#cat hilarious irate

[pumaniq]

Hilarious Snaps Of The Unfortunate Brides Upstaged By Animals On Their Wedding – Design You Trust

Fabio Mirulla

Its your big day, youve spent months planning every last detail of your wedding and youre just about to capture the moment perfectly on camera whenyoure upstaged by a grinning donkey. At least thats what happened to these poor couples who were dramatically photobombed by a whole host of camera-hogging animals on their special day.

The hilarious snaps show a series of irate brides being upstaged by everything from a cat to a camel and a dog to a donkey.The pictures have been taken by some of the top wedding photographers around the world – which just goes to show even the experts run into problems from time to time.The snaps have been compiled by UK-based Wedding Photography Select. They curate and showcase thousands of images from the best wedding photographers around the world and hold six Excellence Awards competitions each year.

More info: Wedding Photography Select

Fabio Mirulla

Arno de Bruijn

Anna Poole/Luna Wedding Photography

Daniel Ribeiro

Ken Pak

Fabio Mirulla

Oier Aso

William Lambelet

DavideOne/Bordeaux Wedding Photographer

Marcin Karpowicz

designyoutrust.com

[gloriabomfim]

Certainly, here are descriptions and titles for 10 montages in which Oggy mistakes a wolf for Joey, along with brief actions and dialogue transcripts:

Montage 1: "The Howling Hullabaloo"

Oggy sees a wolf in the backyard and thinks it's Joey.

Oggy (confused): "Joey, you're in for it now!"

Oggy chases the wolf, leading to a series of amusing misadventures.

Montage 2: "Wolfish Whimsy"

Oggy attempts to capture the "Joey" wolf but faces cunning tricks.

Wolf (crafty): wolf-like sounds

Oggy's pursuit turns into a wild chase filled with pranks.

Montage 3: "Joey or Wolfey?"

The wolf hides in a den, and Oggy tries to coax out "Joey."

Oggy (determined): "Joey, come out!"

Oggy's efforts to retrieve Joey from the den go hilariously wrong.

Montage 4: "Wolf's Feast Folly"

The wolf messes with Oggy's food, provoking his anger.

Oggy (irate): "Joey, you've gone too far!"

Oggy's attempts to teach Joey a lesson result in chaos.

Montage 5: "Wolf in Sheep's Clothing"

The wolf uses disguise, further confusing Oggy.

Oggy (baffled): "Joey, where are you?"

Oggy's quest to find Joey takes an amusing turn.

Montage 6: "The Big Bad Chase"

Oggy prepares to swat "Joey" but faces a cunning challenge.

Wolf (mocking): wolfish laughter

Oggy's swatting attempts turn into a game of wits.

Montage 7: "Wolf's Tail Trick"

Oggy tugs on the wolf's tail, believing it's Joey.

Wolf (annoyed): wolf-like noises

Oggy's tail-pulling efforts lead to a chase.

Montage 8: "Wolfified Fiasco"

Oggy tries to clean up after "Joey" but makes things worse.

Wolf (playful): wolf antics

Oggy's cleaning attempts result in a household mess.

Montage 9: "Wolf Farm Frolic"

Oggy mistakenly takes the wolf to a nearby farm, still thinking it's Joey.

Farmer (puzzled): "What's your cat doing here?"

Oggy's visit to the farm results in farmyard chaos.

Montage 10: "The Unmasking"

Finally, Oggy realizes his mistake and sees the wolf for what it is.

Oggy (embarrassed): "Oops, you're not Joey!"

Oggy and the wolf share a comical moment, ending the mistaken identity adventure.

These montages depict the humorous mix-ups and escapades that occur when Oggy confuses the wolf for Joey, providing entertainment for fans of the show.

#oggy and the cockroaches #Oggy #wolf

[stacinadia]

For @sterekdrabbles!  March 3rd’s prompt was cat, hilarious, irate.  I love fics where Derek and cats are real sweet to each other, but this prompt was screaming for Derek and a cat to not get along!  XD

Also on AO3.

**********

Derek was not amused by his current situation.  He was up in a tree, reaching for a little tortie cat.  But the cat, apparently sensing his werewolf nature, hissed every time he tried to pick her up.  “It’s not funny, Stiles,” he growled as he heard another peal of laughter from his boyfriend on the ground.

“It‘s hilarious!” Stiles insisted.

Derek finally grabbed the cat.  The irate tortie started clawing him as viciously as any wolf, then leaped out of his hands, darted down the tree, and ran to her house.

“At least she’s out of the tree,” Stiles grinned.

#my fanfic #sterekdrabbles #cat hilarious irate #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #prompt #cat #kitteh #tortie #tortoiseshell #lol #teen wolf

[teencopandthesourwolf]

THE BAT & THE CAT

written for @sterekdrabbles 03.02.22 challenge. the prompt words were CAT, HILARIOUS, IRATE.

in honour of the batman being released, have some batman!derek and catboy!stiles...

.

Stiles leaps from the rooftop, landing on all fours. Looking up, eyes sharp as the lines cut by his hip bones, he sits now, long legs swinging from the balcony. 

"So. You're the big scary Bat."

Batman only stares, obviously irate at Stiles' specific brand of banter. It's a reaction Stiles is familiar with. 

Then, "So. You think you're funny, Cat,"

"Think? This shit's confirmed; I'm officially hilarious!" Stiles grins, a latex-clad Cheshire cat.

And, he can't be sure, but he thinks the Bat's lips twitch, just a little.

Oh, this is gonna be fun… both Batman and Catboy think.

.

#sterekdrabbles #100 words of sterek #sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf au #the bat & the cat #fanfic #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

[hedgehog-moss]

Today was really cold, the kind of weather that makes even freshly fallen snow feel crumbly underfoot. Going round the pasture on snowshoes to try and cheer up the parts of the temporary fence collapsing under snow weight is so time-consuming that it motivated me to work on my future Ideal Fence for a few hours.

I found a guy willing to help me dig post holes but obviously it isn’t the right season; what I can do in the meantime is cut the trees along the periphery (I want 2 or 3 wood rails with an electric wire on top, so most of the trees I’m cutting to clear the way for the fence will become the fence) (my mum thinks 2 rails is enough “because it’s not like Pampe will army-crawl to freedom” and I’m like, Pampe? Pampérigouste? Every time I see the entrance of a badger’s den in the woods I worry that I am looking at a tunnel Pampe dug to freedom)

Cutting trees in winter keeps you amazingly warm! You just want to be extra careful because the icy ground is slippery and it’s not a good idea to slip while using a chainsaw. I was near the coop and the hens seemed happy to watch me like I was a mildly interesting afternoon show on the Outdoor Channel; there isn’t much for them to do outside at the moment so their social life took a nosedive compared to what it was last summer, when they were trotting all around the place.

Eventually one of them came out to inspect my work

The other still wasn’t leaving her house despite the wide open door and I didn’t want her to feel left out so I went to fetch her and deposited her near us. She stared at her cold feet in consternation then looked up at me with her chicken body language screaming “Did I ASK?”

I sheepishly chauffeured my irate bird back home then took a break to go prepare a hay net, trying to avoid looking at my now-misshapen snow llama, which hasn’t melted at all since I built it four days ago and whose smile grows more ominous every day.

Accidentally woke up a pile of cats napping in the hay, and two of them followed me outside to check out what I was up to, but then got distracted when they realised they could use the hay net to play pranks on each other.

They did this over and over again; Merricat dutifully looking elsewhere pretending to be lost in thought while Morille prepared to pounce with intense butt-wriggling delight. This is hilarious if you are a cat.

Less so if you are a hardworking young mother llama waiting for your afternoon snack, watching two tiny clowns use it for unacceptably frivolous purposes.

#crawling along #it's been a while since i chronicled a day where everything that happened was too trifling to mention and yet

[ela-loomis]

Michael and s/o but they're just bros (besties too)

Being Michael's Bro

lol

- Fist bumps! He saw you give an acquaintance a fist bump while he was stalking you keeping you safe and he thought it looked fun.

- Why yes, he did fist bump you way too hard the first few times; how did you guess?

- Now though, any time you enter or leave a room that he's in, you fist bump. Sometimes he won't even look up from what he's doing, he'll just hold his fist out towards you.

- Also, finger guns when you make a joke!

- This isn't exactly a "bro-ish" habit, but it got stuck in my head while writing this, so you get to be blessed with this visual too: Michael thinking something you said was funny, and shooting you finger guns.

- Comforting you is The Most Awkward Thing. The first time he stumbled upon you when you were having a bad day, it was exactly like this gif:

fwith a broom and everything.

- Now when you're sad, he at least pats your back and head with his hand. But, it's still hilariously awkward, and he looks like an irate house cat while doing it.

- He doesn't say it, obviously, but when you're doing something he's exasperated by, you swear you can hear the word 'bruh' through the sheer force of his deadpan expression.

- He begrudginly learns a secret handshake with you, but only once he's really comfortable with you.

- If you can convince him to use a cell phone, expect a sudden meme dump on a random Tuesday at like, 3PM. He saves things he thinks you'll laugh at but then forgets about them, so when he finally does remember, he sends you all of them at once.

- He won't admit it, but you startle him with your loud laughter as you start going through the mountain of memes in another room.

- If he steals gets you a gift at any point, expect it to be thrown directly at your face with expert precision. He expects the same treatment if you give him something.

#reply #anon loves #i have more but i want to put them in a bigger hc post! #michael myers x reader #slashers x reader #slasher imagines #slasher headcanons

[shiedagabe]

Who’s The Fool Now?

GIF Belongs To: Kylierosetypo, Imgur.com

Word Count: 1300

Genre: Smut

Today’s the 1st day of April, and you know what that meant, it was finally time to prank your boyfriend. If you were to be honest, you had this planned for a looooong time, but you never had the opportunity to pull it off because you never felt too comfortable making these kinds of jokes. This one was a serious one and, despite finding it hilarious, you were simultaneously fearful of what he would do to you when he found out. Nevertheless, if you wanted to pull this practical joke off you needed to get some preparations done first.

You started by removing all of your knives from the room because you were fearful he’d stab you instinctively before he could find out what was going on, despite your love for knives. You used them more than you should, in all actuality. Not only did you wield them to torture people who you knew you were going to kill anyway, you used them to pleasure each other, as well. You loved being scarred no matter where, except the face, of course. You still had your own life besides J, so a huge scar on your face would always be a cause for suspicion. Luckily, you have a pet cat, so you could always shift the blame on to it. Luckily they laughed it off and so did you, but as soon as you came home you berated him so he’d never do it again. Although, as always, he didn’t care. Not that he didn’t care for you; he’d admit that himself even if he didn’t show it, he just didn’t care about petty things. He did as he pleased and you liked that in him – the ability to not be controlled by social norms, or legal norms, for that matter, was something you admired and so very wished to achieve. He’s currently trying to help you reach that goal, as well, although things aren’t going as smoothly as you had expected. You have a very hard time being, or pretending to be, unemotional. Your first kill was a horrendous one, you admit that, even though you didn’t have any emotional connection to the deceased man, you still cried for him. He comforted you for a bit, but he quickly told you to get back on your feet, if you spent any more time in that damned placed you would’ve been caught.

