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vln-vibes · 3 months

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Heroes Hunted

(I need to finish my other fics before thinking of others Q^Q)

Basically we've seen quite a few Danny getting hunted down by the GIW and ending up in Gotham resulting in him warning certain Bats (mainly just Jason) that hes in danger as well--- but what if the GIW decided to target 'smaller fish' in order to train themselves against Phantom; their main target.

Unfortunately Team Phantom is too busy trying to keep the calm around Amity Park and don't realize it until they're too late.

The JL never see them coming.

The Bats are frantically looking for what should be their literal assassin trained Robin, Red Hood and Black Bat.

Supers are flying around the area looking for any trace of Supergirl and Superboy (I). Not even Tim's trackers on Conner show anything (just like the ones he had on his fellow Bats).

Arrows had sent Green Arrow and Arsenal to help with the search of the Bats, Roy leaving Lian behind with Dinah, only to drop off the face of the Earth.

The Flash, Blue Beetle and Hawkwoman are all reported as MIA.

An Emergency Meeting is announced and trying to get into contact with all the other fellow heroes. Some were known to be off planet but there were a few who'd failed to respond at all...

Batman is the first to realize a common factor to all those who've disappeared as most had concluded something or someone was targeting heroes.

They'd all died.

Diana was the one to bring forward worst news; the hunt wasn't done.

Impulse, Red Robin, Cyborg, Hawkman, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman herself were possible targets as well.

Cyborg was able to recover and corrupted and dropped emergency call from Barry "Those weirdos in white from earlier are attacking downtown, could use some backup asap. Something about Anti-Ecto Acts or whate-- Hey! Ugh"

A shiver went down their spines as they collectively told stories about spotting men in white suits walk around their cities. Some had brushed them off whilst others had kept tabs but the guys seemed to have lost interest and left.

It was a terrible oversight.

"Looks like some assholes are digging their noses into my turf, gonna stake them out tonight" Jason had told Bruce the last night they'd seen each other, "My guys they were wearing white suits, terrible choice for Crime Alley or Gotham"

Red Hood had said he didn't need backup as he would just gather intel, still that was also the night Black Bat and Robin were paired for patrol and she'd indicated she'd check in on him before the end of the night. The three never got to call in for the night.

Oracle had informed him that Red Hood's helmet had detonated, fortunately without him in it, its location the last place his children had pinged in the scanners.

The only audio they managed to recover from the device was "---Control Act, Article 1, Subse---Under Arrest---Questioning... And experimenting lots---"

Oracle had finally found the 'Anti-Ecto Acts', formally known as the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act hidden along laws against the privatization of new green energy sources; Anything that was made off of or produced this so called 'ectoplasm' was to be handed over to the federal government's Ghost Investigation Ward for imprisonment, experimentation and finally termination.

"What the hell even is ectoplasm?"

"Its the source of all ghosts" Zatanna spoke up, repulsion clear as she read and reread the acts words, "Their body and souls are made up of the energy much like atoms make up all things in the physical world. The energy of the dead"

"According to these documents" Red Robin pulled up a research paper around two decades old from some students of the University of Wisconsin, "Ectoentities or ghosts are unfeeling, nonsentient echoes of their formerly living selves. They'd even theorized a means to access their home dimension they call the Ghost Zone"

"Ghost are made of bloody emotions" Constantine rolled his eyes "What kind of idiot would think otherwise? And don't get me started on a 'home dimension'--unless?"

"John, you don't think?"

"I sure as bloody hell hope not"

"The Infinite Realms!?"

Which only proved the situation more dire; a potential for a dimension that glued the multiverse and their afterlives, whose beings all had potential of rivaling the strength of a Super when provoked, their noted territorial nature making that a given if a portal happened upon them.

They were on a ticking time bomb to rescue their fellow heroes but they didn't even know where to start. Luckily they weren't the Justice League for nothing---

Potential locations scouted, teams made and buddy systems enacted for those potentially targeted.

Batman and his team headed to Amity Park to check on the three researchers of those papers-- Madeline Walker, Jack Fenton and Vladimir Masters. Background search revealed that Madeline and Jack had gotten married and had two children Jasmine and Daniel.

It wasn't until they crossed the town border in the dead of the night that their systems pinged the Fenton children were reported as runaways-- and not just them. The local high school had shut down as children were reported missing or also runaways from their parents. Even the faculty and some parents had begun to disappear.

Those that remained were kept under strict curfew by marshal law-- the GIW had the town under their control.

Just what exactly had they stumbled upon? Could their comrades be hidden somewhere in this small midwestern town?

Their theories were proven right the following night when tapping into their communication line about the 'aggressive subject G-02' and how 'it' had managed to break some arms when it had been relocated to the Fenton's personal lab. The 'unfortunate' Agent H who'd tried to yank it by its black and white contaminated hair had gotten his nose broken for it. It was scheduled for biopsy tonight.

Batman couldn't help but taste the bile make his way up fearing/knowing who G-02 was.

His Team was right behind him in the change of plans as they made their way across town as covertly as they could; it seemed as though after finding out about G-02 (it couldn't be him, he couldn't put a name to him lest he let his fear override everything) Batman pinged on more and more of their ghost detectors.

Disabling was taking too long, loathe he admit, as they devolved to destroying as discreetly as they could.

Finally they could see the garish neon of the FentonWorks logo, the steps and door to the house were covered in ectoplasm and another familiar substance-- handmarks, clawmarks, clear signs of resistance could be made out.

And then Fentonworks went up in a flame and red and green.

Batman couldn't keep in his desperate cry. Not again! Please not again...

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc crossover #crossover fic #heroes hunted down for a change #or is it just heroes?#things just keep happening #not good things #things get better #eventually #dp x dc fic #disregard canon do phanfiction

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viiioca · 3 months

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PSA from a dumb shit idiot

the in-game UI/settings backup does not save your account-wide macros. it only saves macros per character. if you use shared macros for complex UI operations like a full suite of pop-out hotbars, and you are depending on this feature to transfer these macros, you will have to redo them. backup your .cfg files and character-specific .dat files located in Documents\My Games\FINAL FANTASY XIV - A Realm Reborn and put them somewhere that even you can't possibly lose them. the game tells you this, but if you're like me and you forget all basic forms of literacy when text is too boring, you will never see this information

penumbra and glamourer backups are located in AppData\Roaming\XIVLauncher\backups by default. these are useful to upload to perhaps a cloud drive. maybe even a discord server. you could email them to yourself. you could put them on an external drive of some kind. in case you do not want to remake 69 outfits from scratch and recategorize all your mods

those fancy marty mcfly reshade shaders you paid for to Support The Creator? they clean the patreon permissions out every couple of months and you won't be able to download the thing you paid access to get. "i can download them later" LMAO clowned on. put them somewhere safe, brain genius

more hot file migration tips to come as new crises emerge

signed, the girl who built a new PC and forgot to do a bunch of important stuff

#ffxiv #120 fps at max settings during peak limsa hours tho #we'll make it out alive in the end #none of these are critical i can just plug in my old machine and fetch the files but i am reminded every day that i am gods silliest creatu #and a good reminder for regular backup hygiene

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suzukiblu · 8 months

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i am literally for real obsessed with your timberkon pink kryptonite fic so i definitely would love to see another sneak peek, but i'm also loving all the superfam stuff you're putting out!!! something that i wish you would write because i love your works (and have since the darcy lewis stucky days) and i think you would do amazing things with the pairing is jaytim, but i know thats not everyones cup of tea

(i realize now that you were probably aiming for an ask rather than a reply so here it is in your inbox too hskdhsh)

Thank you! ❤️ And oh, asks and replies were both fine for this, no worries. I try to just specify in-post whenever I have a preference but it's not gonna bother me either way.

I DO like JayTim to read, but I've never really felt a particular bug to write it myself? At least not yet, anyway, that may one day change. Though I miiiiight still put Kon in the middle because I am who I am and all, haha.

I'm planning to update the pink K fic on AO3 tomorrow, though I'm pretty sure I've already posted enough of chapter two in excerpts on Tumblr to have posted basically all of it by now and I'm trying to avoid doing that with chapter three, sooooo instead please accept the beginning of this very niche Superfam omegaverse pack dynamics AU instead. I've been looking for an excuse to post this whole big long thing anyway, lol.

Read-more for length, 'cuz there's kind of a lot here, haha.

The representative from the wet nurse agency shows up fifteen minutes early with an unusual-seeming omega who can't be a day over nineteen, being generous. Bruce makes a note to look into the agency's hiring practices a little more closely. The current situation is something of an emergency, unfortunately, and he's only had time to run the intermediate-level background checks so far.

Maybe this isn't the prospective wet nurse, he halfheartedly hopes, and they're just another representative; one who's in training or just here as backup. The kid smells like milk, though, and also why the hell would the agency send out an omega representative? Omegas are typically secretaries and clerks and almost all do in-office jobs, where they're "protected" from the outside world.

The practice is stupid and demeaning and borderline abhorrent, but it's a step up from the days when an omega couldn't get any job that wasn't as a nanny or a sex worker or some fucked-up combination of the two. Clark being an actual reporter is something that was practically unheard of two lousy generations back, and even now Clark is still an unusual exception in his field. Typically, an omega writing for a newspaper would be doing gossip or advice or something domestic, not investigative journalism.

So no, there's no way that this particular omega is anything but a wet nurse candidate, unusual-seeming and concerningly young or not. And Bruce had insisted on the candidate coming to meet them in person, even when the agency had very unsubtly implied that it would be better to just have the milk delivered.

Bruce is absolutely looking into this agency's hiring practices. An omega this age should barely be presented. One who's already allegedly producing enough milk to be a viable wet nurse for what they're requesting . . .

It's concerning, yes.

"Master Bruce, the representative from the Waterton Agency and her associate," Alfred introduces politely, gesturing between Bruce and their guests. He doesn't look or smell disapproving, even in the mildest notes, but Bruce knows he is.

Of course he is, with an omega who might be being either abused or taken advantage of or outright trafficked in the manor.

Bruce should've run a better background check.

"Hello, Alpha Wayne. My name is Ellen Travers," the agency representative greets tightly as Bruce steps into the parlor. She's a harried-looking blonde beta with graying hair who looks very unhappy to be here and is doing a very bad job of hiding the nervous dissatisfaction in her scent.

She doesn't introduce the omega.

Bruce puts on his stupid "Brucie" grin and strides right up to Travers, sticking a hand out to shake. She puts on a weak attempt at a polite smile in return and takes it.

"Hello there, Beta Travers, thanks so much for coming out here on such short notice!" Bruce greets her with a lie of cheerfulness, but Travers continues to smell nervous and upset and her smile is no less forced. And the omega . . .

The kid smells downright sullen, which is not a typical scent to catch off an unfamiliar presented omega and doesn't do anything to make him seem any older.

And yes, he's definitely unusual. He's much taller than Travers–about Bruce's own height, in fact–and has a very broad build and a surprising amount of muscle on him on top of that. Bruce knows full-grown alphas who'd kill to be built like this kid. He's also much more "handsome" than "beautiful", and frankly couldn't look less like the kind of sweet and pretty little things the agency had advertised on their website if he tried, much less the soft and maternal type Bruce had been expecting to actually have show up, given the specific requests he'd made.

Well, it does make sense. Bruce obviously wasn't going to provide the agency with either a Kryptonian genetic profile or a Kryptonian pup's exact dietary needs in search of a suitable wet nurse, but the nutrient requests that they'd made would likely necessitate an omega of a similar build to Clark's to supply–hell, the kid even resembles him a bit, funnily enough. They've already had four agencies tell them that they simply didn't have an appropriate candidate on staff, and the milk samples they'd been able to provide hadn't proven very helpful.

Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, but Martha had at least had the advantage of having a pack bond with him. A packmate's milk always does miles better by a pup than a stranger's or any kind of formula ever could.

Though she'd had some very odd cravings while nursing him, she'd told them. And Clark had still grown up underfed, even with formula and yellow sunlight to supplement–the Fortress had observed marked evidence of childhood malnutrition in him, he'd said.

Occasionally Bruce wonders what a properly-nursed Kryptonian raised under a yellow sun from infancy would've actually turned out like.

The thought is . . . well. A thought.

A thought that still makes him leery of how Jon Kent might grow up, sometimes.

Those concerns aside, though, the really unusual thing about this omega isn't either his physique or his face. Bruce is perfectly used to omegas with "nontraditional" looks after knowing Clark and Diana this long, to say nothing of various other Justice League members or other superheroes and villains he's known, or of both raising and reuniting with Jason. But this omega isn't as demurely dressed as mild-mannered Clark Kent would be; he's wearing opaque sunglasses and an alpha-cut studded leather jacket and alpha-style jeans and an inconveniently inaccessible plain black T-shirt with no sign of a nursing bra underneath it, nothing soft or appealing in either his clothes or his posture. If anything, he looks aggressive; tense and guarded and ready to start some shit. Even Jason usually puts up a temporary illusion of traditional omega mannerisms when he's meeting strangers as a civilian, if only so he'll be underestimated. This kid isn't even pretending to make the attempt.

