I just recently fell into the welcome home fandom and oh wow your work was SO SO GOOD the way you characterized Wally was IMMACULATE
You’re a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it’s the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn’t seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?
content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and you’re both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! 😉 you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!!
Keep reading
Jason Todd x fem!reader
Warnings: none
Authors note: this is my first time ever doing something like this, I’m not a writer by conventional means but I could not leave you all hanging after blowing up my blurb
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
“That’s a nice jacket.” Your greedy gaze takes in the leather comfortably draping his body.
He eyes you carefully, “Thanks.”
“You got candy in there?” You grin up at him.
“Sweetheart, ask for what you really want.” You hate the way he’s able to coax you into yourself, grounding you with the idea that he’s not like eveyone else. He doesn’t flinch at your forwardness.
“Can I…explore your pockets a bit..?”
You aren’t snoopy by nature (yes you are) , but the desire to more about him drew you into asking this absurd question.
He leans closer to you on the couch, offering his pocket. He carefully takes in the details of your face. You’d wilt under anyone else’s scrutiny, but his attention lacks judgment.
Tentatively you reach in.
He feels your hand digging around. This is the only way he can stomach letting you touch him, between a layer of thick fabric…it feels nice.
“Massive pockets. You carry your bike in here?”
Your heart leaps at the way his laugh softens his voice, “Yeah sweets sometimes I put ‘er in there.”
Your hand wraps around cool metal, heavy in your palm as you lift it into the light of the room.
A pocket knife.
“Oh.” Your eyes gleam dangerously, “You stab someone with this before?” You pop open the blade, checking for blood, before he gently confiscates it, clicking it closed.
“A stab from this’d be a paper cut.” He lifts it away from your reaching hands.
“Then what do you have it for?” He gives you a wry smile, “Has no one taught you anything about—” he pulls his hand away as you reach for it, “—survival?”
“Mmm…not really, no.” You quip. Whether or not it’s sarcasm, he mentally adds to the list of things he needs to teach you.
You reach in again, pulling out a folded piece of paper, you carefully un-crumple it, glancing up at him briefly, waiting to see if he stops you. He only holds your gaze. “Nothing juicy huh?” Your eyes scan a grocery list.
Oh Ho Ho. “Pomegranates?”
“They’re in season…” he murmurs as you read on.
“You put C4 on your grocery list?”
His brows scrunch confusedly, your gasp interrupts his rebuttal, “Chloroform?!” He rips the paper out of your hands, and double checks the list. Bread, chips, peanut butter, mozzarella, eggs, etc.
He sighs, “You don’t buy chloroform at the grocery store, you make it.”
“How?” He gives you a disapproving look, you return it with a grin of your own as you reach in again.
“Shiny…” The three bullets are weighty, all smooth, and cold in your palm.
You let him confiscate those, reveling in his gentleness, and the contrast of his warm, rough fingers. His nearly somber expression catches you off guard, like a cold breeze through a sweater meant to keep you warm. The bullets are a heavier weight, in his hand.
“You’re worse than a crow.” He mutters.
You reach in again, “…my hair tie.”
“Mh.” His noncommittal answer soothes your poorly concealed nerves. What needn’t be said, or brought to the light; whatever this was between you.
He confiscates yet another item from your palm, pulling it on his wrist. “This is mine too.”
"The D will blow up a storm again"
Just finished dungeon meshi’s manga and it’s so so good ugh like i’m so sick over the themes it’s all I can think about
writers are creatures that feed on comments by the way. if you want more of your blorbo from them, give them lovely comments. they love that and will most likely give you more fics about your blorbo
I lied maybe he’s literally just Like That
I can’t get over how much they made chilchuck look like a sausage in the anime
“Jotaro!”
“What?”
“I could use a little help here!”
Jotaro sighed. You and him were getting ready to go out for dinner, and he had been ready just a few minutes ago. He hoisted himself up from his comfy spot on the couch, and dragged himself over to the bathroom. When he got there, he took one look in the mirror, and saw that you were trying to tame your head of hair, your curly, frizzy hair.
“What do you need my help for? Jotaro asked. “I don’t know anything about caring for curly hair.”
“I’m not asking for you to know anything, just do what I say and we can calm my hair down together!” you replied.
Jotaro sighed, but fully entered the bathroom and started rummaging through the baskets. “Where’s your brush?”
“I don’t have any,” you said. “Curly hair is better brushed with your fingers.”
“So then what do you need me to do?”
“I want you to brush my hair while I get my products ready!”
Jotaro hesitated for a moment, but eventually walked over, running his fingers through your hair. If he was honest, he kind of liked the feeling, and he wasn’t having as bad of a time as he thought he would. Brushing your hair was actually soothing, seemingly clearing Jotaro’s mind. Suddenly, just as he was zoned out, you said to him again, “Alright, thank you! I can take it from here.”
“Wait, that’s it?” Jotaro asked.
“Yup!” you chirped. You looked back to him, and noticed his hands still in the air, as if there was an invisible barrier keeping them from touching your hair again. You smiled at him, letting out a laugh. “Of course, if you want to keep petting my hair, you can.”