You woke yourself up from your daydream and hurried up, you were sure he’d be there in no time, and, surprisingly, you were right. He seldom gets home on time, but I guess today was one of those days. He always says that «business isn’t uh… sunshine and rainbows» and despite knowing that’s true, you wonder what he’s doing there every time. Is he killing the businessmen he’s trying to dissuade? Are they that stubborn? You understood that it might be hard to collaborate with a wanted, unpredictable criminal, but something else has to be going on, maybe you should start investigating him while he wasn’t looking.

You heard his car stop outside; you were growing more and more anxious, thinking if you should really do this, or if you should keep your mouth shut so he wouldn’t literally kill you. He headed on inside while taking his heavy purple suit on the coat hanger, even though that thing almost tumbles over because of its weight. Today was a hot and sunny day but you refused to go outside because you wanted to have some fun first. You welcomed him home, such as it is, and escorted him to the shower, since he must be scolding hot while wearing that darned suit all day. He wanted you to join him while showering but, as much as you wanted to join him, you had the perfect plan in your head.

You mounted a siren behind the curtains and you set your phone up as well so it’d emulate a cop’s siren at full volume. After mounting those and setting those up you pretended to bust down your front door. He furiously came out of the bathroom with nothing more than a towel over his hips and a confused stare on his face. He wasn’t panicking, but he was worried for your safety. Although, the only thing he saw was your sorry ass standing in the bedroom with pleading eyes, apologizing to him and that you had to do this before he could hurt you. He was fuming. You could see and feel his frustration building up quickly inside of him. He threw you against the wall and you were knocked out, you only remember hearing him saying «stay here, I’m not going down without a fight».

You woke up feeling dazed and confused and he was sitting right in front of you with a siren in his hands. You could still feel how angry he was, although he refused to show it to you.

-          You want to explain what this is? – He said while irately looking at you.

-          Uhmmm… April Fools?

As soon as you said that he grabbed you by your shoulders and threw you on to the bed.

-          I’ll uh… show you who the fool is.

There was no foreplay this time; he was too annoyed and angry to give you that kind of pleasure. He ripped your clothes off before you could say anything, giving him the pleasure of admiring it, not that he cared about it now, though. He threw his towel against the wall and he forced his throbbing veiny cock inside of you. He was careful while doing this every other time, but I guess today was different. He wanted to pleasure himself and no-one else; if that came at your expense he didn’t care. Little did he know, however, this is exactly what you wanted from him. To make you his bitch and you finally figured out how to do it. You thought to yourself that you had to do this more often if you wanted to have some genuine fun. Before you had time to breathe he grabbed you by your throat and started pounding even harder, he wanted to hear something from you like a painful grunt or a hurtful moan but you didn’t want him to get that kind of satisfaction either. It was slowly turning into a small war between you two, in good fun, where he tried to hurt you as much as possible while you were trying to remove all satisfaction from him as possible. He tried reaching into the nightstand so he could grab one of those aforementioned knives but they were all missing. He stared into your soul furiously and intensely asked you where they were. You simply smirked and shrugged your shoulders. That did it. He was so mad you could almost see smoke coming out of his nose and ears. He was already grabbing your throat, but while before he was doing it sort of playfully and letting you breathe you couldn’t say the same now. You literally couldn’t breathe and you were slowly losing your consciousness again. Before that could happen, however, you felt him breathing more heavily and his cock starting to throb again, he was cumming inside of you and he knew you hated that. He didn’t care; however, you were going to give back whatever you took from him, which was a peaceful day at home.

After he was done calming down and cleaning up he looked at your miserable body lying on the bed, dripping full of sweat and cum, with a huge red scar on your neck.

-          Maybe you should uh… tell your coworkers that your cat did that.

#heath ledger #heath ledger x reader #heath ledger imagine #fanfic #heath ledger joker #ledger joker #joker fandom #heath ledger joker imagine #ledger!joker #smut fanfiction #ledger joker smut #ledger!joker smut #joker smut #ledger joker x reader #tdk joker #joker #joker fic #joker fanfiction #l!joker x y/n #l!joker x reader #l!joker #heath ledger joker x reader #joker 2008 #heath ledger joker x you #ledger!joker x reader #ledger!joker imagine #joker x female reader #villain f/o #villain

[just-another-busy-fangirl-writes]

In Over My Head, Sterek, 100w, general [AO3] @sterekdrabbles 3/3/21 (cat, hilarious, irate)

“Stiles!” Derek yelled as he got to Deaton’s. Within moments, Stiles was letting him through the gate.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, pushing past an uninjured Stiles. When he got to the back room, he froze.

“I’m a little in over my head,” Stiles admitted, closing the door behind them so that none of the kittens could escape.

“This was your emergency?” Derek growled irately, turning to scowl at Stiles. A kitten was now in his hands, hissing up a storm at the werewolf.

“Oh my god, your face is hilarious,” Stiles said before handing the cat over with a kiss.

#sterekdrabbles

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya AU: Lila the Possessor

Marinette could feel the blood draining from her face. She'd expected to see almost anything when she'd decided to follow Lila, from her weaving her next lie to a clandestine meeting with Hawkmoth himself. The girl casually talking to a burning portal in midair was so far outside expectations that Marinette was having trouble reorienting herself. "You would not believe the level of goody-goody nonsense I have to put up with over here. It frankly makes me want to puke. Fortunately most of them are as gullible as they come, so I'll eventually be able to collect their souls no problem. It'll make a nice power boost for myself while I'm tracking down Hawkmoth to claim both his soul and his Miraculous. Make sure to keep up the ritual sacrifices and everything going strong, because some of my bosses are coming later this week and we want to impress them. I'll stop by later after I've checked in with 'mommy dearest'. Ta-ta." Marinette realized she needed to hide just a second too late. "Well, well," Lila grinned just a little too wide for Marinette's comfort level. "Look who just saw more than they were supposed to." "You-you..." "Yes, me, me. What of it?" "I-You-Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop you!" Marinette finally got out. To her astonishment, Lila actually laughed at that. "Those two imbeciles don't even know I exist, and it wouldn't matter if they did." She stepped up and leaned so far into Marinette's personal space that the girl had to take a step back. "I'm inviolate. The daughter of an Italian diplomat. Those two nitwits would never start an international incident. They're too noble for that." "I... I doubt you're really the diplomat's daughter," Marinette said with a confidence she didn't feel. She should have hidden. Or transformed. Being transformed right now would be really nice, but she didn't dare do it in front of Lila unless there was no other option. "Aren't you clever?" Lila simpered. "I'm not Ambassador Rossi's daughter... but I am wearing her." "Um... what...?" Marinette squeaked. "You see, there was this little Italian girl crying in the park one day a few months ago, moaning about how hard it was to make friends. How her mother kept moving and she kept having to start over from scratch and boo-hoo all the kids at her school wouldn't be her friends. And then you know what happened?" "W-what?" "She foolishly said she'd sell her soul if she could only make friends easier. I mean, what was I supposed to do with an opening like that? So I told her I could help her get friends if she wanted. She was so stupidly happy that she said she'd do anything right then and there." "W-what did you do?" "What did I do? I plunged my hand into her chest and ripped her soul out right then and there! The look on her face was priceless! 'Oh, don't worry,' I told her. 'I'll be sure you have plenty of "friends" to fawn all over you or at least me.' and then I possessed her body!" "What d-did you do with h-her then?" "Oh, I keep her around. Let her watch how well I'm fulfilling my end of our bargain. She's so ungrateful, though, always moaning about how I should stop lying and manipulating people because that's 'not what friends do'. It's so pathetic it's hilarious!" "Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop you," Marinette tried to rally herself. "I'll help them." Lila laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "Oh, I hope you try! Wouldn't that be a sight! Poor Marinette has a psychotic break from stress and accuses a classmate of being a demon! No one would believe you! They'll throw you in the nuthouse and I'll just take all your classmates souls anyway. Maybe I'll have them be human sacrifices too..." "Don't you dare!" Marinette snarled. She didn't care if Lila was really a demon from Hell, no one threatened her friends! "Temper, temper..." Lila sneered. "But you know, maybe you could get someone to believe you. Which would mean that 'Lila' has outlived her usefulness. I'd have to abandon her, maybe get my cult to carve her up to throw off suspicion, and find a new gullible sap to

inhabit." Lila's expression turned extremely dark and taunting. "As a matter of fact, I've had my eye on dear sweet Adrien for a while." "No..." "Yes...! Such a perfect host. Rich... famous... connected... An overprotective father who neglects him constantly, leaving a son starved for affection and attention. I could probably get him to sell his soul just by promising to get his father to pay attention to him. And you know... If you helped me, I could be persuaded to ensure 'Adrien' would be your boyfriend afterwards..." "Never!" Lila actually seemed a bit surprised by how firm her denial was. "Well, suit yourself. It's not like you can do anything to me anyway. Even if you killed this body, I'd just find a new one and then you'd never see me coming. See you around, Marinette." Marinette managed to wait three minutes after Lila turned the corner before allowing her legs to give out from under her. "Tikki..." "She's gone," Tikki said, looking uncharacteristically solemn. "Now that I know what she is, I can sense her presence easily." "How... how do we deal with something like that?" "Oh, Marinette," Tikki said gently, "what forces do you think the Miraculous were created to combat in the first place? The day we can't handle one little upstart demon is the day we retire." "Oh god, that poor girl... Lila..." "There are ways to get her soul back to her body, even if it's been taken to Hell," Tikki said. "They're some of the few rituals the Order of Guardians allowed us kwami to learn." "Okay... okay... we'll still need to get... er... 'Lila' out of... um... Lila's... body... geez that sounds weird to say..." "There are ways to do that too. Your cleansing powers could manage it, but for the best results..." "You'll need the cleansing powers of Destruction." Marinette and Tikki both looked to see Plagg, looking so thunderously irate that Marinette had to double-check that he wasn't actively using Cataclysm. "To think," Plagg said with the care and deliberation of someone who knew if they exerted any less self control they would lose any semblance of control over their temper, "that there was a possessor demon so brazen as to be on the same continent - the same city - as my kitten. And I managed to miss it for this long... I'm losing my touch. Well, now that I know she exists, there's nowhere for her to hide. I'll be teaching my kitten the more advanced uses of his powers immediately. Clearly I've been lax in his training. Well, no more. It's time to remind those spirits who would steal and inhabit the bodies of others exactly why those who wear the Ring of the Black Cat are the most feared exorcists in history." -----

Chat Noir eventually learns the tricks and when he and Ladybug face off against 'Lila', he shocks 'Lila' when he proves intent on Cataclysming her directly, but she feels confident that would only dust her 'meat suit'. She has just enough time to scream in terror when it proves to do the opposite, dusting the possessing spirit and leaving the body intact.

Ladybug does the ritual to return the real Lila's soul to her body and the girl has to spend a month in therapy before she can go out in public from the trauma.

The class welcomes her with open arms, and a hug (and secret blessing) from Rose does more good for her than the month of therapy.

The demon 'Lila's' cult seems to have vanished off the face of the earth and when asked about them, Alya and Juleka just kind of whistle innocently.

The real Lila goes on to become friends with everyone in class and eventually this traumatic chapter in her life becomes almost like a bad dream.

----- Oh, hey, you can have your Lila hate sink and your Lila redemption!

----

----

Nice!

