#Shush Timber go back to drawing

[timberalone]

I made my former chef love Medic (Kinda)

I think, I should not keep the story to myself, because this was hilarious and kind of wholesome. Little background: I visited a program where people who are mentally ill get ready for "the work world". I was asked to make a food pyramid and boy I did. I made the grafic stuff all by myself and even wrote some tips about eating healthy and all that on the big paper. But then I realized that the paper looked pretty empty and the text I wrote looks bland. And what did I do? I drew two pictures of Medic and put it on there.

Then when I was ready, I showed my chef. She was a really nice woman and I still send her e-mails to this day, checking how shes been. Anyways she complimented it and then spotted my drawings (it was really no secret that i would take any oppertunity drawing stuff of everything) and she said: "Der sieht ja gut aus. Sehr schicke Frisur" (He looks handsome. Really nice haircut). With no more words, she just took out her phone really grinnng and took a picture of it. She didnt even photographed the pyramid :'D I really had to hold back so I wont start laughing. ANYWAYS here are those two drawings I did and I have to think about this story sometimes.

I dont really liked how they turned ou, but the story out of it was fun. The food pyramid probably still hangs in the cafeteria of this company lol

[ironandglass]

pst *take of hoodie and sunglasses* I heard request were open for silco.....can I get some headcanons for silco smoking around the reader? maybe even blowing it into their face? ..... or mouth?

*Looks left and right before gesturing you inside.* “You’ve come to the right place.”

Silco X GenderNeutral!Reader short

TW for smoking, power dynamics, power imbalance, violence, and I guess technically non consensual touch.

Look, it honestly started out as just headcanons and then quickly evolved, wildly beyond my control. Just like Jurassic Park.

Silco’s Damn Smoking

The man was a menace.

The way he talked business casually while assaulting your senses with his intoxicating mannerisms. The way he slinks around the room with that lazy cocksure gait, like some graceful powerful beast. The way he moves his elegant hands in dramatic sweeps and gestures. The way he smokes, in particular, was so… increasingly, frustratingly, distracting to you.

How are you supposed to stay focused and discuss important business with all this going on.

You did your very best to hide how it affected you. For a man with such injuries to his face and eye you were never quite sure how much he could actually see. He seemed to never miss anything. You were worried he noticed the way your lips would part slightly as you watched him exhale the smoke from his cigar. Or the way you would breathe the smoke in deeply sometimes, savouring it.

So it’s a relief when Sevika bursts into the room, requesting a word, looking at you pointedly. You stand to leave so they can talk but he angrily waves for you to sit on the red velvet chaise lounge.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He calls over his shoulder excusing himself. Sevika closes the door behind them.

You do a very good job of waiting patiently for a time but curiosity eventually pulls you over to his desk.

You can’t resist tracing your fingertips over the cool brass of the ornate lamp, the leather bound covers of books, a complicated map of Piltover. The little timber box of cigars catches your attention. You look over your shoulder at the door and decide to risk it, lifting yourself up to sit on the desk so you can reach them.

Sliding the cover across you withdraw a single aromatic tube and bring it to your nose taking a deep inhale.

The gentle click of the door opening barely registers for a second as you enjoy the smell of the cigar held under your nose. Then the neurons fire and you open your eyes to see Silco striding cooly towards you. Shit shit shit. You start to apologise and get up but he shushes you and his hand presses gently against your knee in a demand to stay.

You feel so vulnerable, your mind races in panic. He’s smirking at you with the good side of his face, clearly amused as he plucks the cigar from your hand.

“Pass me that would you” he gestures to the small guillotine which you pass him and he promptly uses it to chop the end off with a metallic ’shing’. He places the cigar in his mouth and then looks pointedly at the lighter on his desk.

“Oh of course” you oblige him, sparking the flint wheel bringing the warm golden flame carefully to his face.

He holds your eyes with his as he takes a few chuffing draws. The sound of it sends waves of tingles down your neck. Why did this affect you so much, you don’t even notice your breathing hitch or the way your lips had slightly parted. But he certainly did.

He moves forward without warning, closing the gap between you. His thigh now pressed between your legs which hang over the edge of the desk in an intimate collision that leaves you reeling. You grip the edge of the desk beside your thighs to brace yourself. Gasping in surprise and before you can do anything else Silco grabs your face roughly in one hand, the long fingers and thumb holding you firmly in place. He’s squeezing a bit too hard but it’s… thrilling, dangerous. His free hand still lazily holding the cigar which he brings to his lips. Drawing the smoke into his mouth, swirling the flavour around as he looks deep into your eyes before blowing the thick, pungent smoke into your face. The cool air washes over you, obstructing your view for a second or two.

“No no no…” he tuts, squeezing your face even harder and bringing his lips to your ear. “You’re wasting it.” His breath is warm against your bare neck and his deep voice hums over your skin. ”Let’s try that again shall we?”

He draws back to take a another mouthful of smoke, the small embers crackling as he takes a deep drag. You see a small amount curl out of his nostrils before he brings his lips in, so close to yours. You part your lips slowly and he blows the smoke into your mouth. It feels cool and tastes… amazing. The complex flavour that you associate so deeply with him is quite different to the smell. Sweeter, richer than you had imagined. You wonder how much is the cigar and how much is him.

The veil of smoke falls away slowly and you look up at him, aching for more, much more of whatever this was.

[internalsealpanic]

Respectful Cannibalism

Summary:  Watching mystery movie with a bunch of detective was a bad idea

A/n: While this is part 3 to my Space Case series, you’re not required to read Art Gallery Smile or Cosmonauts to understand the context to this. The only note I do have is that Dick and Steph are friends with Reader much to Tim’s everlasting horror.  Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @glorified-red for proof reading this mess.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and a confusing amount of batkids in one scene.

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

Tim coughs, loud and ragged into the speaker. You find yourself wincing at the phone tucked against your ear. Tim sounds like he’s dying or, at the very least, he’s on his way there. 

“I’m so-”

“Fucking tired of saying sorry that you decided to go skinny dipping in Gotham Harbor? Yeah. Great, I’m sick of hearing it too. Glad, we’re on the same page, Space Cadet.” You exasperate, pulling on your jeans violently enough for Tim to hear the angry shuffling of fabric. 

“Skinny dipping?” Tim huffs, a fond smile playing on his lips as he drinks in the timber of your voice. Even when you were absolutely exasperated, your voice was still soothing or maybe he just misses your company. God, he’s such a sap. 

You shake your head in disbelief. That was his take away? “Yes, Timmy, Buck-ass skinny dipping,” you laugh, coming out derisive and sharp. Tim groans this time filled with guilt. The first few sounds of another ‘I’m sorry’ form in the back of his throat as he runs his hand through his bed head. For once, you’re thankful that you’re nowhere near Tim because you are one apology away from decking him and you’re pretty sure that that’s a terrible thing to do to a sick person, especially one with no brain cells to spare. 

“I- You were really looking forward to this (Y/n), don’t try to deny it.” You weren’t going to. He was right. You were looking forward to this date. You were impossibly, unreasonably giddy over the prospect of going to the planetarium with Tim this afternoon. WITH Tim. Sure, you’re pretty down about it but you were the tiniest bit more  concerned about the fact that your boyfriend had water in his lungs and almost died of hypothermia for a hot second. You pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping that worry and murder radiate off of you in equal measure.  “I was also looking forward to my letter from Hogwarts,” you sneer, pausing dramatically to look at your watch, “and it’s been roughly a decade.”  You hear Tim swallow and the hairs on your neck bristle in petty satisfaction. 

Tim chortles, a lively sound that startles you, then coughs but the sound comes out somehow sounding doubtful and teasing. Embarrassment flares up in you. “You were too!” you protest, hackles drawn to full height. A short breathy laugh leaves Tim and you feel the flush on your face ease into something softer and more rounded. All the sharpness in your veins dissipates as the flash of fondness for that stupid laugh takes over. You can imagine him warm under the covers smiling at the phone at your blunder. “Please, (y/n), my hopes were dashed when I was 4  and still not in the Jedi order.”

“Bullshit, you were never a child,”  you snort, sharpening the grin on your face into something vicious. “I refuse to believe you were ever a child! You probably sprang out of a textbook fully formed- Wait, I’m getting off-topic. ” Tim hums innocently and you narrow your eyes at the phone, hoping he can feel the ‘I am revoking your breathing privileges’ look.  “You always are.” Tim says before falling into a coughing fit. 

“Sorry, Cosmo, I just keep getting lost in your eyes,”  you whisper, pitching your voice rich and caramel smooth. There’s a sound on the other line. Tim is babbling you realize. You hear a shuffle of fabric and a body rising. Tim sucks in a breath, red-faced and caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He can practically see the cocky grin playing on your face, the light of the sun reflecting as golden flecks in your eyes.  “You can’t even see them!” Tim stammers, glowering at you through the phone. You cackle at him as if sensing the venomous look he’s giving you. “You can barely open them!” Tim rolls his, very much, open eyes, falling back into an unnecessarily large pile of pillows that Alfred insisted was necessary for bed rest with a loud ‘fwoof’. “Yes, I can,” Tim mumbles, sounding young for once. You do your level best to smother a grin on your face. “I’m just really drowsy from the chamomile tea Alfie gave me.” You stop dead in your tracks, one hand half in your coat the other on the doorknob. You blink. “You’re at the Manor?”

