#Anyway here you go

[voiddragoncat]

I’m back again with more fanart for Send It Through The Coral Mail! Chapter 4 was so good graaaaa

I couldn’t settle on how I wanted to draw ENA stuck in the mess of wires, so it just looks different in each picture :P

[seleneprince]

Snippet of my Neglected! Family x Yandere! Batfam au (I really need to find a name for this au already)

Wife! Darling has known of the Batcave's existence for years already, and so do her children.

She found out by pure accident. Her oldest daughter was doing her usual computer stuff she didn't understand, and said she found a weird signal coming from under the manor, in the underground...only they didn't know there was anything down there, not even a basement. Alfred never mentioned it.

The girl went to check, tracing the mysterious signal with her phone, and found a hidden compartment behind the pendulum clock. Before her mother could tell her to stop, she went down there.

Cue to Wife! Darling following her daughter to make sure she didn't get in trouble or hurt herself, because who knew if Batman even bothered with basic security measures for his vigilante stuff. From what she's seen of him as Bruce Wayne, she doubted it.

And that's how they found the Batcave. By the time Alfred found out and met them there, the daughter had already tinkered with half the equipment and replicated part of the Batcomputer's code in her tablet for fun, while her mother explored the whole place with a critical eye. Alfred expected them to be angry, to ask a lot of questions, but instead:

Wife! Darling!: "Who takes care of this place?"

Alfred: "Mostly me, Mistress (Name)."

Wife! Darling squinted her eyes, gaze darkening: "Just you? Does no one help you?"

Alfred: "It's part of my job, Mistress (Name). Don't worry, I can handle it perfectly well on my own."

She scoffed. "Well, this has to change. You're just one man, Alfred, and you're not getting younger with the years. The fact that they let you do so much already by yourself is infuriating, and you also have to clean after their crime-fighting bullshit? The nerve. I'll take care of this from now on"

Alfred blinked: "Mistress (Name), I can't possibly ask you that. You already help me more than enough around the house-"

Wife! Darling: "Nonsense, Alfred. You do way too much already. At this rate, it'll only affect your health for worse. I live here too now, so technically it's also my responsibility."

And that's how she ends up handling the maintenance of the Batcave along with Alfred, even taking over his tasks entirely. She starts off with the excuse of helping him, which it's true, but eventually she always takes care everything so the man has no option but rest.

And because she's such a perfectionist, she doesn't spare any efforts in the task. Cleans all the surfaces, fixes the suits, rearranges the weapons after cleaning them and creates a system to organize their gadgets so they're much easier to find. Even the Batmobile is left spotless, inside and outside. She goes as far to feed some of the bats casually roaming around the edges of the cave.

(And if her kids had naps inside the batmobile sometimes when they were down there, only she and Alfred are witnesses. Well, the bats too, but they're not snitching)

This way she takes some work off Alfred's shoulders. She finds it enraging that a man his age has such a heavy load of work with little to no help, so she takes over some of the house chores for him so he can have breaks. Plus, it helps her unwind and relax a bit from her usually stress-fuelled life.

She also begins to leave snarky notes about the shameful state of their gear when she finds it in particularly bad shape. And feels even worse that Alfred has had to take care of all of this at his age until she came.

"This blade is duller than your sense of self-awareness. Fix it"

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up"

"If you die in this crusty suit, I’m not cleaning your corpse"

"Are you fighting villains or rolling in garbage?"

Seriously, the richest man in Gotham can't even afford a bit more of staff? But of course, she reminds herself he's the same man who forgot to use protection when fucking a random woman, so she shouldn't expect too much from him.

To avoid uncomfortable encounters, she specifically schedules her cleaning times for when the whole team is out, so she can work peacefully without being having to be in the same room as them. So far, it goes well. Alfred even warns her when they're coming back, and the Batcave is actually a pretty nice place to enjoy time for yourself when it's empty. Just the beeping of the computers as background noise, or her children messing around when they go down there to do their things.

It becomes part of her routine, one she even looks forward too during the day. Until one day.

The Batcave has been left spotless, as usual. Weapons polished. Suits lined up by height and damage level. Even the Batmobile has that new-car shimmer. It smells faintly of citrus-scented cleaning spray and frustration. There are also four sticky notes scattered across the table already, complaining about the state of their things again.

