#wip adoptables

[anonymousfoz]

A sad wip adoptable

I didn't want to give this one away but I must. This was my WIP that was my first dabble into romance, Dragon Queen / The Queen of Beasts. Instead of explaining the plot I had planned and everything. Just going to paste what I had.

REMINDER: YOU CAN CHANGE THE NAMES OR APPEARANCES OR PERSONALITY! You just pretty much adopt the plot/ideas I had, or full thing if it was another story. I don't want credit for this one. This wip had just been sitting on the backburner and I want it to exist.

———————————————————

There was a kingdom named Midnight Solaris which had a huge dragon issue. The local dragon was constantly threatening the kingdom. One day, the king had enough and decided to make a deal with the dragon. He offered his queen for peace. The dragon accepted. However, this would only be the king’s greatest mistake.

The queen looked out the large cave, over the hills as the sun rose. A lush life in the castle was nothing like the wild nature. The last time she had been this close to nature, she had been an unruly teenager living on the farm with her Pa. Since being forcefully married to the king, her rebellious lifestyle seemly disappeared to fit in for his needs. It didn’t help that her Pa was exiled for disagreeing with the arrangement. Thinking of him made her sad. He would have loved this view.

She walked back towards the deeper parts of the cave and towards the huge pile of treasure that the dragon had been hoarding. Numerous types of coins, treasure chests, and jewels. The dragon appeared to be hoarding all of these things for some reason. Maybe the need to have possessions? All the metals combined together in one messy pile had annoyed the former queen, but she knew not to touch it. The dragon was clearly territorial over the pile. Speaking of the dragon, where was it? The dragon was typically back around this time. The dragon was very demanding towards the former queen, trying to get the queen to eat and be a little healthier. “Why haven’t you been eating, my liege?” The deep voice echoed through the wall as the large black and red dragon lowered its head to speak to her. Its golden eyes staring into the soul of a queen searching for an answer. The dragon seemed to care a lot. It bothered the queen a bit. Why would the person who took her as a prize, be caring for her wellbeing? She felt bad for thinking that way, but her mind had warped to thinking this way due to the king.

“I am not hungry. I’ll eat later.” The queen lied, and the dragon knew that. The queen remained at the wooden table while the dragon let out a huff of black smoke. It was clearly frustrated, maybe a little aggressive. Yet the queen couldn't care less. The queen tried to get up to leave from the table only to be stopped.

“You will eat! And I will not leave until you do.” The dragon nudged her back into the chair before laying down, encircling the table.

“That is fine. We can be here all day.” The queen crossed her arms as she sat back in the chair. The cave filled with tension for hours while the two sat in silence. The beast was slowly becoming impatient and before long, began talking.

“Why don’t you eat? I thought humans needed 3 meals a day.” The dragon growled in anger, waiting for an answer, but it wasn’t one they were expecting.

“I am conditioned to go days without eating food… on behalf of the king’s orders. Humans do need 3 meals a day; I can survive off a light snack for several days. Any more questions, my master?” The dragon’s expression changed for the worst. It let out another huff of smoke before it responded, possibly a mechanism to keep the dragon relaxed in front of company. Or a health issue.

“Starting today, we are changing that. No matter how long it takes. You do not belong to the king anymore, no vows to keep.” The beast had changed size to a human-sized dragon. Still a quadrupedal, but around the size of the queen. The dragon sat down in one of the chairs like a canine and took a bite out of food before letting the queen take one. The queen sighed and took a bite out of the mystery meat. The dragon went to get her some water to help wash it down, but the queen took another bite. It was deer meat. She recognized the taste. A flash of memories slowly coming back from the good days. Her posture relaxed, and she took another bite. By the time the dragon got back, the plate was empty. It would take more of this to fix the king’s conditioning, but this was a start. “You seemed to enjoy it more than any royal I met. They don’t like the taste of deer.”

“I wish I could have a little more. It’s a flavour I haven’t had in over a decade.” The queen stopped to take a drink out of the mug the dragon had offered her before going on about the times she went hunting back in her youth. She talked nonstop about the numerous adventures she went on, the pack of wolves she managed to befriend, the last remaining years with her Pa. The dragon quietly sat listening to it all, confused on why the queen gave up such a life to be with a bastard of a king.