Tim pauses, making a frustrated noise. He shouldn’t have said that.  “Dick and B… insisted.” This draws another one of your sharp laughs. He says insisted as if it was ever negotiable. “Did they ‘insist’ before or after they blow-dried and hung you out to dry?” Tim squawks and you hear shuffling again. Tim tries to remember why he doesn’t hate you. “Tell me again how you found out about me getting sick? Steph? Cass?”

“Hmmmmmm, Dick.”

“THAT TRAITOR”

“Funny way to pronounce older brother,” you hum smug. You can feel Tim glaring daggers at you. “You-”

“There’s a home theater, yeah?” 

Tim pauses, this time longer. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Answer the question, Space Case.”

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Great! It’s a date then,” you say, mentally preparing a route to the Manor from the vague directions Steph told you once. You could just use the maps app- 

“NO!” You freeze. Tim flinches at the volume of his own voice. He  whispers an indiscernible  ‘I’m sorry’. You turn it over in your mind before speaking. “No?” You ask, trying your best to sound hurt instead of amused. Maybe you should have pitched your voice higher, more shaky. “Look, Tim, I-” Tim heaves a loud sigh. “-(Y/n), you’re fine-” Well, you aren’t, you think. You bite your tongue, physically to make sure you don’t say anything unnecessary. “-It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s- It’s just my siblings...” Tim knows that his siblings have been talking about you.  

“Timmy, I can take whatever shovel talk they can give me,” you say with the confidence of someone who has never been dangled over the edge of a roof top. Ok, to be fair, YOU had nothing to worry about. Tim, on the other hand, was going to get roasted alive. Maybe he can persuade you into not- Tim hears the tell tale sputtering of your bike’s engine and he feels his blood pressure spike. The engine genuinely sounds like a death rattle. 

“You’ll get sick.”

You swear and he hears another sputter of the engine. “You’ll get sick,” he croaks again, louder this time hopefully over the dying engine. Maybe if your engine dies right now, he’ll be spared from a slow agonizing death via siblings. “Relax Cosmo, I have the strongest ward against whatever you got,” you say, giving the engine a light kick. Tim hears a few metallic clunks then the engine stutters to life. Tim looks up past the ceiling trying to glare at whatever cosmic being resurrected your engine. 

“Which is...”

“Being broke. It does wonders for your health.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tim says, shifting burying his head against the too soft pillows. The soft fabric makes his eyes feel heavy. He yawns. He hears the sputter or your laugh. It’s hard to tell from the sudden drowsiness making his head swim. 

“I promise I’ll explain to your typical rich kid ass when I get there, Tim.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim slurs, face pressed into a pillow. 

You laugh, he’s sure this time. 

“I’m-” Tim’s mind unfocuses and the words you say garble together ”-Tim. ”

Tim blinks, mouth moving to ask you to repeat that but the last thing he hears is a soft click. 

On the bright side, it would just be him and Alfred at the manor.

_________________________________________________________

Batmanisfake: I heard (y/n)'s coming over😶

Nightwingingit:👀 How do you even know that?

Batmanisfake: What are you? A cop?

Nightwingingit: say that again but slowly 🙄

Batmanisfake: ...

Damian: He bugged Drake's phone. For blackmail purposes, of course. 

Nightwingingit: JASON

The Cool One: Shush Dick! He's onto something

Batmanisfake: Thank you 

The Adult: I for once had nothing to do with it😌

Theactualbatman: I'm assuming we're all coming home tonight?

The Cool One: I'll bring popcorn

Damian: Nonsense Pennyworth will likely have some prepared

The Cool One:😭 We really do not deserve that man

Nightwingingit: Definitely

thesaneone: We're recording Tim's face when he sees us, right? 

Batmanisfake: From all angles

The Adult: You're all horrible

Batmanisfake: Please like you're not hacking into the cameras as we speak, Babs

The Adult: You have no proof👀

_________________________________________________________

Tim’s head felt thick and gooey like one of Alfred’s custards. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s in a fish tank. There’s a sickly Chlorine smell clogging his nostrils; it smells powdery and sterile and reminds him vaguely of aspirin. Tim blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel puffy and sore and hot. His vision is further obscured by a thick layer of fleece blankets Alfred had piled high over him. He shuts his eyes still feeling too overwhelmed by the low light coming from the window.

Tim thinks he hears his window open with a soft click. Tim quiets his breathing. His hearing is too muddled to process anything beyond it.  There’s a soft thud of heavy boots in the room; it’s imperceptible and dreamlike the way it reaches his ears that it has him shifting under the covers trying his best to discern the sound. A dozen lighter footsteps follow it and he can sense 6 shapeless bodies hovering over him.

“Should we wake him up?” asks a voice that vaguely sounds like Cass. 

There’s a shuffling sound. Leather, he thinks. “Wait, lemme take a picture.”

“Red, why? It’s not like you can blackmail him with pictures of him sleeping.”

“Because, flashlight, I need proof that Timbo sleeps. ”

“Because?”

“Ok, how many times have you seen him asleep?” 

“Uh...”

“Exactly!”

Tim hears a laugh that distinctly sounds like Dick. “Does it count if Alfie drugged him?”

“Maybe?” Steph says, shrugging. 

“It doesn’t, Brown.”

“Damn it.”

“Does that mean B doesn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

Maybe if Tim keeps sleeping, they’ll go away on their own. Tim wraps the sheets tightly around himself, hoping the large stack  of fleece would be enough to muffle his siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure I have dibs on waking him for opening the window for you shits.”

“Red, anyone could have opened that,” Duke laughs, stepping slightly behind Cass, who at the moment was paying more attention to the moving pile of fabric. Maybe if Tim stays really still she’ll turn her attention to something else. 

“Cass and Dickface would have just broken it.‘

“I would not!”

“Sorry, Cass, you would.”

“Steph, whose side are you on?”

“Why is no one defending me?” Dick sighs. 

“No one cares, Dickface. And Blondie’s clearly playing for the right team-” Steph cackles. “-none of you have any finesse.”

“Not all of us can be drama queens, Todd.”

“You’re like the third to the last person I wanna hear this from.”

“Third? You’re ranking us now? Who gave you the right?”

“Alfred,” Jason deadpans, “And yeah. Bruce and Dick are first and second.”

“Hey!”

“Can it Mr. Pretty Man Down.”

“That was one-”

“What rank am I?”

“uh … fifth.”

“Fifth?!”

“Sorry, Blondie, Cass has you beat with that ballet kick thingy.”

“Ok, yeah I can accept that. What about Babs?”

“What about Babs? The woman can kick my ass six ways to Sunday. ”

Tim’s head throbs all over. There are soft pin pricks pressing on the sole of his left foot; his leg jerks involuntarily. He wants to scream. Tim swears under his breath. A gloved hand pries the covers away from Tim’s face. Tim squints his eyes open only to be greeted by Dick’s kind, but still very punchable, face. Tim takes a long rasp, pinching his features in a mix of annoyance and despair. “Why are you-” Cough! “-here?”

There’s a slight quirk to Dick’s smile.“They wanted to meet (y/n),” Dick explains in a sweeping theatrical motion of his hand across the room directing Tim’s attention to the expressions on his sibling’s expressions which were all a variation of devious scheming. 

“How did-” cough. “- you even know-” cough. “-(y/n) was coming?” Tim asks, shooting up from his pile of pillows causing a couple of blankets to topple to the floor to the ground. Tim’s lightheaded.  He suddenly feels a shift in his balance, a feeling of vertigo.   He nearly topples to the ground, his blood not quite catching up to his movements, when feels hands wrap around his shoulders. “Woah there Baby Bird, slowdown.”

“Answer-” Cough!

“It was Todd.”

“You mutant sperm!”

“Jay, aren’t we all mutant sperm?” Steph laughs, slinging one arm over an irate Damian’s shoulders and another over a fuming Jason’s shoulders. Tim groans, sounding pained. “How much do I need to pay each of you to get all of you to go away?”

“A lifetime of IOUs,” Dick says, casually. 

“NO!”

“All of your share in W.E.,” Duke says, laughing. Steph elbows him lightly, also laughing. “You’re shooting prelow there, Slick,” Steph teases. Duke shrugs still grinning. “Gotta  keep it realistic, yanno?”  Steph and Duke keep bickering. 

“Drake, kindly, pay with your life.”

Tim scrunches his nose. “I’m already on my deathbed, you know, dying. What else do you want from me?”

“A more agonizing death.”

Jason grins, tilting his chin. “C’mon, Timbo, we can help with your little impromptu date.” Tim groans, placing his face in his hands. “Please just help me dig my own grave.”

“What would be the fun in that, Timbo?”

“For you or for me?”

“Come on, Tim, it’ll be fine,” Cass says,  clearly not believing the words herself. All seven of them dissolve into another round bickering. Damian, Jason, and Steph hellbent on giving Tim an aneurysm.  Duke and Cass playing at being neutral; Duke leaning on Tim’s side but laughing way too hard at Steph’s well placed jabs; Cass is only mildly siding with Tim to spite Jason. Why this time? Tim has no clue. 

