#tiny house hacks

[tinyhouseexpedition]

Ingenious DIY Tiny House Design Hacks using Salvaged Materials 🤯

🏡✨ If you've seen Christo's mind-blowing tiny house tour before, you don't want to miss this video with never-before-seen footage of him sharing in-depth creative design solutions with salvaged materials. He takes this to extreme with a process he calls "super-cycling"--using the scraps of his recycled materials in clever ways to solve problems AND save money. 

 Christo built a truly one-of-a-kind tiny house on foundation over 3 years for $80k--a work of art! And you can, too! 🛠️

[lazylittledragon]

it’s being normal about dad gale hours again

[daziechane]

Hey, Tumblr peeps. I need input.

Looking for ways to store clothing NOT in dressers or chest of drawers.

Hubs and I are moving into a smaller place and I'm trying to figure out how to store stuff.

Iron Chef Ingredient- Hubs is well over 6 feet tall and wears accordingly-sized big clothing, and there's some executive dysfunction and ADD in the mix. So regular dressers don't work well for him.

So what's your best "hack" for storage when the traditional methods don't work?

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

guess who got a really bad stomach flu and spent all of last night throwing up

[digitaltechside]

Tiny Kitchen Hacks: How to Maximise Space and Minimise Chaos?

A cluttered kitchen is a scene right out of nightmares. It presents many challenges and can make your work a lot more difficult than it needs to be. When you invite guests over, it becomes even more chaotic, as the kitchen tends to become a focal point during gatherings. Fortunately, you can fix that with smart renovation strategies.

At times, the kitchen becomes the centre of your home, and that’s why the best home renovations in Kelowna always include this space in the project. It is a place where meals get cooked, conversations are started, and bonds are strengthened. Even if it is small, it deserves a significant fraction of your home renovation budget.

Renovation tips and hacks for small kitchens:

1. Be smart with the kitchen floor plan

The most efficient kitchens are those that form a triangle with three key elements. These include:

A side dedicated to the sink for cleaning and food prep

A side dedicated to the stove for cooking your meals

A side dedicated to the refrigerator for storage

When arranged properly, these sides come together for perfect harmony and maximise the efficiency of your workflow. Small kitchens can’t accommodate an island or extravagant features that hog up space. That’s why it’s best to maximise efficiency. If you have an open floor plan, you can also choose to add a breakfast counter for kitchen renovation in Kelowna. 

Read More:-

[anarkhebringer]

What is it with Germans and Russians trying to nose into my shit

[deadsetobsessions]

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*

[your-highnessmarvel]

Insatiable

AN: No one asked for this but the Butcher brain rot is crazy and i can't stop myself. Alas, I couldn't resist so welcome to the madness. Anyway, I went insane and absolutely wrote a devoted piece to this man. Jesus help me.

Warnings: dub-con (use of sex pollen-ish mind control), smut, fingering, language, and Butcher is a warning in and of itself.

MINORS DNI Below the cut

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

The admonition echoed in the habitat of Butcher's Cadillac like a bird's call. Even the sound of leather on leather, as the man sitting beside you slowly turned to examine you, wasn't loud enough to get the stupid ringing out of your head.

This had all started off like a bad scab you thought was healed but wasn't, and now it was bleeding all over your favorite pink pull.

Hughie and MM had uncovered a rightful piece of Temp V hideout; a Supe's mansion on the Upper East Side who, just happened, to be throwing one of his renowned "XXXchange" parties for Supes and their pets (this was how it was described on the e-vite MM hacked).

This Supe, still unknown to everyone because he kept the mansion under a random woman's name, was supposedly a Seven-in-the-making, as Hughie put it. If he could prove himself, he was next in line for a comfy beige seat in the Tower. So hence, him keeping and distributing Temp V to teens and young adults who didn't know any better.

So what had been Hughie's grand ol' plan? Bring you in. As the newest Supe member of The Boys, no one had yet seen your face. No one even knew of you. You were a low-level "barely considerable" Supe...as Butcher had put it the first time he blew the hinges off your front door.

Your power wasn't really a - well, a power at all. It was mostly an advancement, an intellectual add-on, or a sixth sense. You could read lies. More coherently, because someone with a beard and a giant stick up his ass didn't understand correctly--you could tell when someone was lying.

You weren't really an attribute to the team when it came to brute force. You left that up to Annie and Kimiko. But you had your perks, and since you were still under Vought's radar, you could slip through the cracks and get intel for the Boys.

Now why was Butcher with you, the most notorious Boys' member? Well, one might say he was eager to see your 2-hour fight training in practice, but really, it was because he "didn't trust a dumb twat with highly sensitive information and tech". His words.

So he'd garnished a Tommy Bahama blouse with pink flamingoes and palm trees and a matching set of swim shorts, sunglasses, and a stupid bright pink bucket hat that was way too small for his big ass head.

And now here both of y'all were, headed to the Upper East Side, dressed like a hooker and a pimp. Annie had insisted on this get up, a tiny, tiny pink skirt, a white bikini top, and a pink cover up with flip flops to finish off this fucking look. Because apparently, no one would let you in if you weren't A) a Supe and B) not dressed like a House Bunny.

"So you're tellin' me," Butcher drawled as the New York skyline darkened, "that your bare pussy is suction-cupping my leather seats?"

You crossed your arms. "I'm sitting at an angle."

Butcher slapped the wheel. "You should've told me earlier!" he laughed. You frowned in return when he swivelled that giant head of his towards you. "Come now, if you're not wearing panties, why should I, eh?"

"You wear panties?"

He hummed, regaining control of the road as the car slipped passed the last townhouse to enter Mansion Ville.

"I like you, little Truthteller," he mumbled to himself. "Thought you were a bit worthless at first, but you might just prove yourself tonight!"

You didn't dare answer the last bit, instead focusing on the details Annie and Hughie gave you before you flip-flopped your way into Butcher's passenger seat (and did absolutely not suction-cup his leather seats).

The idea was to go in and place a few bugs in and around the mansion in key locations. You could try to figure out who the Supe was or even find out where he stashed his V, but it didn't matter. The Boys would find out over the bugs.

