#preservers au

[izelthewashbear]

From a canary, into a phoenix. (WIP)

Inspired by my latest ao3 fic Canary's thrill, the first to kill (also a WIP)

[smootnytechnik]

Canary's thrill, the first to kill - chapter 5 (fragment)

A bit of a surprise chapter, I didn't expect that I'd be able to squeeze it in! Next one comes out after the next episode releases

Jimmy looked at Scott with a confused expression. Seeing his friend made his heartbeat faster for just a second - and the feeling was mutual, most likely. Scott stared at the phoenix, clearly enamored by his new form. He already found Jimmy quite attractive, but this was a new high.

"Oh, do we have anything to talk about, Grian?" Scar teased with a cheeky smile, but was met with Grian's serious expression.

"Yes, we do" he huffed.

In the meantime, Scott approached the tree on which Jimmy was sitting. The blond man flew down and landed in front of his friend. He put on a smile, but together with his rosy red eyes, it gave him more of an intimidating look. Not as if Scott minded that.

"Wow, Jim, you... You look... Good" he stuttered. Jimmy chuckled, his lesser wings opening a bit.

"Well, thank you!" he responded and leaned on the tree, trying to get down to Scott's eye level. "What can I do for ya, bud?"

"So, uh, I mostly just wanted to check up on you... I missed you, to be honest" the Watcher smiled and reached out his hand. "Sit down will me, will ya?"

"Sure... Actually, can you help me? I need to preen my wings... They take more effort now that the feathers grew back" he admitted with a silly smile and grabbed the blue-haired man's hand, then sat down on the ground. Scott nodded and joined him on the ground.

"Of course... I think I still remember how to do it" Scott smiled.

[hyperblue]

tim, after making a clone child as an escape from the darkest place in his life: i think i finally get it why you are so insane about dick

bruce, who was peacefully eating his breakfast: ...i'm not sure if i know what you mean

tim: *literally just leaves without further explanation*

[accio-lo-ki]

Post-Canon, Domestic Hangster + Social Media

[alicornze7]

Silly guys goin' on silly adventures:]

@rorydrawsandwrites's puppeteer au but the only difference is that jax gives consent

My contribution to this wonderful au has been long overdue:')

Rambling in tags ehe (cw: ribbun:p)

Well maybe it's not the only difference

[radiance1]

Killer Croc's little bro was apparently in Gotham.

How did everyone know? Because he was seen physically dragging said older brother out of the sewers and into the nearest cafe.

And Killer Croc was just. So docile??? He was shy, a bit nervous, amused, and was practically harmless. Which wasn't something anyone would have associated with Killer Croc.

And the fact that said little bro can lift him up easily too? What kind of parents did they have for their son to be able to lift up the Killer Croc so easily?

Meanwhile, Jack just doesn't get why everyone reacts negatively to his big brother, it's not like he was a ghost for goodness sake and yea he's working on not being like he was before his son revealed himself to be part ghost, but still.

His brother was still human, just extra.

Why did Jack come to Gotham? He was kinda maybe forced out the house to go and find his brother because he liked talking about him but never actually went out to find him.

Jack and Croc may be half-brothers, yes, but he's still family.

Jack strongarms Killer Croc into not living in, well, the sewers and at his house he bought when he came to Gotham and they both caught up with each other's lives. Jack told Croc about his family, and by extension the shit views he's had on ghost because it was a major part in their family dynamics, and Croc told him about his own life in Gotham.

Minus the more gruesome, parts.

Killer Croc lives with him for a while and notices that he didn't really seem to care for his life. Which is a major no to Croc, who tries to get him to gain some amount of self-preservation, yes he knows that his little bro is more durable than the average human has any right to be but please for the sake of your big bro's heart, please take care of yourself.

Jack is a bit floored by this, and tries to wave it off as a non-issue. But if Jack can strongarm Croc into living with him, then Croc can definitely strongarm Jack into things as well.