The string of banter is broken up by the echoing the doorbell. Tim’s heart seizes as they all fall silent, enraptured by the odd sound of a doorbell filling the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The chiming of bells ends with the creaking of the large oak doors in the front of the manor. 

Before Tim’s sluggish brain could even formulate a thought, all of his siblings are all bounding towards the door, bouncing off the walls and flipping over obstacles. Tim scrambles, lagging, after the hoard of vigilantes barrelling towards you. Tim tries to shout after his siblings but his voice is drowned out by raucous laughter and bickering. 

You stand at the door, head haloed by the pale afternoon light as the sky catches fire, flecks of snow sparkling in your hair. You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you sheepishly thank Alfred as he takes your coat.  

Tim struggles to breathe an he genuinely doesn’t know if it’s because of his lungs, you, or the fact that of all his siblings, Babs was the one who got there first and Tim genuinely doesn’t know if Babs is there to hold off the gaggle of vigilantes or to scare you off. From the jovial grin wrinkling your features, Tim’s pretty sure Babs just gave you some blackmail material instead of putting you through the ringer- an equally scary outcome. For your part, you don’t look even slightly phased by the fact that Babs is in a wheelchair or even by the way she’s clearly sizing you up. All of this rolls off of you with an easy motion of your shoulders as you answer her questions in the most frustratingly oblique way based off of Babs’s expression. Tim can’t help the curve on his lip as you blatantly dodge another of Babs’s questions with a smile. You spot him, winking, and the tips of Tim’s ears flush. 

Your cocky demeanor fades when a gaggle of batbrats crowd you; nervousness creeps into your form, ironing out your posture into something unnatural and defensive. “Is this a bad time?” You ask through a tight lipped smile. Babs glares at them but doesn’t make any effort to hide the satisfaction at your shaken demeanor. “Don’t mind them, Sweetie,” Babs says, patting your back and guiding you away from the gaggle. You shuffle awkwardly, trying to coax your spine back into a more natural curve. 

“(Y/n)!” Tim manages between gasps for air. Making a person with non functioning lungs run has to be some sort of human rights violation. His voice is  louder than he anticipated. He realizes, but the apprehension in his body flits away when you beam at him-a  wide cheeky smile that has his body vibrating with delight. He made you smile like that, Tim thinks, heart swelling almost enough to soften the impact of the next few words. “Hey, Duckie!” you chirp tilting your face in a cute lopsided smile. 

“Duckie?” Jason sniggers. 

Duke’s face passess from confusion, realization, then amusement in a matter of three seconds.“Duckie? As in ‘quack quack’?” Duke asks, pretending to still be dumbstruck. 

“Yes, Duckie, Tommy Terrific,” you say, the lopsided smile curving into a playful grin. The dumb nicknames earn you a loud, surprisingly nonthreatening, approving laugh from Jason who then says “We’ll keep those nicknames in mind” which just drags pained looks from both Tim and Duke. Dick and Damian on the other hand look absolutely delighted. 

“(Y/n), tell them about the other nicknames,” Steph says, grinning savagely. Your eyes widen and you wrinkle your nose, mouth twitching from side to side, trying to pretend away the heat rising from your cheeks. “Not on your life, Stephie.”

“Aaaaaw! Not even for lil ol’ me?” Dick pouts, throwing his arms around you. The familiarity of the action has Tim bristling. “Pleeeeeaaase,” Dick whines; a smile hidden in your hair, “not even for Alfred’s cookies?” You make a noise caught between a laugh and a groan. “Hmmmm… maybe? Throw in some candy.”

“Deal.”

Tim blinks. “You’d betray me for sugar?” 

“Cus I ain’t getting any while you’re sick,” you cackle, grinning along with Dick who looks way too pleased with the outcome of the conversation.  Tim desperately wants to melt into the floor. Looking at all his siblings who are eagerly awaiting for the litany of nicknames, Tim cuts in. “Let’s just go watch that film.”

“What are we watching?” Cass asks, leaning to look over your shoulder, clearly shoving Dick out of the way. Dick does his best to not budge. 

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“We are under a communist regime, Timbo. We’re all watching it together,” Jason says, slinging Tim over his shoulder. 

“Have a heart, Drake. We only want to spend family time together,” Damian says, somehow still looking imperious even from where Tim is dangling. A dull ache starts spreading across Tim’s like his skull is being squeezed. 

“Hope you guys like Clue,” you say, fishing it out of your cornucopia of unhealthy junk food. “I figured you detectives would like a good mystery.” Dick snorts taking the disc from you and reading over the contents efficiently. “Bet you I can get the ending even before any of you.”

“No, you won’t,” Jason barks, setting off a long winded argument about who the best detective is. 

“Didn’t you say you would eat me if I spoiled another mystery movie for you? Are you planning to eat my entire family?” Tim croaks quietly. You scrunch your nose, twitching your mouth four times to the left and four and a half times to the right.  “Technically, what I said was ‘I’ll respectfully go back to juvie for cannibalism if you spoil another movie that night’,” you hiss low, trying not to draw attention to your conversation. Unfortunately for you, his siblings have good hearing.  

“And this is different how?” Tim asks, this time not bothering to control his volume. 

“You’ll never figure out the ending,” You say smiling innocently. Tim rolls his eyes and huffs a ‘we’ll see’. It doesn’t wipe the smile off of your face. 

As it turns out, the Wayne Manor theater is less of a theater and more of a bean bag storage closet with a large screen. Jason tosses Tim unceremoniously into one of the random bean bags in front of the couch before gracefully pirouetting into the couch. You chuckle and continue your search for something to put your Bluray in, just now realizing that you should have probably just asked for their Netflix password or something. Alfred appears out of nowhere handing Jason and Cass each a bowl of buttery popcorn and scolding Jason about manhandling his brother in front of  a guest. Jason looks unrepentant. No surprises there. With a swat on  the back of Jason’s head, Alfred turns to you, gloved hands extended out to you.  “I can take that."

“Oh… Uh thanks- Thank you,” you stammer. To your left, Tim snickers and your hand slip, somehow the blanket Babs handed you finds its way to Tim’s face. “Shut up, Ducktective. He’s practically your grandpa and I kinda wanna make a good impression,” you hiss, cheeks warming. Tim coughs, a little dumbfounded. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that you were nervous about this. 

Tim checks if his brain is on straight before speaking. “Relax, you haven’t physically assaulted me or any of my family yet so you’re immediately at the top of Alfie’s list.” You open your mouth to speak then curl it into a frown, looking appalled and concerned. Apparently, his brain wasn't on as straight as Tim thought. "Am I going to have to fight your exes? At some point?" 

"No!" 

"Yes!" Steph says, handing you a red bean bag. Tim scowls at Steph as he watches the color drain from your face. She just shrugs and goes off to annoy Dick. 

“Mr. Boddy?” Damian asks incredulously, reading the box summary again. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you laugh, setting your bean bag next to the one Jason dropped Tim in. Damian rolls his eyes. “This is a stupid movie. Do people really consume this drivel?”

You scrunch your nose but don’t put too much heart into glaring. Thankfully, color is now returning to your face. “The movie hasn’t even started yet!”

“Relax (y/n), the tiny mutant sperm is just playing elitist,” Steph says, plopping next to Jason and eyeing his bowlful of buttery popcorn. 

“As long as it isn’t as bad as the Happening-”

“Dude, you live in a city with Poison Ivy. That thing is pretty much a documentary,” Duke says hesitantly taking the spot between Steph and Cass. 

"Please, for the love of Alfie, please, talk about something else," Dick whines, plopping a bean bag next to Tim. Jason’s face twists in confusions before his eyes light up and untwists into an expression with amusement. "Is it because of the-" Dick hits him square in the face with a pillow, all the while screeching "Think of the children!"

"Where, Dickface?" Jason ask, prompting Dick to point(jazz hands)  at Damian who rolls his eyes. Jason does the same, looking younger than the toughened exterior suggested. "That's a gremlin, Dickface. Not a child." 

"He is-"

"SHUSH! The movie is starting!" 

You giggle, curling into Tim's side and placing your head in the crook of his neck where you usually like to put it. Tim's insides shiver from the contact and his hands automatically coil around you, pressing his nose into your hair. 

"Jeez, her melons are big," Babs says flatly taking another handful of Dick's popcorn from Damian. Cass snorts and Tim feels embarrassment creep into his skin. He flicks his eyes to you, only to find you smiling into his side. 

"They're almost as big as Dick's," you chuckle. 

"Nah, Jason is bigger," Cass pipes. 

You eye Jason openly which makes the large man cross his arms over his chest.  "Huh, you're right," you note with more confusion than anything. 

"Bruce has moobs too!" Jason protests, red-faced. 

"Son, why?"

The chatter falls silent when the figure at the edge of the room settles itself into the large leather recliner in one corner of the room. You squint your eyes to distinguish its features from the rest of the shadows in the room; only to be greeted by the solemn features of Bruce Wayne. Your breath catches and you feel your skin jump twenty feet in the air. Everyone else in the room seems to have about the same reaction even as he pulls a lever to raise the foot rest.  You all follow his movements with interest. 