“You seemed to had enjoyed that life… what if you could get it back?”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Starting tomorrow, you will join me outside the cave. Getting you back to that joyous time you had before, and prepared for the wild.” The dragon stopped to see a smile on the queen’s face. She was dazzling. “Then and only then will I take you with me on treasure hunts and maybe introduce you to the other dragons.” The queen hugged the dragon with tears of happiness. The dragon was confused yet hugged back, making sure their claws wouldn’t stab the queen. The dragon got up on their hinder legs and took the queen over to the bed behind their pile of treasure. The queen was excited to get back to her old life, the life she had written about in books that would never be seen by anyone else.The dragon stayed, hugging the queen on the bed until the former royal had fallen asleep. The dragon had put her onto the bed and covered her up with blankets. She was precious and smart, only to be with some asshole for a decade. The dragon walked to the outside of the cave, turning into a humanoid form. Their scales turning into smooth skin. Various scars covered the sandstone colored skin. Long, luscious black hair surrounded their horns. They walked down the long hill, taking time to think about the day they had just had. She huffed out smoke from her nostrils. A new feeling arose in the beast; It wasn’t anger, but familiar to it. Its heart was rapidly beating and their stomach was queasy. What was this new feeling?

“Grim?” The beast turned, their golden eyes scanning the darkness behind them. “What are you doing out this late? You haven’t been looting with us in 2 weeks.” The beast took multiple deep breaths as a dragon, scales the color of storms, came forward. The beast glared into their aquamarine eyes before responding.

“Saxon, I have been busy with a new companion.” The beast hovered over the human-sized dragon. “But you shouldn’t be coming close to my cave if I haven’t been around in weeks… You remember last time.”

“The break up wi-”

“Don’t even state her name,” the beast snapped at the smaller dragon, causing him to back up. “She used me for my loot and I will never get that pile back.”

“I’m sorry, Grim.” The smaller dragon's voice began shaking as it looked up at the larger beast. The beast felt bad and went over to hug Saxon. Saxon was the smallest dragon they had, excluding the child. It was easy to forget that and easier to scare the poor guy.

“Don’t apologize. This is my fault; I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” The beast went quiet before responding, “they are a lovely person, but you cannot meet her just yet.” Saxon let out a whimper before the beast petting him on his head. “But you should go loot with the others. I’ll be fine.” The smaller dragon squeezed the beast in a hug before flying off to hopefully join the others in a ransack of some shitty kingdom; to extend their gigantic piles of treasure they had been growing other the years. The beast went to get an easy prey before heading back to the cave and transforming back into the black and red dragon.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, ��but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Bruce: How was your class trip Damian?

Damian: It was quiet and productive Father.

Bruce: I’m glad to hear it. What was your favorite part?

Damian: I learned how to escape an Iron Maiden.

Bruce: …

Damian: …

Bruce: Explain please.

Damian: A boy Drake’s age taught me how to escape an Iron Maiden.

Bruce: How did he have that knowledge?

Damian: He claims his family has a dungeon full of medieval torture devices. I believe he may require further investigation.

[yellowplumfruit]

polaris

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for quietellen; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . oh,” Billy says, and blinks at him instead. Huh. “Wow, that is so much more than they charge at the ER. Or even for like, fertility treatments and stuff.” 

What a weird thing for Cadmus to have told Lynn, though. 

Lynn blinks too, looking startled. Billy doesn’t know what was startling about that? Unless maybe Lynn doesn’t really know much about monetary value yet scale-wise, anyway, or like, maybe Cadmus just didn’t explain how stupid health insurance is and all the stuff it doesn’t cover. Or maybe they did and were pricks who don’t know how to vote in their own self-interest about it, which is also maybe a concern, considering. 

Probably he should explain insurance to Lynn later, yeah. And maybe healthcare. Like, obviously the League’ll deal with it if Lynn ever gets sick, because Lynn is Kryptonian and therefore a regular hospital probably couldn’t deal with it if he ever got sick, but also it’s better if he knows that kind of thing. Just like–so he understands, Billy means. Gets where the people he’s saving are coming from, and what kind of stuff they’re dealing with. 