Busting through walls is fine, alright. He gets it, it's very fun. But please don't stick random things into your mouth that can kill you, nor follow strangers down an alleyway and shrug off a stabbing (Killer Croc had some choice words and actions for the person who did such a thing.), and please, please practice stranger danger, little bro. Please.

No, he doesn't give two, three, four, five or ten fucking shits if you have microsurgeons in your blood that gives you a superhuman healing factor, you can still feel pain little bro, and stop skipping meals and sleep to work on your inventions! No, you cannot substitute either for energy drinks!

The batfam keep an eye on the two brothers and find it to just be the both of them strongarming the other into healthy behaviors basically. (With a lot of verbal and physical "I love you"'s, the Batfam could NEVER. slash joke teehee.)

[bepomepo33]

LAMB

Full comic under the cut (it’s a bit low quality on here tho lol)(crunchyyyyyy)

[anbaisai]

Care for a dip in the pool? The lifeguards may be marketable plushies, but they're 100% reliable!

(Scarabia lifeguard AU belongs to @natsukishinomiyaswife, you can check out the tsum post here!)

[lil-lemon-snails]

You find these two in a box in your attic, wyd?

I had a lot of fun scribbling on these guys!! there's a whole lot of texture going on hehe >:3c As always, close ups under cut!

[izelthewashbear]

Conversations with strangers (fragment v2)

You guys seem to really love this fic, it's my best performing work on AO3 by far! Here's another part for you to check out, and if you like it, go read the full thing!

Grian covered his ears, trying to block out the sonic shriek that blasted through his body, causing his inside to erupt. It was, obviously, quite useless. Or was it? When he opened his eyes again, he first expected to see the tight cave corridor he was in, optionally with his insides splattered on the walls. But instead, he saw nothing. Quite literally. He sighed with relief, not even sure why it made him happy.

"Oh... We're dead" he huffed. His eyes dropped down to his hands, as if he expected to see the thread. It guided his gaze back to his soulmate, who was floating in the abyss next to him, curled up and clearly shocked.

"O-oh... Hi, Scar..."

Scar flinched and yelped, clearly startled by Grian. He straightened up, but did it too quick, sending himself spinning in the zero-gravity emptiness. 

"What in the world!- Oh! Well hello there, Grian!" he nervously smiled. "I don't know what happened and why I died, but, uh, I was just riding my horse over a hill, and I kind of... Just... Y'know..."

"What? Scar, I caused us to die! The Warden blasted me through a wall!" Grian huffed. Scar' apologetic tone made him feel exasperated, worried and guilty at the same time. "I should've been more careful, I'm sorry."

Scar hummed and looked at him, his spinning slowing down. He was upside down, but he didn't seem to be bothered by that - or even notice. His obliviousness was both the most adorable and most annoying of his traits. Grian just huffed and covered himself with his wingers, blocking out his view on his soulmate.

"So, uh... What do we do now...?" he asked after a moment of silence. Grian didn't even move. "Do we just stay here, forever? Together?"

"Us, together? Forever?" the parrot huffed, his feathers furrowing. That sounded incredibly scary, and he wasn't even really sure why. Scar's tone immediately got quieter and even more apologetic.

"Sorry, sorry... I forgot, you hate me... Okay, just ignore me, okay? And I'll try to pretend like I'm not here..."

"Wait, wait, Scar..." Grian reached out and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. His green eyes were full of uncertainty, as if he had little question marks inside of them. "You, uh... You think that? You think that I hate you?"

"Well, don't you?"

[smootnytechnik]

Canary's thrill, the first to kill - chapter 3 (fragment)

I decided to make a blog dedicated to my AO3 writing! Please follow for more updates!

The phoenix dived into the air, right towards the ground. The feeling of his blood humming in his ears was just incredible. The closer to the ground he got, the more details on the ground he saw. And he was right where he needed to be - over the strange base shared by Etho, Bdubs and Tango. And it was the last man he was looking around. His heart started pounding in his chest when he noticed his rancher, sitting at his doorstep and sharpening his sword.