“Is Bruce trying to relax?” Duke whispers to Cass who shrugs in response. Steph rolls her eyes, reaching over Duke to try and snatch some popcorn from Jason who just raises his bowl higher. “Shhhhh, Duke, let the B man try to play human,” she says, snatching at the popcorn til the bowl just falls on Jason’s head. 

“He’s trying I guess.” This draws a startled chuckle out of you that you try to press in Tim’s neck. The vibrations against his skin has him shivering. 

“B, are you ok?” Dick asks. This makes Bruce’s features move in a slightly concerned fashion which in Bruce speak is very concerned. “Yes, why?”

“Ooooh, no reason, old man.” He turns to Babs. “Yeah that’s not Bruce. Five bucks says it’s a robot.” Babs snickers, grabbing a ten from her purse. “Ten says it’s an alien.” You twist to look at them, taking out a twenty. “Twenty says it’s just Mr.Wayne.” Jason sneers at you, taking your money. “You clearly don’t know the old man.”

“Can we please just watch this film in peace?” Bruce groans, running a hand over his face, finally looking more like the long suffering single dad of eight kids that he should be.  Babs looks over her shoulder, slinging Bruce an absolutely disbelieving look. “Do you even know your children?”

“Yes, father, have you even watched us bond?” Damian asks, using his free hand to do air quotes for the word ‘bond’ while using the other to try and swipe some popcorn from Cass. It doesn’t work. 

“That definitely isn’t Bruce,” Dick hisses, trying to shield his own bowl of popcorn  from an irate Damian. 

“SHHHHHH! I can’t hear the movie!”

“It’s definitely the butler,” Dick declares.  Damian scowls, throwing a pillow at him which Dick catches with ease. “Grayson, the movie has barely started.”

“It’s definitely the butler. It’s gotta be. It’s always the butler.”

“That’s very offensive to Alfred, Dick,” Cass says, grinning. Alfred sniffs poshly in his own recliner. Dick recoils but Jason piles on. “Very classist of you, Dickiebird.”

Duke snorts. “Nah, I think he’s just saying it because Tim Curry was Pennywise the Clown.” 

“Why would you trust a clown?” 

“Oh my god, why are you guys comparing Alfred to a clown?”

“We are not!”

“This conversation is a trainwreck,” Tim groans into your hair. “Dunno, Tim, it sounds like a success,” you laugh, pressing closer. His eyes flick between you and his siblings. “You planned this.” You look up at him, failing to flatten a smile. “Nope.”

“I say it’s Ms. Scarlett,” Bruce says, rubbing his chin contemplatively. 

“You’re just saying that cus she reminds you of Selina,” Tim huff, grinning and you’re half tempted to pinch his cheeks. Bruce cuts him a scathing look that has you shrinking; the grin on Tim’s face just broadens which just makes the playful scowl on Bruce’s face deepen. “Need I remind you who pays for the internet?”

“Alfred?” Tim asks, innocently. 

“Careful Tim, B man might actually do it. Hell, he’ll probably do it if he finds out what you did last Thursday.”

“Do you mean the explosion on Fifth?” you ask, turning to Steph.  Steph gives you a firm nod; in the corner of your eye, you can see Bruce arching a brow. Tim gapes at you looking absolutely gutted. “What happened to snitches get stitches?” Tim protests. 

 You shrug, grinning. “Sorry, Duckie, I stand by my cookie dealer. Who do you think sneaks Duke and me cheetos in Western Civilization? I stand by my fellow barbarian.”

“You know Duke?”

“I pay him to-”

“Shhhhh!” 

“You guys are talking too!”

“At least, it’s movie related!” Damian hisses. 

You throw up your hands with an exaggerated flail. “Fine!”

“I say it’s the shifty looking lady,” Jason declares, reaching over Duke and Steph to try and snatch some popcorn from Cass. You wonder why Jason doesn’t just snatch some from Alfred since he’s closer. You try to ask Tim but he just shakes his head at you.  “Ms.Peacock?” Cass asks, shoving Jason’s face away with butter covered fingers.  Duke tries to snatch a few kernels in the confusion only to get his hand swatted. “I think he means Mrs. White,” he says, waving his hand.  “Yeah that one.”

“It’s the butler! It’s always butler!” Dick protests. 

“I will fucking riot if it’s the butler!” Steph shoots back.

“It can’t be the butler.”

“Why not, Dami? He has motive.”

Damian rolls his eyes.“Gordon, why are you siding with Grayson?-” Babs opens her mouth to answer but Damain continues before she can get another syllable out “-nevermind. He doesn’t have as much motive as the rest of them. Besides, does he really look competent enough to hold a gun left alone with a knife?”

Tim raises his chin from your head. “Demon Spawn, your standards for butlers is too high. Alfred is-”

“You say this like you have plenty of references.” 

“Oh, Tommy Terrific, Duckie here is a posh bastard,” Jason sneers ruffling Tim’s hair. From the way, some of his hairs stick up you could guess that he still had some butter in his hand. Tim makes a face of disgust; you try your best to help him with his hair. “Jay, you say that but you’re like Mr. I need the correct type of wood for my bookshelves,” Steph laughs.  “Just because I’m not a slob like the rest of you walking disasters doesn’t mean I’m posh.”

“Yes, it does. You lived here. Yanno with Alfie,” Dick says, pulling out another pack of snacks he’d managed to snag from your bag. You’re not gonna ask at this point. Tim gives you a look which roughly translates to ‘I am very sorry for my trainwreck of a family’. You snort at him before turning towards his sibling. “I mean look at Cass. She’s still feral.” If looks could kill, the look Cass give you would melt your bones. Thankfully, Damian opens his mouth. “They’re all feral.” You have a sense that you’ve also been insulted. You hear Babs to your right laugh derisively. “You say this like you’re any less feral than the rest of us.”

“I am-”

“Are any of you still watching the movie?” Bruce asks and for the second time that night, your body tries to divorce your soul. You had almost forgotten that yes, you are watching Clue with the fucking Batman. You shift in your seat suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. Before the discomfort could nestle in you, Jason speaks up. “No, Bruce, we’re just watching Cass vacuum the popcorn into her stomach. What do you think?”

“You guys didn’t ask,” Cass says through a mouthful of popcorn knowing full well that’s a lie. 

“How can any of you be watching it? All you’ve done is talk over the dialogue.” You almost laugh at how exasperated he sounds. Beside you, Tim just snickers and shakes his head. 

Damian just looks at his father from his bean bag next to Dick. “Father, we can talk and listen. ” Dick, like the mature adult that he is, slaps his knee laughing. “I don’t think B is capable of that.”

“PREACH” was followed by a chorus of AMENs. 

"Alfred, what have I done to turn my children against me?" Bruce asks, tiredly leaning back into his recliner. 

"Master Bruce, how would you like me to list it?" 

"Alfred not you too," Bruce groans, putting his hands in his eyes. 

"Yeah! Alfie's on our side!" Jason cheers. 

"Quite."

"Alfie is always the sensible one," Cass chuckles sensibly between bites. You hear varying noises of agreement and Bruce ages from suave debonair to extremely tired single dad. 

"I assume Alfred is actually the boss here."

"Yeah, Bruce is actually on the bottom of the food chain here," Tim says. You tilt your head in  contemplation. "Yanno that makes Batman so much less scary." 

"B-man's just a giant softie," Steph chirps, slinging her legs over Duke and Cass's laps narrowly missing the nearly empty bowl of popcorn. 

Dick turns to you winking. "Yeah, just give him the puppy eyes and he'll  get you anything you want in 2 seconds flat." 

"Dick…" 

"It's true!"

"Even a carnival?" 

"Can we please just watch the movie?" Bruce says, in an almost pleading voice. 

"I wouldn't hold my breath, old man," Jason chuckles, earning a glare from both Bruce and Damian. "It's not like you know how to shut up, Todd." 

"Sorry, I don’t speak gremlin."

"That's bull Jay!" 

"MOVIE IS STILL GOING ON! SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLES." 

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS THE BUTLER.”

“Yes, yes, it has been publiced and noted, Birdie,” you giggle into Tim’s side, shaking your head. He wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss into your hair, winking at you. “Does it count?” Tim asks over his shoulder. A look passes between him and Cass. “I don’t think so,” she says grinning. 

“It so does! It’s one of the endings,” Dick protests vehemently. Jason’s mouth flattens then curls into a grin. “By that logic, the old man is right too.”

Dick thinks for a moment, tapping his chin. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Bruce protests. 

"I'm still sticking with the butler. I'm sorry this is the only logical conclusion." 

"He wasn't even an actual butler you butter brain!" Steph protests, throwing a pillow at Dick. 

"I'm sorry but can we address why you're all mounting a mutiny against me?" 

"Teenage rebellion!" Dick answers. 

"Chum, you're not even a teenager." 

"Father's right. At most, Grayson is five years old," Damian pipes from beside Dick seemingly unaffected by his brother's pout. 

"Alfred, you're going to have to check my blood pressure before patrol." 

"Quite, sir."

“They’re all so dramatic just like you said,” you whisper into Tim’s shoulder. 