It’s important, getting that kind of thing. 

“I count as a real kid to you,” Lynn says for . . . some reason, his voice stiff, and Billy–blinks, again, and tilts his head. Lynn’s face is back to blank, but even blank-faced, he kind of still looks tense and uncomfortable. Superman doesn’t look like that when his face is–well, no, actually, Superman’s face doesn’t really go blank, does it, Billy realizes. He’s always got something showing, emotionally speaking. 

That’s kinda weird, come to think, because Billy also doesn’t really think of Superman as someone who’s, like, super-open or anything? Like, he shows a lot of emotion and stuff, Billy guesses, but Billy doesn’t really know anything about him. Mostly people don’t, as far as he can tell. 

Also, he can’t really think of all that many times he’s seen Superman showing a negative emotion, now that he is thinking about it. Like, a few times during really bad fights or after some really awful thing Superman clearly blamed himself for, but not like, just day-to-day. Superman doesn’t ever seem to be impatient or cranky or in a bad mood, like, ever. 

That’s . . . weird, yeah. Huh. 

But also, more importantly–

Billy frowns to himself, and then frowns a little deeper and tilts his head a little more. Looks at Lynn and all his tension and discomfort and negative emotions, and . . . 

“You definitely count as a real kid to me,” he promises him again, because he’s probably going to have to promise that a few times before Lynn really believes it anyway, and he’d kinda figured that out already. “You’re my real kid.” 

Those are both probably things Lynn’s worried about, he figures. Being somebody’s real kid, and being a real kid at all.

[crxwes]

next on the to do list 🦦

[devflamme]

theyre a big family but rio is the cat that follows agatha everywhere she goes

[skunkes]

quick pupysona design adjustment

[hippielittlemetalhead]

So... I lied about getting a full fix-it to This → Part 1. Y'all get parts focusing on different characters for now as Hop traverses his guilt trip. I won't say it gets worse before it gets better but... kinda in places? I promise it's a happy ending though!!

What do you want from me I'm stressed and depressed and I like making my blorbos suffer (a.k.a projecting my trauma instead of doing the healthy shit my shrink tells me to)

You've been warned... But I do hope you like it.

So here we have Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition)

He goes to Joyce about it first. Thinks about her gentle herding of the trio that has become the Hopper-Byers brood. Thinks about how she put everything he was feeling about Mike and El and their giggling and the fucking door into words that kept him from looking like an imbecile (if he'd have ever used them instead of fucking it up 'winging it'). Thinks about the way her voice stays soft and kind of quiet even when she's spitting in his face about listening to her (and every time she's been right) and how that's translated to talking down government goons and wrangling the army of children that seems to get bigger each time they have to fight interdimensional terrors. So he goes to Joyce about what Murray said, the noise Steve made with That Look in his eyes and his bandages peeking out from under a shirt that looks like one of the Henleys he's been missing since coming 'back from the dead' and they dug out his clothes from storage. (El wouldn't let her throw anything out, not until she was ready to say goodbye. Thank whatever god[s] there may be she never needed to)

He doesn't expect Joyce to make a face like he suggested inviting Owens to family dinner. He doesn't expect the scoff and eye roll as her shoulders tense and her hands flex at her sides like she's about to let loose her (honestly really attractive) righteous fury. About the Harrington kid.