The mansion Butcher parked the Caddie in front of was like a cookie-cutter version of the 90s PlayBoy mansion.

"Alright, love," Butcher sighed, killing the engine and stepping out, rounding the nose of the car to open the door for you. "Give 'em a nice peek of that minge, eh?"

You blushed from head to toe, a torment of fire assaulting your skin until Butcher caught on and chuckled low in his chest, helping you step out the car with his hand.

You still hadn't gotten used to the crass words that could tumble out of his mouth like vomit.

He guided you to the entrance, where a man dressed in black boxers and a black neck tie asked for your invite number, which you recited from the one Hughie gave you.

Then he asked, "And which is Supe and which is pet?"

You blushed even hotter. "Um." Your throat got sticky and dry all at once. "I'm the Supe and he's my... um, he's my-"

"Her pet," Butcher interrupted with a wide smile, the sunglasses hiding the glint in his eye that was surely showing. That ridiculous bucket hat made him look almost two heads taller than you as he bent down to whisper in your ear, "bark, bark."

You groaned inwardly as you lead him into the foyer, where a sprawling staircase lead to a mezzanine and a mahogany banister and a wide archway gave way to a mess of bodies in the living room.

"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning away from the onslaught of legs and arms and slithering bodies like a pile of snakes.

"Oh, nuh-uh," Butcher chuckled, grabbing you by the shoulders, steering you right into the mass of party-goers, moaning and groaning and thrusting into one another or bouncing on top of each other like mad dogs. "If you want to play the part, you have to look the part." His mouth was right next to your ear, and for some reason, the breath caressing your skin sent a slowly gliding shiver down your spine.

Why was this happening?

You felt the flesh melt where his fingers lay, clutching at your shoulders, pulling your coverup off of you.

"Butcher," you said, stopping his hand.

He shook his head. "Show them what you got, mama," he whispered again, the rough of his beard tracing against your cheek. He scooped the coverup off your shoulders and threw it across the room, leaving you in your bikini top.

Butcher had never seen you so exposed before. You'd always worn pants and t-shirts around the safe house, so watching all that bare skin available to his hungry eyes flipped a switch in his head.

A woman, tall and elegant, cream skin and sultry black eyes, approached you before Butcher could do something stupid. He straightened up, lifting the sunglasses from his nose.

"Miss, look at you," he cooed.

Miss was naked. Someone had left a bite mark on her right breast, just above her peaked nipple. She was so long-limbed and beautiful, and the sight of her naked body made you turn away instinctively.

"I like you," she said, voice low and husky, like a purr.

"I like you too, sweetheart," Butcher answered, the heat of his body completely leaving you as he zeroed in all his attention on the naked, wanting lady before you.

She huffed. "You're great too," she answered, and when you turned, her lascivious brown eyes were settled on you. "But it's her that I want."

Butcher gasped and then erupted in laughter, taking the bucket hat off his head and putting it to his heart. "Woah, I never imagined I'd see this in my lifetime."

The other woman smiled slowly and you gulped. She was pretty, but she was also not part of the mission.

So you back-peddled.

You put a delicate hand to Butcher's arm, digging your nails into his skin, and put on a lovely, sweet smile for the offering girl. "That's nice of you," you said, voice sultry like a wet candy cane. "But we're more interested in watching." As you said this, you dropped into your act as best you could, mustering up the strength not to blush but to play the part of the sex-obsessed Supe.

She brightened up at this, gesturing to Butcher. "Well I could fuck him while you watch," she suggested.

Butcher's body tensed up against you and he turned to you. "Please say yes," he mumbled.

You smiled, throwing him a glance. "Both of us are watchers," you corrected, watching as she bowed her head, a lustrous gleam in her eye.

"It would've been a pleasure," she said before walking away.

When she was climbing onto another woman's lap, Butcher grabbed your bicep and brought you into a corner, sheltered in the dim lighting of the room, smothered under the moans and groans and the sloppy sounds of...intercourse.

"You were this close to fulfilling a fantasy of mine," he groaned, and when you looked up, he looked more angry than turned on.

"We're not here so I can watch you have sex with a woman, asshole!" you gritted between your teeth. ''We're here to plant bugs and find some V."

He huffed, rearranging his Tommy Bahama. "I'm obeying just because you're wearing this outfit," he grumbled, following you as you led them into the next room.

A kitchen, stock full with boxes of canned beverages and food platters.

"Okay, here." You pointed to the dinner table in the adjacent room, a teakwood marvel that surely housed a few meetings or two.

Butcher expertly placed a bug under the table.

You meandered safely through the house, planting bugs in various living rooms, meeting rooms, and spare bedrooms. Whenever some couple or lone masturbator dedicated their attention to you both, you pretended to watch, Butcher enlacing you in his arms.

It's only then you noticed how tall, how big this man was. He was easily dwarfing you by just standing there, your head against his chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles against your exposed spine.

When the onlookers would pass, he'd chuckle as you pushed him away like he was a booger wall.

But the more you traveled in the house, the more people seemed to stare, wanting, questioning. So you ended up holding Butcher's hand, at his command: "Wouldn't want the lovely ladies stealing you away, eh?"

And hand holding turned into his arm around your shoulders, the tip of his very long fingers ghosting your breast.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispered in your ear once he'd bugged up the toilet.

"Ew, no."

He sucked his teeth. "I mean," he gritted, pushing you up against a wall when a man with a considerably large strap on made his way towards you. Butcher bent down, squeezing the breath from your lungs as he grazed his mouth on your bare shoulder. He pressed a featherlight kiss, all while observing the passing man, dragging his lips up to your ear. "We should go bug up the rooms, eh? Maybe see if we can find this cunt's V supply?"

You nodded, a wicked shiver pebbling your flesh.

Butcher blew cold breath onto the thin line of saliva he'd left on your skin. "Cold?"

You swallowed hard. "Let's just go."

He chuckled as you grabebd his hand and led him back to the stairs, galloping up to the second floor.

Truth is, you'd never imagined Butcher like this. He was so arrogant and he loved to make people jump out of their skins by how uncomfortable they were with him, but you'd chopped it up to the old chip on the block; Butcher pushing people away to keep himself safe.

