oh man i gotta have dinner now

anonymous asked:

Wally trying to figure out what would be the best way to propose to Dick and him asking others for their ideas but like in the end he figured out how and ask the others for their help.

He told Barry first, told his Uncle his intentions and showed him the ring with smile so wide the older speedster thought he might split his face in two. After the man pulled him into a bone crushing hug and went on about how proud he was of the man Wally had become Wally hit him with his dilemma.

“So Uncle B, how do I do it?” He asks sheepishly. He’d be tossing ideas around in his head long before he even bought the ring, but none of them seem good enough for the love of his life. 

“Kid, I’m sure how ever you do it, he’s going to love it,” Barry insists, patting the younger speedster’s shoulder. He leaves it at that and Wally feels more clueless than he did at the start.

He goes to Bruce next, more so to ask him than to tell him. He knows Dick is independent, but he also knows that having Bruce’s blessing would mean a lot to his boyfriend, it would mean a lot to him as well. Bruce manages to pencil him in for lunch on a Monday and he meets the man at a small cafe in Gotham. He’s late, only by a minute, and Bruce is already sitting there waiting for him. 

“Sorry Mr. Wayne,” Wally apologizes as he sets his coat over back of the chair and sits down.

“It’s fine Wally, I’m used to your Uncle,” the man says and despite how long Wally has known him as Bruce, not just Batman, the occasional joke still catches him by surprise. It’s just not natural okay!

 The waitress comes over when she sees Bruce’s guest has arrived. He orders at random since he likes most things and has something more important than food on his mind.

“So,” Bruce starts, once the waitress has left them alone. “Lets see it.”

The speedster falters for a moment, because how did he know, but then he reminds himself that its the freaking Batman he’s talking to. He pulls the ring box out of his pocket and hands it to the man.

Bruce flips open the lid and hums his approval at the silver band with three blue diamonds embedded in it. “He’s going to love it,” Bruce tells him in that matter of fact tone he has.  

“Does this mean I have your blessing, to ask him?” Wally asks nervously. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear the man confirm it.

“Yes, Wally, you have my blessing,” Bruce confesses, closing the box and sliding it across the table.

“Thank you, sir. It means a lot to me, and it’ll mean the world to Dick,” the younger relaxes. “There’s still just one problem,” he admits. “I don’t know how to ask him.”

Really, he should know better than to ask the man that solves all of his problems by throwing money at them, ignoring them, or using his fists, but he’s desperate and Bruce knows Dick so well.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask on this matter,” Bruce sighs. He can tell that Wally desperately wants his advice and he quickly finds himself caving. “Perhaps a nice dinner,” Bruce offers. “Maybe a picnic,” he adds.

Dinner he’s thought of, but the picnic was new. He makes a mental note of it after thanking Bruce and they make awkward conversation for the remainder of their lunch.

Next, he asks Roy and Jason out for drinks so he can get their opinions. He pulls out the ring after their third drink and smacks Roy when the man gasps.

“Oh you shouldn’t have,” the archer grins. 

“I didn’t, now shut it,” Wally huffs, looking to Jason for help.

“All I’ve gotta say is good luck with him, he’s a walking disaster,” Jason jokes, but Wally can read the congrats hidden in his words, only because Jason wants him to.

“Yeah, well he’s my walking disaster,” the redhead jokes back, taking a sip of his ale. The fondness in Wally’s eyes doesn’t make Jason nearly as sick as he pretends it does.

“How’re ya gonna do it?” Roy asks, glint in his eye that Wally just knows is pride. He couldn’t be happier for them.

“That’s the problem,” he huffs, slipping the ring box back into his jacket pocket. “I want it to be special, ya know? Something he deserves.”

“It’s Dick,” Jason reminds him. “The sap would be happy with anything. You could literally just throw it at him and he’d think it was the most amazing thing ever.”

“I’m not gonna throw it at him!” Wally groans, plopping his forehead against the cool wood of the table.

Roy and Jason share a look before Roy pats his friend’s head awkwardly. “I dunno man, he has a point. Dick can be flashy but when it comes to the important stuff,” the other redhead shrugs.

He resigns himself to the fact that this is the best he’ll get from these two and downs the rest of his drink. “Neither of you can tell him,” he warns before the conversation strays.

Damian and Tim are next and it’s hard enough to get the two to stop bickering that he’s left wondering how Dick does this daily.

“I want your advice for proposing to Dick,” Wally starts, cutting right to the chase.

Damian glares at him for a moment before scoffing. “Don’t,” the young boy huffs, moving to get up. Tim sighs. “Damian, stay,” he requests and surprisingly the boy complies. “You know Wally’s important to Dick,” he adds.

“First off, Congrats,” Tim says, turning his attention back to Wally and offering a bright smile. Not even a second later though, the teen is pulling his phone out of his pocket, no doubt sending a text to Bart and Kon in their group chat. Great, now his cousin is going to blow his phone up and he has a such a big mouth. If the younger speedster lets it slip to Dick, he’s going to strangle him.

