Scotty B.

And the tapes over time show him getting progressively older over time,

he shows them the beach or “human enclosure” marvelling at the technology that makes it possible for him to live on the planet,

Nerding out over all the new bacterium that have adapted to this planets environment and staking naming rights because he “saved the planet and all”

Sending videos of his classes with all the pebbles

Grace getting all excited at the camera because he’s able to document how exactly the gravity of the planet is causing his joints to deteriorate faster than they should have, as well as how the gravity is affecting his other systems (at least that’s what Armando says)

Also him picking up guitar or something because he can’t really walk around anymore or just is really bored, imagine a recording of an older him just singing, I’m thinking ‘spin the wheel’ from arcane (pretend arcane doesn’t exist in universe or grace is just a huge arcane fan)

And a final shitty recording of the eridians trying to use the camera but not quite sure how to use it, Rylands funeral recording makes it to earth

Rocky or Adrian figures out how to use the camera properly, the recordings continue for up to a hundred more years

Edit: another small idea, earth sends things to grace, he complains about not having access to potatoes or some type of clothing or something and 13-15 years later a small shuttle lands on tau ceti, its full of a bunch of graces old things and foodstuffs that increases the food he has available

maybe (if you wanna get poetic/ fanfic-esk) recordings of his old students (so much older, when did they get that tall?) thanking him,

his fellow coworkers from the school making a small video of what has changed around the school,

Imagine, after decades of your world becoming colder and colder, you are saved. A single Eridian, the only one of twenty three to survive, arrives in an alien ship, accompanied by a creature you can barely conceive.

Everything about the alien is so loud, hinges formed from tissue thumping and stretching in constant movement, even while unconscious. Completely organic, reliant of oxygen and hydrogen. Instead of a protective carapace, it regrows its damaged tissues. It has senses you do not, and technology so unlike your own, both able to utilise a force you have never heard of. The same force that killed almost your entire mission team. Highly adaptable, able to teach itself how to fly its ship in under a week, able to become fluent in the engineer's dialect in less than four years.

And if Erid's best engineer is correct (and there's no reason it wouldn't be), this creature not only managed to breed a predator of the warmth-taker to survive in various atmospheres, including Threeworld's, but also turned around to provide aid when it discovered that the predator could escape xenonite.

And you think: Surely, this creature which protects itself without a carapace, which sleeps so lightly and knows so much and learns so quickly, which saved two planets at the cost of ever returning to its thrum, surely, a creature so extraordinary must have a name to match

And you think: Perhaps it is strength, Mountain-Base or Lonsdaleite-Carapace. Perhaps it is intellect, Diamond-Claw or Lockpick-Mind. Perhaps it is courage, Song-Through-Silence or Path-Carver

And you think: None of these names hold the true weight of what this creature is to them. How do you describe something like that, which aids without expectation of anything in return, which risks its own life for the sake of a species it cannot touch, which performs miracles simply because it was asked.

Damian: Oh, for Pete's sake! Fenton! Stop it! It's just a salad! You do not have to retch every time you have some! Especially in the school cafeteria! It's gross!

Danny startled: Oh sorry, Mr. Wayne, I didn't mean bother you.

Damian: Tsk. Don't call me Mr. Wayne, we are the same age. Now, what seems to be the problem? Why must you make that noise every time you eat a salad?

Danny: I'm sorry, I don't know why I do that, but every time I try to be healthy, I just gag. My mom says it because I'm a picky eater, and I just have to force myself-

Damian: Your mother is a fool. Forcing yourself to eat something that causes such a repulsive reaction means something else is obviously at play and not you being picky. What part of the salad makes you react?

Danny: *Frog blink*

Damian: Fenton!

Danny: Oh-sorry- the lettuce?

Damian: Are you allergic?

Danny: I don't think so.

Damian: You don't think so? This means you had never had a professional check to be sure, does it not?

Danny: Um-

Damian: I know a free clinic that will test you. If you are not allergic, then it's likely a texture issue or something psychological. Whatever the reason, no more forcing yourself to eat it. Do you understand?

Danny: Um-

Damian: *Slams hand on table* Do. You. Understand?