So when the Boys had initiated you, you'd figured it'd be best to steer clear from this tyrant of a man. He was way older than you anyway, and he was always calling you every name in the book except your government given one. And he was always dismissing your ideas, so you'd always assumed he had an image of an immature little girl in his head.

But he'd dreamed of you more times than he cared to count. The messed up parts of his brain, where most of it was left behind in his old life, conjured up hauntings of you every night. Of those soft, plump lips whenever you'd eat cherries. Of your legs in your pajama shorts and your giggle when Kimiko signed something stupid. Of that perfect little body of yours.

"Okay, in here." You interrupted his chain of thought, the one that was going to crash into a puddle brains that would eventually leak out of his ear.

You lead him into a room, which turned out to be some kind of antechamber with a hearth and a giant portrait of a small, bald man.

"He looks like a mouse," you muttered.

But Butcher froze, tearing his hand away from yours. "Oh, fuck me," he groaned, putting his sunglasses and hat onto the low table. "That's the fucking Seducer."

Your skin crawled. You turned, examined Butcher's expression as he leaned against the far wall. "This cum guzzler is the one trafficking V?" he thought to himself, just as you asked, "who's the Seducer?"

Butcher turned to examine you across the room, lit by a few lights in the sconces. "He's the world's number 1 date raper," he answered, frowning. "This guy can intoxicate the female species into a mad heat, like dogs."

"What?" You frowned.

Butcher walked a bit closer, turning his head to watch you out of one eye, like a bird. "Yeah, he secrets this hormone on a whim and boom, bitches go mad for his dick."

"Oh." You swallowed, turned to push the handle of another door, leading to a darkened room fit for a king. "I think this is his room."

Butcher muttered behind you, "Lucky guy if you ask me."

"Trouble getting women, Butcher?" you asked absentmindedly as you entered the dark room, lights from the lawn outside filtering milky-white through the windows, illuminating your path like a trail of snow.

Butcher followed, closing the door behind you. "Not really," he answered, immediately pulling cubbards and drawers open. "The ladies love me."

"Oh, yeah I bet," you muttered, pulling open the wardrobe. A loose floorboard creaked loudly and you froze, turning to meet Butcher's eye.

He scrambled to where you stood, pressing on the floor and repeating the awful creaking sound.

"Pants jizzer must be keeping the V under his floor," he mumbled, pressing until at least 6 floorboards rose from the ground on one end, a whole door to the underside of the Seducer's floor.

"Bingo," you giggled, helping Butcher pull the damn thing open. But there was nothing there, only an empty black space that could've fit maybe two people, gaping at you like a dark maw. "He must have transfered them," you whispered.

"Or he's trafficking other things," Butcher replied darkly.

Just as you were about to close the floorboards, a loud thud rang out in the antechamber. You froze, listening, until a feminine giggle made you and Butcher lock eyes.

"Get in," he whispered, motioning to the black pit under your knees.

"In here!?" you whispered tightly.

Whoever was on the other side was making their way towards the room, painstakingly, and this was not the place you and Butcher needed to be found.

"Yes, fuck, get in," he insisted, and your heart thudded so loudly, so harshly against your throat you thought it would burst right out through your chest.

Shaking, you got into the little space, falling onto your back because you couldn't see where this thing ended. As soon as you got your hair out of your eyes, Butcher was tumbling onto you, closing the floorboards a millisecond before the bedroom door burst open.

Sound was immediately muffled, like being underwater, and the only thing you could hear was your breathing. Butcher's breathing over you. Your heart in your throat, nauseating you, the adrenaline rushing like a flood in your veins.

Butcher's chest heaving against yours, the entire length of him pressed up on you like a heavy blanket.

"Get off," you whispered, feeling the heat of his forearm next to your head.

"There's no space," he grumbled, his voice catching on your cheek, your neck, as he tried to maneuver himself every which way that meant he wasn't pressed up on you, but he was just so damn big, like hiding with a grizzly bear, that whenever he tried to move, he just ended up being half on and half off you.

"Fuck it," he grumbled, pressing one hand under your thigh, wrenching a gasp from your throat as he placed himself comfortably between your legs.

The pressure of him on your bare bottom half made you freeze, heart hammering like an angry drum against your ribcage. The way you were positioned, thighs wide open, knees bent each side of his waist, made the skimpy little skirt bundle up onto your tummy, leaving you completely bare.

"Hush up, little thing," Butcher whispered in your ear, holding himself up on his forearms as not to crush the breath out of you. But his voice was wretched, pulled and tight, no doubt reacting to the heat he could feel through the thin fabric of his swim shorts.

The noise overhead intensified; a moan, a few garbled words, thudding.

"They're going to do it while he lie here," you whispered, hands balled up by your sides.

Butcher chuckled silently, breath fanning your neck. "So we really are voyeurs."

You smiled, holding back a giggle until a heavy thud caught your attention and the voices suddenly got a bit clearer. They were right over you.

A woman's voice floated through. "How ever I can serve you, Seducer."

The last word made your insides coil in fear. It looked like this woman was answering a command from the Seducer himself, the man who owned this house, who trafficked all the V and worked with Vought.

"Fuck," Butcher muttered. "This is worse than I thought."

"Why?" you asked silently, your fingers trembling against your thighs.

You felt him bend forward, his body tight like a rod. "This is going to hurt, love."

And just as you were about to ask what he was about to do, a soft pang echoed in your lower belly, like someone had tied a rope to your bellybutton and pulled. You squirmed, the thudding overhead leading back to the bed.

The pulling again, making you heave in a breath, squeeze your eyes shut. "No, no, no," you muttered, feeling an ache build between your legs, a force pull through your veins like molten honey.

The Seducer was using his power. And it wasn't just affecting the woman he was with... it was starting to affect you.

You felt yourself clench on nothing but air when the ache throbbed against your clit, like an invisible vacuum seal had closed over it, and you lifted your hips off the floor slightly.

Butcher immediately grabbed your hip, bringing you back down forcibly, sending a new wave of heat, of ache, of hurt through your body just at the touch of his bare fingers on your bare hip.

"Don't," he breathed, his word clipped. "Don't do that."