And the kid smells completely and undeniably stray, too. Bruce can't catch a single note of packscent coming off him. Not even the scent of whatever pup got him milked up enough to qualify for this job. Unbred omegas sometimes lactate in heat or when under stress or if someone in their pack either has or adopts a pup, but a stray who doesn't smell particularly distressed or anything like he's on his cycle shouldn't be producing any milk at all.

At least not without using the kind of stimulants that Bruce explicitly forbade when filling out the agency application, anyway. Those medications are necessary for some omegas, obviously, but in this situation . . .

Kryptonian pups don't respond well to getting anything like that in their milk, they've already very thoroughly learned.

The omega also has spiked stainless steel piercings in his ears, snake bites under his mouth, and two curved barbells in his left eyebrow. All his other jewelry is heavy alpha-styled rings and bracelets, and his nails are painted a chipped black. And he is, notably, not wearing any kind of collar or necklace, and his neck is completely unmarked.

Bruce is in no way oblivious to the obvious message that an uncollared and unbitten omega's neck presents when left so obviously bared. Especially on a stray one who's dressed like an alpha and standing like he's expecting a fight.

He cannot imagine why this kid is working as a wet nurse.

None of the theories that come to mind bode particularly well, though.

"This omega is our most fitting candidate for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, her smile turning increasingly forced. Bruce thinks he can safely translate that expression as that of a beta who did not in any way agree with that assessment but was stuck following orders. "She fulfills all of your nutritional requests, including the necessary iron content and the prioritized fats and proteins, and, of course, is not taking any manner of lactation-inducing stimulants or supplements."

"He," the omega corrects, sounding dubious. Travers's mouth tightens. Bruce knows a lot of old-school traditionalists who won't call a male omega "he" or a female alpha "she", no matter what said omega or alpha's preferences happen to be, and makes another note about looking into this agency more thoroughly.

Much more thoroughly.

"She isn't available for direct nursing, unfortunately, but her milk is a perfect match to your requests and she produces both excellently and reliably; her supply will be more than enough for your needs," Travers continues as if the omega hadn't spoken, and the omega's lip curls in obvious annoyance as he rolls his eyes with no attempt to hide his exasperation even in the presence of an unfamiliar alpha.

Bruce thinks of Jason with a brief pang, and pushes the thought aside. It's not the time.

Maybe he could've asked Jason for help with this, if he'd been a better father. A better alpha. A better . . .

But he wasn't, so now there's an annoyed stranger standing in his parlor instead of a content packmate curled up in their nest.

"Really?" he asks, tilting his head and blinking down at Travers with a deliberately surprised expression. "The consultant made it sound like you'd need multiple donors, for the amount we're asking."

If one goddamn barely-presented kid is actually producing enough milk to even half-feed a Kryptonian pup . . .

"This omega produces sufficient quantities for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers replies with another forced smile. She must know how ridiculous a statement that is, when she's talking about a stray kid and not a fully mature omega with at least a couple of litters under their belt who's well-established in a stable pack, but she says it with conviction all the same.

"Oh, good!" Bruce says brightly, because he's supposed to be a stupid knotheaded playboy who wouldn't know a damn thing about nursing either way. "That'll be convenient, then."

Frankly, he only wishes one omega could produce what they need right now, but requesting that much milk from one agency for just one pup would be immediately flagged as suspicious, and definitely turned down outright. They're still looking for other candidates under false names, but at the rate they're going, they're going to need to keep supplementing with formula, which already hasn't been going well.

If Clark could get milked up himself, this wouldn't be a problem, of course. A Kryptonian omega could easily produce more than enough for one Kryptonian pup, especially under a yellow sun. Clark nursed Jon without a problem for years and was actually overproducing when he was, Bruce knows very well.

Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Not since . . .

Clark would never forgive himself if something like that happened again.

Never.

And Kara and Karen are both alphas, and Jon's a beta and only ten anyway, and the only other living Kryptonians they know of are either remorseless criminals imprisoned in the Phantom Zone or the sickly little pup who's slowly wasting away upstairs.

Formula and concentrated yellow sunlight haven't been enough. Clark can't get milked up anymore. They haven't been able to synthesize any appropriate supplements either in the Fortress or in working with the Justice League or STAR Labs or even in collaborating between them.

And the pup is just getting weaker, and quieter, and sicker.

A human wet nurse probably won't even help that much, at this point, but . . .

Well, it's the best chance they have to keep the pup alive until they can synthesize something. Maybe the only chance, now.

"We strive to provide to our clients' convenience, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, and the omega rolls his eyes again. Bruce is less and less convinced of him being an adult in any way but the presentation of his pheromones.

It's rude to address an unfamiliar unpacked omega directly, especially as an alpha. Technically Travers is chaperoning them in a professional situation, though, and Bruce has increasing suspicions about this omega's personal standards so far as "manners" go anyway.

And everyone knows Brucie Wayne is stupid and shameless, of course.

So he flashes the kid a grin, and he says, "Well, it's great to meet you, we appreciate you making the trip! What's your name, Mr. . . .?"

The kid blinks at him, clearly surprised both to be spoken to and to be called "Mr." instead of "Miss" or "Ms." or even "Omega". Travers looks absolutely scandalized.

Bruce really doesn't approve of the kind of traditionalists who won't introduce an omega or use their stated pronouns, though, so fuck if he cares.

"Her name is Carly, Alpha Wayne!" Travers interjects quickly, her tone a little bit too bright to be genuine. "Short for Caroline."

"Just Carl," the kid corrects, shaking his head. Travers's mouth tightens again. It's not a very typical omega name, so no surprise.

It occurs to Bruce to wonder if Carl might be a trans alpha, which he probably should've thought to wonder as soon as he saw how he was dressed and got an impression of his personality. Obviously the kid's at least not currently on HRT if he's working as a wet nurse, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of him being transgender all the same.

Actually, affording gender-affirming care is definitely a reason that a kid like this one would be working this job, especially if said kid's family weren't supporting them. Wet nurses make more money than most other fields that omegas without a diploma can expect to get into, at least short of sex work, and Carl is very obviously too young to have graduated college yet.

Actually, Bruce still isn't even sure if he's old enough to have graduated high school yet.

He's going to burn down this whole damn agency if they're knowingly employing a minor as a wet nurse.

"Nice to meet you, Carl," he says easily. Carl's eyes narrow consideringly, and then he folds his arms and smirks, crooked and casual.

"Sure," he says. "Nice to meet you too, Wayne."

Travers looks agonized. The last non-alpha stranger who called Bruce "Wayne" instead of "Alpha Wayne" was a beta terrorist who was in the middle of kidnapping him, and he's not sure any omega who wasn't an active supervillain ever has, so he's not surprised by her reaction.

Carl is still watching him with the same cocky smirk, though, an obvious challenge in the expression and his posture both. Bruce puts another point towards the possibility of him being a trans alpha, though he's not stupid enough to actually ask if he is, especially not in front of someone the kid works under. Presentation aside, Carl might not be out, and Travers is currently at least professionally following traditional manners, so Bruce doesn't have much hope for this agency being all that progressive and doesn't want to accidentally get the kid fired.

Though if Carl is a minor, Bruce is going to have to see if he can't slip him a business card and find him another job. Especially if he's going to be burning down the agency he's working for.

"Why aren't you available for direct nursing, if you don't mind me asking?" he asks in a curious tone, because he still can't smell a pup on the kid and most wet nurses who aren't nursing their own pups do direct nursing, and he wants intel about the agency's typical practices. Carl shrugs.

"Stubborn tits," he replies, pushing his chest out as he gestures at himself with no apparent sense of shame or self-consciousness, and Travers looks increasingly agonized. Bruce is just increasingly missing Jason, himself. "Milk flows too slow and the pups always get all fussy and stress out about it. Which, whatever, pups are weird anyway, they're not really my thing."

"'Weird'?" Bruce repeats, carefully noting the lack of possessives in reference to any potentially dysphoria-triggering anatomy. Still not a confirmation, but another point. Carl shrugs again.

"I'm afraid Carly doesn't bond appropriately with pups, Alpha Wayne," Travers interjects quickly, and Carl scowls at her. "She has an unfortunate detachment disorder."

"I 'attach' fine," Carl grumbles sourly, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just don't like kids."

Travers grimaces. Bruce keeps pretending to be an oblivious idiot. He has met omegas who don't like children. They exist.

They're just all deeply, deeply traumatized people. Or clinically insane.

Or both, frequently.

So . . . "detachment disorder" seems likely, yes.

Bruce doesn't consider either sex or gender to be the end-all be-all of a person, of course, but there are certain biological imperatives that no one can deny as existing, and a lactating omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–really, just about any omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–is not ever going to say they "just" don't like kids. Usually the problem with omega wet nurses is them liking kids too much, in fact, and getting distressed or depressed when the parents wean the pups and they won't be seeing them again. The decent agencies have psychological support for that in place and typically offer paid leave between long-term clients. The Waterton Agency does up to a month, which is one of the reasons Bruce chose it.

So yes, Carl is almost definitely traumatized.

Though really, a wet nurse who won't be around much isn't the worst thing, considering. Neither Clark nor Jon started developing any especially noticeable powers until they were older, but they can't assume anything based off a sample size of two, especially when said sample size is made up of biological relatives. And even if they didn't have to worry about that, well, the manor is frequently full of vigilantes and the cave is right underneath it. There's a lot that a regular guest could notice, especially over however long they might need to be nursing. Especially because nursing is a quiet, out-of-the-way activity that takes a while, and it would be very easy for someone to forget to keep their voice down or to not do a damn quadruple-backflip off a chandelier at the wrong moment.

And there's a reason Clark and Lois brought this problem to the shadows of Gotham, as opposed to staying in bright and sunny Metropolis with it. They've got something to hide right now, and a lot to figure out.

Plus if even a molecule of kryptonite gets involved in this situation, even secondhand . . .

Power Girl and Supergirl and Steel are the ones taking shifts watching Metropolis right now, and everyone is just going to leave it at that. Superman isn't coming out for anything less than the apocalypse.

"Well, the Lane-Kents will probably want you to meet the kiddo either way, if you don’t mind," Bruce tells Carl, offering an easy shrug. "Peace of mind, you know how it is."

"Not really," Carl says. Bruce debates slipping the kid a psychiatrist's business card, but he'd probably take it as an insult.

"Er, yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says awkwardly. "Actually, we were expecting Alpha Lane to be with you . . . ?"

"Lois is currently stuck in Metropolis traffic thanks to Metallo bashing up half of downtown this afternoon and Clark is upstairs getting the kiddo around. Little guy just woke up from his nap," Bruce replies with a pleasant smile, making another note of how Travers left off the omega member of the couple's last name, and also apparently doesn't expect to be meeting said omega at all. He is increasingly regretting choosing this agency, though he may yet manage to do some good in the world by subtly dismantling it. Or maybe just by buying it outright and doing a little restructuring.

Or a lot of restructuring.

"Wait, it's not your kid?" Carl asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Travers looks pained. The Waterton Agency isn't Gotham-based, so Bruce isn't sure why she apparently expects Carl to be up on the Wayne pack's current members, especially considering how she keeps talking over and outright ignoring him. Bruce has a hard time picturing her bothering to provide the information herself, at this point.

"Oh, no, just doing a favor for some visiting friends," he replies smoothly, still wearing the same pleasant smile. Which is a lie, of course, because actually the Lane-Kents are part of his secondary pack and "visiting friends" therefore in no way covers what they are to him. The Wayne pack is both his primary and his family pack, obviously, and the Justice League is a loosely-connected tertiary pack, but his secondary pack lacks both an official name and public recognition, because explaining to the public why Brucie Wayne's secondary pack is two award-winning reporters from Metropolis, a random museum curator in Gateway City, a decorated Navy SEAL, and occasionally a cat burglar with commitment issues is just not going to work out for anyone's secret identities.

And that even without counting how everyone knows about Lois Lane and Steve Trevor's respective very public connections to Superman and Wonder Woman, much less ever explaining anything about Selina. Bruce, meanwhile, still isn't sure how he ended up in a pack with any of these people. Clark and Diana definitely have a lot to answer for either way, though.

Mostly he blames Clark. Diana has more decorum. Clark is just . . . Clark, so now Bruce gets a scarf and cookies from Martha Kent every Christmas, never mind that he's technically Jewish, because God forbid he ever tells her that and she starts sending him Hanukkah presents instead. He cannot handle eight nights' worth of Martha Kent's colorfully-wrapped scarves and lovingly-packaged cookies. That's just not a thing he can do.