Danny: But....the salad is all I can afford off the Academy menu and we aren't allowed to bring outside food.

Damian: No matter. I will purchase your meals from now on.

Danny: What!? I can't accept that! I don't want to take advantage!

Damian: Hmmmm so your sense of justice and pride are a issue? Then do something for me in exchange for the meals.

Danny wary: What is it?

Damian: The animal shelter need more volunteers. They do not have enough funds to hire someone full time but the animals are the ones suffering for it and I will not stand it. You will accompany me to the shelter everyday of the week to help out in exchange for five meals out of the week. Do we have an accord?

Danny: *frog blink*

Damian: FENTON

Danny: Yes! Yes, ugh, yes I can do that.

Damian: Good. Now, let's get you some lunch that wont make you sick. Up, pretty boy.

Damian: This is Daniel Fenton. He is the other volunteer at the Wayne Animal Home and Gotham Animal shelter.

Tim: Wait- you volunteer at both locations? What was the point of buying out Pete's Hospital if you still split your time between it and the Gotham Animal Shelter? Also, why haven't you bought it too? I know Bruce increased your allowance.

Damian through grit teeth: The city won't sell it to me.

Danny gently patting his shoulder: It's okay. They listen to all your requests since you've been funding them. You practically own them already. Only you're more like a silent partner.

Damian relaxing: I do handle all purchases and employees' income.

Danny: Yeah!

Damian: Thank you Daniel, you always know what to say to lift my spirits and help calm my mind.

Tim backing up: WITCHCRAFT

Damian: Be silent fool.

Danny: *Stomach growl* Oh sorry that's embarrassing I-

Damian pulling out a container of fruit from his bag: Snack time.

Danny: Yes, grapes!! :D

Damian smiling: I could feed them to you so you can play your video games.

Dick appearing from a vent: Excuse me, is this a boyfriend?

Damian: No. Also, Father, Todd, Brown, Thomas, and Cain get out of the vents! Stop spying on Daniel. He can sense you.

Danny: It's true. I realized you were in there the moment I walked through the front door. But dont worry, my family is a little odd too. My mom brings food to life, and my dad fishes the dead souls on the weekends.

Damian: As one does.

Danny: Quite.

Bruce crawling out from a bottom vent: It's lovely to meet one of Damian's friends! How did you meet?

Danny: He feeds me

Jason jumping down from the ceiling: How all true friendships begin.

Damian: I intend to marry Daniel into the family. But I do not fancy boys so....Daniel pick one.

Danny: Im good with just the grapes. Besides I'm too young for marriage

Damian: I understand. We will revisit this conversation when we are legal adults.

Bruce: You will not :D

Damian: I recommend Drake. He will be the easiest to manage in marriage.

Barbara Gordon, ever the pragmatist, was already wheeling herself toward the Batcomputer’s secondary terminal in the study, her fingers flying across a holoscreen she’d pulled up. “Okay, Red Robin’s algorithms for tracking city-wide power grids can be modified to track adoption rates, veterinary needs, and shelter capacities along the Eastern Seaboard. I’ll need to create a secure, non-criminal database for potential adopters. Damian, I’ll need your ‘vetting’ files.”

Damian, cradling a trio of squeaking Chihuahua puppies, nodded imperiously. “I will have them sent to you. Do not disappoint me, Gordon.”

Bruce opened his mouth to protest the use of Justice League-level technology for a canine census, but the words died in his throat. What was the alternative?

Jason Todd was leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, a wide, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “So let me get this straight. The big, bad Bat is being taken down by the SPCA. I love it.” He pushed off the frame and cracked his knuckles. “But yeah, demon brat, I know a few guys who know a few guys who run those sick puppy mills out in the Bowery. We’ll pay ‘em a visit. Artemis?”

The Amazon hefted her axe onto her shoulder. “A hunt for cowards who harm the helpless? It is a worthy quest.” Bizarro, carefully stroking a geriatric greyhound with one massive finger, looked up.

“Bizarro will not smash?” he asked, his voice a hopeful rumble.

“No smashing,” Jason said, clapping him on the back. “Just… persuasive talking.”