He could feel the heat of you through his shorts, just how impossibly hot you were, probably dripping from the Seducer's power, and the little control he exhibited around you was pulling quite taut.

"It hurts, Butcher," you gritted through your teeth, hands settling on his shoulders for support as another wave of need, of painful, painful need, throbbed through your body like a pulsing nuclear explosion. Your legs tightened around his waist, nails digging into the fabric of his Tommy Bahama. "Make it stop," you pleaded, heaving, throwing your head back, bucking your hips to get the pain to stop. Just stop.

Butcher huffed, cradling your face, his insides in turmoil with his brain. God had given him such a gift right now, a chance to take you, mark you as his, finally fuck that perfect little body--and he didn't know if he was man enough to stop himself.

You groaned in pain, subconsciously grinding your bare pussy against his thigh, searching for any kind of friction, of relief. Your skin was so hot, sweat beading your forehead as you braced through another wave of this unknown ache, throbbing relentlessly against your clit, deep inside you, just grazing your g-spot.

Your fingers balled into fists against his shirt, your face finding his chest, and you sobbed, "Make it stop, Butcher, please, it hurts."

You weren't aware that your hips had started grinding against his thigh, the knee he'd placed between your legs for leverage. And just the fact that he could feel his shorts getting soaked had him straining against the stitches of his sanity.

"There's only one way," he breathed against your ear. You sobbed, heaving, breathing raggedly, grinding so hard on his knee it was almost pathetic. "Are you sure you want to try?" he asked, voice trembling.

You sniffed, hung onto his neck for dear life. "Please, anything, this is--ah--this is unbearable."

He bent his head, mumbled for God to forgive him, and then pressed a deep, hard kiss on your lips, pressing you back into the floor completely. Somewhere above him, he heard a woman moan loudly, but the only thing that registered to him was the way you clung to him like a pawing animal.

A strangled moan, quiet and restrained, left your throat, caught behind your teeth as he ravaged your mouth.

"N-no," you mumbled. "No."

He pulled away, kissing your jaw, your neck until your were humping his thigh like a woman gone mad.

"This the only way, little Truthteller," he murmured in your ear, dragging his knee away and feeling your entire body go stiff against him.

A whine, like delicious music, lifted to his ear and he groaned inwardly. He had to convince himself he was doing it for you, but half of him was delighted at the idea of finally having you. Like a meal he'd been mouth-watering over for some time, and now it was fresh and warm right in front of him.

"I need," you muttered, groaning through another wave of the Seducer's power, your hips bucking into nothing. "I need..."

"You need to cum, little dove," Butcher whispered, caressing the side of your face and you shook your head.

"No."

"Yes, love," he muttered, tracing the line of your neck, down your chest until he softly cupped your breast.

A quiet moan rippled along your throat like a symphony to his ears. He played with your hard nipple through the fabric until he pushed it aside and replaced his thumb with the warmth of his mouth.

"Fuck," you whispered, pushing against his shoulders. "This is wrong." Your voice was so thin.

Butcher lapped at your nipple like an ice cream cone. "Want me to do this to your pretty little pussy?" he mumbled, and the crass words sent a hot wave of need pulsing painfully between your legs.

His other hand skimmed down your side, over the swell of your hip, and down to where you needed him most.

When he swiped a slow finger across your soaked folds, the grunt that left him was purely predatory. "You're so fucking wet," he whispered, to the accompanying sound of your panting. He brushed his thumb across your clit, holding you down as you jolted, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

"Butcher, please," you begged.

"Billy, love," he whispered, raising his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, brushing his thumb against your clit once more to capture your gasp in his kiss. "Call me Billy."

You gripped onto his shoulders, feeling the wide, powerful muscle of his right hand playing with you.

He pressed three fingers flat against you and you bucked, searching for more, as he circled slowly, starting you off.

"Say it," he commanded quietly, circling your clit faster.

"Billy," it came out as a whine and he groaned lowly, capturing your lips and kissing down your throat. The way his fingers played you like a harp wrenched a pornographic moan from your throat and immediately, Billy put a hand over your mouth, the skin between his thumb and forefinger snug under your nose.

"Quiet for me, little Truthteller," he whispered.

He moved his fingers to your entrance and slipped one in so easily it was almost embarrassing. He cooed at you, gliding his finger in and out so slowly it was almost arrogant. "So fucking wet, this perfect little hole."

You keened, squeezing your eyes shut at his crude words, searching for more friction until the heel of his hand pressed snuggly against your clit.

Your hips moved on their own, bucking against his hand as he pumped his finger, faster and faster until your pants turned into hyperventilating and your legs started to close around his hips.

"Got my whole hand drenched, pretty love," he whispered. "That perfect little cunt can handle another finger?"

You preened against his hand, your sounds muffled against his large, meaty palm and he chuckled at you.

The second finger was a tighter fit, his thick digits spreading you and squelching into you slowly.

"Ah, there's my girl," he moaned in your ear. "Fucking my fingers like a good girl."

You wanted to tell him to quit teasing, to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible because the heat stirring under your skin was insatiable, but you didn't understand how much Billy was enjoying himself. He didn't know when he'd get a chance to have you so willingly spread open for him again, or if he'd ever get the chance again. So he savored this moment like a dying man's last meal.

He let you adjust to his fingers, fucking them into you, palming your clit before he thrust in another finger, opening you wide to him. You gurgled against his hand, muffled moans and pleas stuck behind his palm.

He didn't miss just how tight you were around his fingers, how snug and warm. "So tight, my little love," he cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out slowly, enjoying the way your hips bucked.

The sloppy sounds of your cunt sucking on his fingers drove you mad and a hot, painful knot formed in your belly, pulling and tugging at your insides.

He felt you trembling, your orgasm on the horizon, and he lifted his hand off your mouth, capturing your lips in a warm, sloppy kiss.

"Want you to cum with my name in your mouth," he mumbled, almost incoherent in his chase for your climax. He pressed his thumb to your mouth, opening it, listening to your panting, your quiet moans as he fucked his fingers into your cunt, pressing down on your clit, rubbing it with his palm.

"Billy," you breathed. "Billy. Billy." Like a mantra, a prayer.