Maybe he should have asked when the kids weren't home. Before El quietly told them the bullying wasn't as bad as it was in California but some people still made fun of how she spoke and how all of her friends were boys (and just as quietly asked they not do anything. Asked that they let her and The Party handle it until they couldn't). Before Will came home sulking about something idiotic Mike said or did or something the kid missed (though lately the latest Wheeler mistake is followed by bashful mention of the Emerson kid doing something specifically to make Will feel better in the moment). Before Jonathan came home from 'job hunting' or 'volunteering at the school's relief center' reeking of weed and his long-haired friend in tow (less than usual but still enough to make Joyce feel guilty for missing it for so long, for making the boy grow up so fast that he spends his days out of his mind instead of the weekend bender like when they were kids). Before The Party had come by with what homework the school was still giving out and talking over each other about all the latest small-town gossip a teenager can get their hands on (Eddie's name has been cleared but he's still laid up at the hospital. Susan Mayfield has been noticeably absent according to every nosy housewife in Hawkins considering her daughter is in a coma. The Hagans, Carvers, Perkins and a handful of other 'well to do' families have skipped town taking most of the sports population with them. Steve has been letting people displaced by the damage crash at the Harrington mansion. Steve has kept up hours at Family Video somehow and is a regular volunteer at the various relief centers in town. Steve has been giving all of them rides and may have told Dustin he's thinking of trading in the Beemer for a bigger vehicle for all the kids and people he chauffeurs about. Steve keeps a room empty and waiting for when Max wakes up before her mother makes an appearance. Steve. Steve. Steve.)

He doesn't expect the way she spits his name like she's talking about Dick and Margaret under the bleachers over a smoke before the yard teacher catches them. The rant about bullies and broken cameras and trashed kitchens and dead monsters in her fridge. The crack in her voice when she crosses her arms to stop their shaking as she lays sin upon sin at this boy's feet.

And maybe before that would have been enough.

He doesn't expect the stone in his stomach or the burning in his chest as he looks the woman he loves in the eye and says "So I guess we should tell Nancy to break up with Jonathan before he pulls a Lonnie, huh?" It's a low blow. He knows from the hurt anger on her face and on the purse of her lips. He knows that's why he said it. "That kid is lucky to be alive let alone walking and have we ever even thanked him for keeping the fucking kids alive each time they pull their dumb shit when the world goes to hell? Does that sound like anything his folks would have ever done for us? Hell for their own fucking kid they practically signed over to ME of all people?"

He's shaking now too and Joyce has her hands fluttering between them like she wants to reach out. To touch, comfort. Pull him close and tell him to take a breath.

"He called me 'His Hop', Joyce" He barely has enough breath on him to squeeze the words past his tight throat. "Called me His Hop and watched Ellie and the kids when I just couldn't and you were at work. I don't think I've seen his folks in town since the mall was opened and all the donors had that big party. Don't think I've spoken to them since '83 and they made me the kid's guardian when they aren't around cause they didn't want to fly down for a government sized concussion."

By now he knows El and Will are peeking around the corner, their eyes wide and worried. Jonathan has his door cracked and Angus (is that the hippie's name? He can't remember) is whispering something about heavy auras. Joyce is staring somewhere off in the distance, wringing her hands and biting her lips like she's facing an interdimensional portal shaped problem.

"The kids are planning to have one of their games in a few days." Her voice is brittle in a way he's not used to anymore. Not since she pulled her youngest out of hell and faced down a demon clawing through her walls. "He always drives them over and- and disappears until they need to head home. I can make sure he stays for dinner. Like the rest of the kids. I know Claudia has been having him over so I- I can get some recipes from her that he likes."

Something in his shoulders shakes loose and he reaches out to pull her practically shaking from into his chest.

"I don't know what to say to him Hop. He's not Mike and he's not like either of my boys. In my head he's just always been..."

"Dick and Margaret's brat." He sighs out and rests his cheek on the top of her head as she nods and presses herself in closer.

He's aware of eyes on them. Confused and worried and judgemental and he'll pay that piper next. These kids taught him how to be a dad again once, they can do it again, right?

Part 3

Part 4.1

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth

Part 4.2

Part 5

If I missed you in the tag list I'm sorry I tried 🙃🫡 Tell me what you think? 🫣🥲

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

   “Why were you in my lå̵̠ir.”

   The figure beneath him stills. “...Jason?”

   Jason snarls. He flips the intruder onto his back so that he is face to face with two hundred and twenty five pounds of pissed off crime lord. Instead of cowering away like he expected, the intruder relaxes at the sight of the red helmet.

   “Ẅ̶͈h̶̻̓y̶̭̆ ̶̜͛w̶̪̓e̵̙̓r̷̻̿e̴̯͘ ̵͈̇y̵̧͑o̸̫̐ủ̴̙ ̶͙̏i̷͇͆ń̷̗ ̵̼̀m̴̙̑y̶͍͗ ̸̭͝l̵͕͘ą̷͒i̶̩͑r̶̟͌.̴̗̇” Jason repeats, claws digging threateningly into an armored shoulder. 