As Jason’s crew vanished back into the secret passage, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. He was officially sanctioning vigilante action against illegal dog breeders. The Justice League charter definitely did not cover this.

Duke Thomas, with the newborn puppy now cuddled safely in the crook of his neck, was organizing a feeding line with military precision, directing a wide-eyed Cassandra, who was somehow holding six bottles of formula at once. Stephanie Brown was on the floor, Sir Reggie the three-legged cat already purring in her lap as she fitted him with a tiny, wheeled harness she’d apparently engineered from spare parts in her belt.

“Look, B! He’s a tripod! Get it? Tripod!” she beamed.

Bruce could only groan. The puns had started. It was truly over.

It was then that a new sound cut through the din: the familiar, heavy thud of boots from the direction of the Cave. A moment later, Clark Kent, still in his Superman suit, emerged into the library, a look of mild panic on his face.

“Bruce, I’m sorry to just drop in, but have you seen Jon? He missed dinner and Lois is—whoa.” Clark stopped dead, his sentence evaporating as he took in the scene. His eyes scanned the room: Dick trying to find a quiet corner for a comatose Tim, Duke and Cass bottle-feeding a dozen squirming puppies, Damian holding court from a throne of kibble bags, and Alfred calmly preparing a tea tray as if the manor hosted a petting zoo twice a week.

Clark’s gaze finally landed on Bruce. “Is… everything alright?”

“Kal-El!” Damian announced, commandeering the conversation. “Your son has been an adequate, if emotionally volatile, asset. He is currently conducting aerial reconnaissance to identify the most ethically run no-kill shelters in a tri-state area for the next transfer.”

Clark blinked slowly. “He’s… what?”

“He’s finding homes for the dogs, Clark,” Bruce translated, his voice flat and drained of all emotion. “Damian emptied a shelter in Texas.”

“Several shelters,” Damian corrected. “The term ’emptied’ is imprecise. We prioritized the most vulnerable: the elderly, the infirm, the mothers with newborns, and those on the proverbial ‘list’. It was a tactical extraction.”

Clark’s expression shifted from confusion to dawning understanding, then to something soft and unbearably proud. A smile touched his lips. “He… he did that?”

“He fainted during a live birth at thirty thousand feet,” Damian supplied helpfully.

“He did that,” Clark repeated, his voice full of wonder. He looked at Bruce. “And you’re… helping?”

Bruce was saved from answering by the distant thwip of a grapple and the subsequent sound of a window opening on the second floor. A moment later, Jon Kent floated down into the grand room, landing gently beside his father. He was slightly grubby, had a few stray hairs on his suit, and was beaming with exhilaration.

“Dad! You’ll never believe it! We rescued so many! And I found a home for a whole litter of beagle mixes in Keystone City! The lady cried, she was so happy! And Lucy is amazing, she and Krypto are playing tag!” He finally noticed the room’s other occupants and Bruce’s thunderous expression. His excitement dimmed slightly. “Uh. Hi, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce looked from Clark’s paternal pride to Jon’s hopeful, grimy face, to Damian’s defiant posture, and finally to the rest of his children, who had all stopped to watch the showdown. He saw Stephanie protectively holding Sir Reggie, saw Cass gently nuzzling a kitten, saw Dick’s hand resting protectively on Tim’s shoulder even in sleep.

He saw the whole, ridiculous, impossible picture.

He had wished for Damian to develop empathy. He hadn’t specified a scale. This was, unequivocally, his fault.

With a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Bruce Wayne surrendered.

“Alfred,” he said, his voice weary but clear.

“Yes, sir?”

“Cancel my appointments for the week. And call the company that installed the hanger bay doors. Tell them we need to install the largest, most efficient doggy door in human history.”

A slow smile spread across Alfred’s face. “Very good, sir.”

A chorus of cheers, barks, and meows erupted. Jon whooped and flew a loop-the-loop in the high ceiling. Damian’s stern composure broke for a single, fleeting second, revealing a sliver of triumphant joy.

As Clark clapped a hand on his shoulder, Bruce finally accepted the aspirin bottle from Alfred. He dry-swallowed two pills.