"That's it, my pretty girl," he whispered, thumb on your tongue, fingers fucking your pussy until that knot in your bely tightened impossibly and your legs went numb. "Cum my pretty dove, gush all over my hand, come on now."

He grunted against you, and somehow, that guttural, manly sound made stars explode in your belly and you came, shuddering his name quietly, over and over and over until the pleasure had seeped out of your veins and you crumbled back to the floor. You felt his fingers slip out of you, his wet hand pull your knee apart, press against the meat of your thigh, spreading you wide, wide open.

He slithered down your body like a snake, pushing you up against the confines of this box until you felt the warm breath of him against your clit. When he lapped at you, humming around your hole like a satiated man, you mumbled his name, searching with your hands until you grabbed onto the thick strands of his hair. Panting, you mumbled his name again.

"Just having a taste, love," he mumbled, sucking on your over-sensitive clit until the heat came blasting through you again, all over, like you were under the Seducer's spell again.

"Fuck," you gritted, biting your lip, caging in the awfully loud, guttural moan that wanted to spring free.

Billy grabbed onto your hips, holding them down, his forearm over your belly like an anchor.

"One more, little Truthteller," he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue, his beard scraping on the inside of your sensitive thighs.

"Billy, please," you whined softly.

"Always wanted a taste," he said. Not a lie. "Always wanted to tongue-fuck this perfect hole." Not a lie.

He pressed his tongue flat to your clit, sucked and nibbled on it until he pressed his tongue right into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue like he'd promised. The mix of his hot breath, his tongue inside your walls, his thumb working on your clit made all your senses flush full of adrenaline. Bucking against his face, you rode his mouth until another flash burst through you and you came all over his face, grinding down on his nose until the last waves of your orgasm had left you.

When he climbed back over, kissing your belly, your nipple, covering you with his warmth, you were just a numb shell of the girl you were when you walked in here.

Billy kissed your jaw, your neck, stroking your hair as you regained your senses.

Whoever had been overhead had gone. It was completely silent. And it left you wondering if that last wave of need had been the Seducer's spell or Billy's.

"We should go, love," he whispered. "Before I stuff you full of my cock and have you cumming on it for the third time."

His filthy mouth brought you back to your body, cold and sweaty and oh so comfortable with two orgasm singing in your veins.

"Yeah," you whispered as Billy pushed the trap door open, peaking out to make sure the coast was clear, and then hopping out. He helped you out with his hand, gentle and calm, smoothing down your hair, covering your nipple, patting down your two-inch skirt.

"I've made a real good mess of you, love, eh?" he chuckled, standing and taking your hand. "Was I a good pet?"

[caterpillarinacave]

HAVE Y'ALL NOT HAD CONCRETE MIXERS???

okay now i have to ask, re your last answer, what is a concrete mixer?

@loweqxpectations

It's basically a Dairy Queen blizzard but like a million times better. Higher quality ice cream that's actually custard.

[imsobadatnicknames2]

ur tabletop takes are fucking insufferable i can't stand the constant 5e hate coming from u and ur clique what does it matter if i want to use 5e to play everying, do u want me to learn a new game for every setting? let people play what they want, u have no right to tell me what to play

Lemme screenshot something real quick.

Like. If you find my opinions so insufferable then good news! you aren't forced to look at my blog or the blog of any of the handful of intense weirdos who agree with me. Blogs that post nothing but 5e content outnumber us dozens to one, go follow those instead.

WotC has largely succeeded in getting every mainstream space within this hobby to cater to people who think exactly like you. The idea that it's okay to never branch out from d&d and you can hack d&d for any setting you wanna play doesn't need to be defended, it's the default opinion in this hobby.

Go to any popular tabletop space and the most common response you'll find to "i want to play a game set in ______" is "here's how to reskin d&d for it". Many publishers are releasing 5e conversions of their non-d&d games, or straight up ditching their own in-house systems in favor of 5e because they know they won't sell enough to stay afloat otherwise. Go to the RPG section of a bookstore and non-5e material will take up at best a tiny fraction of the shelf space if there is any at all.

You won. Your opinion is the dominant one and still you can't resist the urge to butt in on the little spaces that people who don't agree with it have carved for ourselves just to rile yourself up about the fact that people who don't share the dominant opinion exist at all.

[tinyhouseexpedition]

Solo Woman Designs Dream 1 Level Tiny House while Battling Cancer

Meet Cheryl, a nurse who designed her 10' wide tiny house on wheels while battling cancer. Her treatments have gone well, and she's loving every moment of her simple life. 

A big motivation for tiny home living came from wanting to live more affordably in her dream mountain town. She had already downsized from a large house into a studio apartment, but the rising bills just didn't make sense long-term. So, she designed a single-level tiny house customized to fit her needs. It's full of fantastic small space design hacks!

Cheryl secured her ideal parking spot at Island Cove Mobile Home & Tiny House Community, within walking distance of downtown Durango, CO.

[emacrow]

Alfred's is a father once more... Bruce is not handling this well. Pt 2

Sequel to the first post of this.

Bruce and the batfam are very used to alfred's schedules that he put them all on so that both daytime and vigilante night time are perfectly schedule.

So to enter the dining hall with their food already present, Bruce's newspapers and coffee with his pain pill on a napkin already set without the butler man himself ready to scowl him into next Tuesday because he was supposed to be on a 'break'.

Something was definitely wrong...

Everyone is commentary concerns wondering if Alfred is sick or just very upset about Bruce. Duke suggests they check his room or the kitchen.. which they did and he wasn't there at all. Damian suggested his personal green house garden which Dick isn't allowed back in yet. He still have 3 week left before alfred take the banned from the green garden after the last incident.

At this point everyone is highly concerned and Tim is ready to hack into the mainframe of the manor to look for exactly where alfred was.

Only for alfred to lightly cough a bit in his hand, at the front of the backdoor porch of the Wayne Manor holding a tiny baby boy in new soft button up one piece baby onesis that was light pastal blue easily with one hand.

"My great grandson will be living with me in the nursery room after I had dusted it clean, and cookies will be done in 45 minutes." Alfred said softly yet sternly as he turn around walking back inside the manor.