She is crouched near the weapon rack, holding the Batman suit with one gloved hand and a lint roller in the other, glaring at it like it personally offended her.

She mutters under her breath in Spanish, something about how "ni siquiera una máquina de coser podría salvar este desastre de traje, Dios mío." (Not even a sewing machine could save this disaster of a suit, my godness)

She’s in sweats, hair tied back in a messy bun. An apron over her tank top that says "KISS THE COOK (or don’t, I’ll stab you)". She's so deep in the cleaning zone she doesn’t hear the footsteps.

"Well, this is a surprise. I could get used to this."

Her entire body freezes. It feels like her blood turned ice in her veins instantly with the voice. That irritating, familiar voice.

Her head turns slowly, and there he is. Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Her husband in paper, father of her first child, owner of this cave, and responsible for half of the stress she deals with.

She could be annoyed or even embarrassed that he caught her like this, handling his suit no less. But instead, her mind is focused on what he said, and the tone in which he said it.

She arches a brow at him.

"Excuse me?"

He steps closer, clearly taking note of her work there. His eyes drifting to the Batmobile, the weapons, all she's taken care of already.

Bruce: "Me, coming back from work to find you cleaning my stuff. It’s so… domestic. It’s almost like we’re a married couple."

There’s a beat. A dangerous silence.

She blinks at him. Once. Twice. Processing the fact that he really said that. Out loud. To her. And in a completely serious tone.

Then he looks at her, and she notices the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Oh, that filthy little-

Her eye twitches.

Wife! Darling: "...........Oh, absolutely."

WHACK.

She chucks a batarang at his head with a speed and accuracy that would’ve made Deadshot whistle. He barely ducks, and it slams into the metal behind him with a THUNK so loud the Batcomputer flinches and some bats burst out from their spots.

Bruce: "That could’ve taken my eye out."

Wife! Darling:"I was hoping so."

He stares at her, and then shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle. A chuckle. Since when is this man capable of that? Before she gets her answer, he pulls out the batarang with ease and places it back on the rack (Good, she would've murdered him for real if he left it anywhere else).

Bruce: "I meant it. I think I like this sight of you. Suits you well. You look like the ideal housewife."

Without looking, she reaches for another batarang and throws it at him. This time, he catches it mid-air, cool as ever, before setting it down on the table like he isn’t one second away from getting stabbed.

Bruce: "Was that really necessary?"

Wife! Darling: "It was either that or shoot you. You're lucky I'm generous today."

He watches her, barely concealing his amusement now, but there’s something else in his expression too, something he's never had when looking at her: Curiosity.

She doesn't like it.

Unbothered, as if he didn't just activate her kill switch, he starts to walk to the table and peels off one of the sticky notes, reading it aloud with a deadpan tone.

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up."

Bruce: "You know I beat the shit out of people in this suit, right?"

She replies without sparing him a glance, wiping down a grappling gun with unholy aggression: "Yeah? Well, do it without staining it with their blood. You look like Gotham’s dirtiest raccoon."

He leans against the Batcomputer, arms folded. "How long have you been doing this, exactly?"

She scoffs, going back to adjusting the suit like she isn’t being interrogated. "Long enough to know that you leave your weapons in a shameful state. Honestly, it’s a miracle your stupid gadgets still function. Do you ever bother to maintain your own things, or do you just throw them around and hope Alfred fixes it?"

He watches her for a moment longer before finally speaking.

"And you’re doing this because...?"

"Because unlike some people in this godforsaken house, I actually care when an old man is running himself ragged taking care of things that none of you seem to appreciate."

Bruce pauses. He glances at the Batmobile, cleaner than it’s ever been. At his weapons, neatly arranged, polished, functional.

At the post-it notes stuck to the Batcomputer, scrawled in Rosa’s angry handwriting.

He actually huffs a quiet laugh. Again. It's unsettling her.

Then, almost as an afterthought, she mutters, "Besides, if you die because your equipment fails, it’s only a matter of time before you try to drag me into this circus. And I refuse to wear spandex."

