and Steve feel his heart swell with love. “Absolutely. No Fucks Sundays might have been my greatest idea to date.” He winks, taking another deep drag off the joint between his fingers. “Stick with me, baby. I got a million more.”

“I plan on it, Eds.”

No Fucks Sundays were here to stay, if Steve had anything to say about it.

[dilly-oh]

Gimme a Break

“Kakashi, what’s wrong?” Iruka asks from across the table. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Sorry, I’m already full. You’re such a feast for the eyes,” Kakashi replies instantly with a cheeky wink.

Iruka snorts at him and returns to his meal.

They’re on their third date, at one of the nicer restaurants in Konoha. The place is a little swanky but not too snooty about it, fancy enough to show Iruka he’s serious but not expensive enough to cripple his wallet for the rest of the week.

And Kakashi is serious. This isn’t just some casual fling with no strings attached, and he wants to prove that to Iruka. He truly, genuinely likes the man, and is eager to see where this goes. He even rushed through a last-minute mission assignment earlier that day to make it back on time for their date. Kakashi wouldn’t have missed it for the world, not even for several cracked ribs, a dislocated arm, a fractured pelvis, and a sprained ankle.

Which he has, but that’s beside the point.

Iruka doesn’t need to know. Honestly, it’s not even that bad.

He holds back a scream as he reaches for the salt.

Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.

The rest of the meal passes, the talk a bit stiff and stilted. Kakashi can’t really carry a conversation right now, seeing as talking and/or breathing is quite excruciating. His clothing hides the worst of the injuries, not to mention the plethora of bruises blossoming all over his body. He just needs to make it through the date, and then he’ll stagger his way to the nearest hospital. Piece of cake.

Speaking of cake, a waiter heads toward them, intent on offering a dessert menu, but Kakashi locks eyes with the man and he freezes in place, goes white as a sheet, then hurriedly backs away through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Another man, trembling in fear, is shoved out and cautiously brings them the check. Kakashi feels a bit bad and gives him a generous tip.

“I’ll walk you home,” he says, because above all else, he is a gentleman.

Also Iruka is wearing a deliciously tight pair of slacks and you can really see his rockin’ ass.

It’s the only thing distracting Kakashi from the walk from hell.

Every step is agony. With each one, he can feel his ribs grind together, pelvis creaking, his entire body howling in pain. He manages to hide his limp, mentally cursing that he’d chosen a restaurant so far away from Iruka’s apartment. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they arrive at the complex, and then Kakashi remembers.

Iruka lives on the third floor.

He lets Iruka climb the stairs first just so he has something to motivate him.

They reach the door without him passing out. Kakashi calls that a win. Now to make a quick exit.

“Well, that was fun,” he begins, already slinking away. “I’ll see you again-”

Iruka starts fiddling with his keys.

Kakashi stops.

That’s it. The signal. Iruka’s giving him the go-ahead. Kakashi had been polite before, only kissing the man’s hand at the end of their previous dates, but when Iruka is the one offering, all bets are off.

Kakashi wants so badly to lean in and kiss the other man, ravish him until he’s gasping for breath and weak in the knees.

But he can’t. He can’t.

Like, physically. His ribs will snap.

So he just stands there like an idiot as the moment drags on, eventually reaching an awkward stage where it’s obvious Kakashi has missed the cue. Iruka finally finds the key he’s been looking for and slots it into the keyhole.

“I had a nice time,” he says, looking back over his shoulder at Kakashi, who gulps. He needs to leave before he decides broken ribs are worth it.

“See you again,” he repeats, then turns to go, a wave of relief washing away his lingering guilt and regret. Now to head to the nearest clinic, get treated, and leave Iruka none the wiser-

“Actually,” Iruka says, and Kakashi’s stomach drops in dread. He slowly turns to see Iruka unlock his front door and hold it open invitingly.

“…Would you like to come in?” he asks in a sultry voice.

Kakashi freezes.

…Oh.

Oh NO.

This can’t be happening.

Iruka can’t be inviting him in right now. Because that would only mean one thing. One certain thing that Kakashi would very, very much like to do with Iruka, but currently lacks the physical capability to do so at the moment. It was one matter to turn down a kiss, quite another to turn down this lavish offering.

Which he has to. Kakashi’s pretty sure it’ll kill him.

Iruka’s still standing there, waiting expectantly. Kakashi scrambles for an answer, fumbling words out of his mouth before his brain can even catch up.