“You know,” Clark said softly, his eyes twinkling. “For a man who’s just been defeated, you look like you won something pretty great.”

Bruce watched as Damian, for the first time all night, stopped giving orders and simply sat on the floor, letting a brave, one-eared terrier mix climb into his lap. The boy’s hand came up, hesitant at first, then sure, to stroke the dog’s head.

Bruce looked at his son, then at the chaotic, living evidence of his capacity for compassion, and gave a single, slow nod.

Danny joins Young Justice (how idk but I would guess chaos) and due to being in constant excessive danger due to all the ghosts, hunters, and his previous home security, tends not to notice things below a certain danger level.

Example:

Danny: *walks over a trip wire, around a pressure plate, ducks under a laser, and continues on completely oblivious*

YJ member behind him: *trips on the wire, causes a cascade of activated traps and barely makes it out* phantom! Why didn’t you tell me about the trip wire?!

Phantom: There was a trip wire???? *genuine confusion*

M’gann: I can tell you are genuinely confused but how did you miss the wire? *baffled*

The secret facility that I work in has holes in the ceiling. We don't know how to get them fixed.

We tried asking the government to fix it, once. We told them that the holes in the older parts of the facility had gotten large enough to fit birds through, and that birds were getting through, and that, perhaps, a Soviet Spy could fit through as well.

After all, it is well known that Soviet Spies and pigeons are approximately the same diameter.

Cue Stiles- Hyper Fixation, Pack Mom- Stilinski taking it on himself to make her feel beautiful. He studies makeup tutorials and YouTube videos. Takes classes for braiding hair. Learns color theory so he can mix and match outfits.

Derek walks in on him one day as he’s trying out different colors of nail polish on himself and the alpha raises his eyebrows in question. Stiles tells him everything, not really expecting a reaction. Derek has been much better with the betas these last few years, the pack becoming closer ever since they rescued Boyd and Erica from the vault but none of them are very good at the emotional stuff. So Stiles is surprised when Derek digs into his pocket and hands him his credit card. “What’s this for Sourwolf?”

“Once you pick a color, she’ll need a matching dress and shoes.” Derek says with a shrug and Stiles’ heart melts. “Buy her a few. I’ve always liked her in yellow.” The alpha is gone before he can think of a response.

It becomes a thing. Erica starting to wear sundresses. Stiles doing her makeup whenever Boyd takes her out. On pack nights, Erica will sit between his legs on the floor while he sits on the couch and braids her hair while the movie plays on. Peter will give her an approving look every now and again and Isaac will say he has the prettiest sister in a not so mocking tone.

Derek will hand her a little jewelry box on random days. Soft pink flower earrings. Delicate gold and silver necklaces. A string of pearls on her birthday. He never says anything to her but she hugs him tightly, tears in her eyes whenever she pulls away from her alpha.

She does also get her black skinny jeans and leather jacket. She doesn’t fall into pastels but she has the option now. Some days she dresses like Stiles’ Cat Woman and other days she feels comfortable enough to wear her dresses and she’s glowing in all of it.

Where Stiles actually does what Derek tells him to do and Derek absolutely hates it. It's a surprisingly versatile trope.

1. Imagine the pack is infiltrated by a shapeshifter. Not only can it look like anyone, it can copy their scent, too. At some point, Derek tells Stiles, "It's too dangerous. Stay in the car." And Stiles just fucking does. Immediately, Derek is dragging him out by the neck, demanding to know where the real Stiles is because "Stiles would never 'stay in the car'. Especially if it was dangerous."

2. Or imagine Stiles is just not having a very good day and during a typical argument at a pack meeting Derek says "If you don't like it, you can just leave." Stiles thinks to himself I don't have to put up with this and walks out the door, leaving a stunned Derek behind.

Later Derek shows up in Stiles' room asking, "Why did you leave?"

"Um, because you fucking told me to?"

"Yeah, but I didn't really want you to go."

"Wha-? Then why the hell did you tell me to leave?!"

"Because you never do what I tell you to! I didn't think you'd actually leave! I thought you'd fight me on it like you fight me on everything!"