"Tangooo!" he called out, getting closer and closer to the ground. His strong wings picked up the flight just a few feet over the ground, saving him from crashing. Still, his recklessness took him a bit too far this time - he winced from pain as his wings pulled him back, causing him pain in his back. The blazeborn looked up at him and his red eyes immediately lit up.

"Jimmy! Hi!" he waved at his friend. "Wait, you're flying! I've never seen you fly, that's awesome!"

"Right?" Jimmy smirked and landed right in front of Tango. His friend looked up at him, his face immediately going red.

"W-woah... What are they feeding you up at that mountain, dude? Is this what bamboo does to a guy?" he smirked. His long tail started quickly wagging from side to side. He was already happy to see his beloved rancher, but he seemed different than the last time they saw each other... And he couldn't complain about the change.

"I guess! Speaking of, you have anything to share? I'm starvin' after that stupid bot did something to me..." Jimmy chuckled and leaned down, his face inches away from the blazeborn's. Tango squealed with excitement, looking right in Jimmy's eyes.

"Yeah, of course! I have some apples, a few breads, some porkchops...

"Meat?" The phoenix gasped, a whisper that he didn't intend escaped his mouth. Usually he didn't care about what he ate, but this time, the sound of meat sounded particularly exciting. He licked his teeth, which felt sharper than usual.

"Yeah! Wait, I thought you were a vegetarian?"

Jimmy shrugged. Was he? His mind suddenly felt clouded, more so than earlier that day. Tango nodded and got up from his place, then headed inside of his house.

The phoenix sat down on the grass, his wings twitching from excitement. Yet again, his exhaustion started catching up to him. Why did it feel like when he was on the ground, he was suddenly weaker and more exposed? He muttered under his breath as he covered his body and face with his wings. The heat that enveloped him like a warm blanket made him feel a little better. When he wasn't airborne, he needed to watch his back even more... His friends were up there, somewhere he couldn't reach them. His enemies were down there, on the ground. 

[writtenobsession]

@lipeka / @l1p3k4 Did an amazing job again! Please support them! They are wonderful.

I love @mimorugk Modern AU of Halsin gardening so much that I need more…

We can’t decide which one is better.

[seleneprince]

Fun idea about my Lucia Wayne-Perez au (aka the Neglected daughter au):

You see, a lifetime of raising Marco has made Lucia's big sister/mother's instincts so ingrained in her mind that sometimes they just come out of her naturally at certain situations, like hearing a kid's cry or knowing they're sick. She has the habit that whenever Marco throws a tantrum or misbehaves, she grabs him from the back of his neck, like a cat, and lifts him to put him in "time out".

Dealing a secret criminal life, along with other complications, takes a toll out of her sometimes. A certain morning, she's just bleary-eyed, running on fumes, and just defaults to her ingrained "big sister mode" when she's triggered, without realizing that she's not dealing with Marco this time...

The morning is quiet—well, as quiet as mornings at Wayne Manor can be. Lucia stumbles into the kitchen, dark circles under her eyes, her hair an unbrushed mess. She's moving on autopilot, grumbling under her breath about the lack of coffee in her life as she pours herself a glass of water instead.

Alfred has had the horrible idea of trying to cut down her caffeine levels for a while, replacing it for water or milk instead. Something about how there can only be two coffee addicts in this house, and she shouldn't be one of them. A bunch of nonsense, if you ask her.

Damian is already there. He’s already had his morning training, his uniform immaculate, and his attitude sharper than usual. He’s standing by the table, critiquing Alfred’s choice of breakfast with his usual snark.

"This oatmeal is too bland," Damian mutters. "I’d sooner eat sawdust."

Lucia doesn’t even register it at first. But as the complaints keep coming, something in her brain clicks. Years of dealing with Marco’s tantrums kick in. She sets down her glass, shuffles over to Damian, and without a word, grabs him by the back of his collar.

"Hey—what are you—" Damian protests, his voice indignant but slightly bewildered.

Lucia, too tired to care, lifts him like he’s no heavier than a loaf of bread. "Time out," she mutters flatly and carries him to the corner of the room.

She plops him down with zero ceremony. "Stay there. Think about your choices," she adds before trudging back to her water.