He raises an eyebrow. "You’d look good in spandex."

Silence.

She throws the batarang at him again. This time, it actually clips his shoulder.

"Go get that treated before you stain anything, or I'll wipe the floors next with your face."

.......................

...........

Suddenly, Bruce starts to "casually" come to the cave early more often.

Now she has to adjust her schedule AGAIN to avoid him. And in the meantime, her children start betting on how many batarangs it takes before Bruce gets critically injured. Or dead.

[lonely-night]

Voyager Week Day 3: Favorite Relationship

Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine

[walkingstackofbooks]

So I was just thinking of posting something glib along the lines of "How about Garak as part of Julian's found family rather than his love interest?" but then I started actually thinking about how that would work and immediately stumbled across the issue of Daddy Issues Everywhere--

And now I can't stop thinking about, like, Julian meeting this older lizard man who seems genuinely interested him and seeing him as a father figure, and whatnot.

But the trouble is, it seems that I cannot conceive of a universe where Julian is never attracted to Garak, and so you get this situation like a year in, where Julian's convinced that Garak's interest in him is fatherly - he asks how his work's been; he mentors him a little in spycraft, kind of; he takes him on family day trips to random Bajoran orphanages in the middle of the night...

And suddenly Julian realises he's got a crush on Garak. Like, a big one. And he's so ashamed of himself and freaking out and feeling like 'oh my god, Garak can never know, I can only imagine how taboo that is on Cardassia, oh no, this is The Worst'.

And meanwhile Garak is completely oblivious to this, because he believes he's had a lovely year of flirty lunches with his doctor and has no idea that Julian sees him as a father figure.

Idk how this resolves, but I'm sure Jadzia would have an absolute field day after Julian gets drunk enough to miserably confess his dilemma to her.

(Also I'm pretty sure Julian does not have a daddy kink in this, which actually makes it worse for him, because if he had a kink, at least he'd have an excuse. He's just so miserable. I'm sorry, I can't stop laughing at him rip 😅)

[leupagus]

Working Title: Grumpy Old Man

Inspired by this excellent post:

He sees her on the playground, of all places. First time he's pretty sure he hallucinates her, pushing a little mini-me version of herself on the swings with her hair in a messy ponytail and arguing with someone on the phone. She's gone grey in the fifteen years since he's seen her last, but she still stands straight and tall like a dancer, still has that dimple on her cheek that had scrambled his brain more times than he could count back in the day.

By the time Jack's confident that she's actually real, they're long gone and Theresa is tugging at his pant leg, demanding uppies and also an ice cream.

"Your mom won't be too happy about that," he warns her even as he swings her up onto his shoulders, the move natural now with almost three months of practice — ever since he'd gotten the call in April, Ingrid barely able to get the words out: Dad, he's gone. He's gone and what are we going to do? "She said no sweets until after dinner."

"Ice cream anna cookie, Grampa," she bargains, fisting her little hands in his hair to steer him toward the ice cream truck like she's an oversized rat hauling him around a fancy restaurant kitchen. He's gotten used to it, though he suspects there's always going to be a part of him terrified that one day she's going to yank him right into traffic and Ingrid will dig up his corpse just to kill him all over again.

(That's all that had kept him from stepping off the roof on his bad days; kept him from unlocking the gun safe in his closet, kept him from the knives and the pills and the dozen other ways he knew he could've ended it quick and clean and painless. Eventually his bad days had faded into the sort of bad day that most people bitch about to their friends or their families, and he didn't have to hold onto his daughter as his one reason for living. But it had been a long few years of that, teetering so close to the edge that tripping had felt like relief.)

-

The next time he sees her at the playground, she sees him first. "Dr. Abbot?" The voice is hesitant, puzzled, and immediately familiar.

She's wearing an oversized sweater-dress and achingly practical boots, her daughter perched on one hip and clapping arrhythmically to a song only she can hear. Jack gets up from the bench after glancing over at the sandpit — Theresa is still engaged in her battle with some kids that look straight out of a remake of Children of the Corn, but she can take them easy — and tries not to read too much into the broad smile on her face as she realizes it is, in fact, him.

"Long time, no see," he says, and she laughs.