     “Jason…” the intruder, nonplussed,  grips at the arm pinning his shoulder, “You need to calm down. I don’t speak radio static.”

    Jason slams him down into the roof again, growling.

“Ẇ̴̞̥̯̮́͌͆͜H̵͕̮͈̮͆͂̆̕Y̵̜̓̀̆͘ ̵̲̫̘̾̄Ẁ̸̺̣̋E̷̪̩̹̊̀͠R̶͈̙͚͂E̸̻͐̔͊͗̚͜ ̸̗̽̌̿̚Ÿ̸̠̭͒̒̃̎O̸͕͍̳̭͍͊Ǔ̷̮̯̣̫͛ͅ ̷͈̗͠I̵͍̜̙̜̜̿̆͌N̴̗͖͚̓̋̕ ̷̞̅̈́͗͝͝M̷̜̍̐̏Y̸͖̼͎͑̇͘ ̵̱͖͑̌̕L̸̹̬͕͙͖̓Ǎ̷̢͈̣̹̭̈́͘I̴̧̝̫̔̂͌͌̀Ŗ̶̝̆̋̋!̶̰̼̩̼͂̓̃͜”

   “Jason, please. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” The smaller vigilante gently squeezes his arm for his attention, “You’re not breathing. I need you to take a deep breath. Please.”

   Jason isn’t breathing. Jason doesn’t need to breathe? 

   “Please, Jason.”

   Jason needs to breathe.

[kvalentineart]

Nothin’ to see here, just mom and dad being in love with eachother 🤷‍♀️

#WIP of Rick and Michonne by- @kvalentineart

Please repost with creds! 🥰 🫶

[anonymousfoz]

I have this wip idea stuck in my head

I been dabbling into romance and now I have these ideas that I cannot get rid of. This might become a thing where I give out WIP ideas. I will do not care if you write this idea.

So the idea goes that the MC starts college in this town with superheroes and villains. The town is normal but protests are pretty common against the shitty government. MC wants to help the town but doesn't know how, when not having any powers. They are in college aiming for a history degree when they meet their roommate, Aurora. Aurora is in the same major and they share majority of classes and the two get along pretty well. They have radically different ideals about the protests, heroes and government, but manage to still enjoy the others company. MC and Aurora go to the gym one day and MC finds out Aurora is fucking ripped (Aurora typically wears oversized hoodies and pants and MC has never seen Aurora's body type. MC is also into this and already has a crush on Aurora but makes the crush go crazy) The two enjoy a day at the gym and then head back to campus before being stopped by a police officer who attempts to knock out MC but Aurora stops them. It's revealed it's a superhero as the cop, specifically one MC looked up too and Aurora is a well known villain called Shadow, who is trying to take down the corrupt and evil government. The super heroes work for the government and have been using their powers for evil and stopping / hurting protesters.

MC has to deal with this and now is thrown into a battle againist the people they looked up to. But also has to fight in battles while having no experience NOR POWERS. Yet MC is a peoples person and can battle propaganda. So MC is kinda the brains and is good at engineering, which was their first major at college. So they can engineer suits and help recruit others who want change with powers and not. Using protests and super robotic suits to fight back.

Now I want to write that but I probably screw it up or get frustrated that it isn't going the way I want it to end up going. And I promise it's not an allegory, and I did not plan for it to end up like one. It just keeps happening.

I just needed to write the idea out to get it out my head. Could work as a 2nd person pov story.

Again, do not care if you write this. I just need to get these Wip ideas somewhere other than my head.