Jotaro’s cheeks became a little pinker. “Y… yeah, I’d like that.” His hands slowly made their way back to your head, but just before they made contact again, you leaned forward, keeping your hair out of reach.
“After I get it ready to go,” you said.
“Right,” Jotaro mumbled. “After.”
My contribution to the silly thing going around twitter right now lmao
Japes and Jubilations, Pt 2
The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist
The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.
(Part 1) | YOU ARE HERE | (Part 3) | (Part 4)
Part 2: Soaked
You learn a wise lesson about avoiding Penguin and Shachi after their swim patrols.
The seasoned members of the crew knew better enough than to hang around the wet room or the surrounding areas when Penguin and Shachi came back from their dives.
You, however, were not a seasoned member of the crew. You were never around when the pair headed into the waters, or came back, so you thought nothing of it when you stuck your head into a room upon earring splashing sounds coming from it. Your eyes widened when you saw the strangely structured room and the two equally drenched crew members.
“Well, that was a good patrol, Peng!” Shachi said, muscles staining as he closed the door and sealed it shut with the hand wheel. “And we got fish for dinner, too!”
Water poured from them both—and the net of writhing fish at Penguin’s feet—running in rivulets to the drains set throughout the room.
“Oh, hey!” Penguin grinned, catching sign of you. “What’s up?”
“Uh,” you began. “I just heard water splashing and got curious. What’s this room?”
Penguin let out an ‘ah’. “That’s right. You haven’t seen it yet, huh?”
Before you could even blink, Shachi was right next to you. To your horror, one soaking-wet arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into an equally wet side. You flinched, hands coming up to push him away. The redhead clung to you like a limpet, however, dragging you into the room in question.
“This is the wet room!” Shachi explained, throwing an arm out as if to showcase it. In the background, Penguin made little jazz hands.
“Cool,” you said limply, lamenting your clothes. It didn’t explain why they were dripping wet, though.
Penguin’s hat-–still on his head—squelched as he wrung out the flaps. “You have no idea what we’re talking around, do you?”
You shook your head as Shachi wilted in disappointment.
“The island we come from is a North Blue island,” Penguin explained. “For ours, we have especially cold harbors, and a high percentage of the population also boast fishman ancestry.”
You squinted. “So you and Shachi are part fishmen, then?”
“Yep!” Shachi said, popping the ‘p’. He leaned closer and grinned, pulling at his mouth to show you his teeth. A veritable row of canines gleamed at you, sharp and pointed like a predator’s.
“Huh,” you said eloquently. Your uniform dripped onto the floor.
Penguin lifted the ears of his hat when you looked over, giving you a peek of the short, dark hair by the side of his head. On his temple was a scattering of smooth, pale-blue and black scales, glinting in the light. They littered his hairline in small patches down to his neck, peeking through the dark strands of hair there.
“Pretty…”
Shachi groaned. “‘Pretty’, is that all you have to say??? Seriously?? I have fangs! We have gills!”
“Back to the point,” Penguin redirected before Shich could strip down to show you wherever his gills were. “This is the room Shachi and I use to get in and out of the sub underwater. The inventor who made this submarine built it especially for us, but it’s good for the crew to know how it works too.”
Shachi finally left your side to slap the door he was closing earlier. “This bad boy is fitted with a two-door system, both with built-in seals. The first hatch is on the outside and opens slowly to let water and us in from the outside. It closes and a system drains and pumps it back out. Once done, this inner door unseals and Penguin and I can enter the sub.”
“The two-door system helps control the water pressure, so there’s less chance of a leak,” Penguin said.
“Penguin-ya, Shachi-ya are you guys still in here—” Law stopped and stared at you, a pitying look on his face. “Ah, you got poor Tailor-ya…”
You squinted at that statement and his all too knowing look at your state, trying to straighten out your clothes. “W-What do you mean? Is this like something common?”
“Well…” Penguin began.
Shachi began whistling innocently.
“The crew always avoid them when they come back because they always latch on to the nearest person before changing out,” Law said. “Everyone’s been a victim of them at least once. I forgot to warn you.”
“Well, at least I’m not all the way wet,” you grumbled, pulling at your shirt.
“I’m surprised about that, too,” Law drawled, shifting his sword on his shoulder. “Usually both of them go for their victim at once.”
That was the wrong thing to say as both men stilled, head turning to look at you before at each other.
“Hug time!” They exclaimed.
Your eyes widened. “Hey, hey, hey, NO—”
Two bodies slammed into either side of you, pinning you in between them with a wet squelch.
At seeing your distraught expression, Law grimaced in sympathy.
Both men had to unstick themselves from you, attention going to Law as they dragged you along. “Let’s get Cap!”
He quickly pulled up his Devil Fruit Powers to Shamble away, a scrap of paper fluttering to the ground where he was.
Wing/Silver | 19 | she/they | I write and reblog fics || Reader-insert centric |Interacts from @elise-wing
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