For a moment, there’s stunned silence.

Alfred, standing by the stove, clears his throat, his lips twitching as he valiantly fights off a smile. "Lucia, dear, I believe Master Damian is—"

"I know who he is, Alfred," she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. "He’s a kid, and he’s annoying. Let me hydrate in peace."

Damian is too shocked to respond immediately. When he finally recovers, his voice is a mix of outrage and disbelief. "You dare—"

Lucia turns her head, narrowing her bloodshot eyes at him. "Unless you want me to glue you to the corner, I suggest you zip it, gremlin."

"You—!"

"I said Zip it."

And for the first time, Damian...zips it. Just like that.

Later, when she’s more awake and her brain starts functioning again, the realization of what she’s done hits her like a truck. She avoids Damian for the rest of the day, expecting a punishment. Or a murder attempt. This time finishing what he started those years ago.

But instead, he just watches her with narrowed eyes, as if trying to solve a puzzle. And though he’d never admit it, there’s a small part of him that almost...respects her for it. Almost.

Taglist: @yuyuzi-ling @lunayaps (if someone wants to be added, let me know)

[metamatronic]

When Amy and her uncle came over for thanksgiving, did the apartment not smell horrible? I mean, you have 2 corpses living in there...I don't think any amount of febreeze could help with that

i’ve brought this up before, but i think at some point in the last forty years mike and william stopped smelling like rot. maybe a faint ashy smell from all the arson.

[erinwantstowrite]

I was reading the post about itsy bitsy (fav AU I NEED IT) and was wondering how would Bruce deal with the whole situation. From my understanding he’s so far just had to deal with kids ages 9 and up, never a 4 year old toddler. ( I could be wrong tho. Sorry i don’t read the comics) I imagine Díck going to him freaking out asking him what to do and he’s like “idk 🤷‍♂️”

oh for sure they're running around like "i have literally never had to deal with a kid this young" and they turn to alfred who's the only one of them who has

[threepandas]

Bad End: Golden Cassandra

People don't listen. Not when what your saying, scares them. Especially when, what you're saying, scares them. They like to pretend, instead. That if they don't hear you? It's not happening. Can't and WON'T happen. That you're just a liar. Speading fear, for the fun of it.

But oh, when has reality ever been that kind? That agreeable?

Tell me, WHEN has it ever bowed to the tantrums of men?

I can't think of a single instance. Knew it wouldn't now, either. So, really? What was I to do? Keep trying? Beat my head against walls of willful ignorance, until the deigned to give? Hoping, against all reason and evidence, that they MIGHT, just MAYBE, do so in the nick of time? Please. I was hopeful, not a fool. Optimism does not render a soul naive.

Like the fall of Atlantis, the sacking of Rome. Great Alexandria burning. Everything was going to be destroyed. Rather dramatically, too, and rather deservedly. I couldn't and DIDN'T defend it. Try to change it? Yes. Try to SAVE them? Absolutely. But not once, not EVER, would I defend it.

After all, it was a system built upon the backs of slaves.

Death was the only reasonable outcome. Revolution, the Voice, of those unheard and in chains. Their magic, their power, used for the convenience of their so called "betters". It was disgusting. Vile.

Set dressing, for an Otome Game.

As though their VERY LIVES, their SUFFERING and SOULS, were nothing but pretty little plot points in someone else's PLAY! The indignities they faced. The starvation and thirst. Being forced to watch friend and loved ones suffer, Scream, DIE!

But Oh, at least the Protagonist gets her handsome meat to oogle. They'll know their place, as they play along. Broken nicely and so very, VERY greatful for her scraps. She can play at revolutionary. Or perhaps at savior, should she feel the need. Assuming she doesn't leave them in chains.

And I? Oh I am supposed to play dress up and face her, in some sick "duel" of love! Abuse and use to my heart's content! The Gods jest. For I will do no such thing!