“Thanks Tim,” the older boy replies, returning the smile, “just make sure they don’t tell anyone,” he adds with a sigh.

He’s not too phased by Damian’s small outburst. Despite his attitude, Dick’s told the speedster that the boy likes him. He’s just possessive over his older brother. Wally has a feeling the boy might just be scared he’ll lose him and doesn’t want to admit it.

“Yes, congratulations on partaking in foolish rituals,” Damian huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thanks Dames,” Wally grins. It’s the closest sign of approval the youngest bat is going to show, so he’ll take it, and the resulting punch to his arm is totally worth it. “But like I said, I need help,” the speedster practically whines.

“You need help asking a question?” Damian scoffs. “It’s not a particularly challenging task, West.”

“It has to be special,” Wally clarifies. “It’s Dick, it has to be,” he adds.

Damian seems to contemplate this. Though the boy is reluctant to admit it, he thinks Dick deserves the best.

“Wally,” Tim calls, grabbing the man’s attention. “You know ‘im best, do what feels right let it be natural.”

Damian hums before adding his own opinion. “Grayson is overly sentimental. He’d want close loved ones present, especially me,” the boy declares, crossing his arms again as if asking Wally to challenge him.

Wally only laughs, but he knows they’re right. Dick’s happiest surrounded by his people but he’d want something casual. “Nothing too big, friends and family dinner,” he tells them, but before he can agree, he’s already sped off.

He ends up choosing the mountain, because a romantic walk on the beach after being proposed to is totally romantic, right? He thinks so at least. He organizes a small causal dinner party, inviting their family and a few mutual friends, , nothing big just like he said. He conveniently left that part out when he told Dick to meet him here. Annoyingly enough, the guest of honor was running late. He had been checking something out for a night time case earlier. He promised Wally he’d be quick, an hour at most. An hour with Dick usually means two, but they’re nearly at three, leaving Dick an hour and a half late. He wasn’t getting anxious, and no Roy, tapping his foot like this is not wearing a hole in the floor, thank you very much.

He’s not worried, no why would he be? It’s not like his idiot boyfriend has a habit of getting himself into trouble or anything.

He’s contemplating if he should call Dick when the zeta tube lights up and announces said idiot’s name. He zips over, arriving just as Dick materialized. What he was expecting was his boyfriend dressed nice and ready to go for “dinner” but instead he’s met with his boyfriend, still clad in his Nightwing uniform, stumbling to his hands and knees while pressing one hand to his side wasn’t what he was hoping for. And the idiot just looks up and smiles at the small crowd of his friends and family and smiles. He freaking smiles. “Oh, hey guys,” he pants.

He’s at the man’s side in an instant. “What happened?” He rushes out while adjusting Dick and helping him to his feet.

“I was shot a little,” his boyfriend informs him, stupid grin never leaving his face despite him letting Wally take most of his weight.

“You were shot…a little?” Wally questions, incoming freak out evident when he notices the blood staining Dick’s fingers.

“No big deal,” the younger man adds, attempting to lazy shrug. Bruce intervenes then, taking Dick’s other side, it’s a good thing too, because once his son is secured against him, he becomes dead weight as his consciousness starts to wane. Wally has no issue carrying Dick, but carrying dead weight is a lot more difficult. They bring him to the medbay and set him down on one of the cots. Bruce immediately examines the side Dick was putting pressure on, opting to cut the suit to get a better look.

“Pierced through the thin Kevlar and went into his side,” Bruce huffs out, “but it’s not deep enough to have hit anything. I can get it out and he’ll need stitches but he’ll be fine,” he adds, realizing that his first statement only worried the speedster. “He only passed out from blood loss and pain.”

Wally nods and moves to help Bruce collect his tools. After setting up an IV with lower grade pain medication and a blood bag, he moves on to the wound. He sterilizes the wound and uses a few shots of local anesthetic to numb the area before easing the shallow bullet out with surgical tweezes. Once the bullets out, he stitches up the narrow wound and bandages it.

Wally releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Bruce finally declares himself finished.

“He’s an idiot,” Wally huffs, running his hands through his hair. “I’m going to ask this idiot to marry me,” he can’t help but laugh.

“He’s your problem now,” Alfred pipes up from the door way, Damian, Jason and Tim at his sides.

“Not quite yet,” Wally points out.

“Not quite yet what?” At the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, Wally lets out a quiet relieved sigh, but when he rounds on the man he just looks pissed.

“You idiot!” He cries. “Do you know how worried you had me? An hour and a half late and then you show up like that!”

Dick at least has the decency to look bashful. “M’sorry Walls, trust me I didn’t mean to,” he offers, smiling up at his boyfriend.

Of course, Wally relents and leans down to press his lips against his boyfriend’s. He had wanted it to be at least semi-romantic, but in that moment no time feels more natural. The words slip out before he can give them a second thought, but he doesn’t regret it. “Marry me, you moron,” he mumbles against the man’s lips.

Dick’s eyes widen and he gently guides Wally back so he can look at the man. “Really?” He whispers.