#submission #demon alya au

[internalsealpanic]

Camp Crystal What?

summary: Camp Crystal Lake is a fine and dandy place to spend your summer, said no one ever. You are inclined to agree with that and so are Damian and Jon. 

a/n: I am back from retirement with a REEEEEEAAAAALLLLY long crack fic. (This is long as shit by my standards. Leave me alone.) This  was co written and edited by my wife @littleredwing89. She was also the biggest enabler for this. I tried to give reader some executive dysfuction but I don’t think it worked out well. We’ll see. This is my first super sons fic please feel free to roast it. 

warnings: This really self indulgent and really long. You would think I would have more gore in a slasher film based fic. No. Apparently not. 

masterlist

Jon cackles, his chin lifting only slightly from its perch on your shoulder just enough for you to fully hear the petty sound. You tilt your switch, sticking out your tongue in a vain attempt to avoid Damian’s blue shell. You cry out, throwing your arms up in exasperation as the shell hits you just as you were about to cross the finish line. Your outstretched prosthetic arm nearly hitting Jon in the process, not that you felt too bad about that considering…

 “Yeah! Got ‘em, Dami!” Jon says, high fiving a smug-looking Damian beside you.  You glare at Jon, who was still leaning against you like you weren’t about to bite his head off. “Whose side are you on?”

 “Justice!” This draws a snort out of both Tim and Jason who were both sitting in the back. 

 “No, you’re not!”

 “Yes, I am!”

 “He is, (l/n). You needed to be cut down to size," Damian declares, subtly brandishing his screen showing Rozalina doing a little victory lap in her kart as her little star guy floated around her. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks like an unruly chipmunk as you cross your arms over your chest. This only serves to make Damian all the smugger and Jon all the more gleeful at your loss. 

 You turn the full force of your ire on Jon who was smiling innocently at you, big blue eyes sparkling reminding you of your husky, Yoohoo. You’re about to say something scathing but stop instead deciding to stew in your loss and sulk as you hand Jon your Switch. You’d think he would be more prepared since he was the one who insisted on coming with you to this camp. Now that you think about it, why were they here? All you remember is telling Jon that you couldn’t go visit him over the summer because your parents were sticking you in a summer camp while they go abroad for something and the next thing you know is that you’re in an SUV with Jon, Damian, Damian’s older brother’s, and their friend(?). Whatever she was to them Damiam never adequately explained like everything else. Though you suspect she was Dick’s wife judging from how little they cared whether the other invaded their space. The lack of a wedding ring made you unsure. 

 You let out a little huff, melting into your oversized Gotham U hoodie, letting Jon lean on you despite your sour mood and touch aversion. You lean against him in return and watch as Yoshi zips past Rosalina in mild petty satisfaction. 

You all file out of the car, drowsy and irritable. You muss Jon’s bed head into an even more tangled mess. Neither of you tells Damian about the streak of drool on his face. Tim shuffles the three of you towards the convenience store while Jason politely explains to the mechanic that he’s wrong, Dick orders lunch at the diner and makes a call back to Gotham presumably to make sure Wayne industries isn’t burning down. 

Over your shoulder, you can see Jason’s form working hard not to look threatening. It’s not working or maybe the mechanic was shaking because Faust isn’t even trying to hide the irritation wicking off of her. 

 “He wha-” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose muttering something about Mr.Wayne. He looks pained. Tim hands you a wad of one-dollar bills as his voice takes Timothy Wayne's public speaker pitch. All of the Wayne’s seem to have three voices. Their Wayne voice, their vigilante voice, and their normal voice. Mr. Wayne has the most distinct voice. Dick’s was honestly really hard to distinguish.  

 You count the wad of cash in your hand as Jon grabs a basket from the pile. You note, with amusement, that at least five of the bills had variations of ‘don’t buy cereal’ written on them in distinct handwriting. 

 “Kent, are you planning to put the entire store in the basket?”

 “Nah, just the good stuff.”

 You marvel at the amount of food Jon managed stockpile in your basket while you were distracted. 

 “Uh, Jon, we don’t need that much.” Plus, I don’t think we can eat all of that. 

 “They’re right,” Damian chides, making Jon pout. 

 After a healthy amount of debate, two almost food fights, a near fistfight, and your attempt at puppy dog eyes, you finally narrow the snacks down and even have enough money left for slushies. You shrug at her, adding more blue than necessary. There weren’t rules against this. Plus, it was tastier this way. 

 “Dami,  what flavor do you want?” Jon shouts from the slushie machine.  Beside him, you swirl a mix of red, green, pink, and blue slushies. The lady at the counter was wrinkling her nose at you the way Dami is wrinkling his nose at Jon.

 Jon’s big cup of neon blue smoothie dropped to the floor in a loud clatter. 

 “You’re all doomed! He’s coming. He’s coming! That place is cursed!” The scraggly man screams as he shakes Jon. Damian’s lip tries not to curl in amusement as you both watch the scene unfold. Out of context, this was horrifying. In context, it was hilarious especially considering how badly Jon is acting. The clerk at the counter looks appropriately horrified. You look at Jon, feeling a twinge of worry. He’s not in danger. You know that but you can’t help it.

 Your concoction flies into the man’s face in no time flat and Jon scrambles to your side as soon as the man drops him. You step in front of him bracing for further confrontation but the man simply walks off muttering about something you couldn’t hear over the beating of your heart. 

“Exactly, why am I in the back?” Jason whines, unfolding and refolding himself, not quite sure where to place what limb in the cramped back row of the SUV. You let out a giggle which earns you a rather harsh glare from an already irate Jason. Damian glares back at him for you, in an oddly protective gesture, and you can’t help but feel strangely smug about it. 

 They glower at each other for a few minutes. Jason, probably knowing this was a stalemate, turns his attention towards the front of the vehicle, sharp green eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t Faust’s short ass be in the back with Timbo and the Three Tiny Terrors?” 

 You hear an amused huff from the front along with the loud crinkling and shuffling of the map. Faust glances over her shoulder, the bright mischief in her eyes contrasting with the rich brown of her skin. You wonder if everyone in Damian and Jon’s lives were all this pretty. An almost smile quirks on the edges of her lips as she says “You didn’t call shotgun~”

 Jason hisses something colorful behind you. Tim, beside him, is chuckling either from Jason’s misery or, based on the defeated cry coming from Jon, having just nailed Yoshi with lightning. Could be both. It was likely. 

 Jason, looking positively annoyed, unfolds himself and violently settles his feet on Tim’s lap. Tim yelps then says something close to a swear word. Jason grins lazily looking more like a cat as he leans back. This time Jon cries out in joy, the victory music blaring from your switch. Again, Tim hisses something edging towards a curse word. Jon wriggles out of his seat and fist bumps Jason who returns the gesture enthusiastically. In the reflection on the windshield, you can clearly see the amusement in Dick’s smile. Even to your right, Damian seems amused if not outright gleeful at seeing Tim’s misery.  You couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t a master of reading Waynes yet. You would turn to Jon but he wasn't fluent either. Faust told you that it would take a while which just meant that you would never master it. Reading people was hard enough as it was. There was always something difficult about interpreting social signals. It was so easy to get them wrong and when you add in the complication of being a vigilante you just found yourself frustrated. You slump into the seat feeling the frustration writhing under your skin. Jon noticing your frustration eases up and gives you a little more space. 

 "So, what's with the map?" Tim asks, throwing Jason's feet back at him and handing you his switch. Faust wrinkles her nose at the offending piece of paper. "Well, Dicktopus here insisted on the authentic road trip atmosphere complete with bad cell signal, a map, and oh right, getting lost." Dick gives her a look which Faust just shrugs it off. 

 "Like what? The Goofy movie?" Tim asks incredulously, his brows wrinkling in the rearview mirror as he gives Dick a withering look. 

 Faust snorts in confirmation. Jon’s face crumples in confusion. You make a small hiccupping noise mimicking the noise that passes for Goofy's laugh and you see as the bleary memory clicks into place. "You mean the old movie we watched last night?"

 "It's old but gold," Dick defends fervently, earning him an indulgent smile from Faust and a withering look from Damian. Damian shrinks into his seat unwilling to expend too much effort defending his mentor's taste in movies despite him enjoying the movie. You did too but you wanted to see how this would play out. Behind you, Jason shifts, a shark-like grin plastered across his face. " Just because that's the movie you modeled your life after, Big Bird, doesn't mean it's good."

 Dick makes this affronted noise that makes him sound a little like he's squawking. "It's a good movie and you know it!" Dick says earnestly, scowling at a still cocky Jason through the reflection in the windshield. You see Damian, Jason, Faust, and Tim's eyes meet in the rearview mirror, all shining conspiratorially. You and Jon give each other a look, each looking like you're bracing for disaster. 

 "Dunno, Dick, I think the second one was soooo much better," Tim pipes up finally. It sounds like the spark lighting a trail of gunpowder towards a powder keg. 

 "I have to agree with Drake," Damian says honestly sounding pained. 

 Faust rewards him with a conspiratorial smile which makes Damian ease a little. The gesture from what you understood roughly translated to 'it was for the greater good.' "So much for your taste in movies, Dickens," Faust teases, poking a finger at Dick’s shoulder. 

 "You're one to talk!" Dick says, rolling his eyes childishly. 

 Faust twists her body to look at all 5 of you, winking at you and Jon as if she was about to perform a magic trick, which wasn't off the table since she could actually pull weapons from her tattooed skin. "You guys loved Lake Placid, right?" 

 Playing along, you each gave varying sounds of agreement til Dick finally threw his hands up in exasperation. "HEATHENS!" Faust looks pleased as punch at this reaction. You giggle as Dick groans into the steering wheel as you slow to a stop in front of a cross-section. 

 "Traitors all of you," Dick says, resting his arm on the back of his seat and giving all of you a halfhearted scowl. He kind of looked like Yoohoo when you refused to give him treats. 

 You all bask in Dick’s misery. You even catch Jon giggling at Dick’s frown despite himself. The rest were completely unrepentant. They don't even bother to hide the self-satisfied smiles on their faces, least of all Damian who vehemently protested to being subjected to such drivel. This is, of course, ignoring the fact that he had watched the movie with the same rapt attention as you and Jon. You all enjoyed the movie just as much as Dick did but it was much funnier to gang up on him. 

 Dick continues to argue his point as all of you offer, frankly, bogus arguments that you say with as much conviction as Dick levels against you. The banter continues in a rather jaunty rhythm until a fallen tree forces the car into a rather abrupt stop. 

 "Shit!" Jason hisses at full volume as his knees hit the back of Damian’s seat which draws out a soft 'oof' from Damian which quickly reshapes into a snarl. Tim and Damian give Jason a look of mock sympathy. Jason raises his middle finger in a vaguely familiar gesture. 

 "Jason!" Dick says, cutting off your train of thought much to your frustration. You contemplate hissing some colorful words yourself. 

 Jason grunts, probably rubbing his shins. "They've heard, said, and done worse." You hear Jon protest beside you but it's quickly cut off by a 'not you' from somewhere. 

 Then it hits you. "Oh yeah! Dami did that hand thingy when he drop-kicked someone during lunch," you admit conversationally. 

 "Dami!" 

 Damian gives you an absolutely betrayed look. You shrug at him not entirely sure what was wrong. You shrink a little and Damian pulls back a little but still glares. 

 "Didn't you hear him say the F-word?" Jon adds. You blink at him, running through your memory like a film reel and turning up nothing. "Some of us don't have super hearing," you supply with no real anger behind it. 