I can barely recall the plot. Only that the gloss over the rather significant socioeconomic and political fall out that is sure to follow. The Kingdom is not going to survive. Should it not be one sort of Revolutionary revolt, it will be another. Corruption, stagnation, and willful ignorance are simply too wide spread among the upper echelons. Baked too deeply into the foundations.

Gods... I... I tried.

It hurts. Like ripping out finger nails, one by one, when I finally gather enough. Not even all that I wish I could. But simply... enough. There is not enough time, the rumblings of revolution have grown too loud. I... I HAVE too go. And... and I know they won't come with me. My friends, my family, the neighbors. All those who smile, nod, and listen but don't believe a word I say.

The pain is hollowing. A truely special sort of hell.

Looking back, to little cousins on tiny legs, helping you pack. With their round little cheeks and small little hands. Watching them try to lift bags like a "grown up". Your friends and family, treating it all like a trip to the country side and not the last time you'll ever see them. The... the day being... being so accursedly normal. Mild weather and gentle breeze. Like your world isn't ending. Like everything isn't gone.

Wanting to be wrong. Traveling and traveling. Wanting to be wrong. Everything mild, calm and sweet. A hell of self doubt. Every night and every dawn. Are you insane? Were they right all along? Were you reading signs, portents of Doom, where there were none? But still... you travel. A caravan filled with your life's work.

Every scrap of modern knowledge. A copy of every work and definitive artwork. Every play, treatise, and textbook. Every old Diary I could get my hands on and endless days patrolling the book markets. A lifetime's work. All spent in hand-me-downs and out of fashion clothes, just for this. The preservation of knowledge.

But what if I'm wrong?

Fiddling with the piles of ward stones, as I get farther and farther north. Closer and closer to the land I stashed away. Hidden, within layers upon layers, of ever circling bureaucracy. A magic rich grove of Gold-leaf Ginko. They would have been harvested to oblivion, if I hadn't hidden them, and the species is already endangered.

I have been using a tower I built (in a natural clearing, as I would sooner remove my own limbs, then a single branch upon one of those trees) there as a seed bank. Every endangered magical plant species I came across? I sent as many seed as I could, to my bank. Had even begun the lengthy process of creating automatons, so they could build a green house (carefully!) into the mountain.

Seems I will have nothing but time, now, to dedicate to that project.

As I get closer, passing through the beginning of the valley towns (that lead into the high lands)? My Family Ring breaks. The terrible Crack of it, a sharp knife to the gut, splitting the morning silence. Father is... oh Gods, Father is...

Yet, even before I can come to terms with this terrible new reality? Beneath my travel cloak and jacket, nestled precious like the love it represented, my Clan Mantle begins to snap and crack like popcorn. Enchanted stone beads cracking apart violently, with the lose of the life they were made to represent. Shrapnel tearing at my clothes as I desperately rip at my cloak, my jacket, blood already welling up from various wounds.

Pop, dead. Crack, dead. Snap! Dead.

I manage to rip the heavy necklace from around my shoulders. Already half the bead are gone. More, like lethal firecrackers, shooting off even as I fling the enchanted jewelry into a nearby leather bag. Scramble for a nearby heavy blanket to cover it. Blood stains everything, dripping from shallow nicks and shrapnel wounds alike. I... oh gods, I barely notice I'm crying.

The sounds have startled the horses. One of them even got hurt. It.. it takes hours to fix. I have to stop in the next town. Shaking. Shaking. I.. I think I may be shaking. C-crying. "To remember where you came from." That's... oh god. That's what Clan Mantle's are FOR. A symbolic gift, really. They... they could never have known.

That it would actually serve it's original purpose. It's ancient purpose. The reason they USED to be made. To... to show who was still ALIVE. Oh gods. I... I can't check. Can't bear to look. The sound has stopped. Is it over? Are... is there...? Please, gods, don't make me look. Don't make me KNOW, how few members of my own family are left.

I was right. Gods, damn them.

Gods damn them all.

I was RIGHT.