“I AM NOT DRAMATIC”

“Ah, yes, because the pretty man pose is so pragmatic.” Damian deadpan.  

"That was one time, you assholes!" 

"Hey, what else did Timmy say?" 

"Well he- Oh wait!" You fish out your phone and Tim snacthes it away faster than you can blink. "No-" cough "-you don't." Cough. 

Jason snatches it from him, snickering at the photo of Tim kissing you on the cheek. You're pretty sure Tim has a matching photo with you kissing him on the cheek. "Nice lockscreen, (y/n)."

"Oh, you should see the homescreen!" 

"No. Please don't. You might need eye bleach." 

"Relax Space Cadet, it’s not that one." 

"Ohohoho, what didn't you want big daddy bats to see? Haaa, Timbo?" 

Tim turns every shade of red before settling on fire hydrant red. "None of your business!"

Bruce clears his throat, looking at a stupidly expensive watch. “It’s time.” Dick springs up, stretching and showing off.  “Is it really that time already?” Steph asks in almost a whine. Duke and Cass take the opportunity to shove her off and sadly, she lands with a loud thud and a mangled curse. You wince but laugh unsympathetically which simply earns you a face full of dust covered popcorn. You frown at her and she grins at you as Jason hauls her up by her hoodie. “C’mon Blondie. Let’s leave the love birds alone.”

“It’s not like they’re actually gonna be alone. Alfie’s here. So is Babs.”

“I’m going back to my place. You people give me a headache.” 

“You say that like you weren’t having fun,” Dick teases, walking after her. 

“I’ll be down in the cave if you need me,” Alfred says waving at both of you. “Will do, Alf,” Tim yawns, nuzzling into your hair. 

Cass pops her head back in. “Make sure Tim doesn’t do anything stupid,” She calls back. You grin, bright and wolfish. “Don’t worry! He can’t do me while he’s sick.” You hear Bruce choke in the hall and you just know that you’ll mentally kick yourself for that later. Luckily for you, Tim physically kicks you now. “What the hell?!” Cough. “Sorry, got caught in the moment.” You huff, trying to look a little sorry. Tim just glares more. “You’re not even close to sorry.”

“Ok. Yeah.”

“I have no idea why I love you sometimes.”

“My amazing personality?”

“Sure.”

“Love you too, Tim,” you chirp, kissing him. Tim’s lips feel hot after the quick peck and he pulls you closer. “I love you but I was pretty sure my family was gonna eat you alive.”

“They would have done it,” you hum, pausing before adding, “respectfully.”  

  Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[3pirouette]

New Chapter: Dissents Speak

AO3 Link

A/N: I can’t believe I have to write this. I tried to put some humor in there, but… yeah. Take care of yourselves. There will be good things coming. There have to be. 

This is based off a video that I saw often while watching coverage last night: two white, middle aged men in a hallway of the capitol building, one waving a flag with an image of Trump dressed as Captain America on it.

#25for45

~*~

Peggy huddled close to Pepper on the couch, watching the newsfeed as it skimmed over the group of rioters. “You should know,” Pepper started, “that there are protocols.”

“Protocols?” Peggy looked up at her, pulling the blanket around her tighter, even though the afternoon in the tower was warm. “Steve mentioned…”

“One in particular,” Pepper continued, reaching for her mug of tea. “It’s called the Timber Protocol.” Pepper smiled at Peggy’s confused look. “It’s from the Kesha song— ‘it’s going down’,” she attempted to sing. She cleared her throat and figured it was worth it if she managed to get Peggy to smile. “It’s for if the shit ever really hits the fan.”

“What happens?” Peggy asked quietly, the smile fading.

Pepper shrugged, her eyes draw back to the TV where she could See Iron Man and Black Widow guarding a barricade. They were decoys, she knew because she and Peggy had been in on the panning as the Avengers flew down to DC in the quinjet. Steve, Thor, and Clint were helping evacuate the senators inside as Tony kept the crowd focused on him. “If Tony or I give the order, or if several pre-set thresholds are met, the tower goes into lock down. We then have to get to an elevator as soon as we can, scan your thumb, and it’ll take you down to a panic room.”

Peggy’s voice wavered. “Panic room?”

“It’s only for if—”

Peggy shushed her, reaching out and turning up the sound on the television. She looked intently as the news program went to a split screen, one side the female commentator, the other side a fairly sharp cell phone video.

“What you’re looking at now is a live feed from an AP reporter who is trapped in a conference room at the capitol.”

Peggy gasped, her hand flying over her mouth. Though the image was shaky and taken through a window, it was clear: Steve, in his full red, white, and blue suit, stood across from two men in the hallway of the capitol building. One was holding an American flag, the other holding a flag depicting 45 in Steve’s suit, fake muscles and airbrushing evident.

Steve squared his shoulders as the shaky video took over the whole screen. “Gentlemen.” His voice was tinny through the layer of glass and over the shaky connection.

~*~

“What are you gonna do?” the first man challenged him, using his flag like a spear, pushing towards him, attempting to provoke him.

Steve didn’t budge, didn’t wince, as the man poked toward him but didn’t move forward. “What are you going to do?” Steve asked, low and quiet. With minimal effort he swung his shield, still attached to his arm, and knocked the flag from the man’s hand. Without taking his eyes from the stunned man, he stepped over and lifted the flag from the floor, gently leaning it in a corner. “That’s not a weapon.”

“It should be freedom,” the second man said, his flag still firmly on his shoulder, the image of Trump taunting Steve as it billowed. “But they’re lying to us. They’re stealing this and we’re not going to let them do it! This is a revolution!”

Steve slowly walked forward, both men flinching back. He hid his smile well. “The only person lying to you is that man, a man who has no regard for the laws of this land.” Steve pointed to the flag, then snatched it from the man’s hands. Without a word he ripped it in half in his hands and tossed it to the side. “He symbolizes hate and oppression, lies and tyranny, everything this suit and I fight against.”

“You- you can’t do that…” the man stuttered at him.

“You are a part of a riot that’s broken into the capitol building and I can’t touch your flag?” Steve stepped into the man’s personal space. “You turn around, you leave right now, or I’m going to make you leave.”

The man he wasn’t looking at, the man who had held the American flag, swung with all his body weight behind them. With a swift movement of his shield, Steve blocked the punch, the man’s hand reverberating off the shield as he yelped in pain. Steve turned swiftly, swinging his leg out and taking the man down.

The other man launched at him, and Steve deftly pushed him back, the wind knocked out of him as he landed on the ground. He tried to push up, but Steve stopped him with a boot in his chest, the sound of footsteps coming from behind as two uniformed officers joined him, pulling out zip ties to detain the men.

Steve stepped back, letting the officers take over. He sighed, turning his head and listening as he heard more insistent footsteps coming towards him. A man, holding a podium high and proud, rounded the corner at the end of the hall, not slowing and barely paying attention as Steve’s shoulders slumped in frustration.  

“Oh, come on,” Steve mumbled as he put his free arm out. He grabbed the shirt of the man trying to move past him carrying a podium. He held the man in front of him as he put the shield on his back. “That’s not yours.”

Steve held out his hand but the man wouldn’t relinquish the podium. Instead, he struggled, revealing a swastika tattoo on his neck. Steve’s lips pressed together tight as he let the man struggle for a moment. Once the man started to become aggressive Steve relented and punched him.

He pulled the punch, enough that the man was stunned and in pain, but not seriously hurt. The man dropped the podium and Steve handed him off to one of the officers who had come up behind him.

“Captain, they’re still trying to clear the senate chamber.” The officer said.

“Where?” Steve asked, serious.

“Down the hall to the right.”

Steve nodded, turning away. He raised a hand, acknowledging the man’s thank you as he pulled the shield off his back. He picked up speed, heading toward the melee.

He stopped, seeing the crush of bodies pushing against the Senate chamber door. He sighed under his breath before moving forward. “Fuckin’ Nazis.”

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

Pirate au part 5 pt2

(link to first part of pt5)

Alright, alright back from the flash back

"Yes but if I am honest, I thought it was a fabrication to deal with the life they forced upon you... however it does explain your need of aquatic plush toys in your quarters."

Hat replied leaning back in his chair, legs outstretched and chin on chest with arms folded.

"Tha' an I jus' like 'em, also sir..."

"Hmm?"

The old demon responded not looking up as a glass appeared aswell as a bottle of wine, pouring by itself before reaching out a hand for it, claws tapping lightly on the glass.

Didn't matter what time of day it was if he wanted a drink he was going to have one.

He was still bitter that Demencia and Acylius were probably talking up a storm and completely ignoring him.

How flipping wonderful for them.

(Awww someone's a grumpy old man XD)

"I were told yer handled yer... Ahem noodles other night."

505 continued, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, though it was hard not to smile as the Captain let out another indignant huff.

"Excuse you, they are most certainly not noodles, I can make them any size I want!"

He was clearly exasperated by his cooks response, rising to his feet and pacing only for it to hit Black Hat that if 505 knee that means.... ¬w¬ Acylius was awake, that made the pirate King smile, good so he'd heard him, perhaps the merman was intrigued and-

"Really wow...honest jus' be thinkin' with the size o' this 'ere ship was compensating for sumthin."