“No thanks,” he blurts out.

The silence that follows is heavy enough to smother him to death, which he would gladly welcome at the moment.

“…Oh,” Iruka says, deflating with disappointment. “Okay. I…I just thought that-”

“I mean, not that I’m not flattered,” Kakashi goes on, babbling nonsensically while he flounders for a plausible excuse. “I am, really I am, but…this is, uh, a bit of a bad time for me. I have to…go home and…” His mind blanks, a fuzz of static replacing every coherent thought in his head. “…Water…my…plant?”

Now the silence becomes thorny enough to draw blood. He’ll welcome that, too.

“God, just forget it.” Iruka’s expression is tight with anger and hurt. “If you’re not interested in me, just say so. You don’t have to waste my time like an asshole.” He steps into his apartment with an irritated huff.

“No, Iruka, wait-” Kakashi reaches out a hand just as Iruka swings the door shut.

*Crunch!*

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry!” Iruka yanks the door open as Kakashi staggers back, clutching his hand to his chest. “I really didn’t mean to do that. Are your fingers okay?”

“Yep, they’re fine,” Kakashi grits out. “Totally fine. I’m just gonna-”

“Don’t be stupid, they’re broken! I can see how crooked they are from here!” Iruka cries, striding forward. “Hold still, let me see-” He reaches out and takes Kakashi’s arm. The one that’s dislocated.

So naturally, he screams.

“What?!” Iruka snatches his hand away and jerks back in surprise. “What’d I do?! I just barely touched you! Here-” He tries again, touching Kakashi’s chest this time. Right where the broken ribs are.

He screams again.

Iruka goes very still, staring intently at Kakashi as his eyes narrow with suspicion. Kakashi goes still as well, like a small prey animal desperately trying to avoid the attention of a hungry predator. He feels a bead of sweat trickle down his back as he waits for the incoming assault. It doesn’t take long.

“Kakashi for the love of FUCK have you been injured this whole TIME?!” Iruka roars at him.

“…Yes,” Kakashi finally admits, “but it’s not that bad-”

Iruka jabs a finger into his ribs. Kakashi cuts off in a high-pitched yelp. Iruka pokes him again, in a different place, and again. With each touch, Kakashi squeals in pain and flinches away. Iruka throws his hands up.

“What the fuck! Is there any part of you that isn’t hurt?!”

“…My face,” Kakashi says after a pause.

“Okay, good, hold still.” Iruka raises a fist.

“Let me explain!” Kakashi cries desperately. Iruka waits, fist still cocked. “I had a mission earlier today. It…didn’t go well, to say the least. I may have several injuries that…need attending.”

“I can’t believe you hid this from me.” Iruka’s still fuming. “How did I not notice?!”

“I’m good at keeping secrets.” Kakashi shrugs, then winces.

“How severe are your injuries?” Iruka demands to know, crossing his arms. Kakashi hesitates.

“…Non-life threatening.”

“Answer the question before that changes.”

“Okay, fine.” Kakashi gives in with a huff. “I have a dislocated arm, a sprained ankle, a hairline fracture on my pelvis, and a few cracked ribs.” He pauses. “Also, some broken fingers.” He pauses again. “And I kinda stubbed my toe walking up the steps earlier.”

Iruka just gapes at him, flabbergasted. Kakashi tries again.

“…You can kiss them all better if you like-”

“Are you an IDIOT?!” Iruka cuts him off. “Why the fuck didn’t you go to a HOSPITAL?!”

“I didn’t want to miss our date,” Kakashi says weakly. Iruka stops, blinking rapidly for several moments.

“…Oh,” he says in a small voice. His eyes drop to the ground. He looks…chastened. Almost shy. He fidgets a little, shifting his feet awkwardly. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so important to you.” Iruka glances up at him beneath those heavy lashes, biting his lip.

There it is again. The signal. Kakashi sure as fuck isn’t going to miss it this time. Not for anything.

He leans in for a kiss.

And promptly faints dead away.

---

Kakashi wakes up several hours later to find himself tucked away in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and hooked up to several monitors and an IV drip. There’s a small bouquet of flowers on his bedside table with a note attached. He almost passes out again reaching for it, but just barely manages to snag the piece of paper with his fingertips and carefully unfolds it.

Next time I’m going to be the reason you break a hip -Iruka, it reads, followed by a little heart.

Kakashi can’t wait.