Everyone of the batfam is shocked like a deer in headlights, except for Damain who looking awestruck with literal stars in his eyes and Bruce who look frozen or his rebooting in his mind after a 20 seconds of overanalyzing short-circuit because Alfred didn't mention much of his Family beside a very over-energetic and smart granddaughter and her a bit dim-witted but intelligent husband in a orange suit.

Damian's and Bruce's reaction in my opinion

New post

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Craving you

Dark!Wanda Maximoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - you take a job working for Maximoff industries without realising your bosses obsession with you before it's too late.

Warnings - stalking, creepy Wanda, dark Wanda, stalker Wanda, begging, masturbation(pls I can't spell it), humping, finical abuse? Finger sucking, gagging, tears, not proofread, lmk if there's anything else I should add!!

Words- 1.9k

A/n - I've never written anything dark or like this before so even more than usual all feedback is appreciated!!! <333

Wanda Maximoff. Over achieving ruthless ceo with no weakness, we'll that was until you began working for her company. So distracting to her and her cruel attitude with you bright energy and wide smiles, how could she be mean to someone.. someone like you. Your long floral dresses which she noticed always had matching earrings and sweet smelling perfumes which reminded her of the most gorgeous flowers, she made notes to find out the brand of perfume so she could spray it across her house to remind her of you. From the minute you'd walked in on your first day she knew she wanted you, she needed you, she wanted you all to herself but for now she was content letting you continue your job unaware of her lingering gaze on your body as she'd admire every curve and edge while you walked around her office. Unaware of the way your things seemed to go missing and the tiny cameras that began to occupy all angles of your cubicle room.

Your first few weeks she kept a close eye, making sure you were settling into the office and that everyone was being nice to you.. but not too nice of course. She watched through the cttv as you made coffees for the other workers in the break room, what a sweet soul. Wanda took notice of how other coworkers looked at you making sure to move the ones who were getting too bold to another department, its not that she didn't want you to find love it just had to be with the right person, with her. She learnt your interests from eavesdropping and searching your computer after hours.. this wasn't creepy was it? No of course not she brushed off the thought, she just wanted to get to know her employees this was normal. All bosses did that. She since found out your favourite colour; lilac. That you had two pet cats called Marlo and Nixie also that they were your screensaver for your office computer. She also discovered your love for your journal, selfishy she always hoped you'd forget it after work so Wanda could read through every page and discover every little detail about your life.

It only seemed as the weeks went on her obsession seemed to grow. Finding a reason to move your cubicle closer to her office saying there was a leak where your old one was and that you'd be much safer here. The pre mentioned perfume well she found out what it was, gucci flaura. She'd found it whilst rifling through your bag while you were in the bathroom. Your salary wasn't enough to afford perfumes like this so it must of been a gift so she made sure to buy you some in preparation for your next birthday. After this the stalking . More thorough resarch began, she searched up all your social media's, found old jobs, checked extended families Facebook, somehow managed to hack your home Internet after she located your current home, a shared two bed flat in a bad area of town, god when you were her's you'd never have to share such a dingy flat the rest of your life. Back to the Internet she tracked everything you looked up or bought, occasionally deleting searches she didn't approve of. Next she worked on getting into your home's security cameras... just to make sure your safe, this city is dangerous after all.

Wandas little obsession was only growing and was beginning to get a little for lack of  better words.. depraved. Shed stay up late at night watching you change in your apartment touching herself to the gorgeous silhouette of your body. She'd spray the perfume you wore around her room before humping her pillow. She followed you around town from a distance capturing pictures of you to add to her collection. Your sweetness only furthered this, the confused pout on your face when you realised your cardigan had gone missing without a trace, deciding to ask Wanda about it you missed her smug smirk instead just accepting the answer she gave you.

"Maybe you didn't bring it in darling. I mean I know how forgetful you are. Your lucky we keep around such a clutz like you." In return you'd nodded your head and left her office feeling like an idiot for even suggesting someone could have taken it.

Wanda was slowly winning you over, atleast that's what she thought until she saw you getting a little too close to a fellow coworker, Marcus. If only you could've felt her glare through the security camera. For a little bit she decided to let it go assuming Marcus was just being creepy with you ans that moving him to another department would do the trick. That only led her to see you were the one initiating the flirting with Marcus. How could you do this to her, Wanda felt her heart shattering as she threw her mug at the office wall in a fit of pure rage. You were hers. Her property. What could you not understand about that?

You'd left her no decision. She'd make you understand your place even if she had to hurt you, her precious.

You were called into Wandas office one day, unaware of her desire for you, you had assumed nothing of it hoping perhaps got a pay rise. I mean you'd been working tooth and nail recently maybe she was going to prove your work hadn't gone unnoticed. You quietly knocked on her office door and she immediately recognised the way you knocked. How couldn't she? She loved you after all.

"Y/n come sit." She tells you after letting you in. As you enter you pick up on the tension in the air, the dark edge to her voice as she spoke to you. This wasn't going to be good but you couldn't think of what you'd done. You sat back nervously in the chair infront of her desk, fearing what to come. Wanda gazed at you quietly, how cute you looked when scared. The way your eyes widened and you bit your gum, adorable. Maybe she should have done this long ago.

"I'm sure you know why your here-." She starts.

"No.. I don-.."

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking." Wanda snaps as she hears your voice making you go quiet and shrink further into your chair wishing you could dissappear.

"Now as I was saying I'm sure you know why your here. For your inappropriate harassment of Marcus." Your jaw dropped at this news, there had to be some confusion you'd never harass anyone. You were about to speak opening your mouth to do so when she held up a hand to shush you. "We have witness statements from other colleagues to back up this statement. Marcus came to us three weeks ago saying you were making unwanted advances on him, so we moved him to another department." She pauses staring at you, judging you at least that's what you saw. You felt like the world was crumbling around you. You'd never do this to anyone this had to be a mix up. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes and Wanda had to hold back a malicious grin, she had you just where she wanted you. "Today he handed in a letter of resignation stating you were becoming unbearable and beginning to scare him." Oh it was laughable the look on your face. Of course Marcus had never really resigned, Wanda had fed him the exact same story and fired him. "So that comes to you y/n. We can't have people scaring off and harassing other employees here." She can barely hold the excitement back anymore.