"So, you really want me at pack meetings?"

"Of course, I want you there."

"Are you sure? I'm just going to disagree with everything you say."

"I know," Derek says quietly, "That's why I want you there."

3. OR! Imagine that after dealing with the Nogitsune, Stiles stops talking. Not completely, he'll answer questions or relay information about cases, but he doesn't ramble. He doesn't yammer or rant. He doesn't get passionate anymore.

And it absolutely destroys Derek inside, because, as annoying as he could be sometimes, when Stiles talked, he was animated. He was excited and full of life.

It reminds him of the dead quiet after the fire. A whole house of bustling people, suddenly hushed. It's a silence so loud it makes his ears ache. It honestly hurts.

Derek sneaks into Stiles' room one night to confront him about it when it gets to be too much.

"Talk."

"What?"

"Talk. I need you to talk to me."

"About...what?"

"Anything. It doesn't matter. Tell me about your day. Tell me about what you ate this morning. I don't care, just talk."

"Why?"

"You've been too quiet, lately. It's driving me crazy."

Stiles huffs. "You're the one that's always telling me to shut up. I would've thought that you'd be overjoyed."

Derek scowls hard, shaking his head. "It's too quiet. I can't stand it. I just...tell me something I don't know...Please."

Stiles bites at his lip, hesitant and unsure, before opening his mouth. "Um...I...I was thinking of getting new shoes lately?"

Derek nods, trying for encouraging. A tenseness in the muscles of his chest slowly begins to loosen. "Tell me about that."

"Uh...okay."

They sit there across from each other. Derek continuing to ask questions about Stiles' life. About what movies he's seen, what books he's read, what college he's looking into.

As he continues to talk, Stiles slowly grows more earnest as he starts talking about anything other than the past year, becoming more at ease as he notices his rapt audience. Derek thinks that maybe Stiles has missed speaking to another person too.

Sometimes Issac and Boyd will join them but they are more like reserved members.

It starts as a joke within Beacon Hills becuase icons obvs. They are generally untouchable. But then when another pack pass through Beacon Hils and catches wind of the “council” and they realize it’s made up of

1. The alpha mate, who is a legendary spark, son of the sheriff

2. The mate of the alphas sister, who is a banshee

3. The enforcer of the Hale pack who is also mated to the second of the Hale pack.

And they freak. The introduce themselves to the “Hale alpha and Council”. And literally no one corrects them. And when hunters come, they watch as the council plan and fight like it’s war. They see magic that shouldn’t be possible. When they leave they thank the goddess that they are allies with the Hale pack.

So the tale of the council spreads. Other packs start reaching out for the council. And they grow ever more famous.

But as it is, a far more traditional alpha comes looking for the legends. One that gives no heed to the warnings, who doesn’t believe in them. He is met with a trio.

On the right stands another wolf, with blonde curls and a feral smirk. One with just to much teeth. Claws out. The alpha swears he can hear and smell blood drip off of them. His blood. But he isn’t injured. That doesn’t stop the feeling of pain like she’s already gutted him.

On the left stands another girl. Hair as red as blood on a corpse. Sickeningly vivid green eyes. Wearing a face of displeasure, pursed lips. The alpha thinks he hears her whisper but her mouth is firmly closed. But the sounds remain like cold dirt on his skin, sounds of people long dead. Figures seem to appear in the corner of his eyes the longer he looks at her. Hands that aren’t there grab at him.

And last is the boy who stands in the middle. A completely black bat resting in his hand. It’s covered in glowing runes that seem to have a life of their own. Standing unnaturally still but seeming to sway in place, like he was folding into reality itself. An unnatural halo of golden eyes that can see into his soul.

The alpha raises his hand, whether in an act of self defence or aggression. It doesn't matter, he is never heard from again.

Those who do make enemies of the Hale pack always beg for anyone but the council.

You all probably already know this, but honestly, I might be more obsessed with Vox’s headless corpse than Alastor is 😇

The comic below includes NSFW dialogue— if that’s a problem, I’ll remove it!

Hazbin Hotel Season 2 Text Post Memes