 "Ope, sorry, (y/n)." You shrug at him congenially as he smiles sheepishly at you. No harm no foul. 

 "Kent!"

 "Oh- Uh, sorry, Dami." 

 Damian doesn't look appeased at all by this. 

 “Ok, so we’re just gonna skip over the fact that he drop-kicked someone?” Tim asks, raising a brow and you find yourself thinking, “Well, yeah. He’s Robin. That’s kinda his thing.”

 Jason snorts beside him, seemingly less irritable now that Dick’s attention was directed elsewhere. “He didn’t get caught soooo..”

 “Jason!”

 “Jason, we’re not supposed to be obvious about being terrible influences.” Faust jokes, now redirecting Dick’s ire to her. You can’t tell if that was intentional or not but either way she seems to be enjoying how Dick’s expression makes him look like a carp gasping for air.

 “Why did you tell them?” Damian hisses, albeit softer than he normally does. You frown at him confused. You thought it was spectacular and you really don’t know what was wrong. You really wish they’d explain it. Maybe you should speak up but would that be rude? You stare at Damian trying your hardest to convey your confusion but you’re having trouble shaping your face into the correct one. You try to keep in mind the face Jon makes when Damian tried to explain quantum physics to both of you. 

 Turning away from her argument with Dick, Faust looks at you pityingly before speaking and putting her hand up to Dick’s face lightly pushing him back. “Relax, Baby Vamp, I would’ve gotten it out of them sooner or later,” Faust says, looking at you with the same stern look Mr. Pennyworth gives you when you try to steal cookies. It kind of reminds you of the Penance Stare from Ghost Riders but with less flaming skulls and more implied disappointment. 

 “Tim was the one who ate the last few pieces of the brownies Mr. Pennyworth made for Jason.” The words flow out of you like water from a cataract. Faust waves her hand theatrically as if she had just demonstrated a magic trick. Again, you’re pretty sure this was one. You wince fully expecting Tim to have the same caustic reaction as Damian. But when you turn to look at him to apologize, Tim already had his hands up in front of him defensively. On the other side, not far enough away for Tim’s liking, Jason looks livid, steam coming out of his ears. 

 “Those were mine, asshole!”

 “You eat them every time you’re at the Manor!”

 “When I’m at the Manor! Which is what? Once every three months?”

 “Two,” Tim deadpans, holding up two fingers. 

 That was the wrong thing to say, you realize. From the way they’re staring at each other, you’re a little afraid they’d come to blows as Jason surges forward. 

 “Tim, Jay, I will turn this car around if you two don’t stop.”

 “Please, continue.” Dick shoots Damian a ‘you are not helping’ glare but Damian simply answers with a warning one. They all look ready for a brawl and all you want to do is curl up into your oversized hoodie. You play with the frayed edges of your hoodie hoping you’re radiating your discomfort.

 And like an angel of mercy, Faust clears her throat. “(Y/n), Jon, help me clear the road.” The statement leaves no room for argument and you and Jon breathe a collective sigh of relief. 

Jon lifts the tree with ease. It was an oddly healthy tree, freshly cut. Something about it made your stomach turn. “Jon could have done it alone. Why bring me?” You ask, distracting yourself from the strange feeling by fiddling with the joints of your metal hand which only made you more conscious of how pointless it was to bring you along. Faust glances towards the car. The boys are still bickering. She then glances down at you with a wry smile. “Waynes bickering is really funny from a distance.” Your eyes glance at the light scar on her running down her clavicle, disappearing into the line of her shirt.  You doubt it’s from any of them. You really doubt it. The Wayne kids were chaotic, especially the girls, but they’re never- Well, they can be hurtful but not that way. Not that you’ve seen anyway.   You shake your head and glance at the car and watch them argue. Their gestures are animated and loud enough that you could almost hear the bickering going on. This liveliness settles your stomach. 

 You spend a few minutes out there waiting for them to settle down. It was long enough for you and Jon to start debating the existence of Gummy Bear shaped aliens and for Faust to weigh in with her humble opinion. Dick honks at the three of you to tell you it was, relatively, safe to come back. Tim, Damian, and Jason were all sulking in their respective corners while Dick gives you and Jon an apologetic look. Jon simply shrugs as if to say it was normal for brothers to argue but you found it hard to picture Conner ever being that mean to Jon or vice versa for that matter. Faust rolls her eyes at the sulking birds, a fond smile quirking on her lips.  Dick gives her a look that was usually followed by the words ‘I miss not being the adult’ which she graciously answers with a smile that plainly says ‘me too.’

 In the corner of your eye, you see something- a shadow- move in the woods as you drive off, Dick’s story about space aliens falling away into the background. You turn to Jon who looks at you confused and a little concerned. It was clear he didn’t see it, whatever it was. You turn to Damian but see he’s still stewing. You blin and the shadow is gone. A sticky feeling of dread settles in your stomach. 

 There's pressure in the car. 

The camp is, well, loud. 

 Louder than you were expecting and full of rowdier children than promised. You wince slightly, ears ringing. You and Damian sigh already knowing that you were both going to be absolutely exhausted by the end of this. You turn to Jon, shoulder slumping, only to find him beaming as he watched the other kids run around. There were alot of days you envied Jon and this was one of them. Damian looks at Jon with utter disbelief. You shrug at him as he wrinkles his nose at both Jon and the hooligans running around. Your lip quirks into a scraggly smile fully understanding.

 “This is going to be repulsive,” Damian hisses.  

 “Lighten up, Dami.”

 “Nah, he’s gotta practice being dark and brooding, so when he gets to be the big bad bat he can do the whole brooding thing all-natural,” you joke, using your finger to mimic the ears of Batman’s cowl. 

 “Please, say that louder. I don’t think the supervillains heard you,” says Damian sarcastically, nose upturned.  

 Jon grins at you in a challenge. You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Your brain cell takes a vacation. 

 “HE’S GOTTA-” Damian clamps a hand on your mouth. You glare at him. His eye flicks to Jon who is sucking in a breath. Damian is throwing his other hand over Jon’s mouth when one of the counselors waves you over. All three of you blanch at the color of the shirt. 

 You all stand in an odd misshapen circle. Damian looks incredulously at the tacky camp T-shirt he’s been forced into while Jon does not contain his laughter. You joke about how a bowtie would definitely class it up which earns you a rude gesture that just makes you laugh harder. 

 “Alright kiddos, it’s time to introduce ourselves!”

 Damian froze under the weight of their collective gazes, the hint of a smile on his face fading. Sometimes being around you and Jon made him forget. Well, not really forget. It was just easier not to think about it when you two were around. Damian feels himself shifting, realigning himself to 5’ 2” of cold arrogance.

 It should have scared you just how easily the warm fondness on his face smoothed out giving way to this cold calculating face. It did on some level; on some level, the efficiency of Damian’s face muscles scared you. Sometimes you had to wonder if it was just him or if his brothers had the same knee-jerk reaction. 

 You roll your eyes as if nothing worrying had happened and bump your shoulder against his. A smile twitches on his lip and the ramrod shape of his spine curves a bit.  Jon snickers, not trying too hard to hide it, which earns him the full force of Damian’s ire but you and Jon know all too well that Damian’s just being prickly.  You step forward, shoulders broadening, nudging a glaring Damian behind you redirecting everyone’s stares towards you. It’s uncomfortable but you don’t mind. Damian huff behind you but doesn’t protest any more than that. You smile amicably or as amicably as you can. You need to remember the correct shape.  

Introductions go off without a hitch. 

 Jon, like always, has no trouble stirring the crowd. 

  You make an impression when your introduction careens into a tangent about angelfish.

 Behind you, Damian scoffs and  crosses his arms over his chest. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did have a tendency to be nervous, especially around new people. This is compounded by the fact that Damian wasn’t really versed in dealing with people his own age which just put him on edge. 

 Thankfully, all three of you get sorted into the same cabin. The cabin is chaotic in a familiar, childish sort of way with pillows flying everywhere and kids jumping up and down their bed. Jon immediately jumps into the fray. Damian follows soon after Jon hits him with a pillow square in the face. 

 “Woman up and face me, Kent!”

 You look up to the sky and smile in amusement.  This is going to be an interesting summer.

The room is solid. 

 Your eyes incandescent in the darkness. The air crackles in anticipation of the storm.  

 A silver streak of lightning tears down through the heavens and crashes down into the lake. 

 A strange dislocation in the universe has emerged.

 Your eyes shut. 

 Your ears pop. 

 You do not hear as something mangled rises from the water. 

You wanted to say this was a horrible idea. Though, you’re not sure how to phrase that without implying they’re idiots. You’ve been hanging out with Damian too much. He’s starting to rub off on you and you’re mildly concerned. 

 You’d told them that the whole fight was your fault. Ok, not entirely. You simply told the kid off when he was making fun of Jon and you were not gonna stand for that. The kid shoved you, Damian 'accidentally' broke his nose, and the next thing you know is that you’ve been shoved into a random group of campers.It’s been a week but you still weren’t familiar with a lot of the people in the camp. The man with kind eyes said this would be good for you.  You really would have preferred staying at the campgrounds, cleaning and doing whatever with the people in your cabin. 

 “Alright, kiddos, you guys can go swim while me and Jos go check something out in the woods.”

 “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!”

 You sniff and bite your tongue, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

 "You sure they're gonna be ok?"

 "What you think they're gonna disappear like Cat?"

 Your ears perk up at this. 

 "Well, I mean-"

 "She probably just ran off with one of the town boys." 

 This was probably the best time to bring up child endangerment protocols or the fact that you’re not even dressed for swimming. By the time you string the correct combination of words,  they’re gone. You sigh and huddle yourself into a tree. It’s not like you’re dressed to swim anyway even if you wanted to. 

 You hug your knees as you flatten yourself against the tree, making sure your prosthetic limb is tucked beneath your normal one. You watch the others as they horse around looking like they’re really enjoying themselves. They probably didn’t realize you were there or did they even notice you join the group. Doesn’t matter really. Right now you would prefer to sit under the tree than risking your arm. Mr. Fox had explained that since it was still a prototype it was delicate. 

 “HEY!”

 You jump. Your skin feeling very confined. You turn to the voice. Jesse, you think. 

 “Sorry. Could you- can you say that again?”

 She rolls her eyes at you and you suddenly doubt the politeness of your speech but no you were pretty sure that was the correct way to say it. 

 “I said ‘can your arm go in the water?’.”

 Oh.

 “No?” You were half sure it couldn’t. You haven’t really tested it since it was easier to bathe without it. She gives you a skeptical look and yanks your arm towards her. You yelp. “Hey! What are you-” Your throat tightens when you find yourself at the dock. It’s shaky. The slightest shifting made it move. 

 You turn your heel mumbling an apology but your arm is yanked back. The grip is stronger now. You look back and see two people holding on to it. “Let go!” you say, trying to wrench yourself free. “It’s- it’s not a toy,” you add but they don’t budge.

 “You’re being a baby!”

 “C’mon (y/n)!”

 “Let’s see how well robots can swim!”

 You scream as they throw you into the water. 

 You thrash your limbs around, grasping for something, anything but all you can feel is the viscous emptiness deforming and reforming with every splash. 

 You cry out. 