He doesn't even celebrate holidays, except when Dick cons him into it. Which admittedly he's been doing more often again the past few years, but–

This is off-topic, Bruce reminds himself, but then gets distracted as Carl cocks his head a little and frowns over something. Bruce instinctively wants to brace himself for trouble at the sight, because that frown actually very strongly reminds him of Clark's "what the hell weird and concerning thing did I just notice with my super-senses" frown, but A) Carl doesn't have super-senses and B) Bruce just heard the stairs creak, which means the actual Clark is finally on his way down to meet them. No one else in the manor would ever make the steps creak any way but deliberately except for Lois or Jon, and Jon is out on a walk with Damian and Titus while Lois is, again, currently stuck in Metropolis traffic. So: Clark, definitely.

Also Clark tends to make the stairs creak a lot louder than either Lois or Jon do, given the very notable size difference there.

"Has Alpha Lane authorized you to make decisions for his pup's care, Alpha Wayne?" Travers asks with another forced smile. Bruce is resolving to check specifically her background too, at this point.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, good ol' Clark's right here," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "It's his pup too, and he knows much more about ones this age than I do anyway."

"Yes, well, omegas tend to get a little . . . irrational about the idea of sharing their pups with a wet nurse," Travers says "politely", like she thinks she's stating a fact. Bruce would say something cheerful-sounding and subtly insulting back, typically, but Carl's frown is deepening and he looks a little bit . . . odd, maybe, or . . .

There's a strange little pup-call from the stairs, very quiet and echoing in unusual registers but still recognizably one all the same, and just as recognizably resigned-sounding. It's a pup-call that clearly expects to go unanswered, at this point, which is something that Bruce would like to never hear again in his life, given the option.

Though it's better than a pup who's given up on calling at all, he supposes.

He tries not to grimace at that thought, though he's sure Clark's grimacing enough for the both of them right now after hearing a call like that. The pup is starving, and they just can't feed him properly. At this point sending him back where he came from might be kinder.

Honestly, if Bruce didn't know exactly who his parents were, he might've already insisted on that.

It's just–

The pup calls again, even quieter. Travers looks perplexed.

"Er," she says. "I apologize, Alpha Wayne, but is the pup ill? We can't be around them if they are, it's against agency policy."

"Oh, the kiddo just sounds like that," Bruce replies dismissively, and then lies, "Vocal chord deformity, apparently. We're not sure what caused it, pediatrician thinks it's something genetic."

Well, it is genetic. Jon calls in exactly the same registers, and according to Martha and Jonathan so did Clark.

So it's genetic, yes. Just not a deformity.

Carl's expression looks–odd, still. Bruce isn't sure what to think of it, but it makes him a bit wary. A detachment disorder doesn't imply an actual negative reaction to the presence of a pup, obviously, but . . .

Clark steps into the parlor with Lor-Zod sitting on his hip, the pup no older than two or so and looking small and listless in his arms, his dark skin all washed out and his previously bright eyes gone dull and tired. When he first crash-landed in Metropolis in the rocket he'd been wrapped up inside, Clark said he'd popped out of it energetic and excited and clamoring for attention in toddler-level Kryptonian, but he's been slowly fading ever since, wasting away without the nutrients that they just can't provide him. He's probably only made it this long thanks to the sun.

Again, Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, though he was already at least three by the time they got him, which probably helped. A pup Lor's age is capable of eating solid food, obviously, but milk or formula is still a major part of a pup's diet until they're four or five, if not older, and the longer the better. Hell, most kids still at least semi-regularly nurse for as long as their dam can manage to stay milked up, or even until they present themselves. No one can wean a damn toddler and expect them to thrive.

Or even survive, in Lor's case.

Lor opens his mouth in another weak, resigned little pup-call, and Clark's own mouth tightens as he restrains himself from answering it and giving the pup false hope for milk he just doesn't have, and Bruce steels himself to–

Carl croons.

Travers startles. Bruce is . . . surprised, a bit. A detachment disorder doesn't really imply the kind of omega who'd croon at a pup they've never seen before in their life, after all.

It's an unusual and unpracticed croon, as if it's a sound Carl doesn't make very often, which Bruce supposes would make sense. Lor responds to it immediately, though, shifting weakly in Clark's arms and pup-calling again.

Carl, with absolutely no manners or decorum whatsoever, sweeps right past Travers and Bruce and Alfred and just plucks Lor straight out of Clark's arms. Which–forget the kid calling him "Wayne"; that's a damn etiquette breach. Hell, Clark probably only didn't take Carl's head off for snatching up his pup without permission because he's so clearly dumbfounded that he actually did it.

Bruce is slightly less dumbfounded due to having spent five seconds in the kid's presence, but still, what is he–

"Carly!" Travers chokes in horror. Carl very obviously doesn't even hear her and just starts purring at Lor and cuddling him close in a way that really doesn't even slightly imply "detachment disorder".

And then Bruce figures out what was "odd" about Carl's expression, before.

"Huh," he says, a little bemused. "Did he just go into feral drop?"

"Alpha Wayne, I assure you, this is not the Waterton Agency's standard of behavior!" Travers sputters, sounding even more horrified, and Clark just blinks and tilts his head.

"I think he did, yeah," he says, looking perplexed. Carl continues ignoring everyone in the room except for Lor and just purrs louder at him as they both nuzzle into each other. Lor makes more very distinctly Kryptonian pup-calls at him, and Carl croons back with no apparent concern over their strangeness, sounding absolutely goddamn enamored.

That is definitely not a detachment disorder, Bruce thinks. There is no possible way that an omega with a detachment disorder just went into full feral drop over a pup at first sight.

Or possibly first sound, he's realizing.

Bruce is perfectly aware that omegas can feral-bond with distressed pups whether they mean to or not, but he's never seen it happen this fast outside of a warzone or a natural disaster. He's heard hearsay and read studies about particularly compatible sets that have done it under less stressful circumstances, but distressed and starving pup or not, he wouldn't have even expected a human omega to be capable of bonding with a Kryptonian pup like that.

Or at all, frankly. Deliberately created and carefully cultivated pack bonds are one thing, but . . .

Lor chirps, the sound still a little quiet and fragile, a little weak, but also undeniably hopeful, and Carl gives him a low, rumbly purr in reply and yanks up his inconveniently-cut T-shirt to expose his chest with no trace of hesitation or modesty. He's already leaking sweetly-scented milk, already adjusting his grip on Lor to let the pup get at his chest as easily and comfortably as possible, and Lor latches without a moment's hesitation and immediately starts to nurse.

And then Lor purrs. Carl just watches him with undeniable adoration, still paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else in the room.

Alright, then, Bruce thinks carefully.

Well, that just happened.

"Thought you didn't like kids, Carl?" he inquires casually, putting on an easy grin, and Carl finally seems to come up enough to remember that the rest of them exist, though he still doesn't actually take his eyes off Lor.

"I would literally become a supervillain if this kid asked me to," he replies dreamily, keeping Lor cradled in one arm and tracing a finger down the pup's cheek with a soft, besotted expression that's unmistakable for what it is even with the sunglasses on. He looks like he might just burn down the world if someone tried to take Lor away from him right now, and his pheromones are so all-encompassing and so cloyingly sweet that Bruce genuinely might need to see a dentist after this.

"Well usually I'd say we keep Batman in the loop on that kind of thing around here, but if the kiddo asks, it only seems fair," he jokes with a laugh.

"I would drop-kick Batman off a roof for you," Carl informs Lor lovingly as he strokes his cheek again and then skims a fingertip along the little barely-visible scar splitting his eyebrow. Lor keeps purring sweetly and Alfred coughs to conceal a low chuckle. Clark looks a little pained to be watching one of his pups nurse from another omega so easily and eagerly, but his mouth quirks in amusement at the comment anyway. Bruce doesn't dignify any of them with a response, because he is an alpha with dignity and also is in no way threatened by a passing comment from a barely-presented kid who clearly isn't even combat-trained.

. . . although he also isn't going to be stupid enough to try coaxing Lor away from the omega he just feral-bonded with just yet either.

Then Tim walks by the doorway, takes one look at Carl with Lor, and trips over literally nothing and into a full faceplant on the foyer floor. Bruce pauses, then raises an eyebrow.

"Alright down there, Timmy?" he asks. Tim scrambles back to his feet, looking more genuinely mortified than he's ever seen him.

"Fine!" he blurts. "Fine. Everything's fine. All the things are fine. Uh. What? Who?"

"This is Carl," Bruce says, gesturing to the kid. "Wet nurse from the Waterton Agency. And his escort, Beta Travers. Carl, Beta Travers, this is my son, Tim Drake-Wayne. And also Clark Lane-Kent and his pup, Chris Lane-Kent, who I'm assuming you've figured out are your prospective clients."

"Yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says with a grimace. "We gathered."

"Ngh," Tim says, looking at literally everything but Carl and Lor. His face is bright red, which is an unusual amount of embarrassment for him to be showing just over tripping. Typically he masks that kind of thing a lot more effectively. Bruce would almost think he was actually embarrassed by watching Carl feed Lor, but Tim's literally never been affected by anything but passing curiosity when seeing a pup nurse before, so that seems unlikely. And he's a male beta, if still an unpresented one, so it's not like he's got any reason to care all that much about it anyway.

So his reaction does seem a little odd, yes.

Hm.

"Chris," Carl coos adoringly down at Lor. Bruce is in no way stupid enough to think that he absorbed any of the rest of that introduction or has even noticed Tim's presence at all. He wouldn't even put money on him having noticed Clark's presence, in fact, except as a pup-delivery system. The kid is very clearly in love with the pup in his arms and doesn't give a damn about any of the rest of them at all.

Detachment disorder. Sure.

#bruce wayne #kon el #clark kent #chris kent #tim drake #superfamily #timkon #lowkey but it's there lol #omegaverse #not sfw #this-was-a-terrible-idea #rinfic #wip: the wet nurse omegaverse

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dmercer91 · 7 months

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ebug's sister, dm91

ok, first post where blake is blake!! also, excuse the absolute dumpster fire that is my life, and is the reason that this post is one post and not like 47

last season! (2022-23) part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven / part twelve

(2023-24)! part one /

blakefriarr_

liked by dawson1417, adamfantilli and 6,947 others

blakefriarr_: so many things have happened since i last popped up on all your timelines and made them immeasurably better!

this is episode one of season two of i-am-both-the sister-of-the-devils-home-emergency-backup-goaltender-and-also-happen-to-be dating-dawson-mercer-forward-for-the-devils series!

these pictures are in no particular order, because, i am moving into a new place with afore mentioned dawson mercer and have spent the last several weeks making it look like it's not the most depressing back alley murderous apartment any of you have ever laid your eyes on

and apparently, i have a ball ton of stuff!

regardless, here's what i've caught up on;

the entire nhl draft! though i have not acquired any new adoptees, it did come to my attention that the anaheim ducks as an organization did personally victimize me during the 2023 entry draft (they also took a BALLSY amount of time to re-sign bitch one and bitch two. what the literal fuck, dudes). also- if you are seeing this and you need help to flee, blink twice (not you adam) (you know who you are)

2, the entire preseason was also missed while i was one, curing myself from jetlag and the absolute dread of going back to uni and two, moving my egregious amount of shit with a spiteful level of independence. the devils won every preseason game! dawson scored that clusterfuck of a goal on slide two and we also got to see goalie bonks again! (i told you those pics weren't in order and i meant it)

three, (or four, i forgot what came first) quinneth played his first regular season game as captain of the canucks ad they kicked ass against the edmonton dudes. goncrats captain ;p

four (probably) rookie had both his first reg season nhl game AND his birth on the same day! he cried on camera for thousands of viewers and made me question kidnapping his brother and locking him in an abandoned building in ohio (who am i kidding i don't want to be in ohio). the blue jackets have since been doing blue jacket things (losing)

five (it's all blended together these days) the devs started their regular season and now i get to go to the arena and watch in peace as nico makes dumb faces, jack gets into petty scrums and goes to the box (apparently? that ones new.) and dawson does dawson things (be hot)

sixth and finally, assistant coach and captain quinn (he should probably drop a title for his mental health, me thinks) turned 24! i giggled profusely at an edit of him as tracksuit rob. good job on aging, kid 🎉

that's all, i think. (probably not, what do i know)

view 712 comments..

jj.friar31: remember when we were roomies??? siblings defying the odds?? i've been left out to dry. i'm MARINATING in my loneliness. you've basically shot me and left me out for dead, blakey.

→ blakefriarr_: this is a touch dramatic, that's MY thing

→ jj.friar31: if i agree to never steal your dramatics again will you come back

→ blakefriarr_: have u seen how pretty my boyfriend is?? no dude

→ jj.friar31: blake pls

adamfantilli: of every picture you could've used you just decided to screenshot me crying

→ blakefriarr_: hi im blake have we met??

