Things get a little loud some nights in Stark Tower, Tash and Peter seem to be getting used to it though
Deadpool and Harley Quinn
i didn’t know how much i needed this until right now
I ship it
What Kaidan’s biotic spec ops students (and Shepard) see when he struts around the training hall silently judging them. Doesn’t matter how much armour he has on, they’ve all seen the vids.
(Someone please write a mini-fic of my head canon - I’ll get a femmie boner all over the place.)
He always wondered why people stared when he walked into the room, why students, male and female alike, blushed, cleared their throats, ran their gazes along the whole length of his body when they thought he wasn’t looking. He tried wearing his armor once or twice but it didn’t change anything - and it may have made matters worse, some students blatantly ogling his ass as he shifted his weight from one hip to the other. That day was not a good one, especially when he took off his armored glove to demonstrate something bare-handed and swore, as he slid his fingers free, that he heard several quiet gasps and moans from his trainees.
When he expressed his frustration to Shepard, the man looked at him appreciatively, licking his lips.
“Well, I’d stare too, if -“
“Shepard, you are staring.”
”- if I’d seen those vids.”
“…you, uh, didn’t know?”
The former Commander reluctantly pulled up an extranet search. ”EDI may have, uh. Recorded us a time or two. And… the vids may have gotten leaked.”
The specific vid, it turned out, had Kaidan strutting around Shepard’s cabin with not a scrap of clothing on as he barked out very explicit orders to an off-screen Shepard.
Kaidan’s face paled.
“I… think I need to take a sabbatical.”
BATMAN AND ROBIN
Remember how Teen Titans had a lesson about Racism without blatantly bringing Cyborg’s Race into it?
The Best Mother Ever —- A Batman ficlet
In my days, the only mother I ever knew were the dotting, female kind. If I had been told in those days that I would feel some sort of motherly responsibility for, not one, but five, men, I would think you mad.
But my experience with Master Wayne and the young men he has taken under his wing has been nothing short of unique, dangerous, and fulfilling. It keeps me young. It keeps me busy. It keeps me grounded that this world is full of things not yet explained, and unexplainable.
For example: the connection I have with each one of these men. How many times I’ve stitched, fed, and brought them back from the brink of life. How many times I’ve given advice, and it either been ignored or implemented in some flashy fashion. Only recently, I sat there by Jason’s bed side, the boy’s face nearly destroyed by the Joker, while Master Wayne sat there, destroying him over a situation he could have never thought to control.
But this was Jason. His Jason. His son. And also mine. One had already perished under my watch, so I stayed there by that bed until I knew for certain he would be okay. I watched secretly as son and father hugged— Jason asking for forgiveness and father gladly giving it to him.
Only under this house can such private needed moments occur within the hectic lives of these men—- and home that is under my watch and care while Master Wayne was in his worst. I made sure there was a warm bed to fall on, a clean bandage to be dressed in, and a meal to fill their bellies. Mothers are known to do that for the men and boys (and batgirls) they tend to, correct?
I received a gift from Master Grayson this afternoon. He handed it to me, hugged me, and smiled before leaving. It was a card, one of those new ones with a recorder inside, and there Richard spoke to me, as he often did, on behave of every Robin, every wing, and every bat.
“Thank you Alfred, for being there. Happy Mother’s Day, because everyone should have an Alfred in their life.”
I still have the card tucked away, and I think of Damian, especially, when I listen to Richard’s voice. He would have laughed at the thought of me being ‘mother’, but then would have hugged me in private, as he sometimes did. I smile at the thought of his young round face pouting, and my stomach twists and my eyes water, but my smile strengthens.
I do what I can for them all, and my only regret was not caring for Damian more closely, but I will never regret allowing him to be what every Robin has been to Batman, his supporter, as I will continue to be for them all.
My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I do not regret my lot in life as the caretaker of the Batman legacy, no matter where that might led me. I wouldn’t trade my boys in for the world.
only 5K … neat, guess us older folk are scarce here on tumblr