 The water muffles your screams along with the distant sound of laughter and heckling. 

 Your mouth is filling with water.

 Your lungs. Your lungs are burning. 

 Your chest aches. 

 You can’t breathe. 

 Help!

 Help!

 Please!

 Someone!

 It hurts. 

 Your vision is pulsing. The edges are going dark. 

 Your limbs are going numb and falling to pieces. 

 The world is sinking. 

It’s so dark. 

 It’s too cold. 

 Why are you alone?

 Where are they?

 You don’t want to die like this. 

 .

.

.

.

.

.

You feel a large hand fish you out by the scruff of your shirt. It tosses you onto the shore; the force as you hit the ground knocks the air (water?) out of your lungs. You heave, gasping like a fish. A large silhouette hangs over you, cold dread licks up your spine but you note a lack of panic. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen. 

 Your vision comes back in pieces and by the time the world puzzles back together, you’re alone. You’re alone and shivering like a wet rat. You look around, brushing wet hair out of your eyes and you realize you’re not entirely sure of the way back. You curl in on yourself. It does nothing to warm you but you were desperate to feel whole and safe and ok. 

 You aren’t entirely sure how long it is before Jon and Damian find you or just how they managed it but you’re thankful when someone drapes a heavy towel over your head, muffling the scattered sounds around you. Shakily, you pull the towel over your face. It hides the tears well enough. Your loose hanging limbs tighten around you. You want to shrink, small enough to smooth over the trembling in your body. You know they’ve saved people from drowning before. They’ve saved people from far worse. Heck, they’ve been through far worse. You desperately don’t want them to think of you as weak, as less but here you were trembling. You’re unable to steady your own breathing. Frustration rises in the back of your throat. It is a welcome change from the nonstop medley of panic that’s been shoved on you. 

 A hand settles itself on your head, the movement stiff, light, and controlled. The pressure increases a touch when you don’t protest. Damian radiates awkwardness as he attempts to ruffle your still-damp hair. You smile up at him through damp hair. Damian simply grunts as he continues to avoid eye contact by staring out at the empty lake. 

 Jon plops down next to you kicking his feet out in front of him. He gives your space but he’s just close enough for you to lean against if you wanted to. On his shoulder was your ratty oversized hoodie. You tug at his sleeve to ask for it. He hands it to you. You slip it on, not caring that you were still soggy. The familiar, loose weight of fabric against your skin made you feel whole and safe and marginally ok. 

 Jon presses a hand onto your back mimicking the experimental way Damian had patted your damp hair. He listens to the steadying rhythm of your heart, his own easing back into a calmer rhythm. Damian raises a brow at him and he gives him a thumbs up. Damian’s shoulders loosen and Jon can’t help the snort that comes out of him. You look at him startled and Damian gives him the ol’ Damian glare which makes him laugh out loud. Your eyes flicker to Damian and then roll your eyes, crow's feet wrinkling in the corners of your eyes. You twist your mouth into a weird squiggly line in an attempt to smother a laugh in fear of incurring Damian’s wrath. Jon highly doubts you’d be able to. Damian was, in fact, a big old softie. Sure, he acts grumpy all the time but spending so much time with both Dick and Faust has made him pretty mushy by bat standards but Jon wouldn’t dare say that out loud, at least, not when Damian looked this close to throwing him into the water. 

 You spend a long time soaking up the quiet before heading back. Jon slings an arm around you but pulls it back when he hears your heart stutter. You pinch and tug at his sleeve and mumble an apology.  You see Damian shoot Jon his version of the Pennyworth look. 

 “Sorry, (y/n).”

 “‘S ok,” you rasp quietly. 

 You three walk along the shore towards the cap. You feel too tired to even blanch at the odd feeling of wet socks as you pad along the path. You walk in silence which is interrupted by a bird call here and there with either you or Jon occasionally asking Damian to translate. He does but for some reason some odd reason, they keep calling you idiot or imbeciles. You watch Damian’s eyes flick here and there. You know he feels it too. The odd feeling of being watched. The rustle of leaves echoes eerily in the stillness. 

 The counselors, mercifully, let you skip out on the rest of the afternoon’s activities. You curl up in your cabin, warm and very comfortable in the pool of fabric created by one of Mr. Kent’s hoodies which Jon ‘accidentally’ packed. You rolled your eyes at him but accepted it gratefully. You make a mental note to thank him with the mill house cookies you ‘accidentally’ bought at one of the rest stops. 

 You flip through the yellowing pages of the book in your hand. You aren’t quite sure how to describe how inappropriate it is to give a drowning victim a book on the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft. Then again, it was better than reading Moby Dick. Plus, you’re enjoying yourself trying to find a man who is about as stealthy as a Green Lantern. You’ll have to ask Damian or Jon. Damian’s more likely to have met a Green Lantern but he’s also more likely to give you a boring and entirely inaccurate answer. 

 You go back to the fish people. Do Atlanteans walk like that? Maybe.  It feels odd somehow moving around without your prosthetic limb. Lighter but infinitely more unstable.  

 “Do you think they’ll find Cat?”

 Your ears perk up. Your eyes flick to the window and you see two counselors leaning against another cabin. You shuffle awkwardly somehow moving the mass of cloth quietly. You squish against the wall making sure they can’t see you. 

 “Cat just ran off. You know how she is.”

 “That’s what Raz said.”

 “Yeah, where is he?”

 “Who knows he’s probably just fucking around in the woods. Doing Bear Grylls shit or something.”

 “Hope he comes back soon.”

 “Do you really wanna deal with that horny jackass?”

 “No but he’s the only decent cook. Do you really wanna taste what awful concoction Ratty has for us?”

 Your stomach curdles remembering Ratty’s terrible improvisation of Doro Wat. Ratty said it was their grandmother’s recipe but you doubted it. Unlike the one Jason made for you one time, it was bland. It wasn’t even close to spicy. The vegetables were overcooked while the chicken was somehow undercooked. In short, you had nearly died twice since you got here. 

 “Nope. I’d rather starve. Isn’t their cooking like a human rights violation?”

 Starvation would be a kinder death. 

 “Yeah. Anyway, I tried asking Jos. Apparently, Raz and a bunch of the other Lil shits have been fucking around in town.”

 “Is that where Jackie disappeared to?”

 “Probably.”

 Ok, so the counselors have been dropping like flies and you have yet to notice. You should probably tell Damian and Jon. Something about this seems wrong. 

“Are you ever gonna stop glaring at them?” you ask, plopping on to the log letting your empty sleeve hang loosely off to your side. 

 “Depends, have they apologized?”

 “Ye-”

 “Sincerely?”

 “Well-”

 “Then no.”

 “Ok, but does Jon have to pout at them?”

 “I’m not pouting!”

 “Wait… That’s your glare?”

 “Yeah?” Jons says furrowing his brow. 

 “Batcow’s given me better glares!”

 “Again, (l/n) is right.”

 “Thank you!”

 “Dami, who’s side are you on?”

 Damian’s lips curl into a cat-like smile, the kind you saw on Selina. “Justice.”

 Jon throws his hands up defeated. You give Damian a low five as he settles beside you. Jon takes the seat on your other side still pouting. 

 "Do you kids know the rules to surviving a horror movie?" 

 The chattering dies down and you all fall silent, turning your full attention to the counselor. Your counselor lets out an absolutely delighted squeal, clapping their hands. You don’t miss the absolute dread on your other counselor’s face. 

 “Ok so, rule 1: Be a virgin-”

 “Ratty!” Dawes, the counselor with dread on her face, squeaks elbowing Ratty, Ratchet. “Couldn’t you have worded it differently or you know, not at all?!” Ratty, the horror enthusiast counselor, rubs their arm and sticks their tongue out at Dawes who looks like she’s going to age ten years during this conversation. 

 If you thought Dawes was pale before, she nearly turns transparent with the next few words that leave your mouth. “What’s a virgin?” you blurt out. You desperately want to curl in on yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was just your mouth runs faster than your mind.  The kids around you snicker and one of the boys behind you claps you on the shoulder, laughing loudly. You lean on Damian, hiding behind him slightly. Damian shifts so he’s shielding you more.

 Dawes sputters out her answer.  It’s hard to understand. You watch the others searching for clues for an appropriate reaction. 

 “It’s a person who’s never had intercourse,” Damian deadpans and you nod quietly. 

 Dawes’ face lights up like a Christmas tree while Ratty’s twists into pure joy. Damian rolls his eyes as the other kids laugh even louder. It takes a moment but your cheeks heat up realizing the gap in your reaction must have given them the wrong idea. You pinch the bridge of your nose and you sigh. You see Jon snort at you and you stick your tongue out at him. 

 “See, Dawes, they know.”

 “What about keeping them innocent?!” 

  “I’m not getting paid to do that,” Dawes drags her hand over her face as Ratty shrugs,” ’sides, this is life skills.” Dawes slaps Ratty on the shoulder again making them whine at the impact.  “Ok. Ok. Fine. Fine. Jeez, you hit like a son of a- Oh wait, have any of you heard about Camp Blood?”

 This gets you all to quiet down. 

 “Camp Blood? Isn’t that like a video game?”  

 “It’s like a local ghost story isn’t it?”

 “Wasn’t that the one with the fish-”

 “It’s not the fish people.”

 “Let me tell the story!”

 “Ratty, you never tell the story well. You keep making weird voices and you can’t even keep a straight face.”

 “SLANDER,” Ratty shouts, throwing up their hands. 

 “Pffft, you also gonna tell us you can cook a 5-star meal?”

 “Ok. Ok. Fine. I’ll just tell it to them straight.”

 “What? As straight as Dawes?”

 “Pffft, we’d go in circles.”

 “Hey!”

 “It’s true!”

 “You don’t have to say it.”

 “What’s the thing about Camp Blood?” Jon pipes, putting a hand over Damian’s mouth probably sensing the sharp remark he’s about to say. Damian licks his hand and Jon pulls away waving his hand like he’s been burned.  You snort then blanch when Jon rubs the spit on to your hoodie. 

 “Gather round children-”

 “Ratty, they’re in a circle get on with it.”

 “I AM TRYING TO SET THE MOOD.”

 “Jesus, ok. So, a looong time ago there was this kid named Jason Voorhes. When two counselors were fu- OW! Jeez, Dawes- Ow! Ok, fine. While two counselors were distracted, he drowned-”

 “Sounds familiar,” snipes Damian. An apologetic look crosses Dawes’ face, a confused one on Ratty’s, and sheepish one on Jos’. You squeeze his and Jon’s shoulders. 

 Ratty shakes their head. “Anyway, they never find the body so his mom comes back and hacks the new counselors into pieces as some soft of demented justice for her kid.”

 “That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Jos laughs awkwardly. The glares on them do not waver. You elbow Damian and kick Jon’s foot. Damian ignores you while Jon gives you a look of mock hurt.  You roll your eyes at him and attempt to elbow Damian a second time. Again, nothing.

 “The thing is one of the counselors actually manages to decapitate Mrs. Voorhees. She disappeared two months after though. Legend has it that Jason still roams the grounds of Camp Blood seeking revenge for his mother.”

 The air is humming, thick with the roll of thunder and  the premonition of a storm. 

 There is a dislocation in the universe. 

 Your ears pop. 

 You look at Jon who looks vaguely like his mother when she’s sniffed out a story. You look at Damian who is already sussing out every detail of the story. Your eyes meet and you all nod. 