"No kidding. You're — how are you?"

"I'm good. And you—" he bites off you look good and gestures at the little girl, who's arching her back in an almost perfect semi-circle now, the universal sign for any kid who wants to be set down. Her mother obeys and the girl takes off like a shot for the slide, still clapping. "Congratulations on," and he makes a vague gesture that he hopes conveys getting knocked up at some point and having a kid with the same cute nose as you have.

"Oh, I just stole her from some mom who wasn't paying attention over at the Baby Gap. Kidding," she adds, as if that little girl could be anyone else's.

"What's her name?"

"Diana. Her father’s idea — he’s big into Wonder Woman — but it’s grown on me.”

“Oh,” he says, and is aware that his voice got pretty high just then. He’s almost sixty-three goddamn years old, this isn’t acceptable. “Congratulations on that, too.”

“Mm,” she says, considering, “probably better to congratulate me on the divorce. But thanks. I can’t pretend I regret it, since I got little Beanie out of the deal.” She watches her daughter for a little while before looking around. “And are you… um. Is one of these—”

Jack abruptly realizes how it looks — an old guy sitting on a bench in the middle of a playground — and says hurriedly, "Yeah, the one in the sandbox over there. My granddaughter."

She turns and frowns. "Which one?"

Just then Theresa scrambles to her feet, holding something aloft. “GRAMPA WE FOUND A POOP,” she bellows. “GRAMPA IT’S STINKY.”

“That one,” he says, blowing out a sigh. “That one’s mine.”

[st4rry4pples]

stayed up way too late making this so i'll leave it here and decide if i hate it when i wake up

[ant1quar1an]

i give frost-infection AU art:

papyrus: "S-SANS- IT'S- C-COLD."

sans, voice shaking: "i know paps, i know."

he's also. not a dust technically but also technically a dust

also feel free to ask about him, or ask him or papyrus questions

[egginfroggin]

Braviary's Wardens aren't available right now, come back later

I just think that Sabi and Emmet deserve to have a little nap right now, so here they are having a nap in Braviary's nest :>

(program: krita; time: about 50 minutes)

[captain-h0pe]

Symphony in crimson from @cyten0

[mossfrogandratmushroom]

[theislandoflosttoys]

Red my beloved! 💖

The way I am on my knees for this man is unfair🧎‍♀️🙏😭

[harpoonsnotspoons]

Nice shot, Juno

[thatdarnchatnoir]

Feeling Protective

[lonely-night]

Voyager Week Day 5: Favorite Quote

6.09 “The Voyager Conspiracy”

[good-to-drive]

Paul’s reflection was like a film strip cast onto empty, black air, and he watched it, spellbound, wondering who exactly had created that shimmering image.

An encounter with John in front of a mirror brings up strange feelings for Paul about image, reflections, and the parts that usually go unreflected.

[freebee303]

Dog, I’ve got way too many fics in progress, I think the only ones I am certain I want to do are numbers 1, 2, 3, and 5 because it’s been five years since I started writing them with a lot of delay, but 4 and 7 are ones I write when I’m procrastinating the others so… yeah. Anyway here they are 🤙

The Weight We Carry - The Hobbit Fic, Frerin and Dis join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

Heart of Stone - The Hobbit/LOTR crossover kinda? Continuation of The Weight We Carry (TWWC).

Unnamed LOTR fic - Final Part to the previous two stories.

Star Crossed Defiance - The Hobbit Time Travel Fic, yes of course I had to make one and yeah I’ll probably give you guys the first chapter here too cause I like it.

Tags of the Lost - Modern Hobbit/LOTR crossover fic, it’s got a lot of layers but mostly old men yaoi, Miraculous Ladybug type “YOURE DATING THEIR UNCLE!” Kinda screaming at the screen most of the time, starts off chill then gets intense 🥳👹

Unnamed Band AU - The Hobbit maybe LOTR Modern AU, it’s not a fic, maybe it will be one day but it’s a project my girlfriend and I are working on, might start next year.

Unnamed Modern AU - it’s the most recent one I’ve been posting about, Bilbo is hired to look after young Fili and Kili in their families Palace and accidentally falls in love with the King.