[g1rlr0b1n]

Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 👹

Gods and Demons (Preview)

Damian's preparations for departure were almost complete when Superman hailed him down. For a moment, Damian considered pretending he had not seen him, but ultimately rose to meet the two men who had now landed gracefully beside him and Goliath. He was familiar with the man known as Superman, but the second man was a stranger to him. He was tall with wavy dark locks framing a sharp jawline and piercing steely grey-blue eyes, he bore a resemblance to the other man. He had a pretty good idea now of who he might be. The man's attire was peculiar though, causing Damian to wrinkle his nose slightly in disapproval. He wore a black suit adorned with shimmering silver stars, his deep crimson colored cloak billowing behind him. The most unnerving part of his uniform however, was the obvious missing "S" shield in the center of his chest, leaving the skin underneath exposed for all to see. Damian quickly averted his gaze, focusing back on Superman. “What’s this?” Damian's features contorted in suspicion as Superman extended a piece of paper towards him.

“An olive branch” he replied calmly, then motioned to the tall figure standing next to him, Kal-El cleared his throat, “this is my son, Zod-El. He will be stationed in Tibet with you for the foreseeable future.” There was a moment of tense silence as if to allow for Damian to process the information. Then, Superman spoke again, breaking the stillness. "Consider him an ambassador of good faith," he said firmly.

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms, “Tt. More like a spy to make sure I behave," he retorted with a sharp edge to his voice. The Justice League's true intentions were clear, they had their own agenda, but he intended to manipulate it to his advantage. Despite their lack of trust in Damian's ability to change the League of Assassins, it gave them an excuse to keep him under observation and under their protection. They needed to keep Damian alive regardless of his intentions because the absolute worst case scenario for them would be for him to lose control. It was an obvious choice, he was the only option with ties to the Justice League and a genuine desire to make the world better, even if his methods had not been received well by them. He could only stand to benefit from such a relationship, nonetheless, he’d make them work for it.

Superman let out a weary sigh, his broad shoulders slumping in exhaustion, “you agreed to observation after the attempts on your life," he reminded Damian sternly. The mention of those close calls made Damian flinch slightly, the memories still fresh and painful. Ever since his grandfather’s passing things had not gone as smoothly as anticipated, with everyone with even the slightest of claims coming out of the woodworks, but he survived and he’d continue to do so. Of course, some extra protection would be prudent, even though he had managed to reunite his family giving him the most claim, the attacks still occurred. His mother had even begun to express concern, certain that there was a rat among his inner circle. Damian didn’t want to consider that, the notion that the people he cared for most wanted him dead. Although it was a reality that he hated to admit, he could probably benefit from an impartial set of eyes and ears. Yet, Damian was proud if nothing else and he refused to allow anyone to think him weak.

"That may be," Damian huffed, "but I never agreed to an indefinite placement and certainly not from one of your B-list cast offs." His lip curled teasingly as he surveyed the man clad in black in front of him. He was curious to see how he would react.

The man grit his teeth and extended a hand with a forced smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dam-”

Damian interrupted firmly, his piercing gaze fixed on the man's face. “You may call me The Demon’s Head.”

The man chuckled nervously as he pushed back some unruly curls from his forehead. “No offense but...” he hesitated before continuing, “I’d rather call you anything else.”

Damian's lips curled into a menacing smile, his pearly whites barred behind a mask of feigned politeness. "Then, may I have the pleasure of calling you Jonathan?" The man remained silent, his expression guarded. Damian pressed on. "surprised that I know your other name?"

He cleared his throat, his voice betraying forced calmness as he responded, "Not really...and it's just Jon."

The smile fell from Damian's face, replaced by a look of disdain, "I'd rather call you anything else." The lack of push back from his opponent was slightly off-putting, it was simply no fun if they just stood there and took it. But then again, what did he really expect from the son of the Big Blue Boy Scout, always so righteous and obedient.

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, like a thick fog that refused to dissipate. Goliath finally broke the awkward silence with a restless shift, his large frame causing the ground to tremble beneath him. "I see there's no point in arguing with you," he grumbled, casting a patronizing look at Jon. "If Super Slut is ready to depart, then we shall." With the grace of a seasoned rider, Damian pulled himself up and swung himself onto his fiery red companion, feeling the heat emanating from its powerful body. Beside him, Jon effortlessly lifted himself off the ground and into the air. The bat dragon spread its massive wings and with a few strong flaps they ascended into the sky.

[lavenderstobins]

It's the third day in a row that Wayne Munson has seen the girl in the diner.

Usually, he doesn't pay attention to new faces. He's been frequenting the diner for some years now and there's often ones he doesn't recognise: people passing through Hawkins, visiting family, etc.