“It has to be someone using the urban legend as some sort of cover. Or! Or maybe they’re using the urban legend to mythologize their killings,” you say, through a mouth full of contraband chocolate chip cookies. 

 Damian snatches the package from you taking a piece.“(l/n), that’s ridiculous-”

 “Yeah, we don’t even know if they’re dead yet,” Jon protests, snatching the bag from a scowling Damian. 

 “What are the odds they’re still alive?” 

 You all fall silent. “We assume they’re still alive until we see proof of the contrary,” Damian says firmly. You and Jon nod. The movement feels heavy.  

 “But what if the Jason ghost is a real thing?”

 “Possible.”

 “(l/n), don’t indulge him.”

 “Jon is literally part alien,” you protest

 “Jason has come back from the dead and Faust literally has moving tattoos,” Jon adds.

 “YOUR DAD IS LITERALLY BEST FRIENDS WITH A 5000-YEAR-OLD AMAZONIAN AND A DUDE WHO CAN LIFT BUILDINGS.”

 “Ok, fine but we should eliminate the more mundane explanations first,” Damian concedes accepting another cookie. 

 “I think we have. It’s too rapid and obvious to be a human trafficking operation.”

 “We should find the counselors first.”

 “Yeah, that’s a start.”

 “Where should we start?”

 “Abandoned cabins would be a good start,” you suggest trying not to perk up. 

 Damian glares at you and you wither. “(l/n), you’re not coming with us.”

 “You say this like (y/n)’s gonna listen,” Jon laughs. 

 “ET has a point,” you say, grinning and opening another packet. You offer Jon the first cookie as thanks. 

 “Can’t I at least be a cool alien?”

 “Nope.”

 “Will you two focus?”

 “Yeah. No.”

 Damian pinches his nose. You completely understand why people think Damian makes a convincing fifty year old. “(l/n)...”

 “Ok, fiiiine. I’ll stay out of it.”

 “Don’t even think about sneaking out.”

 You frown and nod. 

 You tiptoe through the brush, one metallic arm wrapped around you, the other hanging limply to your side flashlight clasped tight in your metallic hand.  Camp Blood isn’t too far. You silently survey a few cabins finding nothing particularly interesting aside from cobwebs and potentially dead animals. The air is musty and decayed. You sniff and rub your nose as you walk through the camp guided only by strips of moonlight. If you were to run into a murderer now, you would only have your flashlight to defend you. You didn’t like those odds. 

 You’re a deer in headlights. 

 Dry mouth. 

 Skin going cold. 

 A scream burbling in the back of your throat. 

 The lumbering figure is coming closer. 

 You know he can see you. 

 Your feet are fused to the ground. 

 The light of the machete winking at you from a distance. 

 The world turns into a blur when your back hits the rotting wood of the abandoned cabin. 

 “What did I say about sneaking out?” Damian hisses, arm pressed on your neck. You blink. A flood of relief crowds your chest. 

 You sling your arms around him and he stiffens. You explain away the surprised little yelp as something animal and not something from your friend. “I didn’t sneak out. I went to the bathroom then I wandered off,” you mumble. 

 “How exactly is that different?” 

 “Less tiptoeing.” 

 "Funny."

 "It is."

 "Have you seen Kent?"

 "Sadly no."

 "Shit- Don't tell Grayson."

 "The fact that you swore or the fact that you somehow lost Superman's kid" 

 He glares at you and you can't help but shrug. 

 "Both." 

 "Fair," you say, pausing for half a breath.”Did you find the hostages?”

 Damian’s face falls then hardens then you know better than to ask him.  

 “We should find Jon,” Damian says finally. You flick your eyes and shake your head pushing down the urge to make fun of his slip. You’ll tell Jon later. 

 You two walk together, shoes in hand. It was easier. Maybe after this, you’ll ask Tim to teach you how to sneak around. 

 The sound of crashing wood fills the still night air. You and Damian freeze. 

 “JON.” Damian is the first to launch himself towards a cabin. You shamble behind him, plodding through the muddy earth as fat droplets of rain splashing down.   You would have blanched at the squishing but all you could think about was Jon.  

“Jon!”

 “Dami! (y/n)!”

 “Are you ok?”

 “I’m in a hole. What do you think?”

 You look him over as best you can in the dark. Damian seems to be having a better time. “You’re not in pain, so yeah.”

 Jon huffs, shifting around in the pile of clothes. His nose wrinkles.“This jumper smells like something died in it," he says holding up a particularly old looking sweater. It's blotchy with various stains around the neck. 

 “Check for a pulse!” you shout, earning a sharp jab to the rib from Damian. You glare and rub your chest.

“Guys, I don’t wanna alarm you but I’m pretty sure there’s a decapitated head down here”

 “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Damian asks incredulously. Your skin drains of all color and warmth. 

 “Do you want the good news or bad news?”

 “That’s not-”

 “Where in that pile of bloody clothes did you get good news?”

 “Good news is he’s not here,” Jon says, eyes sweeping around.”Bad news, he’s actually real.”

 “Stop messing around and get out of there, Kent!”

 “Jon, come on! Fly or something!”

 “My powers are going-” Jon jumps. But only manage to just fall back down. “I can’t fly.”

 Damian groans. He pinches his nose and goes off to look for something to pull Jon up with.

 “Why do you think your powers aren’t working?”

 Jon shrugs. “Magic?” This place is cursed. 

 “We are dealing with a ghost,” you shrug back. You all freeze. The sound of distant footsteps making your heart race.

 “Dami!” you hiss, over your shoulder. 

 “I can’t find anything!”   

 “Wait,” you say, unfastening your arm and reaching down to Jon. Damian grabs hold of it with both hands and you two start pulling Jon up. 

 The footsteps are getting louder, closer. 

 "Hurry!" you hiss quietly. 

 Your hearts are racing. 

 You pull, Jon getting closer. 

 He’s almost in arm’s reach. 

 The man is getting closer. 

 You can hear his breathing. 

 You pull Jon up, feet kicking. You wrestle him into a hug with one arm, making a little happy squeal into his hair low enough that only they can hear. Damian nudges you with your arm. 

 “Well that was scary,” Jon whispers into your shoulder. Damian smacks him upside the head. You laugh but cut yourself off when you see Damian stiffen. “RUN!”

 You all scramble up and begin to dash away. You look back over your shoulder, machete winking at you, hockey mask visible in the dim light. 

 You stumble, feet getting tangled in roots. You yelp,  bracing for impact and possibly dying.  You feel arms scoop you up. You squeak. “No one gets left behind, soldier,” Jon says grinning. 

 “How are you still a goof when we’re about to die?” you laugh incredulously. 

 “He clearly gets it from his father.”

 “ Pfffft, probably or maybe it's an alien thing.”

 “Are you really gonna make fun of me, right now?” Jon protests, shouting over the rain. 

 “You two! This way!” Damian points to a small hole in the hillside.

 “I’m too tall for that!” Damian glares.

 You snort. “Just duck.” Jon scowls at you then sighed. 

 You all slide into a small crevice and hunched together. 

 “What’s the plan?”

 “Jon, are your powers working?”

 “Kind of?”

 “Ok, that’s one thing we have going for us,” Damian hands you a phone. "You call while we distract him." 

 "Why do you have to distract him?" 

 "Ask him yourself, (l/n)."

 Your eyes sweep up to the tall figure. Your mouth goes completely dry. 

 "Fuck." 

 Jason brings his machete down in a swift arc light. You grab Damian by the scruff of his shirt. The machete embeds itself into the wall, getting caught in the process. Your moment of relief doesn’t last long when Jason lunges for you.  You scream as he catches your arm. With a soft click it detaches and you scramble away and out the hole into the pouring rain. He’s hot on your heels. You hear a loud thud. You look over your shoulder. Jon’s resting against the wall, head slumped. You see him throw Damian to the ground. You call 9-11 as you hurl your shoe at him. The dial tone is ringing. When you look up again, Jason is heading towards you. You stumble barefoot trying to get away. Predictably, you fall, foot catching on another tangle of roots.  

  “Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

 “Please help,” you whisper as Jason raises your arm to the sky. Your life flashes through like a film reel. Your breath is caught. Lightning flashes. 

 You watch the lightning cut through the heavens. The silver streak of light connecting might your arm and by extension Jason.  The arm explodes. Shrapnel flies everywhere. Jason bursts into flames. The smell of burning flesh cutting through the air. You watch in open-mouthed horror as another bolt of lightning hits. He falls body fried to a crisp. You wretch the smell still strong. 

 "Kid! Kid! Are you ok?" 

 "No…" you gasp, bile lining the back of your throat, "please,hurry. We're at Camp Blood." 

You’re cold and wet and forced to huddle into one blanket since the officer who responded only had one on hand.  Damian is talking on the phone. It’s hard to make out amidst the pouring rain, so you settle in letting Jon rest his head on your shoulder as he drifts to sleep. The officer said the rest of the force is coming to collect the bodies. The camp is most likely gonna be shut down for the summer. You weren’t keen on spending the entire summer with your cousins. 

 “I’ve informed father that you’re staying with us for the rest of the summer.”

 “Informed?” you laugh, relieved, ”good luck telling Jon that.”

 You both eye him. Jon snores into your ear and you can’t help but smile. “He’ll be fine.”

   Bonus

 The map in Jon’s hands crinkles loudly as he shuffles through it trying to find the correct route. You know the route. You memorized it before you even set off. You did it instead of studying for finals. It was certainly more entertaining than studying for a US history final when you already knew it was just gonna be about the American Revolution, World War II, and probably the Vietnam war. You hold back the snicker threatening to spill from your lips when, with each crinkle of the Dollar Store map, Damian’s brow twitched. Yes, this was the purpose of the map. It was most certainly doing its job well. 

 “You think they’ll still have the same dumb camp activities?”

 “You say this like you weren’t squealing to try all of them.”

 “Was not!”

 “Dunno,  Jon,  Dami has a pretty good memory.”

 Your car rolls to a stop in front of a cross-section. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel before you let curiosity override your self-preservation. 

 “How did you convince Dami to come along?”

 Jon tilts his head at you in question. “I didn’t,” he says slowly, “I thought you did.”

 Your passenger goes deadly silent. You both twist your bodies to look at him. Jon gives him a knowing smile while you give him a reassuring one that says ‘it’s ok you can tell us’. Damian avoids all eye contact like the plague, glaring at the window like there’s a particularly interesting speck of dust on it.  

 His eyes narrow. And you have the odd urge to follow his gaze. 

 The trees shift. 

 The pressure in the car builds. 

 Jon’s laughter stalls. 

 A shape flickers in the distance. 

 Your ears pop. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! Yes, reader has a prosthetic limb because I was reading 3 birds. Also, this can be treated as pre-slash. Epilogue is up for interpretation. Probably. Also fun fact, Faust is the basis for merc reader. I could not resist putting her in. 