→ adamfantilli: also, do not kidnap luca.

→ blakefriarr_: oh so you just don't want my love?? is that what this is??

→ luca.fantilli: do not kidnap me

→ blakefriarr_: BOOORRRINNNGGGGG

nicohischier: every day i wonder what it would be like if we didn't let the ebug's come into the room

→ blakefriarr_: do you want dawson to be lonely and bitchless

→ nicohischer: yeah kinda??

→ blakefriarr_: oh

jackhughes: why.

→ blakefriarr_ ehehehe your bucket doing weird things

_quinnhughes: ??????? why am i tracksuit rob????

→ blakefriarr_: who else would be tracksuit rob

→ _quinnhughes: nobody needs to be tracksuit rob, friar.

→ _blakefriarr_: WRONG! you do :)

_connorbedard: am i who i are???

→ blakefriarr_: no apparently you are timbaland

→ _connorbedard: oh. okay?

→ adamfantilli: @/_connorbedard you get used to it

→ _connorbedard: do i want to??

→ adamfantilli: eh. 50/50

dawson1417: oh how i've missed the chaos

→ blakefriarr_: fbejdbsjshdghshsb

→ dawson1417: sometimes it's almost like you say words

→ blakefriarr_: :p i love you

→ dawson1417: i love you too, my girl <3

tannercharlotte: this is my reality tv

→ blakefriarr_: i'll leave him for u say the word

→ dawson1417: HEY??

→ blakefriarr_: shhhh baby go sleep

→ tannercharlotte: don't leave him b he doesn't have to know

ryangraves27: she back

→ blakefriarr_: i back!!

nhlblackhawks: ??

→ njdevils: don't '??' her she's right

→ blakefriarr_: thank you (trade for charlie)

→ nyrangers: i can excuse hawks slander but i draw the line at trying to take our char

→ nhlblackhawks: you can excuse hawks slander?

→ jj.friar31: why do teams keep doing this you have ENOUGH leverage over me

trevorzegras: am i bitch one or bitch two

→ trevorzegras: actually yk what don't answer that i don't wanna know

→ blakefriarr_: too bad you're actually both jamie is an angel

view more comments..

#ebug’s sister series !#dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

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starays13 · 9 months

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The AU brainrot is taking over my art these past couple days

Another dorito made in the SBS discord let’s go

So Damsel!Eclipse is a version of the dorito where he died from overexerting himself with the star to the point it killed him, but he wakes up (via a backup) in a new body, but it’s in the hands of The Creator, who ends up puppeting him for almost a year before the others find out not only is Eclipse alive, but also a prisoner in his own body.

It doesn’t take long for him to get desperate for escape, but trying to fight basically has the consequence of powerful controlled shocks, so he can’t get out.

(Also lil side note this Eclipse ended up warming up to Earth before the star took it’s toll, that’s gonna be important later)

So eventually the giant smooth brain masquerading as the dorito goes to daycare to go bother them and I’m pretty sure he was going to go do something to Earth but I’m not certain exactly what.

He goes, Earth is shocked by the fact that Eclipse is alive, but also immediately notices something is off with his speech patterns. Eclipse notices the creator prepping a suspicious file for transfer as he was approaching Earth so he impulsively tries his hardest to take over, no way is he letting the creator do anything to Earth. He manages to get a brief glimpse of control long enough to call for help before being cut off from control, and needless to say Mr Brain is not happy.

Sun enters the scene shortly after, long enough to hear ‘Eclipse’ speaking in that strange tone before he runs away, leaving Sun and Earth to question what they just witnessed.

They go back and report to Moon and Lunar what they saw, and they do a bunch of stuff to figure out what’s going on, and decide to actually go help him out, partially because they (besides Earth) hate/dislike the creator anyways.

Meanwhile Mr Brain decides to essentially start running torture programs on Eclipse, some more so mental torture, and notices Earth appearing in one of them, specifically one that uses the image of the targets loved ones based on memories to hurt them.

So he gets an idea to lure the others to him by letting Eclipse in control to send out an SOS, which he does, and it results in Eclipse coming to control of the body mid-breakdown, and around that moment that’s when they get a signal from him, and get a grasp of what’s going on.

Stuff happens, I don’t remember the details and am also going to skip them for now because this is getting long.

Eventually they make a plan, they get to the base, and navigate for a while until they find Eclipse’s unconscious body propped up in a room.

They try getting him out, but not long after The creator shows up, talking mostly to Earth telling her to come stay for tea while saying the other two can leave (Earth, Moon and Lunar went, Earth went because she insisted because she was the only one Eclipse really trusted, and Sun stayed in case anything happened and he needed to pull them out)

She refuses, and Mr Brain is starting to be less cooperative, meanwhile Moon sneakily hands Lunar a flash drive and sends him a private message to pull Eclipse out via that since taking him with them as is likely wouldn’t work out.

So Mr Brain ends up using an admin code on Earth, which has her stopped in her tracks now being taken under his control. Eclipse ends up almost waking up, and gets a glimpse of Earth being taken captive before blacking out again as Lunar gets him onto the USB last minute.

So Moon emergency messages Sun to pull them out, and he does, but they have to leave Earth behind.

Timeskip, they make it back and take a while to calm down after the intense situation, and eventually Moon sets it up so Lunar can put Eclipse in the daycare desktops so he’s not confined to a flash drive.

So he does that, Eclipse wakes up, starts getting anxious because he doesn’t know where he is, and can only talk through text. Lunar eventually ends up figuring out he can connect to the pcs via a cable so he does that, and enters an area that’s kind of like the mindscape, but more empty.

(Oh also we decided damsel boi has this thing where his appearance in the mindscape starting from a certain point shifts depending on strong emotion. Main two examples are when he feels small and helpless he literally becomes smol, and when he’s having self hatred moments of “I’m a horrible person and I don’t deserve anything good” he takes on a taller, more intimidating appearance. That’s what the art shows.)

Stuff happens, the dorito ends up breaking down in there, and Lunar ends up helping him out with that.

It takes a while but these two end up creating a bond again, but this time it’s much stronger and more mutual.

So a bunch of other stuff happens and also they get Eclipse a nano body (now that he can shapeshift the thing in the mindscape can apply in the real world too) and so does a bunch of other stuff but this is getting way too long so I’ll save those for another time.

If you actually took the time to read this weird little ramble/essay on an au version of a fictional character, thank you aaaaaaa

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timeoutsoup · 1 year

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Dig You A Grave

Inspired by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2

Part 6

(warning for language)

The Light was in shambles. Vandal Savage had no idea how all of his carefully laid plans came crashing down around him. Members were being hunted down and arrested. Somehow the Justice League had gotten a hold of their plans and files. Pieces of equipment and various items were gone. Someone or someones had even ratted out the Reach to the Guardians on Oa.

Black Manta had retreated to his underwater base. QueenBee returned her Country to Isolation and prepared for the oncoming political onslaught. Lex Luther was taken but pleaded that he was lied to about what his technology was being used for, the coward. All of them had gone to the wind, to save themselves. Savage could not blame them because he did the same, but being held in this U.N. cell gave him time to think.

He would get out of this and get his revenge on whoever was responsible for this.

___________________

Earlier in the week

Tim was so confused. Something had tripped the alarm in his penthouse and when he arrived, there were stacks of files and documents on his coffee table. Sitting innocently on top was an old Young Justice comm and what looked like a note.

Hello Tim,

I thought you would benefit from these files. Maybe spread a little chaos. Take down a few villains. Who knows.

Sincerely,

Your friend Klarion, the Witch Boy

P.S. Don’t tell anyone it was me.

After reading the note he rushed over to his computer, and pulled up the footage from his camera. Checking the footage and there he was, Klarion and his familiar Teekl, standing in his apartment. He had waved his hand and the mounds of files appeared. He continued watching the tape until well after the Witch Boy had left. He quickly called Oracle, Batman and Zatanna for backup.

It took them hours to go over everything, once Zantanna cleared everything. After the initial surprise of what these documents were, had worn off everything was taken to the Batcave to be examined.

____________

At the emergency meeting Batman had called the next day, nearly everyone had shown up, even John Constantine.

Hal and the other Green Lanterns rushed in, panicked. “We know what happened on December 30th!”

“As do I, now take your seats so we can start.”

“No bats you don’t understand. We just finished talking to the Guardians and they told us about..”

“About The Light syndicate teaming up with the Reach to mind control the Justice League frame us for invading, so the Reach can invade Earth as retaliation, but not break the contract they signed with the Guardians of Oa.”

All members were shocked into silence. It was Guy Gardner who finally broke it. “Well, shit Spooky, is there anything you don’t know?”

“You can debrief us on what the Guardians told you later in the meeting. Now take your seats.”

The next few hours the heroes went over everything. By the time they were finished everyone was exhausted. Constantine stood up to leave like the others but was stopped by Zantanna. “We need to talk to you, and fate.”

“Bloody hell. Can I at least have a smoke break first?”

“Fine but meet us back here in five.”

“Alright.” Constantine shrugged her hand off and went off to enjoy a quick smoke. He thought something or someone was being omitted from the meeting, but now he knew it and whatever it is, is powerful and most likely magic. Fuck. He just finished a tough job and just wanted to crash at home.

____________

Klarion waited for Danny to meet him. The heroes had been busy with rounding up the remaining members of The Light. The press had been filled with all of the underhanded secrets. Politicians were debating on clone rights, and what to do about the Reach. Everything else has basically come to a stand still. He had been free to do as he wished and today he wanted to hang out with his new friend.

It wasn’t long before Danny came running up to him, slightly out of breath.

“Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting.” The blue eyed boy panted as he caught his breath.

“Your apology is accepted since you were only a minute late.” Klarion patted himself on the back for being so cordial. “So what shall we do today?”

“I was thinking of getting something to eat. Before that though. Sam, Tucker and I are going to ‘The Back to School Fest’ Friday. I was wondering if you wanted to join us. It’s not the most exciting but it’s held at the fairgrounds.”

Klarion raised a brow and looked down at Teekl. This didn’t sound all that fun and exciting but he didn’t want to scare off Danny … yet. Giving it another thought Danny had good taste in food so far, so maybe more tasty delights could be in his future. Looking back at Danny Klarion replied. “That sounds doable.”

“Awesome. I usually go to Nasty Burger but a new cafe just opened up near the bookstore. Sam says the selection is great.” (It had taken both Jazz and Sam the better part of an hour to convince Danny to not take Klarion to Nasty Burger right off the bat. If he was Amish, the Nasty Sauce would more than likely put him in a coma. Jazz is pretty sure it is low level toxic but no one listens to her.)

Danny grabs Klarion’s hand and heads off. It was a short walk to the little cafe and to the Witch Boy’s delight the establishment had a cat theme and was pet friendly. They were seated outside, ordering drinks, a few cat themed desserts (Klarion has a major sweet tooth.) and they even had a few tasty looking morsels for Teekl to try.

Opening the pastry box, an all too familiar voice calls out as Danny’s ghost sense goes off. “I am the Box Ghost and I am here for your confection containing cardboard.” Exploding out of the box, sending the food flying and looking down at the occupants of the table the ghost realizes just who was sitting there. “So the rumors are-”

“Why today Boxy?!” Danny growls, as he whips out the Fenton thermos, sucking the cardboard obsessed ghost into it. “Sorry about that. Amity has a bit of a ghost problem but don’t worry they mostly leave people alone. The only real issue is when it involves a ghost's obsession and when that happens Phantom shows up.” Nervous of Klarion’s reaction, he quickly stuck the thermos back in his bag. Taking a breath, he gathered the courage to look at his friend’s (date’s?) face and was shocked to see the gleeful expression.

“Oh this is wonderful. There are just ghosts that pop-up and cause chaos.” Klarion broke out into a fit of giggles. “This is so interesting you must tell me more.” Looking down the young Chaos Lord noticed the destroyed treats. “After we replace our snack.”

Danny was thankful that Klarion was finding all of this amusing. He was worried that the culture shock might send the other boy running. The halfa could build with this foundation. Slowly introducing new foods and technology, and maybe Klarion will start sharing more of himself too.

The afternoon flew by as Danny told Klarion the crazy ghost stories that happened in Amity, with some editing of course. Can’t have a secret identity if you tell people who you are.

____________________________

Klarin had enjoyed his afternoon with his new friend. Seeing another ghost and hearing Danny tell all of those wonderfully chaotic stories, made the Witch Boy curious about Amity. Instead of heading home, he decided to stay and see what mischief he and Teekl could find.

—

The first few hours were very boring for the two. If he didn’t know better he would have assumed that this was just another dull city full of mortals. It wasn’t until after the sunset that things began.

It started with a whistling sound that turned into an explosion, which was shortly followed by shouting. Klarion followed the sounds of battle, hoping to catch a glimpse of Phantom and whomever he was fighting. Maybe even challenge the ghostly hero to a fight, if he was lucky.