-End-

(Written for @kakairu-rocks KakaIru Valentine's Week 2024, Day 6 prompt: Secrets.)

[kyber-shack]

did someone say FORD MPREG LABOR & BIRTH FIC

Tags: Gen, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Childbirth, Birth, Referenced Alien Impregnation, Post-Portal Incident, Canon Divergence - ATOTS, Angst & Feels, Language, Nudity, Temporary Hermaphroditic Traits, Hopeful Ending, Labor, Mpreg, realistic ending & aftercare, pregnant ford pines

Summary:

Something was off about the way Ford is acting straight out of the portal, like he's hurt and its getting worse. After sending the kids and Soos into the other room, Stan finally gets an answer out of him: Ford's in labor, and he's told to either help or get the hell out. With a limited amount of time, Stan stays to keep him calm as he gives birth.

[polinficrecs]

Dress by TheSushiMonster Rating: Explicit Language: English Status: Complete Summary:

Penelope needs to spice up the sex scenes in her latest novel. Colin wants to publish his travel journals as a book. When they strike up a deal to help each other, what begins as writing sessions between friends turns into something more… hands on. 

Or, the Colin teaches Penelope about seduction AU. *Note to author: A masterclass in spice, temptation, and toe-curling flutters<3

[ditzyredrobin]

(Don’t) Leave me Alone (part II)

Part two is ready to rock and roll! I hope to have part three with the full reunion up tonight or tomorrow. 💜

-

Tim drops unceremoniously back into their overstuffed couch, sighing on impact, and dropping his head into his open palms.

Their movie is still queued up and the broken glass on the floor but he couldn’t Will himself to move any farther.

There had been a heavy debate regarding said couch, ultimately being won out by himself—he could be very persuasive, according to his vigilante boyfriends, at least.

The heavy smell of their favorite Chinese (Jason’s broccoli beef and Dick’s kung pao chicken), made his stomach twist and churn.

Is this my fault?

Maybe the bigger question was would they survive a fight of this magnitude, or would he be left alone in the rubble, trying to claw himself.

Should he leave now and save himself from the inevitable it’s-not-you-it’s-me talk? Because that’s how these sorts of things always ended, wasn’t it?

He just thought—he just hoped—that things would end differently this time. But hope is a nasty business, she always had a way of chewing him up inside and spitting him out, his soul a little more damaged than before.

Tim scrubs his scalp. It’s okay—he would be okay, he always was. He would take his weaknesses and turn them back into strengths. He was excellent at change but this… he didn’t want this change.

His eyes got hot and it was hard to swallow around the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to leave he loved this place he.

He loved their bed and waking up next to them every morning, he loved Jason’s books scatter around them house, tucked in between the couch cushions, tiny writing in the margin.

Dick’s attempts at cooking pancakes in the morning and nearly burning down the kitchen, and Jason having to jump in and take over before he did actually have a fire, while Tim sat the bar laughing.

He loves Dick’s dimples when he grinned and Jason’s frown lines when he’s had enough of their bullshit.

It was their nest and the first place he’s ever felt at home. It was always chaotic and a little unhinged, but he loved the it.

Tim froze, his scalp sore and his hands twisted in his too-long hair.

Oh, god.

He was going to lose them and he… he couldn’t say the word. Couldn’t think the word.

Tears spill over and his hands tremble, tightening in his hair. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, trying to stay calm, but it catches in his chest.

How could he be so stupid? Of course they don’t love him. If they did, would they really have left him alone?

He sits there for a few, painful minutes, silently berating himself for the very idea that they wouldn’t leave him, missing the window catch as it opened and boots on the hardwood floor.

“Aw, Sweets,” Jay says softly, startling him.

Tim jerks up in his seat, eyes wild until he realizes it’s Jason. He peels back the domino and white outs and drops it on the table along with his holsters and pistols. He sees the Chinese and grimaces.

Tim doesn’t say anything as Jason slowly drops down on the floor in front of him, hands out in the universal “I come in peace” sort of way.

They stare at each other for a long moment and he doesn’t feel like he can breath. Jason is the first to taking his face between his large, scarred hands.

They were calloused and rough against his cheeks but his touch was impossibly delicate, like Tim were made of fine china, and one wrong move would cause him to chip or break. “I’m sorry for leavin’ you alone like that. I didn’t think—I, just, I didn’t think. ‘s not fair ‘a me or Dickie.”