"So what? I'm fired?" You whispered in response, terrified for the answer you knew was coming. You hadn't done anything wrong but it was clear Wanda had made up her mind about you.

"Exactly."

She looked at you like a predator stalking it's prey.

"But.. but I needed this job.."

"You'll find another." Her voice was stern, unchanging no matter what you said.

"Please.." You managed to muster the singular word out and you swear your saw her face contort into a sick grin.

"Say it again darling."

"Please." There it was an unsettling sickening smile that made you want to squirm back in your chair.

"Hmm.. well when you beg like that." She pauses thinking for a second. "On your knees." She commands in a voice foreign to the one she usually spoke with you in.

You looked up to her hesitant thinking this could be here twisted idea of a joke but the look in her eyes made it clear she wasn't. Slowly you step off the chair and kneel down on the floor. She walks round the table placing your head against her thigh, tilting your head up to make eye contact with her and beginning to wave her hand through your hair. "Beg again. Like you mean it."

You were horrified at this idea and you knew it was wrong but you couldn't help but feel like some of this was right, the soothing feeling you felt with her hand knotted in your hair. "Please Wan-.." A harsh slap was placed against your face as you called her by her first name. Correcting yourself you began again. "Please Mrs Maximoff.." Her touch was soft again now, the hand that just hit you now gently caressing your cheek and wiping tears from it. "..please give me my job back. I really need it to pay my bills and to make ends meet. I need this job, it's the only place I've ever worked that pays me enough to survive. And I know you don't believe me but I never did those things to Marcus.. I dont know why he said that." More tears fall and you open your mouth to continue but she places her slender finger to your lips before you can speak.

"Hmmm.. your very convincing sweetheart." Her finger presses against your mouth demanding access and when you don't allow it another slap hits you forcing your mouth to open allowing her fingers inside. "Sorry about that darling I don't mean to be rough.. you see you've just made me very angry today. Suck." She commands you again and this time you listen not wanting to experience more stinging in your cheek. Slowly and a little reluctantly you suckle on her two fingers. Running your tongue along them. "Good girl." Her other hand massages your hair.

"Now it just wouldn't be appropriate to give you your old job back.. but I can think of a better one. You can work for me or should I say under me." A low laugh escapes her mouth as she looks down at your head lay against her thigh. "You could be my personal assistant. Help me out. Please me. Serve me. Now what do you think of that dorogoy?" Before letting you speak she forces her hand down your throat causing you to gag. She then removes them and licks your drool off them.

"Uhm.." It doesn't take you long to think of an answer. You needed a job and Wanda was being kind enough to offer you one again. "Yes please Mrs. Maximoff."

"That was the correct choice dear." Her finger strokes your jaw line. "You've no idea how long I've been waiting to see you like this. All mine." You want to flinch at her words but all you feel is a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Follow me on my delusional rant for a second: we all know that stiles was kinda but not really obsessed with the hale fire yes?? What if he just a tiny bit more obsessed with it and less with Lydia. The sheriff turns a blind eye to this because this was the most lively his son had been since his mother died. The sheriff also can’t figure why this case doesn’t feel right to him, but if anyone can figure it out it’s his son.

He goes on a deep dive about the hales. There comes a point where he can’t access anymore information legally; so he goes to Danny to teach him how to hack. This gets Lydia attention but not enough to get her to help, yet.

So stiles learns and he hacks into the school database, the police, and generally every establishment that the hales have frequented. He finds a pattern of suspiciously missed full moons, high grocery bills the next morning. He finds Paige and Kate. He finds a paper trail to the fire.

He shows it to his dad. With this evidence the sheriff looks into the case. This is what causes Lydia to talk to stiles. She pulls up to his house the very next morning the sheriff reopens the case. She liked Cora and would do anything to get the person who killed her. This cause a deeper dive of obsession. Together they look into the supernatural side of beacon hills. They find Lydia’s grandmother, and Lydia is able to understand what she is before it becomes a problem.

I’m a Stiles and Lydia sibling truther. They become that duo. Just over all becoming the pretty twins of beacon hills.

Lydia gets familiar ties to the stilinskis. Something that she doesn’t get at home. The sheriff loves her, absolutely dotes on her. He’s always wanted a daughter. Stiles becomes far more confident and comfortable in his skin. They have spa days and sleepovers. Stiles lets Lydia practice makeup on him. Lydia has her own room at the Stilinski’s, it becomes a safe haven for her.

They both watch over the sheriffs diet like hawks; fast food places are terrified when the sheriff comes in to order food. “No sheriff, I actually can’t give you a double burger because I’m still traumatized from your kids”. Lydia creates a binder of healthy meals, while stiles cooks them. (Lydia cannot cook)

Stiles comforts her when Jackson is being a dick. Stiles becomes frienimes with Jackson. When Jackson swings by the house the sheriff quietly brings out his gun and cleans it in front of him. Lydia pretends to be embarrassed but she’s absolutely glowing. Jackson also become close with the sheriff, especially after him and Lydia break up. (They were gay and lesbian solidarity)

With the amount of digging Stiles and Lydia did they would have figured out Peter was being poisoned. I also believe that they would have found Cora was still alive. This brings Laura and Derek back to beacon hills, starting the rise of the hale pack.

Like imagine season one Derek meeting confident stiles with lipstick. Your honour it’s over for him.

Derek still becomes an alpha after the alpha pack comes and he kills one of them. (I’m also a Alpha Derek hale truther)

Stiles and Lydia are both “little reds”

Derek and Cora being super fucking cocky that they’re mated to the pretty twins of beacon hills

The sheriff also cleans his gun in front of Derek and Cora. He’ll be damned doesn’t get to pull the protective father for his kids.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[seat-safety-switch]

For some reason I can't understand, the local mall still has a travel agent. She seems to be doing pretty well, too, judging from her new Porsche and her exquisite office digs. As you can imagine, this whole thing was confusing to me, because I thought the internet had worked hard to crush all small business proprietors such as herself under an algorithmic boot the size of Topeka. So what was going on here? I had to get to the bottom of it.