Fives returned casually and snorted as Black Hat gasped dramatically, hand on chest.

"I am affronted in Spanish you would think such a thing!"

"Pfffft sir yer got a merman who's affronted in a whole lot o' Spanish by ere thin yer done."

That made our Old bastard pause as he looked incredulously at his employee

"Oh like what?"

"Dining withou' even offerin' ter share fer one."

Hat immediately started fidgeting as well as his mind going blank, what was he supposed to do, confess the merman made him lose all reason and he'd been so busy on trying to be impressive to Acylius he'd actually forgotten the merman’s basic needs.

The king couldn't exactly disagree considering be happily ate anything the man put infront of him, scrubbing his hands down his face and groaning

"I have not even asked if Flug has a food he favors most, no wonder he shuns my presence."

"Sir, do calm yer self, trust me, merman ain't hatin' on ya, or he wud 'ave jumped out, merfolk sooner die than stay trapped against their will, part of him wants ter stay."

Now that made the old demon perk up, honestly if anyone other than Fives or Demencia and Acylius talked to him this way, when the blasted merman would finally converse with him that was, he'd have tossed anyone else overboard cut open to draw in sharks and watched as they were mauled.

Ahhh mauling, what a lovely thing.

Maybe he'd do that later anyway, he felt in the mood for a killing, it would be easy enough to find some reason to off one of his own men, no one dared to argue with Pirate King Black Hat lest they be next on his list.

"So what else do you know about deep sea merfolk? I know about Thaddeus's world and of his Edward practically having one as a pet, but they never gave me the detailsr and I did not care to ask at the time, I think they might have even escaped."

Returning to his seat, there was only the sound of the sea and Fives food sizzling or boiling subtly, calming in its own way, his cook had returned to the stove working on Black Hat's meal and the slops the rest of the crew had...excluding the cook himself and Dem...he would not have his best workers fed so poorly.

"King I'm surprised yer dun know more about his kind , I be bettin he has some pet yer ripped him away from..."

Looking over his shoulder he saw Black Hat starting to fidget as he realised that he'd probably caused Acylius more distress without meaning to.

"He dun seem ter 'ave a partner, food offerin' are like socializations...sum cases even get yer matin if they reaaaally like the food and the one offerin'"

Inside Black Hat's mind was a smaller version of himself frantically scrawling all this down while listening calmly, if Acylius did have a pet he was going to bloody well hunt for it and start courting the stubborn fish correctly.

----

In the Captain's quarters Acylius was floating in his tank there was not much he could really do in empty waters.

Tail swaying gently up and down, listening to Demencia's stories about Black Hat and the adventures they'd had.

His fins drooping slightly, so that was a yes, they were a sort of thing, where did that leave him, was he once again some beings pet?

That left him wondering if he was expected to worship within this prison and please his new master...at least if someone explained to him what his fate was to be, his could accept it all the quicker, it was the anticipation making it nearly unbearable.

Maybe if he behaved he could even bargain favors of his body for Black Hat to bring him his beloved Mew Mew loaf...but what if the Pirate king devoured her if he did not behave.

Thaddeus absolutely would have had he had Mew Mew as his companion then.

Looking up at Demencia, she noticed the vulnerability through the cut out holes in the tied bag on his head, she was staring back curiously wondering what was going through his mind.

Acylius had to agree she was really fascinating herself...if Black Hat and Demencia had room for him...it would still be better than his last arrangement.

He'd never met someone quite so excitable as her, she had such a lust for madness it was incredible.

"Hmm would you like to join me in my fish bowl?"

Flug offered, swimming up to the surface, holding a hand out for her, long fingers, fins fanning, delicate veils lined with fragile thin bone adorning his forearms, glistening in the sunlight.

Watching them sway, her urge to touch them rising, she'd never seen a mer being up close until Acylius so of course the lizard woman was fascinated, reaching out hesitantly and pausing, giving him a questioning look as she was unsure if that would upset him.

"Yes you can touch them, but in the tank please, so I can keep them wet, they tend to tear like tissue paper when dry."

Flug chuckled, reaching now with both hands he lifted her into his water home.

Most of course would have have asked why any mer person would want a land walker in their domain and with good reason, there were many cautionary tales of sailors being drowned by merfolk.

Demencia of course being Demencia XD was like Hell yeah and made a joyful surprised sound at how easily Flug lifted her, once in the waters she let out a sigh, they were so cool and refreshing, absolutely wonderful.

"Now that you are in, may I make one more request, may I kiss you?"

His deep and gentle voice with its own alluring inviting timber had her growing a little flustered, she'd lying if she did not agree that it made his request all tempting. .

"Whoa there fish man, at least buy me dinner first."

She teased playfully and gently nudged him.

Acylius was smiling under his mask and shook his head

"What would you like Miss, I have thin air and water...but all joking aside Demencia, it is so I can make you breathe underwater."

"Ohhhh right, makes sense, well then, pucker up fish boy!"

"Only if you close your eyes, I do not want to put you off."

"Please nothing would put me off, you could be a face of tentacles and I'd still smooch ya!"

Flug snorted, indeed she was entertaining. "

"Alright, do not say, that I did not warn you."

Lifting the lower half of his bag, smiling to the fullest extent his lips would allow, the corners of them disappearing under his mask, mouth full of sharp teeth, in awe she stared at their shimmering beauty, all of them like daggers made of pearl, mouth going dry and silently cursing, damn, fangs...her weakness.

The kiss was brief, an opening of mouths, exchange of fluids before being pulled down into the water.

Wow...in here she saw what he saw, the captains quarters looked distant, as if they were peering into a small rectangular window, on the other side of the was the vastness of the ocean, all types of plant life and fish, so on so forth, reaching out to try and touch his world her hand met only more glass.

"Ah ah no touching or it breaks my illusion, it is too tiring to make solid ones at all times but these ones help me from going mad in my solitude in this fish bowl."

Flug was quiet, thinking on how to respond to that

"If you come from Pearl City, you are considered perfect, their colours are more pastel and you are free but with a king...it is full of wonder and lights..."

Sighing he looked out into the vastness of his illusion, it changed to show the city, glowing and splendid

A silhouette of a show over it of he, Thaddeus and Edward.

" Upon my first viewing I thought it beautiful, but that light for me soon diminished as I was kept by its King, like a pet...I do not hate this Land King though who has me now...he seems surprisingly awkward...endearing really..."

"Ohhhh you like him!"

"Shush or I will not continue....my deep sea kind are dwindling in numbers and because of our rarity if captured we can be used as a power play a sign of well to do...deep sea merfolk are wild and free, come and go as we please unless we have a reason to stay that is... "

He raised a brow, sensing Demencia had more to say gently prodded her

" What is it? "

"You want to stay for the Captain huh, that will make him happy he's been a grumpy old sod because he thinks you hate him."

"I would have jumped out the bloody tank by now if I did...anyway my kind is more willing to help anyone and everyone, Pearl City folk only help their own."

Acylius shook his head, smiling to himself, his cheeks were thankfully hidden by his mask because he was blushing and he knew it.

" Screw those pearl mersnobs, you're already more amazing than them...hmm your fins are really nice I was expecting them to feel slimy like actual fish."

Flug stifled a laugh at her attitude toward Pearl Merfolks, that certainly lifted his mood at how unimpressed she was by them, his fins suddenly flared out, the spines on bis back raising defensively as he held her closer before putting her behind him and poised to strike at the nothingness in Black Hat's Cabin, a swirling portal of purple light tore through the air and his first words in response

"You will not have her creature!"

Acylius's claws extended however no one stepped out only a voice was heard

"Awwww cute you were socialising, guessing Black Hat hasn't been looking after you, Demmy Where's Blackie?"

Demencia had been caught completely off guard at Flug's willingness to protect her, taking a moment to come back down to Earth and answer the voice that she knew well

" He's in the Galley Ferral! "

" Thanks hun! "

With that the portal disappeared.

"Full of surprises aren't ya!"

Demmy was clearly excited by his display, like an eager child to see more, that had been pretty awesome for her to see that and see his usually white and deep blue tail instantly go black with bright blue rings on in warning against predators.

" You know them...that thing?"

"Ohhh yes, brief encounters here and there, in another dimension she's Black Hats daughter and your step daughter...though that Flug is really quite different from you, small world after all huh."

"Yes indeed."

He replied, though he still fixed on the space where the portal had been.

It was nice to know in another dimension he and Black Hat had a family... Maybe one day they... No that was thinking waaaaay too far ahead.

[jf3co]

Hackery Daiquiri - A Free-Writing Exercise of Beginnings Written During a Tropical Storm in Puerto Rico...

Rebecca turned on the light.

Robert lay on his back on the plush carpet ensconced tightly in one of her hoodies. His head and shoulders angled towards her in the doorway. He was half in the hallway. On his belly lay an opened styrofoam clamshell To Go container of leftover fried shrimp and cold french fries.

He pushed with his feet, sliding on his back, while eating soggy shrimp, tails and all, into the room; a shocking red trail of cocktail sauce staining the carpet.

It was October.

The Phillies had just won the pennant.

"What are you doing?", she asked.

He did not reply.