The girl has caught his attention, though. She's sitting tucked into the far corner of the diner, a glass of water in front of her and nothing else. She's wearing the same t-shirt and flannel shirt she'd been wearing yesterday, and the day before, he's pretty sure. She didn't order any food yesterday; she hasn't ordered any food today.

Bev likes to joke he has a sense for kids who need help. Says there's an alarm in his head that makes him worry himself sick whenever there's a waif in need.

She's sitting next to him now, one eyebrow raised. He sighs. Waif in need alarm, indeed.

"What's the deal with the kid?" he murmurs, nodding subtly in the girl's direction.

Bev shrugs. "Beats me. That's Robert's girl, that's all I know."

He frowns. "Robert?"

"Nurse. Took good care of me when my knee went bad." She takes a swig of coffee, her eyes going sad. "Died, oh, maybe eight months back."

Wayne looks back at the girl. She's staring down at her half-empty glass of water. Tucked under the table there's a bulky-looking backpack.

"She got family?"

"Just her mother, far as I know. Met her a couple of times, too. 'Nother nurse. Seems nice enough."

"Hmph." Wayne turns back to his coffee. Ain't his business, he tells himself firmly. He should focus on his lunch.

When he gets up to pay, he glances once more in the girl's direction. He'll give it a couple of days, he decides. If she's still here then, still in the same clothes, he'll see if she's alright.

—

Wayne doesn't even last the day.

He's on his way home from work when he sees movement in a phonebox on the side of the road. The road's empty aside from him, and it's raining, and the sky's getting dark, so it immediately strikes him as odd. When he sees it's the teenage girl from earlier, he nearly crashes his truck with how hard he hits the brakes.

She's huddled down in the phonebox, clasping the backpack he'd noticed. She looks sodden. It had been raining heavier earlier; from the looks of it, she'd been caught in it. Her hair's plastered to her face and she's shivering.

He's winding down his window before his brain's even caught up to the movement. He's actually not sure how to go about it, very conscious of the fact that it's just the two of them out here and she's a teenage girl while he's an old man.

Feeling very much like he's approaching a wild animal, he clears his throat. "You okay, miss?"

The girl jumps, her head jerking up. She looks at him with wild eyes, wide and afraid. She reminds him of Eddie the day he showed up on his doorstep, timid and small.

"I'm f—fine." Her teeth chatter as she speaks. Where is this girl's mother? Where are her guardians?

"You need to call someone? I got a couple o'quarters, I think."

She shakes her head. Wayne frowns. Something ain't sitting right with him.

"You waiting on your ma?"

To his horror, her face crumples, and she buries her face in her arms. He's out of the truck like a shot, rushing over to find her shoulders heaving.

"Now, now—" He's panicking, admittedly. She can't be much younger than Eddie is.

"She—She—" the girl sobs. "She kicked me out and I—I don't have anywhere to go and it's so cold and wet and—and—"

A bout of rage washes over him. He pushes it down, tugging his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. It doesn't have a hood, but it's dry. Christ, she must be soaked to the bone.

"Listen," Wayne starts, hesitating almost immediately. It's an insane suggestion from a strange man; he doesn't want to scare her off, but he doesn't want her spending the night in this phonebox, either. "I got a kid about your age. My Eddie. You come to mine and we can get you sorted out, okay? Or—Or I can find you a motel room, or something."

Sniffling, the girl looks up at him, wrapping herself up in his jacket. "Is that... is that okay?"

His heart breaks. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course."

She stands, wobbly, still clutching her backpack. She's soaked through like he'd thought, and she shivers once she's in the front seat. He's quick to turn the heating up, starting the truck again, and for a moment he's furious: her immediate agreement, the lack of hesitation about getting into a vehicle with a strange man, makes him boil with hatred towards this girl's mother.

The journey's quiet and, thankfully, not too long. Wayne ushers her into the trailer, already preparing to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Eddie's out at Jeff's for band practice, so he says, but Wayne knows him well enough to know he'll come home stinking of weed.

The girl stands awkwardly in the living room, still shivering. It occurs to him, suddenly, that he doesn't even know her name.