Following the battling ghosts path was easy for a Chaos Lord like himself. Deciding to stick to the shadows, Klarion watched on. He watched as a tall, buff ghost with a flaming green mohawk, chased down a ghostly teen. The younger of the two seemed unbothered by the projectiles being thrown at him or the threat of his head being mounted on a wall as a trophy. To Klarion the ghost he assumed to be Phantom, from Danny’s description, actually appeared annoyed and dare he say bored.

It wasn’t long before the self proclaimed greatest hunter was defeated, and was sucked into a thermos, just like the one Danny had. Now that the fight was over Klarion was able to get a good look at the ghost. It was unsettling how much he looked like his new friend, so much so that the Witch Boy decided to follow Phantom.

Still sticking to the shadows, they continued to watch as the ghost made his way around town, as if patrolling. It had gone back to being quiet and boring. Klarion was thinking of calling it and just confronting the ghost, when Phantom quickly ducked into an alleyway. Not wanting to miss anything, the Witch Boy followed.

Phantom had landed and began looking around as if to make sure everything was clear. Fed up with waiting, Klarion stepped out of the shadows but before he could say anything, two rings of light surrounded Phantom, and after a bright flash Danny was standing there.

Note: check the tag list below for you username if you’ve asked more than once because I might just have misspelled it. If I did please tell me and I will do my best to fix it.

Also sorry if this seemed a bit repetitive

Tag list

@naluforever3 @seraphichana @starmee-lodurrson @rhode13 @fisticuffsatapplebees @kyrianclawraith @lehana37 @akikoyuii @undead-essence @crystaldrops20 @quirky-gardener @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @Kaindraws @luffyrose @beelze-the-bubkiss @aro-in-danyl @agaponislovely @enderglace @plant5318008 @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @moonlightheart11 @dontfightmecauseillcry @asrielstars @jaytriesstuff @arend000-blog @mnemovoid @thegatorgoose @do3y @wisp-ghost @youracearocroatneighbour @akikoyuii @omgnectarina @phoenixdemonqueen @iamheretoconsumeandsharethatisit @cottomscrambles @satoshy12 @alice-hazelwood @benrey-the-late-ace @felicityroth @confusionchaos @mysticalcomputerdetective @yjfk @AMYGDALASRAGDOLL07 @joyfulcollectordreamland @chrysanthemum9484 @the-nerdy-fangirl @chickenscheesencrackers @tired-yet-awaken @killmeviolently @amillionandonefandoms @currant-owo @draconicdumbass @jaxinkh @rhode13 @lyra689 @demon-cat-goes-woof @xxwintrynightzxx @amygdalasragdoll07 @thescarletcryptid @sussura @alinmenttreasure @dragonsampersanddragons @klarion-the-cleric

#danny phantom au #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #klarion #john constantine #klarion dc #chaoticspirit #danny and klarion friendship #dc comics #dp x dc crossover #klarion the witch boy #batfamily #tim drake

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paper-gold-theories · 5 months

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HeroFlugAU (The Nudes Incident)

One of the heroes accidentally sent a dick pic to the P.E.A.C.E. group chat that was meant for his girlfriend.

He apologized for the embarrassing accident but since that was "P.E.A.C.E.'s formal group chat for only important news" the group was very strict for what messages should appear in their chat, hence he got banned from the chat for a month and issued a warning.

Some heroes got the shock of their lives, others appalled, others though it was hilarious, and some was like "Heh, nice".

Flug got shock of his life but suddenly noticed something off about the photo and texted the hero that he saw some lumps on his testicles from the photo and he should go get a doctor to check it out. The hero thanked Flug, feeling grateful.

And he thought that was the end of it.

----

Rumors spread like wildfire that Flug was able to diagnose somone based on a dick pic, so almost every hero in P.E.A.C.E. started sending Flug nudes.

Most of the pics are from heroes who are worried about their health and are sending pics for small reasons like odd looking scars and moles. Others are just doing it because everyone else is doing it and they don't want to be left out.

[Golden Rule Member #1]: You see what happens when you help someone Flug! People send you nudes.

[Golden Rule Member #1]: So good deeds DO get rewarded! *laughing hysterically*

Flug, flustered: Oh shut up!

Flug tried to text everyone to stop sending him naked photos. But how they selectively interpret it is to not send Flug photos unless its a real medical emergency and to them everything is an emergency.

GoldHeart stepped in and held a conference a bluntly told everyone to stop sending nudes to his boyfr Team Member.

Vanity: But what if its a real medical emergency?

Flug: You guys can redirect it P.E.A.C.E. Medical Department. We also talked to them to do medical screening this month for everyone and to ask them any questions if that you have.

Vanity, texting: Ok, I'll send you some backup photos now...

Flug: No! DON'T GAH!!

[Flug, traumatized his phone off the floor and GoldHeart tosses a chair at Vanity for the audacity, knocking him out.]

GoldHeart: ENOUGH! Flug is not involved in the medical screening. He is the scientist and doctor for The Golden Rule ONLY not for P.E.A.C.E!

[Golden Rule Member #2], raises hand: Sooo, does that mean Flug can see us naked? (Miss Heed perks up)

GoldHeart: ...*death glares* GoldHeart: Flug can only see me naked...

GoldHeart: And if I catch anyone sending Flug nudes again there will be consequences...

[All the heroes proceed to exit the meeting in fear and promising to never send Flug nudes.]

Afterwards, Flug thanks GoldHeart for helping him with situation.

[Golden Rule Member #3]: I'll give you $50,000 for nudes of Omega and the other popular heroes, a thousand bucks for the semi-popular heroes, a hundred bucks per hero for all the nudes and embarrassing photos you have for all the heroes!

[Golden Rule Member #3], adds: ... And maybe ten bucks for the unpopular ones like Vanity Bolt, you can never know when those can be useful.

But Flug refused and deleted all the photos before throwing his phone into the fire along with his sim card before getting a new phone and a new number, (just in case) to stop the chain of nudes and put this whole incident behind him.

Flug, sighs: I never want to see another naked hero again... GoldHeart: What? *looks worried* Flug, laughs: Except you GoldHeart.

GoldHeart: Oh... *looks relief and laughs with Flug*

-----

Flug through the whole thing is basically like 😂:

#villainous #villanos #villainous au #HeroFlugAU #dr flug #goldheart #gold heart #herbert leth #dr kenning flugslys #villainous headcanons #villainous miss heed #cecilia amanda kelly #villainous missheed

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carionto · 6 months

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I heard in the canteen that the humans once used a few antique combustion engines to start one of their portable stars. Any truth to the rumor?

Ah jeez, that was one hell of a day for that guy.

Yes and no. Where do I even being...

Okay. So this place up in Greenland called, uh... I'm gonna butcher this so bad, Hjeilhornhentrotnenheim, has an engineering museum, right? Right, and the guy in charge, his name is, ah fuck this is gonna be bad too ..., Hansinguaq Bjerresvontsgaardsen (I'm just gonna call him Hans from now on because uh yeah, no), collects all the things not fit for display in his personal transport ship. He's essentially converted it into his private mobile museum.

Not long after we established diplomatic channels and preliminary trade routes, Hans eagerly went off on his own to visit Alien equivalents to museums and such. Spent a solid three weeks traveling, sight-seeing, and adding things to his collection.

During a stop on the outer reaches of Coalition space his computer blue screened and forcibly shut down the reactor and pretty much wiped his communication array address book among other less relevant components. And no, I have no clue why he went so far out. He's 46, midlife crisis is my guess, telling him to go out on daring adventures or whatever. Anyway, he couldn't restart the fusion reactor while the inhibitor rod chambers were open, they open and shoot out the star canceler in an emergency shutdown, but one was stuck with the rod half-way in, so Hans had to manually open the reactor and fix it by hand.

Problem is, his transport ship, the Veritable Greenhorn, is fairly big, and the reactor's outer diameter was about 37 meters. Even in zero-g that's a lot of mass for one person to move, not to mention how much force you'd need to pry out a hyper dense metal alloy rod from a gate meant to withstand the pressure of a star right next to it. But he did have a lot mechanical power at his disposal, it just needed to be... rearranged.

Now, he did have backup generators that quietly hum in the background like on every Human vessel, but these are passive and nowhere near enough to charge the hyperdrive even if he could tell it where to go, let alone power machinery to counter a thousand ton jammed deadbolt. He needed something that had a kick to it, something you could really rev beyond its limits just long enough. He needed his V6s and V8s.

After almost two days of DIY engineering details I won't bore you with because I fell asleep when he explained them himself, Hans fired up the engines. It was a very tedious five hours of the engines rythmically tugging the deadbolt a tenth of a milimeter open and what is basically a massive jackhammer pummeling the rod back in. At one point he ran out of gas and was forced to sacrifice his alcohol collection.

Suffice to say it barely worked, all of the machinery he cobbled together became practically unusable, but it worked and he was able to restart the fusion reactor.

Oh, he didn't come home or anything by the way. Like I guess, midlife crisis. If anything, success has made him think nothing can get in the way of his Galactic exploration quest.

So that's the story. No, he didn't use combustion engines to start the reactor or anything, but lacking any other means to fix a problem I honestly didn't know could happen, the petrol guzzlers gave him the right kind of horsepower.

By the way, if you get a chance to tour the Veritable Greenhorn, I'd recommend it. I can't even begin to describe how that contraption looks, it's one of the main displays. I guarantee it's the most specific purpose built and rough pieces of Human engineering you will ever see.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #story #scifi

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shockwavve · 1 year

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“We’re free now! You don’t have to follow him anymore!”

Is anyone else really curious about this line and its implications in Earthspark? It’s spoken by Frenzy with a sort of relieved desperation, like they didn’t want to be following Soundwave to begin with? Or like Megatron did them a favor by “freeing” them from Soundwave?

Thiiiis strikes me as odd, if not morbidly interesting, because popular theory and interpretations of the Casettes and Soundwave are almost always portrayed as familial, and tight-knit, with the Casettes following Soundwave willingly because they like him or some other positive motivation. But this singular line almost seems to imply that they didn’t have a choice but to follow Soundwave - and I might even go so far as to say, with the way Frenzy’s voice wavers, that they were scared of him?

What happened to Soundwave? Frenzy and Laserbeak seem extremely wary of him, and Ravage is the only one who returns to Soundwave - and note that it’s immediately followed up with Soundwave using Ravage for something he clearly had planned for ahead of time. So, you tell me, did Ravage really return to Soundwave because he felt some sense of loyalty to him? Or did he return to Soundwave because he KNEW about his part in Soundwave’s plans later on, and felt obligated to? And if so, WHY are they all scared of him?

Did Megatron’s betrayal change him, maybe? Throughout the episode, he definitely seems more... expressive than normal - in a distinctly angry way. Like, I’ve never seen an iteration of Soundwave quite so livid in any situation. Annoyed? Yes. But Soundwave has always been characterized as the cool and calm and collected type - being suave and mysterious is kind of, like, his thing, alongside unmatched and unquestioning loyalty to Megatron and the ability to get shit done. But in Earthspark? Hachi machi, this man is ANGRY AS HELL, and it’s almost like his battling decisions themselves are suffering for it!

He attacks Megatron directly, commands his Casettes to attack Megatron directly - knowing FULL WELL that they can’t beat him and that they should probably be worried about the 2 other fully capable Autobots nearby - and is so off his game that he lets his primary weapon get disabled! He literally tells Megatron directly that the situation is personal, he throws Megatron’s own words back in his face, basically yells at him when he calls him a traitor, and then GROWLS at Arcee? Like, a VISCERAL goddamn rage reaction! This is not the calm and collected Soundwave we know from almost every other continuity! And... somehow, considering how spot on Earthspark has been with characterizing every other character, somehow I don’t think this is just a case of Earthspark writers making Soundwave out of character. I think Sounds is genuinely hurt, and sad, and angry in a way he hasn’t been in any other situation before, and I think it’s changed him and made him lash out in uncharacteristic ways because he just doesn’t know how to deal with it.

You could say “Oh, well his plan was obviously to get captured all along considering the end of the episode, so it’s probably just a ruse/act” - but was it though? Think of the beginning of the episode! He had the Casettes steal a badge to get into GHOST Headquarters! I think the original plan was to use that badge to sneak Ravage in, not to get captured on purpose. Getting captured was probably something he either had to come up with on the spot, or an emergency backup plan in the event that the initial one failed. An emergency backup plan they... ultimately ended up going with.

So... where does that leave Soundwave...? Where does that leave the Casettes...? Are they scared of him because they’ve noticed the change too? Are they scared of him because, god forbid, they’ve been on the receiving end of some of his anger? ...Could they be scared of him because of the popular theory about what happened to Rumble...? If it’s true... are they angry with him? Bitter? Worried that they could be next, or that Soundwave no longer has their best interests in mind?