Brigand Pete stomped the length of the ship from the forecastle to the captain's quarters, ruminating how this unlikely path of his has taken him from the wood outside of Londontown to this warm Mediterranean sea.

The quartermaster opened the door for him. It seems his worthy opponent was finally ready to surrender the ship.Brigand Pete first made eye contact with the Lady Fairlane, still strong and defiant in her shackles, who gave him a look of utmost disgust, not the long, yearning looks from their more youthful time together.

"I am told the captain will surrender now, milady."

"The captain is dead," she spat.

Brigand Pete removed finally his attention from the Lady Fairlane to acknowledge the captain. True enough he hung limp in his shackles. He would captain this cursed galleon no more.

Brigand Pete turns to his quartermaster and states: "Captain Fairlane is to receive full honors and a burial at sea. Inform this to the remainder of the captive crew and set the expectation that they are to be in full dress in attendance." Brigand Pete pivots, then pauses, forgetting something... "Oh, and set the Lady Fairlane free."

A waft of gunpowder and splintered timber blew in through a porthole. The call of an albatross comes in on the breeze.

Jonathan galloped into the room like a cowboy.

He had just removed his shirt, whipping it about, prior to flossing it back and forth, ass to crotch, between his legs.

Hermione looked up from her needlepoint; it was an Urban Outfitters vintage stating "Pussy Makes Me Dizzy".

April rain blew splatter in through the window, perpetually stuck slightly open from old, swollen paint.

Hermione sneezed twice - it was mold season - and gently placed her project on her knees. She then gathered a balled up sock from Jonathan's side of the bed and pegged him with it.

"Get the fuck out of here and go do something productive," lackadaisical despite the harsh words.

"I am being summoned to dance! I am being summoned to dance!" Jonathan continues cantering down the hall as both Pomeranians, Luther and Vandross, join the reverie yapping at his heels.

The TV talked about how to make a donation to a family who had just lost everything in a fire.

It was hard to keep track of these things any more, thought Hermione.

Lester stood outside as if frozen. Despite the cool, his palms sweaty on the knob. He could not bring himself to complete the simple act of the necessary half rotation to open the door. He imagined her, on the other side of the door, shushing her lover with a lovely forearm and listening intently for more of the structured sound she thought she heard; the sound of Lester's untimely arrival. Lester knew, despite the paperwork, despite the newly-established illegality of this simple act of visitation, despite his monomaniacal intent, she had not yet changed the locks; being helpless at that sort of thing, she would always say that some things were 'his job' with a laugh. Lester tightly gripped the old, drab green army surplus trenching shovel in his other hand - the hand of his good shoulder, his strong hand - and held his breath listening; the way he saw it he was free to add a few things of his own to the His Job list these days. No one to laugh him any more.

After a period of time, after the thumping of blood in his ears calmed to a gentle susurration, after his vision refocused to the tiny pinpoints of tunnel vision that had been driving his actions of late, after he calmed the sticky sweet whisky breathes catching between his dry, inflamed teeth, Lester flung the door open with a shocking crash. The door stuck immediately in the drywall. His eyes slowly acclimated to the dark. The room was empty. The house was empty.

Sepulturero expanded his encapsulation to shoo away the thickness of atmospheric midges, then immediately dimmed it once more so that a Phased Entry could be calculated and executed by the suit. By design, Mars has no doors that open to the inhabitable outside. His corporeal form split, then each piece split again, happening exponentially, until it could pass sufficiently through the lattice entry portal. The atoms of this gateway phased to pull at matter aligned to the right pattern, drawing him in; for every lock there is a key.

Generosity commanded her field of vision to accommodate the entirety of the woven canvas living quarters and note his entry. She was conjuring through the DMZ. The Lucifer module was in her grasp. She had the renegade AI pegged to a spitting mad, white hot ball. Photons were draining from the rest of the space, leaving her surrounded in preternatural darkness.

Sepulturero coalesced, then dusted off the fine, gray ash of hapless midges now decommissioned."We do not know enough about this yet to begin to wield..."

She cut him off, "If it continues to consume the atmospherics there will be no more air, our mission will have failed, and we will all soon be dead."

Lucifer suddenly flared causing Generosity to refocus on the task at hand: taming the beast.

The gentle shudder of the ground beneath their feet marked yet another arrival on the rocket pad. More lungs to feed.

Dick opens the door. See Dick open the door. The door is open, Dick.

Dick sees Jane and smiles. See Dick smile. Dick smiles at Jane.

Jane is removing the plastic packaging from a sharp titanium triton she just received from Etsy. See Jane remove the plastic packaging from a sharp titanium triton she just received from Etsy. Jane removed all the plastic packaging from a sharp titanium triton she just received from Etsy.

"Hi Jane," Dick says with a wave. See Dick wave. Wave, Dick, wave.

Jane hefts the triton and in one perfect motion pins Dick to the wall and doorjamb like a marshmallow on a fork. See Dick pinned to both the wall and the doorjamb with Jane's new triton like a marshmallow on a fork, after she hefted it with one perfect motion. Dick is pinned to the wall and the doorjamb by a new triton expertly hefted by Jane.

Do you like marshmallows?

Jebediah shouldered the cabin door open causing the whole structure to crackle, ice in the seams of the loose wood. A build up of snow prevented much more than a side-slipped entry. He first doffed his cloak, then, from outside the door, tossed two freshly killed rabbits in a fine arc onto the center table stained black from the oily smoke of the pine wood smoldering in the hearth.

Kaitlin looked over and smiled as she continued to drop rosemary sprigs into the boiling water of the kettle with one hand while rocking a drafty bassinet with the other.

The jounce of his entry coupled with the heat from the chimney loosed a sheaf of snow from the roof which slid off and dumped upon him mostly down his ragged collar.

They both paused then laughed simultaneously.He shook off like a dog then entered the cabin.

It is a good winter.

Jim stood giggling at the first closed door after winding his way up to the top of the marble steps in the foyer of the aging mansion. He was not alone. A handful of his friends were with him. They were deep into a psilocybin trip on mushrooms. His friends tried to keep him quiet to prevent him from ruining the surprise; but the idea of the surprise was too fun, too cohesive, too spontaneous, and therefore poorly executed. Jim regained his composure and gently opened the door swinging it wide. The girls, similarly deep in a psilocybin trip on mushrooms, had grown quite tired of the boys Kaiju wrestling in a knee deep swimming pool mere feet from the alpacas, and sequestered themselves in the frilly bedroom. The women surrounded an extraordinarily well-crafted charcuterie plate and nobly took turns selecting a piece like adults patiently waiting to spin the plastic spinner on the board game of Life. They all looked up with the exact same look of exasperation. Jim and the boys wondered at this magnificent setting. No one here designed this space, so the frills were what they were; though the frilly space was quickly determined to be the most haunted... but how did charcuterie happen? It was like stumbling upon playful wood nymphs bathing naked in a spring under a pale moon! And how could they get some? Jim stood with his boys in a chortling, beaming tableau, as composed as they could be under the shifting of circumstances. How much time had passed since they opened the door? They were in the hottest and driest place on earth - the hills of Ojai in September. Erica came over and shut the door in their faces. No words were exchanged. The hallway was dark and cool.

Arthur entered the door. It was a good door. Like the door of his Ohioan childhood home crafted by his father. The front is a long way from there and ages ago. Arthur loosed the fine Venetian knob. Lazy Italians can craft good doors. Elizabeth looked up. She kneaded her hands with tallow. Her right hand red and raw from nights spent mopping sweat off the brows of the injured and the mad confined to the infirmary. Arthur made to speak but stopped because nothing good could come of it. He smelled fresh bread. Paulo, the lame hotel boy, must've brought some by earlier. It would go well with the wine pressed upon him by the priest. Arthur removed his cloak and shook it. Once more he imagined the ashes of the cathedral gently falling like a twilight snow.

Ronnie, naked and holding a newly-opened bottle of champagne, stood as a silhouette in the doorway.

Linda looked up from her dissertation at his midsection and blushed.

Ronnie looked down then back up grinning wide."Linda, if ever we were to make a baby, now is the time!"

His basso profundo exclamation complimented by a peel of thunder that rolled across the congealed July night; there will be a smattering of rain.

"Alexa, play some Jodeci!", she lilted, shoving her dissertation aside.

Linda turned off the light.

[timberalone]

Comic Idea! - TF2/HeavyxMedic

Im writing it here so I dont forget

Medic: *having a bloody wound on his chest* I dont know... how much I have... Heavy... I.. Heavy *holding Medic in his arms and with sorrow in his eyes* Doctor... No! Please.... *Engineer interupting them by placing a dispenser right next to them, so Medic gets healed* Medic: Excuse me we are having a BIT of a MOMENT HERE!

Heavy: >:( Engineer: *very stressed* Well I'm sorry you love-doves, but you can get your heartwarming moment when the other team isnt kicking our f#cking ASSES!

[inspectorboxer]

World on Fire

by Inspector Boxer

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Alex/Maggie

Rating: T

Author’s notes: This is a prompt fill for @quinnsexriot who requested prompt #10, “Did you really think I’d just give up?” This one got a bit angsty and intense, but it’s got a happy ending. Hope you like it. :)

Thanks to @zennie-fic for the quick beta.