As I said, the internet has done a lot to get rid of travel agents. If I wanted to go to Osaka (great food, better Hondas) I could just ask Siri to do it. Ted Siri is the name of the nice person at the library who I tell all my passwords and credit card numbers to, and then he puts them in the computer. That's not his real name, because he tries to keep it safe from "crackers," but I digress. On the internet, the lowest-cost flight is going to take 192 hours and involve my organs getting stolen and sold for Bitcoins, but the second lowest-cost flight is on Air Canada, where the stewardesses spit directly into your mouth when you ask for a drink. Some folks pay extra for that (and you will, too. Spit's not free.)

If the travel agent was still travel agenting, she must be charging an insane amount of money and not getting busted for it. I had to know how this worked, so that I, too, could have my own little mall office that doesn't make any economic sense yet persists until the heat death of the universe. You see, owning a tiny office in a mall was one of my childhood dreams, one that is quickly becoming impossible due to the collapse of malls.

Unfortunately, detective work of this grade doesn't come cheap. For instance, I had to get up and out of the house during the hours that the travel agency was open. Agnes (that's her name, I don't know if I mentioned this earlier?) wouldn't be working at the 11:30-11:45 pm "productivity hour" that I read about in a life hacking magazine. She would be busy doing something that normal people do at this hour, possibly sleeping or barbecuing.

As much as it pained me, I forced my body to get out of bed at around ten in the morning and stumble into Agnes's travel office. It was then that I discovered she wasn't there at all. Inside the space allocated for her travel agency, beyond the pretty ornamentation and fantastic brochures of the waiting room, was a room containing only a crudely-carved set of stairs reaching deep, deep under the mall. It was only then that I remembered that I never saw any customers leaving the travel agency.

Everything worked out in the end, though. She got me a great deal on a flight/hotel package to Osaka, and all it cost me was a little teensy-tiny bite of my liver. Don't even miss it, really, although it was a bit insulting when she started choking, hissing, and screaming while thrashing on the ground, her arms flailing violently against the stone surface of the travel agency's cave.

"What's in this?" she screamed before dissolving into a red mist.

"Rotella," I said after some thought.

[lazycats-stuff]

Artist toddler batbro! Can't help but draw/ paint at least once a day and at the end of the day batfam is anticipating who will be the lucky family member that'll receive which ever art piece their youngest has created that day (sometimes the art piece is on the walls or floor of the mansion but no one has the heart to be angry when little batbro is just proudly presenting his art)

Toddler batbro *leaves a paint covered tiny handprint on the wall*

Bruce: alfred, frame that

Oh my, that's cute. Oh my God... Aww. Also, I know it's short, but this is all my inspiration is willing to give at this moment. Next time, I'll try to write more.

Summary: (Y/N) is an artist.

Warnings: None, really fluffy

Every child has a talent. Whether that be in sports or arts, every child has a hidden talent for something. Even if some kids are average, there is nothing wrong with it. Bruce, amongst his four older sons, had a toddler. Yes, a toddler.

How did it happen?

A one night stand. The mom couldn't take care of (Y/N) and Bruce took him in and the other 4 accepted (Y/N) as if he was their blood brother and Bruce was grateful that they did it. Of course, they had to change their schedules to accommodate to make sure that (Y/N) was a priority. Of course, no one minded to do that.

And speak of talents? While his four older sons had their own specialties. Damian had his knowledge of blades and martial arts, Tim for his hacking and detective skills, Jason for his accuracy with guns and other firearms and Dick with his acrobatic skills.

(Y/N) was an artistic child. He didn't show it at first, but as he got more comfortable, he started asking for paper and crayons. Crayons slowly evolved into something more and (Y/N) would draw daily. It could be anything. It could be a couch or even Titus. Maybe it would be one of the boys too.

And, at the moment, there was a big honor in the house. What that honor may be? (Y/N) handing you his own artwork. It became a tradition and sort of a competition between everyone. Everyone wanted to see what (Y/N) has created that day.

It was considered the biggest honor in the manor, to get a piece of paper, created by (Y/N). It makes everyone's day when they get an artwork. Dick nearly cried. Damian was close to crying too. Alfred and Bruce got one too and the two grown men, who have seen stuff... Safe to say, they nearly broke down into tears and shambles.

Nearly.

But there was a one problem in this entire story. (Y/N) wouldn't limit himself to drawing on paper. Oh no. Many parents would punish the child if the child drew on the walls or floor. Right? Well... Not if you are (Y/N) Wayne who is clearly artistically talented.

(Y/N) would often draw whenever he could, even if that meant on the wall or the floor. And whoever saw (Y/N) drawing on the floor or the wall, didn't have a heart to even yell or be remotely angry, especially since (Y/N) had that shine in his eyes when he was showing them their art.

Bruce wasn't supposed allow (Y/N) to paint over the walls or the floor. That's what Bruce was supposed to correct. A correct thing to do... Right? Well, Bruce didn't know. Parenting doesn't have a book and a set of rules, but Bruce wished he had some sort of rules so he could solve this.

He can keep on dreaming when it comes to universal rules for a perfect parenting style.

But he has actually decided what he was going to do, without a doubt. (Y/N) was allowed to doddle and draw wherever he wanted. That was something that was relayed to all the other members, whoever, they put certain restrictions.

No drawing in their rooms without supervision. Bruce's study was also off limits if there is no supervision. And only at home is doodling and drawing allowed.

Because Bruce is just ready to frame it all. Alfred already has frames ready to go.

It was always fun.

As of now, (Y/N) was doodling on the wall, just sitting on the floor, without a care in the world. Bruce and Alfred were walking by, stopping when they saw (Y/N) drawing. This time, it was just a simple handprint.

Bruce was smiling and instructed (Y/N) to go wash his hands and then eat. Bruce and Alfred looked at the handprint on the wall.

" Alfred, frame that. " Bruce said and Alfred did just that. Took out a frame and made sure that handprint was framed. And it looked adorable.

" He is growing up too quickly, Master Bruce. " Alfred said said as he looked at the little handprint.

" I agree Alfred. " Bruce said sadly.