Still. An issue for later. He focuses on the hot chocolate. Once it's ready, he hands it over to her, and doesn't miss how eagerly she accepts it.

Only then does he broach the subject. "What's your name, miss?"

She's quiet a moment, cradling the mug in her hands. "It's Robin. Uh, Robin, sir."

"None of that 'sir' business," he says gruffly. "Name's Wayne. Eddie'll be home later but you can have his bed if you need a place to stay for the night."

This might be the most he's spoken in years, trying desperately to come across as reassuring. It breaks his heart how trusting she's being, though.

"Thank you." Robin goes quiet, her fingers curling around the handle of the mug. "I, um, I can pay you back for the ride—"

He waves a hand, frowning. "None of that. I'd like to think if it were my Ed in your shoes, someone would be there for him like this."

She manages a small smile. She's still in her soaking clothes. He hustles over to Eddie's room, raiding the drawers for whatever looks most comfortable. Eddie won't complain, he knows.

Robin gratefully accepts the clothes. He goes back into Eddie's room to give her privacy, unsure exactly how long to wait. There's that stereotype that women take forever to change, right? It must hold some truth.

He gives it an hour, just to be safe. When he emerges, he finds that she's curled up on the couch, out like a light. His jacket's pulled up to her chin like a blanket.

Waif in need alarm. He sighs. Bev's right after all. He won't be surprised if this situation resolves with him having another kid in his care.

Well, Eddie always wanted a sister, anyway.

[redrum-alice]

He adopted a meow meow. This is still a wip btw

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for yesdangerpls; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Lynn watches the oven for a while. Billy wonders if maybe he has X-ray vision and he’s just, like . . . keeping an eye on things? Because otherwise it seems like a weird thing to do. 

But also this is maybe the first time he’s ever seen an oven, depending on what Kid Flash’s house is like? Or at least the first time he’s really spent time around an oven, anyway. So actually that’s not really weird, no. Lynn’s brand-new and his brain’s probably still really, like, elastic and overwhelmed, even with all the uploads and stuff in his head. No matter what Lynn knows, the experiences have gotta be different. 

Billy figures they would be, anyway. He knows a lot of stuff from the wisdom of Solomon when he’s transformed, but it alway feels different from the stuff he’s actually learned. Just . . . distant, and a little faded. So he’d assume it’d be like that for Lynn too, probably? Maybe? 

Lynn looks away from the oven and looks at Billy instead. Billy nearly knocks over the broom he left propped against the counter, then feels really awkward and also ridiculous for not putting it away after he swept. 

He grabs the broom before it actually gets knocked over, then takes it back to the weird out-of-the-way side closet and tucks it back inside. Lynn keeps looking at him. Billy figures that’s probably also a new experience thing, considering. Like–people in general, he means? 

Oh, and, like–having a dad. Having a dad would be new for Lynn too, definitely. 

Billy resists the urge to peek into the oven, since he wouldn’t know what to look for anyway, and looks around for anything else that needs cleaned up or set up or anything, but he doesn’t really see anything else. He’s not really sure what to do with himself again, but maybe he could– 

“. . . you don’t know how to cook,” Lynn says. Billy blinks, looking back to him. Lynn’s still watching him, which Billy still figures is normal. It’s normal for little kids to pay a lot of attention to other people, and even if it wasn’t, Lynn’s gotta learn how to people from somebody, and none of his friends are here right now. 

“No,” he agrees, tilting his head a little curiously and wondering why Lynn’s mentioning that. He said so already, didn’t he? “I wouldn’t make you do it all if I did.” 

“You didn’t make me do it all anyway,” Lynn says. Billy glances at the cookbook and the sink and the oven and tries to figure out what Lynn thinks he did at all, but . . . okay, he guesses? 

“I mean, you did, though?” he says, a little skeptical about it. “All I did was re-measure the stuff I spilled, pretty much.” 

“. . . yes,” Lynn says, then glances towards the living room, for some reason. “But you didn’t make me.” 

. . . oh. 

Huh, Billy thinks, and blinks at him a couple of times.

It’s kind of weird, a little, coming at this stuff from the other side.