Maybe he was right to be so tender with him, because with those words, he felt a little crack form. A tiny, insignificant thing, really. It shouldn’t have been anything more than a chip. But it hurt. So. Much.

Tim bites his lip and shakes his head. His chest aches, like the crack were a canyon. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” It’s a mantra.

I’m okay, it’s okay, we’re okay. If he just sticks to it, everything will be okay. He just has to play the part.

I’m okay, it’s okay, we’re okay, I’ll get over it.

Jay’s frown deepens but he doesn’t let go. “It’s not. You need to understand this, what happened, is not okay and not your fault. This was ‘tween Dick and me. It was not your responsibility to handle and we shouldn’t’ve gotten you involved. I was an ass and you know it.”

“You and Dick are tired so it’s okay. Accidents happen.”

“But this wasn’t an accident. Even then, this-“ he says gesturing around them. “was not okay. I need you to understand, this wasn’t an accident. I lashed out at you to get back at Dick for a mistake I made. Not you, me. Y’hear me?”

“You were doing the best you could,” Tim replies simply. Because he had to have been, it was the only explanation. “You were tired, hungry, and in pain. I’m not angry, stuff happens.”

Because it does. Accidents happen. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He should have been paying more attention, tried to mediate the situation and talk them down before things went sideways.

They wouldn’t purposefully do this to him otherwise.

It hurt when the left him but he wasn’t going to tell either of them that. He knows they were just doing what they had to, to get by. Bad missions happened and he was just caught on the cross fire.

Accidents happen.

“So, let’s reframe this. If you were in the way of a murderer and I knew I could bring him down by shootin’ both of you, is that an accident? If I knew you were going to get hurt or die just so’s I could take ‘em down, would you be upset?”

It’s an extreme but okay. Tim doesn’t need to think about it to know the answer.

“No,” he says. “If it was between them getting away and hurting more people, or accidentally hurting me, I wouldn’t be upset. It was necessary.”

It was. If he could stop more people from getting hurt just by getting a banged up himself, it was okay. He’d dealt with way worse than a gun shot would.

Wounds heal but people don’t come back from the dead (usually, save for Jason, the self proclaimed resident zombie).

The look Jason gives him, though, had him second guessing his answer. “That’s so fucked up. Wait ‘til Dickie gets a load of this.”

Tim frowns, “Why? It’s an accident. Necessary evil, right?”

“Doll, I don’t know how to break it to you, but that’s not an accident. You should be mad.”

“Why?” He presses, confused. “I don’t…it happens. It’s my job to protect the city even if that means I get hurt.”

“At the cost of your life?”

Again, another simple answer.

“Yes, of course it is.”

Because it was. He had the skills, and the practice, and the conditioning. He made it his job the day he adorned the mantle.

Jason searches his eyes for… for something and when he doesn’t find it, he sighs, and presses a long, tender kiss to his forehead. “We’re gonna fix this, I promise. Maybe Dickie can lay it out better than me.”

“Lay what out?”

[askblog-index]

Deadangelos

Link: Deadangelos / @deadangelos Askblog Type: Illustrated / Drawn-response Activity Status: Active, Inbox open, Senior Askblog Language: English Rating: PG-13+ Content Warnings: Canon-typical violence, cartoon blood, injury, very occasional references to heavy themes.

Source Material: Percy Jackson & The Olympians / Riordanverse Character(s): Nico di Angelo, Riordanverse Main Casts, Riordanverse Ensemble

Admin/Mun: Princessponies81 / @princessponies81 (PJO Sideblog - @aroaceleovaldez )

Description: A canon-divergent askblog, taking place after the events of Heroes of Olympus and focusing primarily on Nico di Angelo. Follows a modified timeline of post-HoO series. Features events and original characters, and occasionally focuses on other main and ensemble characters for specific arcs. All characters can be asked questions. A supplementary wiki is being constructed to document canon-divergence details and blog-relevant lore.

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 14

[AO3]

========={·§·}=========

Bruce was going to regret coming to the watchtower today, he could tell. He could already feel the headache coming on.

"Okay, okay, next round! Fuck, marry, kill, billionaires who aren't total assholes! Michael Holt, Simon Stagg, and Bruce Wayne, I'll go first!"

Today's meeting was listed as team bonding. Playing preteen girl games was not what he'd had in mind.