What happened to Soundwave?

#earthspark spoilers #earthspark #transformers earthspark #tf earthspark #tf #tfe #tfes #transformers #soundwave #tf soundwave #tf rumble #tf frenzy #laserbeak #tf ravage #maccadam #maccadams #long post

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missmeinyourbones · 2 years

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What do the AOT Dads do when the baby's crying and it's not for any basic needs or emergency reasons? And you're dog-tired, so they ain't getting any backup.

this was so fun to think about LOL thank u anon for the idea :)

dad!eren who uses the distraction method for any and all tears. baby is crying and he goes through the mental checklist: not hungry cause they just ate, no poopy diaper, not hurt. his go to is just doing whatever he can to distract his baby from being sad. he grabs the item closest to him and just shakes it in his baby’s face like oooooh look at this bag of almonds! listen to the sound cool sound it makes when you shake it! panic city: population eren

dad!armin who does his very best to talk your baby through their emotions even tho they are 1 and can’t speak LOL. ur baby cries because the blender makes a loud noise and he tries to explain it to them like see? it’s just helping daddy make a smoothie! it’s not so scary or when they cry because their sippy cup falls he picks it right up and is like it’s ok! it was just an accident! here you go! he’s so sweet i wanna eat him whole

dad!jean who talks to ur baby like a normal person LOL he just looks at them, maybe rubs their chubby lil legs a bit, and he’s like you don’t even know why you’re crying, do you? i’ve got you, quit whining, no baby voice, no engaging sensory tactics, he loves ur baby sm he just struggles to understand their dramatics. you overhear him from the other room like nothing’s wrong with you, i checked everything, you’re just being dramatic, like your mom (or whatever u preferred to be called)

dad!connie who shakes your baby every time they cry. he just picks them up and throws them around in his arms in hopes of getting them to laugh. he tickles them, bounces them on his hip, puts them on his shoulders. it’s a 50/50 method…when it works, it works seamlessly, but when it fails…ur baby cries harder than before. hit or miss honestly

dad!levi who is very in tune with your baby’s cries, so its not often for him to be confused or overwhelmed with the situation at hand. he knows the tiniest differences in ur baby’s cries, which ones mean they’re hungry, tired, stinky, or just bored. he’s great at differentiating the situations and having a plan for each one. usually just rocks your baby in his arms or walks them around the house, giving them a change of scenery or something to look at. he is the Best Father, offically.

dad!reiner who sings to your baby every time their eyes begin to water or their lip begins to quiver. he’s not even good at singing LOL but its something about the vibration of his voice or the sudden change in situation that stops your baby from crying almost every single time. porco is over ur house one time and the three of them are hanging out and ur baby randomly starts to get fussy and the last thing porco expects is for reiner to fully break out into a personal rendition of shake it off by taylor swift. he secretly records a video of it and sends it in their friend gc every time reiner gets snippy with him

dad!porco who fake cries right back in your baby’s face every time they cry for no reason. your baby whines and screams its little head off and porco is quick to mimic its cries right back to them....ur little baby is so confused and gives him a side eye that practically screams “dad, wtf are you doing....” and porco just smirks and is like “yeah, its not fun to listen to, is it?”

#aot headcanons #aot x reader #eren headcanons #armin headcanons #jean headcanons #connie headcanons #levi headcanons #reiner headcanons #porco headcanons #dad!eren #dad!armin #dad!jean #dad!connie #dad!reiner #dad!levi #dad!porco #parent au

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littlemspeachy · 1 month

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I'll Sleep Later (Battinson x reader)

Summary: After the floods, you start taking care of people with your limited background in medicine. And one night Bruce walks in through your window.

Note: There's mentions of the reader wearing a bonnet and putting her braids into a ponytail, but outside of that reader looks is not mentioned. Also, sorry if this is a bit heavy, but it's Gotham and a massive flood occurred in a densely populated city.

Warnings: Medical Knowledge acquired from Greys Anatomy and Google. Arguing about the ethics of killing, cursing, mentions of drug overdoses, mentions of human trafficking, melatonin usage, mentions of bullet wounds and internal bleeding, drinking, mentions of people dying or dead.

Word Count: 3.8K

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You never knew why he came to you. You were no one, a nobody another working class body in a city where ultra rich people got wealthier. A part of you wished they got wealthier by just basic corporate exploitation. Underpaying workers and jacking up the prices of essential needs to rise profit margins. But nooo, it was through means of human trafficking and heavy drugs.

You lost your roommate due to those drugs. She was a dancer at one of the local clubs. It was good money, you used to bartend at the same place. Ran a token system so the men couldn't outright give girls drinks. They could claim it after their shift or just take the money if they didn't want the drinks. Unfortunately, a lot of men complained, and your job was gone.

A part of you believed in the Riddler and what he was doing. They deserved to pay. Pay for their crimes and not just the monetary. But wiping out the city? Letting the disabled, elderly, and poor just be swept away into the rivers. Forcing the poor and working class to pay the already high insurance deductions to clean up his mess. If he was smart enough, he would've just assassinated those who he knew was responsible. But noo he had to think he was some sort of God bringing in the next big flood. Stupid. Your neighborhood was destroyed. Because you knew emergency medicine from training as a nurse before dropping out due to the rising cost of med school, you brought people in your home and became a small clinic. Stole from the local convenience stores and other houses that were abandoned for medical supplies and food.

You took in small cats and dogs that came by your house. Young boys occasionally dropped someone off with medical supplied in exchange for some food. You barely got any sleep, making sure no one died. And luckily no one has. This was you and your life now.

Which is why you were confused when he came through your window one night. You were attempting to get in a small nap before doing rounds on your patients.

You stared at him and turned on a small light. Most of the water had receded but with you being so central the streets were still cold and wet. A foot of water still in the streets. Luckily the backup generators were held on the third floor, so two weeks after the flood you were able to use the electricity. But depending on the usage it goes out fast. Small lamp meant less electricity.

You internalized his helmet and ripped cape. "What do you want?" You asked cooly.

"I need help." He whispered before beginning to fall sluggishly.

You rushed towards him eyes wide. The last thing you wanted and needed was to operate on this man in your bed. Clean water was hard to come by in your part of time and the last thing you needed was dirty sheets.

You dragged him carefully through your halls and into the guest room. Your last patient just left that morning, so the room was empty.

You internally cringed but turned on the main light so that you could see better.

Blood pooling in his undershirt, making the black look wet and darker than usual.

You took in a deep breath stilling yourself before walking over to your assorted medical cabinet and a cabinet full of vodka. You pulled a liter bottle of vodka and some gloves and scissors.

A question on the tip of your tongue being cut off by the sound of a walkie-talkie. "Ayo (Y/N) we got an injury here should we bring them up?" A young male voice asked through a walkie talkie situated on a three-tier rolling cabinet next to the floor cabinets.

You took a glance at the man on your bed before grabbing the walkie with your ungloved hand. "What the situation looking like?"

"We got a potential drug overdose, a shallow breather, and one whose got a nasty wound."

"Administer Naloxone to the drug overdose and bring in the nasty wound. Pick up any more supplies that you can find and ring the bell when you get in, we got a patient."

"But what about the shallow breather."

You let out a deep sigh. "It'll take around 20-30 minutes to bring anyone in unless your right at my door. They ain't gonna make it kid. I don't know what to tell you anymore."

The line stayed quiet. You and the boy on the other line knew it was impossible to save everyone. Some days were better than others but, as time went on you knew you could only try to save those with the highest chance of living. And at the moment you didn't have any help.

"Understood. We'll be back in 3o mins."

You nodded in silent confirmation and sat the walkie down before going back to the situation at hand.

"Ay, I need you to stay awake as long as physically possible." You said tapping his helmet lightly.

You cut open the shirt too see three bullet holes and crazy bruising. Internal bleeding.

You laid your hands on his body and looked up at the ceiling before getting to work. You ran to your cupboards and pulled out some medical kits. A perk of the flooding was that the national guard was in and so your kids managed to steal medical supplies at night and at really busy times.

You pulled out a tongue dampener and a numbing spray before walking over to the man.

You pulled off a glove before taking off your bonnet and wrapping a braid around the rest to make a makeshift and tight ponytail before putting the glove back on.

You grimaced slightly realizing what was about to occur. "Sorry, this isn't the most sanitary place. But based off of where the bruises and the bullets are you have some internal bleeding. I'm going to have to flip you slightly to make sure they didn't go through." You said softly, adrenaline kicking in.

After loud groan and cutting through the rest of his shirt you noticed that the bullets didn't get through and that there were only punch marks on the back. You laid him back down and pushed him up enough to drink a shot.

He looked at you, pupils blood shot and black surrounding his eyes slowly fading to reveal the white skin underneath.

"Listen this is about to hurt, and alcohol works as a depressant." He nodded silently before you poured him a drink from an unmarked bottle.

You passed him a shot glass before grabbing the tongue dampener and you bit back a small laugh while you watched the man almost throw up the liquid.

You shrugged as his gave you a glare. "I'm sorry, that was moonshine. Not vodka."

He laid back down and you sprayed the numbing spray on the first bullet before making a small cross over the first bullet and grabbing a pair of clamps to dig around and find the small piece of metal. Luckily that one wasn't that deep. Which was good for you but that means another one broke into something causing the bleed.

You slowly took it out and dropped it into the trash before grabbing a suturing kit and sewing it shut. You ignored his groans and muffled screams while rolling your wrist and starting again.

You moved on to the next bullet and repeated the same steps. Spray,Cut, pull, sew. Unfortunately, like the other bullet, it was lodged right under the skin. Meaning the third one was deeper and lodged into something that was going to require much faster movements and quicker thinking.

You let out a deep sigh before throwing down your supplies and ripping off your gloves. If the internal bleeding was due to it being lodged in the small intestine, then as soon as you cut it open blood was going to pour, and because you weren't an actual hospital you had no suction. So, the next best things were some tampons, a syringe, and some extra lap pads. You also dragged over a floor lamp with an LED light that you had before the flood for extra lighting.

You sat the supplies down on him lap, before grabbing a new pair of gloves. "This is gonna hurt. I am so sorry but you're going to get lead poisoning if I leave this in you."

He stared at you with blank eyes before nodding and grasping the side of the bed. You touched the massive bruise gently just to confirm that there was bleeding and when he let out a loud groan you knew you had to act fast.

And acting fast you did. Stuffed in the lap pads and sucked all the lose blood that you could. Cursed to high hell and managed to do the best you could do with internal sutures and a tampon, closing him up and throwing your gloves and the bullet into the trash.

You wiped the sweat off your head before roughly grabbing the bottle of moonshine and taking a deep swig. You collapsed in a corner trying to control your heartbeat before getting up and grabbing a big bandage and putting it on him.

You took one last glance of him before leaving and going into the living room to deal with the people the young man over the walkie talkie picked up.

The next time he came to you he wasn't injured, just with supplies. A lot of supplies.

"What is this?" You asked watching him walk around your guest room and gently put away supplies.

He stayed silence and brush past you on the way to your living room and to the kitchen before walking out of your house.

A part of you wished he stayed, you could've asked him what he's doing here, how he's healing. But instead, it's just short words and more action.

And that's how it was, for a while. Silent dropping of supplies and leaving without a word. A small note about updates on repairs.

A part of you was deeply thankful, but another part was curious, almost too curious. So, you set up a small trap. Well not really a trap, you were just going to sit in your living room until he came. And come he did.

He came in again, 4.30 am sharp. Bags of an assortment of things. He acknowledged you sitting on the couch and headed towards your guest room.

"You can't go in there, someone there's some people grieving, and I want to leave them alone." You said to his back.

He paused hand inches away from the door handle before dropping it back to his side. Silence filling the apartment before bootsteps made their way into your kitchen.

"You need to get sleep, there's people out there that might need your help." He stated deadpanned. His voice rough and raspy sounding like it was the first time he used it all day.

"Why did you come here that night. You're a hero to Gotham. You could've gone to anyone." You asked, eyes never moving from his dark figure.

"I've listened to your conversations with the boy, Pedro, I knew you wouldn't ask questions. I know you still don't." He said still busying himself with the mix of supplies he brought.

"I could've killed you."

"Yet you didn't, you saved me. I healed. You have good hands; the scars are almost fully healed." He said voice softer.

"You know some think it's your fault," You stated plainly. "Some think you caused it. You were working with the Riddler to get a name out for yourself."

He stopped his movements and stared at you. He grit his teeth causing his jaw to flare but remained silent. "Do you believe that?"

"No. But I do think you're hiding. No one around here has enough money to be walking around with that kind of armor. Because why would a crazy man be so obsessed over you? As far as I'm concern you've done no wrong. Except for not killing him."

"Killing him and anyone else is not my job. It's not my position to do so." He responded.

