gwensparlour

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Jason was used to being glared at. Crap, he'd been on the other side of the Bat-glare enough times to become immune to it.

But being looked at like he was a cockroach by a nine year old brat who didn't even reach his hips and was trying to be intimidating, well, that was new to him too.

It didn't help that the boy had black hair and blue eyes, more of a miniature copy of Bruce than the demon brat could ever hope to be.

There had been rumors about the true paternity of Bruce Wayne's new protégé ever since the boy's parents had mysteriously disappeared when they were overseas, but Jason was too high on the effects of the Lazarus Pit to worry. 

Timothy Drake was nothing to Jason, other than a means to lure Batman and Robin into his traps. 

 

(Someone who would have been better off elsewhere  but Bruce never learned, he always had to save poor orphans who reminded him of himself, and ended up damning them. Jason was just doing little Tim a favor by showing him the truth.)

 

And now, a year and a half later, after his dramatic revelation, here was the brat (not Bruce, it wasn't Bruce, his mind was just too sleep deprived) standing in his living room as if nothing had happened, as if he had never kidnapped him to blackmail Robin.

And he was alone. What, the old man still couldn't learn his lesson? 

“How the hell did you get in here?” Jason snapped, putting the gun away.

He was a crime lord with anger issues  but even he wouldn't shoot a fucking child.

(As if I hadn't done worse  a little voice reminded him, but he, who had set himself by the best, ignored it.)

“I have my ways,” Tim said, as if it were easy to break into the home of a dangerous criminal. And maybe for him it was, the brat was intelligent, too smart for his age, and it had annoyed Jason to no end by having to change his plans every time because the child somehow either ran away or made things very difficult. “What matters is that we need to talk.”

“Crap, no. What we need to do is take you home to the Manor.”

Preferably, without anyone seeing Jason. 

“Only if you come with me,” Tim said firmly, with a stubbornness that was all too reminiscent of the old man and his new bird. 

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Little shit choosing little faces to show to different people

Circa 1550

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Trying trad art again :<

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fruk wip <33

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Pink goes well with green 💚💗

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Months in space had taught Lance one crucial thing: if needed, Coran would definitely listen.

Allura was fantastic, yes, but Lance had the unpleasant feeling that she preferred to be with him as little as possible, and now that Lotor was here, she certainly wasn't going to give her time to him.

Coran, however, Coran was always willing to listen. Lance liked to think that the old Altean had taken a liking to him, but that would be lying to himself: the truth was that Coran was like that, he helped them all, like a strange space uncle who felt guilty seeing children fight a ten thousand year old war.

"Hey, Coran..."

"Lance, my boy! Here, take this," he told him, shoving some kind of crystal into his arms. "I need to clean some things. Your help will be essential."

"Uhmm yes, of course...but first..."

"The prince said he expected something different from the castle!" the councilor complained, and at least it was nice to see that someone else hadn't immediately joined the Lotor fan club. "I will show him the magnificence of the past! This castle was built by my great-great..."

It sounded like an interesting story, but Lance hadn't exactly come here to hear the whole story of Coran's family. So he had to interrupt, "Coran, if one of us suddenly started coughing up petals, what would you say?"

The man froze, as if someone had thrown a bucket of freezing water on him. He was deathly pale as he said, "Who? Please tell me!"

"Coran..."

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I love Noodle

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sometimes you just want to look at the qing dynasty jadeite cabbage again

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Achilles: Hey. What should I change into? Patroclus: A better person.

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“Binghe.”

“Mhm?”

“They're staring at me, aren't they?” Shen Qingqiu asked, leaning towards him and exposing another generous portion of chest, revealing a nipple. 

Binghe swallowed, trying to control himself. He had to remember that he had been raised by humans and not demons, and that he, unlike others, still had a minimal idea of ​​what modesty was.

But holy gods, it was difficult. 

Shen Qingqiu was gorgeous, wearing the typical clothes of southern demons, which left his chest exposed, revealing the muscles usually left behind, and sleeveless, showing toned and shapely arms, white as snow. 

It was both a blessing and a curse to see his husband dressed like this, and all because those clothes were a gift from the clan head's wife, and it would be rude not to show appreciation for the gift. And Shen Qingqiu was a diplomat too good not to know what would happen if he didn't wear Lady Meng's gift during the talks to agree on the new borders. 

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you can pry starting sentences with 'and' or 'but' out of my cold, dead hands

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KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE 1989 — dir. Hayao Miyazaki

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@monicaatthefrontdesk

#dirty minds worldwide

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“…Jaybird? Hey, Jaybird?”

That's right, he'd forgotten he'd called the third semi-responsible adult in his life. 

He ran his hand through his hair as his gaze wandered around the skate park in search of a familiar mop of black hair. 

“Dick, I'm going to die.”

“What?!” his brother's voice came to him in alarm, and Jason swore he heard a metallic sound in the background of something falling.

“Jaybird, who took you? Were you able to free yourself? Do you know where you are? I'm calling Bruce..."

"No!" he interrupted, with a hint of panic. "I am fine! “

“You said you were going to die!”

“Yes, because I lost Tim!”

He wanted to slap himself. Here's Robin, Batman's partner, scourge of criminals, being distracted for five seconds and losing his younger brother at the skate park. How pathetic was that?

Ok, Tim was small, damn stealthy and slipped away like a fish on the run. And he was also all too used to doing things alone.

He had seen a better track, it was fine to go there, and no he didn't have to tell his brother, he was doing well on his own anyway!

He knew from experience how capable the brat was - the pepper spray from their first meeting still stung - but he also knew that Tim was a magnet for trouble like everyone in this damn family.

“How did you lose an entire nine year old boy?!” Dick asked, somewhere between panic and bewilderment. 

“Hey, give me a break. He's a dwarf! I got distracted and poof. Disappeared.”

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Hector of troy needs to go home and take a nap with his wife and son i think !!

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(Suddenly realized I never actually posted her… )

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I would simply scream loud enough to wake the dead if you drew some Menelaus/Odysseus. My favorite guilty pleasure ship for Menelaus.

... now let's scream together 🫦