****

Maggie struggled toward consciousness. She was warm, unbearably so, sweat slick on her body beneath her clothes, and the world waiting for her on the other side of the darkness was deadly.

A loud groan followed by a worrisome cracking finally jarred her leaden eyelids open, and Maggie woke to a world on fire.

“Alex?” Maggie whispered, struggling to sit up. Her legs were pinned by something heavy, and panic stirred in her chest, chasing away the mental cobwebs and sharpening her senses. “Alex!” she called out with a little more volume, glancing around for her girlfriend and finding nothing but destruction and flames. She drew in a deep breath of the heated air, choking on ash and smoke. “Alex!”

The old apartment building. The alien they’d chased inside. The trap they’d walked right into. It came back to her in a sick rush when she remembered the fire, Alex pushing her out of the way to save her.

“Maggie!” Alex suddenly yelled back, somewhere close, the distress in her voice agitating Maggie further, but at least she knew the other woman was alive.  

Wooden timbers dropped from the ceiling with a boom, embers shooting skyward at the impact, and the floor vibrated ominously under her. Maggie struggled to get up again. She had to get out of there. She had to get Alex out of there.

Maggie turned to assess what was holding her down and discovered something far more concerning. A section of floor had given way behind her, opening a gaping chasm to the ground four stories below. It glowed with fire, smoking drifting toward the ceiling, looking for all the world like a pit straight to hell.

“Shit,” Maggie hissed. Where was Supergirl when you needed her?

With the world burning down around her, Maggie twisted, trying to pull her legs free. Pain exploded in her right ankle and she grimaced, clenching her teeth, but she kept fighting, desperate to get to Alex.

“Maggie!” Alex abruptly stumbled out of the destruction, her features streaked with soot and marred by scratches, and Maggie’s nearly collapsed at seeing her alive and whole.

Palms on the floor, Maggie had to shift to her elbows as the surface became too hot to touch. “I’m pinned,” she warned Alex. “Get help!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex shot back, ripping off her tactical vest and tossing it aside. Her features were drenched in sweat and she coughed as she edged closer, trying to find a way around the debris and flames to get them out.

Several floorboards splintered under Alex’s feet and fell away, forcing the agent to retreat from her chosen path. Alex swore as the holes revealed the inferno below them. She froze, the remaining wood creaking threateningly. The joists wouldn’t hold much longer.

Maggie stared at the other woman, a strange mixture of calm and grief descending upon her as she accepted her fate, watching as Alex searched frantically for a way to get to her.

There was none.

Maggie hated that she didn’t get more time. She hated that she wouldn’t live to see where this amazing thing she shared with Alex would lead them, but she was grateful she’d tasted it, that she’d known what it meant to fall in the kind of love that could have lasted a lifetime.

“Alex…” Maggie pleaded calmly, tears blurring her vision and choking the back of her throat as fire raged around them. “The floor is gonna go, babe. You need to get back.”

“Like hell,” Alex snarled.

“Think of Kara. She needs you. I need you to live, Alex. Please…”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex said again, her own features contorting in pain as their gazes met and held. “I can’t.”

“Alex…”

Ignoring her, Alex got down on her stomach and started inching closer, trying to displace her weight. Even when the floor cracked and splintered, dropping several inches, Alex never wavered, and Maggie realized whatever happened next, Alex was determined they would be in it together.

“No,” Maggie shouted. “Alex, no!”

Alex kept coming. She was too close now, her hand inches from Maggie’s own. “Damnit, Danvers! Get back!”

There was a loud boom below, and Maggie knew in her guts it was the end. She closed her eyes, unable to watch Alex die.

Fingers slippery with sweat and soot wrapped around Maggie’s wrist as something shattered below them. The floor tipped, and the heavy object pinning Maggie’s leg fell away. A moment later she followed, plunging toward the fire below.

Alex never let go.

****

The low murmur of voices slowly ebbed into Maggie’s awareness. She groaned softly. Her head throbbed and her lungs ached, but she willed her eyes open, wincing at the ceiling that came into focus. It was sad she recognized the view. She was in the medical bay at the DEO.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Maggie tried to sit up, ripping off the oxygen mask she found over her nose and mouth. “Alex?”

Someone shushed her gently, and a warm, firm hand on her shoulder urged her back onto the bed. “She’s okay.”

There was no resisting that pressure, and Maggie dropped her head back on the pillows, never happier to see the Girl of Steel at her side.

“She’s okay,” Supergirl said again with a reassuring smile. “Something tells me she’ll be even better now that you’re awake.”

Maggie squinted into the lights. “You saved us, huh?”

Supergirl hesitated before she slowly nodded, and Maggie saw a glimpse of remembered terror in her eyes. “Caught you both just in time and flew you to the DEO. You missed the ride, Detective,” she teased.

“Alex?” Maggie needed her, and she didn’t give a damn if that made her weak.

“I sent her to get cleaned up. Told her I’d watch you.” Supergirl’s blue eyes were kind and full of concern. She tipped her head slightly, listening. “Here she comes, though. I knew she’d hurry.”

“I told you to come get me,” Alex huffed, moving quickly to Maggie’s side. Her hair was still wet from the showers, and the scratches on her features were more vivid without the soot to disguise them.

The sight of her was better than a sedative for calming Maggie down, and she closed her eyes in simple relief. They weren’t done. Not yet. Hopefully not for a very long time.

“She just woke up, dummy.” Supergirl nevertheless grinned as Alex started fussing over her girlfriend, checking Maggie’s ankle, followed by her IV, and finally reaching up to run one of her hands through Maggie’s hair.

“You okay?” Alex whispered.

“Yeah,” Maggie breathed, opening her eyes again to stare at Alex for a long, charged moment. Even injured, exhausted, and worried, Alex Danvers was the most beautiful thing Maggie had ever seen. “But for the record? You’re an idiot.”

Supergirl snorted in amusement only to get a scathing glare from Alex.

“Wow. Okay,” Kara drawled. “I can see I’m no longer needed.” Supergirl smiled at them both, warmth and affection heavy in her gaze. Maggie captured Supergirl’s hand before she could turn and leave, squeezing as hard as she could.

“Thanks. For everything,” Maggie added. Supergirl glanced at Alex, her gaze softening before it returned to Maggie. “Anytime,” she murmured. “Glad you’re okay.”

Alex suddenly looked a little more contrite. “I’ll come find you later,” she promised.

Supergirl nodded and left them alone.

“She’s got damn good timing, huh?” Maggie smiled.

“You have no idea,” Alex said around a weak laugh.

Maggie leaned into Alex’s touch as the other woman cupped her cheek, savoring the familiar calluses on Alex’s palm, the living warmth of her skin. “You okay?” Alex repeated quietly.

“Am now. Although I’ve got a headache and my ankle throbs like a bitch.”

Alex smiled, but Maggie could see fear lingering in her eyes. It had been close. Too close.

Maggie tilted her head, studying her lover critically. She scooted over and patted the bed beside her. “Sit down before you fall down, hon.”

The soft term of endearment never failed to bring a smile to Alex’s lips, and this time was no exception. Gingerly, Alex sat, and Maggie wondered what kind of injuries Alex was keeping from her.

“What about you?”

Alex shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal.” She swallowed and looked down as Maggie threaded their fingers together. “This…” Alex tightened her grip. “This is all I need to feel better,” she confessed.

“You’re an idiot,” Maggie reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Alex.”

“Did you really think I’d just give up?” Alex chided. “Knowing you were in there? That you could be hurt? That you could be…?” She looked away, swallowing roughly as a few agents walked past the medical bay, laughing at a private joke.

Maggie stared at Alex’s proud profile. No one had ever put themselves on the line for her like that. No one. “You were willing to fall with me,” Maggie whispered, slightly awed.

Alex’s head whipped back around at the words. She shrugged, the motion jerky. “I knew Supergirl…”

“No you didn’t,” Maggie countered, easing back against the pillows again. “I saw the look in your eyes, Alex. You made the choice…” Her voice broke.

“I couldn’t…” Alex sighed. “I didn’t want to come out of there without you,” she ground out, her voice wavering. “So yeah. I was willing to fall with you.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Considering I already fell for you once…” she added, her tone a little lighter, “the second time seemed like a piece of cake.”

Maggie rolled her eyes even though she was secretly charmed. “I love you,” she breathed, saying the words she’d been holding back for several weeks now. Alex predictably melted at the declaration, and the emotion Maggie felt for the amazing woman at her side only grew stronger and sweeter at the sight.

“Maggie…”

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready,” Maggie told her. “I just… I wanted you to know that. You deserve to know that.”

Warm lips on her own meant everything until Alex spoke. “I love you too.”

Maggie tugged on Alex’s shirt, encouraging her to curl around her on the small gurney. They snuggled together, warm, close, and alive. Despite the hell they’d just been through, they’d found a slice of heaven at the end of it.

[timberalone]

Ranking the mercs on how easy is to draw them

[timberalone]

I made the promise to draw HeavyxMedic on Twitter, if the left party in germany gets a good amount of percent. (Also thats the bare minimum pls)and I will do it. Im scared that it will look bad, but I will try my best.