"Oh, but he's in the position to do so. Why because he's angry at a couple of some dead rich couple?" You argued back, walking towards the bar counter in your kitchen.

"He's mentally deranged, but ultimately he should be tried. It is not my judgement to decided that."

"Oh, the same judges that have been bought out by the same fuckers in drug pushing and human trafficking. Get the fuck out of here." You said angrily. A part of you was happy that there was a kitchen island separating you two.

"So do you agree with him?" He said slamming down a can of corn. His voice stayed even but the slam said otherwise.

"No, I think he's some deranged lunatic white boy, who just like you are playing God, the only difference is one person is stupid enough to think that killing everyone was a great fucking solution and the other being some rich white boy believing in a system that put us in this situation in the first place! Do you know how many people have died in this house? That guest room belonged to my best friend that was killed because someone thought it would be funny to slip drugs into her drink. And now I-" You stopped quickly, your breath coming out in shudders and tears threatening to fall.

You looked up at the ceiling to attempt to make the tears not fall. "She died due to the floods. We couldn't get to the Narcan in time, and she stopped breathing. We couldn't get her upstairs fast enough and I couldn't carry her and by the time I managed to get back downstairs her body was already under the water. We were supposed to make it, she was dancing to pay her way through nursing school. The only good thing about Gotham is the hospital, but it takes the most expensive schooling to get there. So no, I do wish that you killed him, I wished that you forced him to see all the suffering then forced him to drown the way many others did. You don't get to decide to kill hundreds if not thousands then get to see justice." You spat before angrily wiping the tears that came down your face.

He stayed and stared at you before walking around the corner and doing something even unfamiliar to him and hugged you. It wasn't tight, it wasn't loose, but it was just enough. He gently grabbed a walkie talkie and a random bottle you had sitting by the door before leading you outside your apartment and up the stairs. A part of you wanted to protest but another part just didn't care anymore. So, you followed him up to the rooftop. The two of you walked to the center of the roof before sitting down.

The brisk air filling your lungs and bones, the odd dark blue lighting up the sky and prepping for the day.

Brue took off his cap and sat it on your shoulders before handing you the bottle. You took it and glanced sideways at the man.

"I can't I have people to deal with. Care never ends." You said shaking your head and placing the bottle down beside you.

"You need to rest (Y/N). No one can heal that many people and stay sane or healthy." He said softly looking at you. Blue eyes somehow brighter in the light of the early morning.

"And do you rest? Mr. Super-Hero," You asked back looking into his eyes, a battle of who would look away first commencing. "I see your eye bags, your bruises that have been there for weeks. You know if you rested properly, you would be able to heal faster."

He continued looking into your eyes before breaking away. "Gotham never sleeps and neither do I."

"Welp, I guess that makes two of us. Sick people don't stop being sick, and violence doesn't stop either." You said sarcastically.

"It's not the violence anymore, it's just getting people to safety. The national guard has been clearing people out in dangerous areas. You would be a good help to them." He stated softly, his voice was so rough it dropped in and out of being a whisper.

You shook your head in disagreement. "The national guard is just evacuating people. I help the people who can't access help. By the time the national guard rolls in, they would be dead."

The two of you at in silence, the only thing heard is the gentle blowing of the early morning wind.

Bruce pondered what to say to you. You were safe with your crew of rag tag teens running the streets and picking them up. Moving you, or recommending you move to the manor didn't make sense. He knew you would argue. You would've liked Celina he thinks. You were both strong, angry at the world. He was stupid to not see this all going on. What was the point of all this money, all the donations. Wasn't there someone in charge, someone to- Yes there was someone in charge. Him. He was Bruce Wayne. The last living Wayne member, if he cared this much, he could've checked and made sure everything was running smoothly. She was right. He was just another white guy that believed that the system could change, believed in the same systems that made Gotham this way.

"I'm sorry." He admitted suddenly. Shocking the both of them.

You frowned and looked over. "Sorry about what? What did you do."

He let out a deep breath, a strange weight being lifted off his shoulders, a weird lightness in his heart he hadn't felt in years.

"Do you really think I should've killed him."

You moved your eyes to the sky. Thoughts swirling through your mind. You mouth opening and closing again. "No. I-"

You chuckled at the strangeness of it all. "I would've probably beat the shit out of him. But you're not... You have a slight point. As angry as I am at all this, The guilt of knowing I have blood on my hands, that I'm no better. Not saying that killing can't be justified it very much can be. It's sometimes the only right thing you can do. But.. Killing some guy that honestly had nothing to do with her death. I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

You stated to the sky. Your ego too high to look at him.

"I don't sleep."

You raised a brow at the admission not shocked at all.

"I lied. I can't fall asleep. All I hear is crying and people looking for loved ones. I.. I only get a few hours a night. I haven't slept for more than 5 hours since the floods."

"To be fair I usually pass out, I try to get sleep but it's never any good, too on guard." You admitted grabbing the bottle of vodka and twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig before passing it.

He hesitated before taking several swallows. You looked at him amused. "Drink up babes, I got more than enough to go around."

He winced and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I give you the supplies because I feel guilty. For so long I just assumed that everything was fine, and that this city was a dump because that's just what it was. But it's... everywhere.. And it's not just petty crime. It's everywhere." He gasped, a lump evident in his voice.

You stared at him. Everything clicking into place. Bruce Wayne is Batman. huh.

"I wouldn't take Brue Wayne to be an optimist." You stated.

He quickly whipped his head around, shock evident in his eyes.

"I'm not stupid, who else would have enough money to be stomping around in that costume. Plus, all the wealthy people in Gotham are old. And you're obviously not. Plus, your parents got shot when you were younger and now you go around saving people." You said with a shrug.

Bruce stared at you in pure shock and watched you roll your eyes.

"I won't tell anyone. Not that anyone would believe me." You said before chuckling and grabbing the bottle.

"Stay," You whispered after two minutes of sitting in silence. "Just for the day. Eat something and I'll get some sleep meds for you, and you sleep. Take a shower and go sleep."

"You need sleep, you actually care for people. You sleep, I can take care of people."

"You can't take care of people looking like that."

"Sleep with me."

You stared at him with wide open eyes. Shock very evident.

"I mean. In the sense that. I trust you, and I need someone I trust around me to feel comfortable sleeping. So, sleep with me. And before you argue, I've seen the streets before I came in, there's nothing going on out there, that Pedro can't handle."

You closed and opened your mouth a couple times before his ask started to make sense. He was right, the walkie that he brought with him has stayed silent.

You nodded your head. "Sleep.. OK."

You shrugged off his cape and stood up with a groan. Your legs cramped from siting on the cold concreate for so long.

He followed your actions and headed back into the building. The heating warming up the building slightly. Bruce helped your guest bring their now deceased friend to Pedro before telling the young boy that you weren't taking anyone today and giving him the address for the coroner. The two of you watched the truck drive off before heading back inside.

You gave him one of your oversized sweaters and a pair of pants that belonged to your father that you meant to tailor but never got around to before sending off to the shower. Hotdogs, eggs, toast and a random fruit that hadn't gone bad was cooked. More food than usual but he was a grown man and you guessed he hadn't eaten in a white. You ate in silence before putting down two melatonin gummies in front of the man and going to take a shower.

You locked your doors and turned down the volume of your walkie before slipping into bed next to him.

"Thank you." The two of you said at the same time before heading off to sleep.

Anger and healing are non-linear and painful. But with goodnights sleep and a friend you trust, it's a bit easier.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #the batman #battinson x reader #reader insert

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arionawrites · 5 months

Text

actually wait i can just make a post about this lmao

diabetics who may struggle to get the insulin they need, read below the cut 👇

hi! i’m ariona and i’m a type one diabetic and have been since i was 14! i struggled a lot to get the insulin i needed for a long time, but now, closing in on a decade since my diagnosis (nine years in february!) i and my fellow diabetic family members (an aunt and two cousins) have become fortunate enough to wind up in a place in life where we altogether have a LOT of extra insulin, thanks to being lucky enough to have decent insurance either through our state (washington) or through our jobs, and also thanks to my badass endocrinologist who is ALSO t1d who writes my prescriptions specifically to get me as much insulin as my insurance will allow every month.

basically: we have a lot of insulin, more than what we need for an emergency backup stock, and we’re at a point where we’re worried that it might start to expire before it can be used and have been looking into places we could take it to help people who need it more than we do, that way this literal life saving hormone can help keep people alive.

we have:

mostly novolog (mostly vials, but i believe some pens as well)

humalog (not much, but some)

some lantus pens

i currently take fiasp but have no negative reactions to novolog or humalog, so i can use either of them in place of fiasp as well

my insulin gets delivered so we have easy access to like little coolers and ice packs that can be used to ship insulin, and i’m not super well off financially but i will happily pay shipping if i can afford it to send this insulin to anyone who needs it!

i don’t want money, i don’t want anything in return. when i was first diagnosed we struggled a LOT with getting the insulin i needed, especially since i struggle badly with insulin resistance and it took a few years before i was being given the amount i needed to not constantly battle super high blood sugar, and thankfully i had a pharmacist at the time who was willing to bend the rules for us in order to save me multiple hospital trips, and now that i’m in a place capable of doing the same for others, i want to

my dm’s are open, my ask box is open, if anyone is in need of insulin or even just wants to take a couple vials for backups just in case, please reach out!!

EDITING TO ADD:

we also have extra supplies in general! i used to have a medtronic pump and have a lot of extra supplies from that, and we have a shit ton of syringes and stuff. idk how shipping syringes would work ?? but i can look into it and see what we can do!! basically if you need something, there’s a chance we have it, so reach out!! if we don’t have it then i can also do some research to see if there’s anywhere i can point you to instead to help you out!!

#diabetes #actually diabetic #type one diabetes #t1d #insulin #novolog #humalog #fiasp #lantus #diabetic

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tremorsmackenzie · 8 months

Text

I have another idea for a fanfic.

tw: daisys depression and generally sucky time in season 4

Basically, Daisy gets taken into the Framework instead of Fitz. After some flavourtext about how 4x16 would differ if there was no doctor and fitzsimmons had to find their path in the framework, the resistance base would get attacked, and theyd have to evacuate and relocate to a backup base - afterlife, as it turns out, because if aida doesnt need to provide fitz with specimen to study, it should be fine. There, they'd be greeted by the inhumans second in command, a woman named daisy johnson. She begrudgingly lets in shield, but is pretty miffed about it since theyre barely better than Hydra in her opinion. There are tensions, and fitzsimmons find out that daisy lost her dad when Hydra emerged and started tracking down subversives. Aka, her life is pretty sad here as well. Convincing daisy that this is all fake is pretty damn impossible, since shes not very receptive to the idea that her actual life in the real world is even worse than this. It takes a hydra attack that kills jiaying and most of the inhumans in front of her to get her to come around, and its mostly because she has nothing left to lose at that point.

Thoughts?

Edit: there would also be a scene about lmd!daisy attacking fitzsimmons in the real world and retriggering all of fitz' ptsd about hive!daisy before they plug themselves in.

Also, aidas motivations would be pretty basic and unimportant here because she isnt literally trying to become a real girl for fitz.

Title would be change you like a remix from that one song by fall out boy.

And there would be lots of scenes with daisy and a jiaying who hasnt been abducted and tortured by Whitehall, but has instead raised her daughter with her husband.

i mean, a daisy who got to grow up in a loving home, surrounded by chinese and inhuman culture. the POTENTIAL. may and daisy suddenly being able to bond over chinese things as the children of asian-american immigrants. daisy actually being able to speak chinese, albeit with an accent. the pain of may and daisy being immediatley hostile towards each other once they meet in afterlife. the implications down the line of a daisy who feels even more responsible for the inhumans in the space arc of season 5a, and who would be able to shower them with the inhuman culture none of them ever got to experience. i am going insane over here.

#agents of shield #daisy johnson #jemma simmons #leo fitz #fanfic prompt

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itscaptaint · 1 year

Text

Good Vibrations

Pairing: Dean x reader

warnings: smut, cheesy writing, masturbation, Dean being too hot to handle

You had taken a solo case again to try and clear your mind a little bit. Living in the bunker had been great, but the alone time was pretty sparse…especially with the eldest Winchester sleeping right down the hall.

Sam knew you had been harboring a crush on his brother for years and just wouldn't act on it because you didn't want to ruin your friendship. Dean was your best friend. Hell, he was basically just the male version of you. You were two peas in a pod. One night, the three of you had gotten blitzed after a bad vamp hunt and Sam had put the pieces together. You couldn't stop flirting with Dean, he had lingering glances towards you, it was obvious as hell to Sam, just not to either you or Dean. So you both just ignored it and went on as if there was nothing there.