The speedster pulls back enough to grab the ring box and open it, offering it to the younger man. “Really, Richard Grayson,” he smiles. “Marry me so you can drive me crazy with worry every day of my life.”

Dick lets out a choked laugh before nodding. “Walls, of course,” he exclaims, pulling his now fiancé in for another kiss, politely ignoring the whoops and cheers coming from the small crowd that had gathered at the doorway.

there are just so many things wrong with the new welovefine homestuck body pillows but the one thing i just dont understand is why the hell they wouldn’t go with the unproblematic and completely hilarious aspect of putting dad egbert on a pillowcase? think about it. surface level, it’s humor at its peek. you can just imagine people unironically curling up to this faceless man dressed all in white. on a deeper level, he just makes the most sense??? like, he’s strong as hell which means he’s gotta have muscle. he bakes for his son so you know he’d make dinner for you and he’s always dressed so sharply like a goddamn gentleman. he’s the perfect lover. and, oh yeah, he’s of consenting age and has never thrown his son down a flight of stairs so that’s definitely a plus.

A Slippery Situation

This fic was borne out of a silly conversation with @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash on this post. I hope that I did the idea justice. :)

Summary: Negan eats some questionable soup while working late and encounters an alternate version of himself. This “Other Negan” may be a little older and shorter than him, but he might just have some things to teach Negan about oil wrestling and the love that a man can share for his ruggedly handsome TV clone. 

Word count: 4,301

Warnings: Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, Comic Negan being Comic Negan, submission, domination, anal sex, unsafe sex, oral sex, semen, drugs, mention of incest, mention of masturbation, and oil wrestling! Enjoy!

A Slippery Situation

From the very first spoon-full, Negan knew that the soup tasted funny, but went right ahead with his meal anyway. Hell, most things that came in cans had started to taste funny as they exceeded their best before dates by months and years. Besides this, the Sanctuary’s cooking staff were notoriously terrible at their job, so everything that left their kitchen tended to taste a slightly “off” at best, and barely edible at worst.

“I’ve gotta find some new kitchen bitches like fucking yesterday,” he grumbled to no one in particular as he raised the spoon to his lips and grimaced at the slightly sour taste that invaded his mouth.

The soup was so bad that on another day he probably would have had one of his men bring it back to the kitchen and tear a strip off of whoever was in charge of that night’s meal, but he was far too busy for those kind of shenanigans today. He braved his way nearly to the end of the bowl, trying to fill his empty stomach with the disgusting liquid while actually tasting as little of it as he could manage. He mostly succeeded and only retched once near the end when the soup had begun to cool to room temperature and the taste could no longer be masked by its initial scalding temperatures.

“Fucking good for nothing, lazy asshole fucking, so called fucking cooks. Fuck, fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck!” he exhaled a long sigh of profanity after regaining control of his gag reflex, and pushed the nearly-empty bowl of soup away in disgust.

As he sat alone in his room, going over battle plans in preparation for another day of squabbling with Alexandria, he felt his mind wander back to the god-forsaken soup. Fucking Christ, how he wished he had time to personally march down to the kitchen and force-feed the cold leftovers of his meal to the first member of the staff he laid eyes upon. A tension headache began to gnaw into the centre of his forehead and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, slamming his eyes shut.

“Oh fucking great! Just fucking marvelous! A fucking headache is all I need now…”

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How to Take Care of Your Telepath

part one | part two

Hold his fuckin hand you fuckin wimp. Just do it. Hold his hand-hold-

Castiel sighed and reached over to take Dean’s hand, even though there was a headache behind his eyes making everything twenty times more difficult than normal. 

Oh right, he can hear me. Shit. Man that shit’s easy to forget, okay, Cas? I’m sorry. I suck. I’m not used to having a boyfriend who can read minds and shit. 

“Dean, I can read minds, not communicate back to you,” Castiel replied tiredly. 

“Oh, right, sorry.” Dean’s cheeks turned red and Castiel could feel his palm starting to sweat. “You okay? You seem moody.” 

“I am not moody,” he growled as they continued to walk around after their fourth date. Dean had taken him to dinner and now they were just enjoying the nice weather. 

Sheesh, gotta be all snippy? Fine. 

Castiel groaned, pulled out of Dean’s grasp, and walked away from him to sit on a bench. Okay, so maybe he was a little moody, but the headache was killing him, and people needed to learn to shut the hell up

All day he’d been surrounded by thoughts because his head wouldn’t get its shit together enough to shut it all out. The park was mostly empty, so the only thoughts he had were Dean’s, his own, and the occasional one from the couple across the pond, but they were too far away to get much of anything. It was mostly white noise. 

Dean remained where he’d left him, looking unsure and lost. 

Maybe I should go talk to him or maybe I should just leave him alone- Man I don’t know, dating is hard. This is why I don’t date people, they get all GRR and then I’m just like ?? and then I’m like sad and shit… Fuck. 

Castiel smirked a little and ran a hand over his face. There were days when he would have traded anything to be normal, and today was definitely one of those days. 

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