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

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #jon kent imagine #jon kent x reader #damian wayne imagine #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader

[majorxbennyxboy]

i still think a hocus pocus au would be hilarious like imagine they haven’t been told anything about any special candle and calebs been using this candle all week with no issue but then ben lights the candle and bang! these freakin, witches appear and there’s a cat and ben and anna are both irate about the witch thing and it’s sheer chaos and then on like the second to last sentence or whatever they’re finally told why the witches appeared when specifically ben lit the candle and so the last sentence is caleb gearing up to absolutely roast benjamin only for anna to tiredly beat him to it and

#turn washington's spies #benjamin tallmadge #anna strong #caleb brewster #turn amc #it's halloween in about five minutes so it's Time to be thinking about this #i mean part of me wants to rearrange the hocus pocus plot and actually have ben get turned into a cat #because cat!ben is always a treasure #but i'd also like him to stay a person though just because he'd be so mad through the whole thing #i'd like to think he and anna get started on separate tirades about the witch situation #like they're almost fully shouting at each other for like ten minutes #before they finally realize they're actually agreeing with each other just wording it differently #they're both pissed off about salem #like they have a whole raging debate only to realize they're on the same side just phrased differently #they about kill each other before they get there though #awww so the b plot is actually the two of them resolving their communication issues bless bless bless

[gloriabomfim]

Certainly, here are descriptions and titles for 10 montages in which Oggy mistakes a fox for Marky, along with brief actions and dialogue transcripts:

Montage 1: "Foxed by a Mistake"

Oggy spots a fox in the yard and thinks it's Marky.

Oggy (misguided): "Marky, you're in for it now!"

Oggy chases the fox, leading to unexpected shenanigans.

Montage 2: "The Foxy Escape"

Oggy tries to capture the "Marky" fox but faces cunning tricks.

Fox (slyly): fox-like sounds

Oggy's pursuit turns into a wild chase filled with pranks.

Montage 3: "Foxhole Hullabaloo"

The fox hides in a hole, and Oggy seeks out "Marky."

Oggy (determined): "Marky, come out!"

Oggy's efforts to coax Marky from the hole go hilariously wrong.

Montage 4: "Fox Feast Folly"

The fox messes with Oggy's food, sparking his anger.

Oggy (irate): "Marky, you've gone too far!"

Oggy's attempts to teach Marky a lesson result in chaos.

Montage 5: "Marky or Marky?"

Oggy prepares to swat "Marky" but faces a cunning challenge.

Fox (mocking): foxish laughter

Oggy's swatting attempts turn into a game of wits.

Montage 6: "Marky Mirage"

The fox uses camouflage, further confusing Oggy.

Oggy (baffled): "Marky, where are you?"

Oggy's quest to find Marky takes an amusing turn.

Montage 7: "Fox's Tail Trick"

Oggy tugs on the fox's tail, believing it's Marky.

Fox (annoyed): fox-like noises

Oggy's tail-pulling efforts lead to a chase.

Montage 8: "Foxified Fiasco"

Oggy tries to clean up after "Marky" but makes things worse.

Fox (playful): fox antics

Oggy's cleaning attempts result in a household mess.

Montage 9: "Fox Farm Frolic"

Oggy mistakenly takes the fox to a nearby farm, still thinking it's Marky.

Farmer (puzzled): "What's your cat doing here?"

Oggy's visit to the farm results in farmyard chaos.

Montage 10: "The Unmasking"

Finally, Oggy realizes his mistake and sees the fox for what it is.

Oggy (embarrassed): "Oops, you're not Marky!"

Oggy and the fox share a comical moment, ending the mistaken identity adventure.

These montages depict the comedic mix-ups and capers that ensue when Oggy confuses the fox for Marky, providing entertainment for fans of the show.

#oggy and the cockroaches #Oggy #fox

[stacinadia]

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I stole this from @novemberhush!  Hope that’s okay!  ^^;;

Coward, Storm, March (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - “I’ve never known you to be a coward,” Scott told Stiles.

I Will See Him Again (Scira (Teen Wolf) - 1683 words) - It was a cloudy day, and what was left of the McCall pack along with friends and family stood in Beacon Hills cemetery, paying their final respects to their former alpha and pack elder, True Alpha Scott McCall. 

Moonbows (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 1529 words) - Full moon nights were when Derek missed his family the most. 

Pizza as Inspiration (Sterek, Scira, Berica (Teen Wolf) - 7417 words) - Derek Hale was about to become a hermit. 

Sunflowers and Daisies (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 1569 words) - Spring was a very pretty time of year, Stiles thought. 

Cup, Beautiful, Stone (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Derek had always been warned to stay away from fae creatures.

Third, Cloudy, Bucket (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Stiles couldn’t believe he was actually there at Citi Field in New York City about to watch his beloved Mets play, thanks to Derek.

Cat, Hilarious, Irate (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Derek was not amused by his current situation. 

Stew, Thing, Slow (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - “What is this thing?” Derek asked, picking up some weird vegetable that Stiles was planning to chop up. 

Hope, Page, Dirty (Creativity) (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - “Hey, Stiles!” Erica called out.  “Something new from your favorite author!” 

Vase, Rob, Wretched (Creativity) (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Derek had always had excellent control. 

Art, Flow, Tree (Creativity) (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Stiles’ dream the night before had been so incredibly vivid, more so than any other dream he’d ever had before. 

Festive, Arrive, Ambitious (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Stiles had ambitious plans for the first Thanksgiving that he’d be hosting with Derek.

Not Just Friends (Buddie, Tarlos (9-1-1/9-1-1 Lone Star crossover) - 1482 words) - Buck was so confused.

Include, Control, Magic (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - “My magic is out of control,” Stiles told Deaton after vet hours. 

Suggest, Label, Jeans (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - “How do you even walk in those jeans?” Stiles muttered as he watched Derek moving around the kitchen as he cooked dinner.

Compete, Panic, Over (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Stiles painstakingly piped out the dough into perfect cream puff swirls.

Minor, Super, Confident (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - Derek strode down the corridors of Beacon Hills High, a confident smirk on his face. 

Peaceful, Fairy, Dark (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - “You know,” Stiles said, still managing to concentrate on his video game, “it’d be pretty awesome if we could just grab a heart or a fairy and heal quickly after battles.” 

Magnificent, Exciting, Fact (Sterek (Teen Wolf) - 100 words) - “I just saw the most magnificent man I have ever seen and that‘s a fact!” Stiles gushed as he sat back behind the librarian’s desk. 

Mostly drabbles, and still Sterek 90% of the time, but hey, I’m branching out!  XD  And I tag anyone who hasn’t done this and would like to!  =3

#my fanfic #tagged #novemberhush #first lines #teen wolf #sterek #scira #berica #9-1-1 #9-1-1 lone star #buddie #tarlos

[sterekdrabbles]

Happy Wednesday!

Today's words are: cat, hilarious, irate

#sterek #eternalsterek #eternal sterek #haleinski #sterek drabble

[celestialholz]

Qcard idea! Aliens have mindswapped picard with a Space Cat, but none of the crew know, they just think Picard has a space illness of some kind. Q is wandering the streets of the planet and finds Space Cat picard and recognises him, now picard has to try and convince him to help

… I’m sorry, what *distant British giggling* Incredible, 1701/10, I am done lmao

(Sorry this is a little on the late side, by the way. I’ve been a busy bee recently, so I’ll be getting to all these lovely things over the next few days! It is a little longer to make up for it, though… I really did have to do this ridiculousness justice.)

Fancy a Qcard flashfic of your choosing, pals? Hit your girl up: https://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/post/190139763081/guys-i-need-to-flashfic

Flashfic Five: Schrödinger’s Ca(p)t(ain)

Well, I’ll give them one thing, Jean-Luc Picard ponders bitterly as he idles through the streets of Fretta VI’s capital, at least this is new. 

There are things, he continues to muse as he navigates his way between alien legs and across busy roads that have suddenly become rather terrifying prospects, that Starfleet Academy just can’t really prepare a cadet for, however promising they are; he’s been stabbed (well, that was hardly their fault, but he believes he’s earned a pass on plausibility this afternoon, and perhaps if their security had been better…), shot at, absorbed by a hive mind, put on trial on behalf of his entire species, had his ship stolen by androids and hostiles alike… he’s even become addicted to the simplest game in creation and almost melted the minds of entire quadrants accordingly, and yet, he’d never quite expected to end up as a cat. An oversight, possibly, but he thinks he can let it slide just this once.

Captain’s Log, he thinks dismally, desperate to maintain some semblance of sanity, stardate: 48734.78. The Enterprise was on a mission to the Lesser Betonic Cluster when we received a distress signal… duplicity at its finest. A flash, and here I am, memories apparently wiped. I await valiant rescue. I do so hope Beverly took the veterinary elective…

He passes a resplendent glass building, and catches unfortunate sight of himself. He’s a hairless cat.

Of course you are, Jean-Luc. What else would you be?

The screech of outraged frustration that leaves him almost causes several aliens to careen into oncoming traffic. 

It’s only until evening, captain, he reminds himself, waving an apologetic paw at the angrily muttering, thankfully pacifistic beings beside him. Hold on, dear man…

—–

“Evening, mon capitaine!” It’s a classic bridge fanfare, not remotely subtle; Jean-Luc’s going to absolutely murder him, and the thought is beyond tantalising… though it’s not quite his lover that greets him as he whirls. Riker instead glares coldly at him, snarl forming at the corners of his lips.

“It was you,” he growls, furious. “Of course it was you! What the hell have you done, Q?!”

… Well, that’s different. He consults himself theatrically, wondering if the glittery tango dancer attire he’s specifically donned is possibly a little too dramatic, sure to throw a sharp, envenomed look at the first officer beforehand, and a further one at his snarling security chief.

“It’s the colour, isn’t it?” He estimates, offhand. “Maroon looks vastly better in sequins, Commander - I’m surprised your wondrous HQ hasn’t figured this out yet -”

“I’m talking about the captain, dammit!”

Q doesn’t have blood, yet something decidedly chilled stalks through him for a wrenching second.

“Let me make two things clear to you, Riker,” he begins icily, entire masquerade immediately gone. “Firstly, I have no idea what you mean, and secondly -”

He snaps instantly, and his secret lover is promptly returned to his rightful chair.

“ - what the hell is wrong with you?” He demands of Picard softly. Subtlety be damned, if something’s happened -

The Frenchman consults him blankly, murmuring a single sound in an absurdly high-pitched tone.

“Mau?”

Q blinks, fascinated, as he kneels beside him.

“Mm,” he agrees, brow creased. “Yes, Jean-Luc?”

“Mau, mauuuu?”

“Yes, yes, of course I understand you. It’s me. Omniscient, my dear.”

“Meoooww…”

The god winces. “Well, alright, fine - I was invading your bridge, yes -”

“Mauuu!”

“Look, I think we have more pressing issues, don’t you?!”

“… Meow.”

“… I could leave you there,” Q threatens vaguely, and the responding protest is positively toxic.

“Mau mau.”

He smiles, squeezes a knee gently. “Well, of course I wouldn’t. I’d ask you to explain what in galaxy’s name is going on, but I very much doubt you’d recall, and I really don’t need you to.”

He presses a hand to a clammy forehead, tries not to be desperately disturbed at the blankness that meets his telepathy; a quick scan reveals all it has to, of a hoodwinked crew and an alien amused by the power play of mind-swapping a vital Federation figurehead, and he tries not to snarl as he withdraws, glances up at a deeply baffled Riker - there’ll be time to unleash that anger later.