That's why a solo hunt was much needed. The sexual frustration was getting to be too much. And you knew you couldn't handle spending one more night alone with the man you wanted to jump just down the hall. If you took a case, that meant an empty motel room, a stranger from a bar and hopefully a little release to get you through for a bit. You didn't think you needed to leave too many details for the boys, just enough to know you were working and we're safe. So you left a note…

Headed out for a few days, helping out an old friend with a case in Denver, I'll call if I need rescuing.

It was a perfectly good note, at least you thought it was. Sam did too. But Dean didn't.

"What the fuck is this?" Dean growled from the other end of the phone.

"Well hello to you too, Dean," you chirped as you were walking into your motel room for the night. "I guess you saw my note?"

"Yeah I see the fucking note. Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Dude, I took care of it," you sighed, sitting down on your bed. "I'll be back tomorrow."

You could tell from the tone of his voice he was more frustrated than pissed. He hated when you got hurt and couldn't do anything about it. "What if you needed help? What if you got hurt?"

"I told you, Dean, I'm fine. Perfectly good condition. I just needed some alone time."

"Alone time?" Dean questioned. "So you decided that meant you were going to go hunting solo without backup?"

Now you are getting frustrated. He knew you could handle yourself, so why is he all concerned now?

"Dean," you sigh. You were so tired and just wanted to sleep and take care of some personal business since the bar was a total bust. "I'm a big girl, I can handle myself, and I needed some time away from-" you started to say.

"From what, Y/n?"

"Good night, Dean," you sighed, hung up and turned the phone off so you couldn't be bothered for the rest of the night. Once the phone was off, you showered, changed into one of Dean's old flannels he knew you had stolen but never made a fuss over, and then gave yourself a pretty damn good orgasm thinking of Dean before falling asleep.

When you woke in the morning, you had forgotten the phone was off, so when you plugged it in for the drive home, it automatically turned on. And started buzzing with missed texts and calls from Dean. Typically when you drive on long trips the phone rests.on your thigh so it doesn't fall between the seats or clunk around the cup holders. Sometimes it ends up between your legs and you've never thought anything of it…until now.

You reach down, send a quick text to the boys letting them know you'll be back in a few hours, then put the phone right back on your leg so it's out of the way, but handy if needed in an emergency. About 10 minutes later it starts vibrating. You look and see that it's Dean. You just told him you were on your way home and don't feel like arguing while driving so you just let it keep ringing and go to voicemail. The last vibration of your phone that was notifying you of a missed call moves the phone just enough so that it slides down between your thighs. At least it won't fall on the floor.

A few more minutes pass and you feel the phone start vibrating again, but this time it's right on the seam on your jeans between your legs and is sending a slight tingle to your core. You know it's Dean again so you refuse to answer and let it ring through. By the time it's done ringing, you realize that the vibration of the phone against your crotch has got you slightly turned on.

"Son of a bitch," you mumble to yourself. "That mother fucker has me getting horny and he's not even here."

Dean calls you 7 more times before you get back to the bunker. You ignored all the calls simply for the fact that you'd been wanting Dean to make you feel good for years and it was finally happening. You don't see the Impala in the garage and decide to enjoy some peace and quiet before heading inside. No Impala, no Dean around. And no Dean around meant a perfect time to fantasize over the man that had been accidentally edging you the whole way home.

You turn the engine off, close your eyes, lean your head back against the headrest. You let your hands wander to the place Dean had been torturing the whole ride home. It didn’t take long to finish since you were already hot and bothered and probably a good thing too since the rumble of the Impala startled you into alertness. Fuck you Winchester. Can’t even enjoy the post-orgasm bliss. You get out of the car and grab your things from the trunk. As you're reaching up to close it, Dean is at your side closing it for you.

"You ignoring my calls, y/n?"

"Obviously," you sigh, rolling your eyes and heading inside.

"You could have gotten hurt by yourself, why didn't you ask for help?!" Dean chases after you.

"I'm a big girl, Dean. I can take care of myself," you shout, turning the corner to head to your room. "In more ways than one," you mumble under your breath thinking Dean was out of earshot.

"What did you just say?” Dean interrogates, grabbing your shoulder and turning you around to face him.

“I can take care of myself, Dean. You know that,” you say, standing a bit taller. You were in a slightly better mood after easing your frustration but still not as calm as you should be. “Now, if you would let go, I would like to shower and enjoy a day off.”

Dean rolls his eyes and releases your shoulder. “Fine. But next time I’m coming.”

“Mmhm,” you smirk and slowly shut your door. If only you were both cumming…

……….

It’s been three days since you’ve been back from your solo hunt and every little thing Dean has done has turned you on. It’s like he doesn’t know how to turn it off. You passed him in the hallway after a shower with just his towel on and wanted to just tear it from his body. The way he sipped his beer made you wish his lips and tongue were on your overly sensitive clit making you scream his name. He was even making you horny as he was mixing up the ground beef with his bare hands for burger night. Dear lord how you wished he would manhandle you the way he was dealing with your dinner.

“Alright,” you sigh, sliding your chair out from the table. “I’m headed out.” You needed a night out of the bunker. Dean’s been causing all sorts of sexual frustration and you were hoping there’d be someone at the bar to help ease the need.

“Wait, let me grab my jacket,” Dean chirps.

Well fuck me then. How am I supposed to get laid now with Captain Cock Block joining me. Might as well invite Sam too. You head down the hall to the library where Sam had been eating. “You wanna go to the bar with Dean and me?” Sam kind of just grunted, clearly really focused on whatever he’s reading on his laptop. “Maybe you could keep him occupied so I can get laid by a total stranger?” Sam chokes on his beer. That got his attention.

“Seriously, Y/n?” You just shrug your shoulders and smile real big hoping it convinces him to join. “Why can’t you two just-”

“You comin’ Sammy?!” Dean practically skips around the corner.

“He’s being a party pooper,” You stick your tongue out like a kindergartener at Sam and make a mental note to use real eggs for his breakfast tomorrow instead of just egg whites. “Let’s go. You’re driving.”

About 4 beers and 3 shots in, you decide to abort your mission for the night. Usually Dean is the one looking for a hook-up, but he doesn’t seem interested in any of the women throwing themselves at him tonight. And unfortunately, no good prospects for you either. "What do you say we take this party home and get roaring drunk in the library?" You suggest sliding out of the booth.

"Deal."

By the time you get back to the bunker, Dean has already decided that a drinking game was a must. Turns out his idea of a drinking game was just asking each other super personal questions, and if an answer was refused, it was time for another shot. You were up first.

"So Dean," you say, stroking your invisible beard to appear as if you have to think real hard about this question. Little does he know you're pulling out the big guns right away. Helps that you've have a little liquid courage to loosen the tongue. "What's your favorite sex toy?"

"Damn, y/n, you can't even ease into it, can ya," he chuckled.

Before you can process what you were saying "That's what she said" came flying out of your mouth.

"Jesus Christ," Dean gives a full belly laugh. "Well if you must know, I'm a simple man. Handcuffs, blindfolds, headphones, ya know…"

"Simple, huh?" You smirk, pouring yourself another glass of tequila. You knew you were probably going to regret the drink of choice tomorrow, but oh well.

"Never had a complaint about my simplicity before," he winks, tipping his glass in my direction.

You could feel your face heating up, but you weren't sure if it were from embarrassment, jealousy or the fact that you knew this night would end in one of your favorite solo missions. "Alright, pretty boy," you huff, sliding deeper into your chair. "Hit me with your best shot."

Dean doesn't even have to think about his question. "What's your favorite guilty pleasure song?"

Wow, that was a tame one. You were really thinking he was about to hit you with something deep and raunchy. "Is it still considered a guilty pleasure if I tell you?" You question.

"Well, darling, you don't have to tell me but then it's a full tequila shot for you."

"Fine. It's Cut to the Feeling by Carly Rae Jepson," you nod, proud of your answer.

The questions that followed from each of you were silly and personal, but nothing wild. The "game" aspect went out the window an hour ago when Dean polished off his whiskey and you only had a few sips of Tequila left. You told Dean it was bedtime, and since you started the night, he got the final question.

"You ever been so turned on that you came without a man even touching you?"

"Only once," you sigh thinking of that time Dean had you all hot and bothered from the excessive phone calls on your way home earlier that week.

"Oh I'm gonna need details on this one," Dean says, sitting up a little taller in his chair, placing his elbows on the table. You hadn't realized it but he was staring so deep into your soul just now that even though you wanted to call him out and tell him that the game was over and that wasn't a question, you couldn't. There are two ways this is going to go: it’s either going to end in you feeling more embarrassed than you’ve ever felt before, or it’s going to get you what you’ve wanted for a long time.

You throw back the last little bit of tequila in your glass, prop your chin in your hands making eye contact with Dean and then utter the three words that will either make or break this night. “Eight missed calls.” You continue staring at Dean, a look of confusion on his face.

He tips his chin upwards, squints and sports his best thinking face. “What about missed calls?”

“It’s truly amazing what a cell phone vibration can do for a girl,” you sigh and stand up, slowly making your way over behind Dean’s chair. He was still thinking about what you said and was trying to put the pieces together. You weren’t sure what just got into you but the thought of Dean making you feel really fucking good - and hopefully from his own touch this time - had you feeling bold. You pull out your phone and lay it down in front of him, showing your missed call log from the other day. Eight missed calls, all from him. You don’t say a word as you take a seat on the edge of the table, your thighs just inches from Dean’s hands.

Dean didn’t need to audibly respond. You can see him take a breath in and slowly lift his gaze to meet yours. A wave of panic hit, hoping he wouldn’t give you his pity eyes. But his eyes were different. Before, they were filled with mischief and fun, now they were dark and just filled with pure lust and determination. It was a look you had been wanting to see aimed at you for a long time. You return his gaze and your breath hitches ever so slightly that he can hear the small, excited tremble. Dean’s hand reaches out and rests on your thigh. The man has barely touched you and you are already wet for him. You needed him right now and Chuck be damned if he didnt want you too with that look in his eyes.

You reach out and cup his cheek. “Wanna see what happens when you’re actually touching me?”

“You’re fucking killing me, Y/n,” Dean groaned yanking you onto his lap and crashing his lips to yours.

It was a sloppy kiss and you were both fighting for dominance. Dean’s hands found your waist and were already sliding your shirt up and over your breasts. You release your hands from being tangled in his hair just long enough to dispose of the trapping garment. Before the shirt hits the ground, Dean has one nipple between his teeth making you throw your head back, pressing your chest closer to him.

“Mmm, you like that?” He mutters, switching over to the other wanting breast.

Instead of answering, you just grind down deeper onto his lap. You can tell he’s already hard and enjoying this as much as you. He brings his head back up to yours, finding your lips again allowing his hands to grip your waist and set you back on the table. Dean stands to get closer to you and you take advantage and rid him of the flannel you had been wanting to see on the floor alongside yours all night. Once shirtless, you just stare. “Like what you see? Because I know I do,” Dean smirks, diving back into you, this time reaching for the button of your jeans. You lay back and lift your hips to easily get rid of the pants that you felt were holding you hostage.

The table was cold on your naked ass, but worth it. Dean peppers greedy kisses starting from your neck all the way down until he reaches the crease of your hip before stopping to look up at you. “Last time I made you cum, was it with my mouth, my hands or my cock?”

Even just his words were making you squirm beneath his touch. “Well, Dean, if you must know, it was all of the above.”

“Oh baby, then we’re making that happen again tonight. Gotta make sure I see it this time.”

His last words barely a grunt before he delves into your wet folds with his tongue immediately finding your clit. You can hear how wet you are against Dean’s mouth and know this won’t take long. Dean’s teeth latch onto your clit as he slides two fingers into you and begins stroking quickly. He’s a man on a mission and knows how to get what he wants, and Dean wants you to cum…hard. It doesn’t take much longer before you are completely screaming his name, shaking and dripping all over his mouth and hand.

You barely have time to come down off your high before he tears his own pans off and is sliding his cock into you. “Oh my god, you feel so much better than I imagined,” you groan, falling back onto your elbows.

“Y/n, I never want you to have to imagine the feeling of me again,” he said, thrusting as hard as he could. “You’re getting the real deal from here on out.” Dean continued thrusting until you could feel his rhythm falter. You knew he was close, as were you.

“Dean I’m so close, please make me cum again,” you beg, reaching your hands to your breasts for something to hold on to.

“Fuck, Y/N. Are you trying to kill me?” He groans with a final thrust sending both of you over an edge you didn’t think was possible reach.

After you both catch your breath, Dean pulls you back up into his chest for a sweet kiss. When you pull away, he’s just smiling.

“Why are you so happy Winchester?”

“Because I think I won the game.”

You just shake your head and hop off the table and start to head towards your bedroom leaving your clothes all over the library. “Woah, where are you going?” Dean throws his hands up looking like a lost child at the mall.

“To change my phone ringtone to Good Vibrations,” you shout back, before stopping and turning to look at him. “And to prep for round two.”

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut

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