Bandaged, healed, I travel faster. Time is running out. It doesn't matter, now, which "route" she took. Everything will have fallen apart. I reach my grove and don't even bother to set up a tent. Wards before all. Better to sleep on the floor, then be caught unaware. I work around the clock. Feeling like clawed fingers are ever so gently, wrapping around my throat, one at a time. Tick, tock, tick, tock. And oh, the tighter they squeeze.

Barely... BARELY! Do the wards thrum to life, deep and powerful, before I feel some almost god like crash into them. My hands shake. Still kneeling in the dirt, from where I placed the last stone, I slowly look up. And... and curling above the golden trees? Shades of copper catch the light. Massive and leaning. Stepping on my wards. Looking down in annoyance, as they refuse to part.

(Distantly, I hear the horses scream in terror. I... I wish I could do the same.)

I flee. Scrambling without dignity, back to the seed bank's tower. Trying to keep out of sight. A hopeless endeavor, I know. What other reason could such a power Dragon be out here for? If not to finish what was started? But... but hope has carried me so FAR. Can it not carry me just a bit farther?

No attacks come. No insults or threats. Yet...

The presence does not leave.

I can not hide forever, for all that fear exhausts and bids me too. All my supplies are out side. My wards, at least seem, to have held? But how can I trust it? Knowing just how strong a dragon's magis is. Sure enough, the second I step outside? There he stands. The copper dragon. Just beyond the wards.

Worse still? He is a man I recognize. Which can only invite pain and suffering, as he played no small part in the revolution. Not to mention, his significance to that damnable Game. Was he "supporting character"? A "hidden route"? An antagonist I could not quite recall? I can not place it. He was THERE, but not lead about by the nose, like the others. Not broken, as they were.

Now, here he stands, light catching off his ornaments and nails. As he tap, tap, taps them lightly against my wards. In sequence. Amused. His eyes locked with mine and glowing from within. Fire and magic made manifest. The king was a fool to think he owned this man. A "royal gaurd dog" indeed. Ha! They brought death into their house, then kicked it.

A slow smile, spreading like poison through sleeping veins, creeps across that deceptively youthful face. Sharp, sharp teeth are revealed to the air. I think I may amuse him. Perhaps I have for quite a while. I have made it no secret, after all, that I know he is dangerous. Treated him as the threat he truely IS. Others thought it was funny. Would find excuses to shove me at him, just to see me panic. All the while, he pretended, like a GOOD little dog, to be polite.

His eyes had always been laughing.

And now? He doesn't even bother to hide.

"You ran away." His voice rings out, the barest hint of rasp, like the drawing of a blade. It fills the silence. Demands attention. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to find you?"

To be honest? I had hoped no one would look. That I had given them no reason to even try. Perhaps that had been naive. I was a part of the system too, in the end. Guilt by association. That didn't explain him, however. Had I wronged him? Beyond the obvious. (And the obvious sat between us, like so much rotten filth. How could ANYONE over look that?)

"Their courts burned, just like you always warned they would. You should have seen it."

He stopped to chuckle. Closer to a sneer, then a sound of true amusement. His distain and delight intertwining as he savored the memory. He leaned closer. Letting his forehead press against the barrier. Enjoying, reliving, his moment of triumph, once again.

"Ha, ha~ Oh, but you should have seen their faces. When they realized you were right. That you had warned them and warned them, but they had refused to listen! It was glorious, darling. They howled with such regret and fear. A magnificent symphony~ you made for me."

I backed up against the carts. The wounds from broken beads stinging harshly with every shift, like the screaming of the dead. Scared. Gods, I'm s-so scared. I can't possibly have invited this... r-right? I never flirted or... or suggested anything! So-! So why is-?! Gods, why is he here?!

"You can't run from me, clever girl. Not for long. You saw me and I see you. Too clever by half. They really should have listened~!" He broke off to laugh, a sharp mockery of the dead. Fangs catching the light. "But they didn't, did they? My poor clever girl. We truely were buried by filth, weren't we? How glorious it must be. To finally be free."

"But~! Did you really think you could escape ME, my clever girl?"

"You're not nearly so foolish. Open the barrier, darling."

"Let me in. Our revolution is over, I have won."

"Now you can't escape me~"