“You were duped by a Frettan,” he explains. “Low-level telepaths, Riker - just good enough to switch Jean-Luc’s mental faculties with another and have you all forget the entire event. Your darling captain’s a cat, or whatever passes for it on their homeworld. Don’t mind me, I’m off to save the damsel in distress - oh, it’s going to be so valiant!”

He flashes out with a lingering caress of his lover’s cheek, and Riker barely flutters for a moment.

“… I don’t want to know,” he decides aloud, staring determinedly at the viewscreen to avoid the entirety of his staff’s searching gazes. “I really, really don’t want to know. Maintain course, ensign; Data, if you’d be so kind as to escort the captain back to sickbay… they just don’t offer advice on this kind of thing at the Academy…”

“… Mau.”

—–

… Heading anywhere specific, darling?

Q! Picard breathes in relief, abandoning his pursuit of an important-looking Frettan as he feels a familiar voice in his mind. Dear stars, I was beginning to think you’d never find me.

Oh, my dear, you ought to know better - perhaps you should have paws-ed for thought?

… Yes, hilarious, he replies dryly, glowering to the best of his feline body’s ability at the hellishly amused god. Do feel free to sort this mess out, by the way!

Q leans casually against the wall, and Picard decides he really doesn’t like that grin.

Oh, must I? He drawls. This is infinitely exploitable, sweetheart. Think of the puns, for one thing! It’s a goldmine! You’re a philosopher, aren’t you? Have you considered that you’re quite literally Schrödinger’s captain? Both here and not, it’s a moral quandary -

Q, Picard legitimately hisses, I have claws. I don’t want to have use them, but I suggest you don’t believe for a moment that I won’t.

Promises, promises! He cackles, before affixing him with soft eyes. Yes, alright dear. As much as I generally prefer your bite to your bark, I’m not sure I mean that literally…

A snap and a flash, and Picard’s blissfully human once again. If Q neglects to mention that a very confused cat chooses that precise moment to sink talons into a very irate first officer, it’s probably for the best. He stretches arms, breathes a breath of relief, fixes his lover with a look of intense gratitude. 

“Good lord, that was awful,” he shudders, and his countenance instantly devolves to horror. “… Have I been wandering around the Enterprise and -”

“Yep.” Q’s grin is positively wicked. “Don’t fret, mon capitaine. I was deeply sympathetic. May even have stroked your cheek in reassurance. I’m sure they didn’t read anything into it…”

Infuriated bellows and raucous laughter echo in tandem through the very fabric of time and space as they vanish for home, and for likely the most awkward explanation of a captain’s entire existence.

#celestial's qcard flashfic event #cenedrariva #qcard #writing #prompts #star trek #flashfic #what am I even doing anymore #this event was the greatest idea of my life

[whatarubberchicken]

The Bodyguard’s Tale -Chapter 3

<<Previous - Ao3 or ff.net - Next>>

Chapter 3

Lance’s next excursion wasn’t any better; he somehow got it into his head that he wanted to try hunting ducat. Whatever that was. Apparently, some guy named Coran told him all about them and where to find them. However, after a full day of tromping through the Altean jungle, he and Keith didn’t find anything. And when a tired, muddy, bedraggled Keith asked Shiro about it later, the man had laughed and suggested snipe hunting instead.

He was fairly certain they were being played. So was Lance.

In retaliation, Lance convinced him to help with a little prank. Somehow, the Altean prince had gotten ahold of a couple-dozen half-feral klanmüirls. Keith, openly shaking his head and secretly snickering for the sheer brilliance of it, had the task of putting a collar on each one that clearly stated that the beast was one of 25. There were only 24 klanmüirls. Then they set them loose in the Grand Hall, just before the High Council was called into session.

Keith had never seen such mayhem.

It was glorious.

Uptight lords ran around, panicking, yelling, and trying to catch the stray animals; women were screaming shrilly as several beasts mistook their shiny jewelry for a snack—Lotor had a huge one chasing him that was sure his hair was something edible—even Shiro’s calmer efforts to corral them was hilarious in its own way.

Keith and Lance were literally unable to stand, they were laughing so hard.

Unfortunately, their fun came to an end when Allura caught them hiding behind some draperies. Keith thought for sure they were doomed, but in exchange for her silence, the princess decided to have a bit of her own fun instead.

The next day, Lance and Keith looked at each other miserably as they were forced to try on dress after dress for the princess’s amusement. (She did not, as a small mercy, make them leave her quarters in the dresses, which Keith was eternally grateful for.)

“Does this one make my butt look big?” Lance asked, looking in the mirror while his sister was off trying to find accessories for them. The apparent reasoning behind this whole fiasco was that she wanted to see how different outfits looked side-by-side.

Why she couldn’t use her own ladies….

“I don’t think you have the hips for it,” a voice by the door laughed before Keith could reply. They both whirled around to see Shiro standing there, snickering. “Or the chest!”

“What are you doing here?!” Keith hissed, attempting to cover himself with another dress. Embarrassing himself in front of his best friend was not in the job description!

“Ah, Shiro! You have those documents I needed signed?” Allura said, handing her brother some jewelry as she crossed the room to the ambassador. Keith narrowed his eyes at her. So, she’d arranged this, the scheming little—

“Right here, princess,” Shiro said cheerfully, handing her some forms. “And I—uh, love your new models.”

Keith growled and Lance freed a hand long enough to give Shiro a rude hand gesture.

“Aww, did Lotor not come with you?” Allura pouted, looking behind the ambassador. Keith gaped at her in horror. His brother? Seeing him like this?! She was EVIL!!

“Unfortunately, Prince Lotor had some pressing business to take care of,” Shiro said, grimacing. Keith snorted. Undoubtedly, his brother simply hadn’t seen how a visit to see his betrothed would benefit him and had brushed off Allura’s invitation. “He swears he’ll make it up to you later.” Shiro glanced at the two boys again, and barely hid his laughter behind his hand.

“Of course, if he’d known what was waiting for him, I’m sure he’d have come,” he added, grinning at Keith.

“Don’t you dare tell him!” Keith hissed, trying to wiggle out of his dress to go threaten Shiro properly.

“And now, Princess, I have some pressing business of my own… That’s a good color on you, Keith!”

“Shiro! Get back here!!” Keith yelled, struggling harder. He ended up stumbling around and crashing into Lance, who yelped when they went down in a pile of limbs.

“Ow, mullet-head!”

“Shut up and get off me!”

“Excuse you! You’re the one on me!” Lance shouted.

“Move your leg!”

“Hey, watch the heel! Watch the heel!!”

“WHY are you wearing heels, Lance?” Keith asked, completely exasperated and still tangled up on the floor in what could be considered a very compromising position.

“Hey, if I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it right!” The Altean prince had the nerve to pose.

“Ugh, you idiot!”

“Oh yeah? I’m not the one who—OOF!” Lance groaned. Keith winced. He’d accidently kneed the other boy in the stomach.

“Sorry.”

“You Galra, always so violent!” Lance cried dramatically, throwing a hand over his eyes for effect. “Sister-dear, did you see how he brutalized me?!”

“My poor brother,” Allura gushed, joining in the drama effortlessly. “You must be traumatized! Facial masks for both of you!!”

Lance cheered. Keith suppressed his urge to bang his head on the floor. The royal siblings were two of a kind, and a royal pain in his—

“C’mon, Keith, let’s get you exfoliated!!”

Quiznak.

………..

The next few weeks were more of the same. Lance got into more bar fights (which Keith had to step in and defend him for, even if the prince had a pretty good right hook himself) and attempted to learn how to play some sort of wind instrument (Keith chucked it out the window after the third day and claimed it must be in Lance’s messy room somewhere. Win-win for him; Lance had to clean his room, finally, and Keith was no longer subjected to the sound of a dying cat).

The best times were when Lance decided to hang out with Allura, usually studying spellcasting or playing Monsters and Mana. (Keith decided to forgive her for the dress debacle, since those few hours were the most peace he had these days. Still, he swore Lance cheated at that game, there was no way anyone could roll that many Nat 20s.)

Lance also attempted to learn how to use a sword, which Keith had to help him with. The prince was surprisingly light on his feet, but he was no match for Keith’s strength, even if he was Altean. Still, he was stubborn, and those practice matches were very enjoyable for Keith. Especially the way Lance’s eyes would sparkle every time he learned a new move or managed to land a hit….

NOPE! Nope. That was just the adrenaline talking. Keith loved the adrenaline rush. That was all.

Finally, the king and queen deemed Lance worthy of representing Altea on another world. Keith was apprehensive until he found out the mission wasn’t going to take long; it was just a festival that the locals called Clear Day. Shiro even offered to accompany them and make sure Lance didn’t get into too much trouble.

Keith regretted it the moment they touched down. So many lights and noises and smells—

“It’s a carnival,” Shiro exclaimed softly, his eyes wide. “We used to have them on Earth all the time!”

“Really?” Keith asked, interested in learning more about that part of himself. And honestly, watching Shiro was easier on his eyes than all these flashing lights….

“Hey, where’d Lance go?” Shiro suddenly asked.

Keith spun around, looking for the prince who had just been at his side.

“QUIZNAK!”

They searched for nearly an hour before they found him at the shooting games, entertaining several females with his ability to get them some cheap little stuffed animals.

“Lance!” Keith roared. “You know you’re not supposed to go off on your own!!”

Lance took one look at the rage on his face and, to Keith’s astonishment, he ran. What the quiznak?! Where did he think—?

“Get back here!” he yelled after the wayward prince, only vaguely aware of Shiro laughing behind him as he chased the other boy. Shiro could laugh, but it was going to be Keith’s ass if something happened to the prince!

Lance was darting left and right, trying to lose him in the crowd, but Keith was quicker. He tackled Lance right into a line of people. Keith pulled them both to their feet, and was about to start laying into the Altean when—

“Fine, fine, you can go first,” a bored, nasally voice said. The next thing they knew, they had been strapped into a ride and told to have a “blissfully burrowful time.”

All Keith could do was glare at Lance, which intensified when the animatronics all around them began to sing. Lance looked interested (for all of two tiks) and then he chanced a glance at his bodyguard.

“Just remember, if you kill me, you fail your mission,” he sang, grinning sheepishly.

“I remind myself that every day.”

The ride broke, right when they were in the middle of it. Keith groaned in despair and buried his face in his hands.

It took him less than five minutes to get fed up with the idiotic song and slash his way to freedom, dragging a laughing Lance behind him. The prince promised to pay for damages to the irate carny, but also pointed out that the ride had already been broken. Then Keith chimed in about how it could’ve been a trap to harm Lance’s royal person, blah-de-blah, and the worker quickly let them go with hasty apology for their troubles.

They were never coming back to Clear Day. Keith would beg Lance’s other bodyguards on his knees if he had to.

Now, they couldn’t find Shiro.

Some of the locals said something about a human being in the arm-wrestling tournament, but to get there, they had to pass the shooting games again. And of course, Lance wheedled and whined until Keith finally gave in and stopped to let him play for awhile.

It wasn’t like he was actually going to win anything… those things were totally rigged.

So, when Lance presented him with a stuffed red lion, Keith took it out of sheer disbelief—and ignored his flaming cheeks.

It was just to say sorry for that whole ride debacle. It’s not like it meant anything. Besides, they were both quickly distracted by the fact that Shiro was now the center of a cheering crowd of fans.

#bodyguard AU #vld #voltron #voltronsecretsanta2k19 #keith #lance #shenanigans