"Oh you know I have to go with fuck Bruce Wayne, I mean, have you seen that man? He makes himbo look hot—"

Dick's not-so-silent laughter from his spot next to Bruce was not helping things in the least. If he didn't love his son as much as he did, and if he wasn't 100% sure Cass and Damian would murder him in his sleep if he did, he would have silenced his oldest one way or another after the third time he nearly fell out of his chair from laughing so hard.

"I'd have to say fuck Holt, marry Wayne, and kill Stagg, Lois would kill me if I said otherwise," Clark answered thoughtfully, though the smirk he was failing to hide bellied his amusement at the entire situation.

I should have kept the lead lining in the cowl, Bruce thought darkly as he fought not to glare at the Man of Steel while Dick finally succeeded in falling off his chair. The rest of the League, sadly, were already used to Nightwing's eccentricities and gamely continued on as they were.

"—marry Bruce Wayne so I can seduce his fortune from him—"

The Dark Knight had to exercise his iron self control to keep himself from groaning out loud at that comment. Please, for the love of Alfred, will someone pick to kill me?

"I honestly can't decide if I'd want to fuck Brucie or marry him more, they both have their advantages—"

Finally, it was his son's turn, and Bruce's dread grew by leaps and bounds. He knew that grin. He knew Dick was a full grown adult, but the urge to ground him had never been so strong and the younger man hadn't even opened his mouth yet.

"For reasons I will not be disclosing at this time but might possibly include the nickname potentials, I would fuck Mike, marry Brucie, and kill Simon. Thank you for coming to my TED talk!"

And then it was his turn. Bruce shot his son a Look, before turning to the rest of the League. Pretty much everyone else had gone already, and the urge to decline participating in this round was strong, very strong, but then Hal Jordan opened his mouth and issued a challenge. And if there was one thing raising so many kids had instilled in him, it was the inability to back down from a challenge.

"So, tall, dark, and scary, what'll it be? Are you going to marry Bruce Wayne so he can fund all of your sick gadgets, seduce his money from him like Plastic Man? Maybe you'll be a gentle lover to him like Aquaman here. Or maybe Brucie is the one person in the world you break your code for. Come on, what d'ya got for us?"

And Bruce—Bruce thinks about it. It's been years since he first joined the League, he's gone on countless missions with these men and women, trusted them to watch his son's back when he couldn't, and he finds his decision already made for him. Plus, there's another thing raising so many kids had given him—comedic timing. Discreetly checking to see if Dick was still recording, even after his mishap with the physics of sitting on a chair properly, Bruce turned to stare the Lantern down.

"Jordan, I have no desire to fuck, marry, or kill Bruce Wayne, either literally or figuratively."

Bruce could see the protests forming at the tip of the pilot's tongue. Clark diligently tried to suppress his own laughter while Dick was staring at Bruce in amazed glee. Before Hal could properly express his protests, Bruce reached up and removed his cowl, working his hand through his sweaty hair in annoyance before turning a deadpan look on the man, one eyebrow raised in a pale imitation of Alfred's Look.

"I trust you can understand why?"

As the collective members of the Justice League burst into shocked screeches of denial and protest, with Clark's warm chuckles and Dick's own roaring laughter acting as counterpoints to the background noise, Bruce couldn't help but smirk. He still felt a headache coming on, now from the noise rather than from the meeting itself, but overall, he can't say he regretted how it had turned out.

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So this one came from a pin I saw on Pinterest, which I sadly have not been able to find the original Tumblr thread for, about the League playing fuck, marry, kill with pre-identity-reveal!Bruce lol I read it out loud to my boyfriend, who ended up laughing as hard as I was, and he told me I should write it, so I did! ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^ If anyone wants to send me a link to the original thread so I can link it here, that'd be amazing, cuz I want to properly credit the people who inspired me to write this in the first place (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Also, I feel like I've been saying this a lot recently, but I apologize for not posting yesterday, I had a really long and fun day out with my boyfriend and ended up having neither the time nor the desire to write anything by the time we got back home ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ before he flew out here, I hadn't seen him in a month, and before that, it had been almost a year, so I'm making the most of the time I have with him (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）I don't think that's too much to ask for, but I also feel horrible about not writing and posting as much as I initially wanted to this month. I figure, by explaining myself to y'all, it might make it easier to convince myself it's truly okay to take time for myself and my boyfriend, y'know? 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠ര⁠ ⁠ʖ̯⁠ ⁠ര⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ that's the hope, anyway lol

Have a good morning/day/night, everyone!