#Young Wizards #fanfic #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #embarrassment squick #(so I’ve been organising my bookmarks today and found this buried in a to-be-read) #(turns out it’s actually very short) #(also hilarious)
2/2 But Brad probably asks a lot of questions initially to try to get to know Alfred, like: “How do you stay in shape? You’re pretty spry for an old dude.” Let’s assume Alfred is ex military in this version, so that’s his explanation, and Brad accepts it. Until Brad sees a misplaced batarang or tool from a fight he completely missed, and all the pieces fall into place. He can’t stay quiet. “Guys, don’t freak out, but… I think Alfred might be Batman.” Bruce nearly chokes on his coffee.
Oh I LOVE the idea that Brad is suspicious of Alfred.
Concept: one of the inspirations for Batman is Mary Roberts Rinehart’s 1920 play The Bat. It features a masked bat-themed criminal. Her work has remained popular in Gotham because it fits the noir aesthetic. Her novel The Door is also the origin of the “the butler did it” trope.
Maybe Brad has never met an actual honest-to-god butler before and his only exposure to them has been through pop culture, so he just kind of assumes Alfred is quietly scheming and hiding a dark secret.
That’s way smarter than my Brad & Alfred headcanon:
Alfred calls Brad ‘Master Bradley’. Brad keeps trying to get him to stop, as much because he’s literally got “Brad” on his birth certificate as because of discomfort with the form of address; but Alfred cannot bring himself to address a living human being as Brad.
Tags:
#Batman #fanfic #headcanons #embarrassment squick? #oh look an update
my best OC is Brad Wayne, Bruce’s illegitimate biological child via a totally normal woman he had a fling with when he was younger and didn’t stay in touch with
Brad grew up a totally normal kid, went to college, joined a frat, and decided to get in touch with Bruce, who now has an awkward situation on his hands
now the other Batkids have to deal with fucking Brad Wayne, whose normalacy is absolutely insufferable… he tells Dick to try yoga and suggests that Tim will sleep better if he gets more exercise… Bruce goes out of town and Brad decides it’s time to throw a house party with his frat friends
All of Brad’s Bat-siblings are absolutely unprepared to deal with him. They can’t handle it. They can’t even hate him properly, even Damien, because he’s just… he’s not even… he’s just Some Guy™️!
They’re all braced for the inevitable reveal that he’s a villain, an imposter, or an interloper there to usurp the Wayne fortune or spy on Batman. They have all sorts of plans to foil his schemes and the only thing they’re not able to prepare for is the fact that he’s just. Brad. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not a saint, either—his problems are just so mundane, so ordinary.
They TRY to understand what his life is like, but how are they supposed to relate to someone who doesn’t text back because he’s hungover or his phone died, not because he’s tied up in a death trap somewhere being menaced by someone in a Halloween costume?
No one’s ever tried to ritually sacrifice him before and it shows.
Oh he has no idea. Brad didn’t grow up in Gotham and isn’t really familiar with its culture, so he thinks it’s an ordinary city with ordinary problems (presumably there’s still a concept of ‘ordinary’ in the DCU).
When someone tries to tell him he laughs it off. Maybe one of his friends asks him about the popular rumor that Bruce Wayne is Batman, but he’s never even contemplated the possibility. Later he’s trying to coax Dick into playing beer pong and loudly tells the story to party guests as a funny anecdote. He thinks the whole concept of Batman is hilarious. Maybe he makes up stories about seeing Batman to impress his family and make himself sound cool.
Eventually though some bad guy who wants a huge ransom is going to kidnap Brad. What happens then? Does Batman call in a favor to one of the other members of the Justice League or does Damien go out and rescue his brother and tell him he’s the most useless of all his brothers because he’s so ordinary? Because you know if anyone is going to blab it’s going to be Damien.
Brad gets kidnapped and Steph and/or Cass rescue him in costume.
Later, in Wayne Manor, he tells his family all about how the Batgirls were totally flirting with him and how he managed to take out a few of the bad guys all by himself.
Brad Wayne: “Hey, do you guys think Batman fucks? Like, you think he has ever gotten laid?”
Dick, stiffly: “Um. Yes. I think so.”
Brad: “Really? Guy sounds like a turbo-virgin to me. I mean, he fights crime in a fursuit! Come on!”
Tim: “I have it on reasonable authority that Batman fucks. Unfortunately.”
Steph: “Hey, Damian. Penny for your thoughts?”
Tags:
#Batman #fanfic #story ideas I will never write #kidnapping cw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #embarrassment squick?
A fun sciencey set up for an AU I’ve been kicking around for a while. It’s basically just a Gravity Falls/Invader Zim crossover.
I’m calling it Camp Mystery, or Camp Mystery AU.
Tags:
#crossovers #nsfw text? #Gravity Falls #Invader Zim #comic #art #fanart #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #(”unless…it doesn’t”)
Do you think that in the mcu verse there’s a magic tree house book where they meet Captain America
Soldiers at Sunset
What’s it like to meet a true hero? Jack and Annie find out when the latest book sends them back to World War II – right in the middle of Captain Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos! But all is not going well on this mission. Bucky Barnes has been kidnapped by HYDRA…again! Can Jack and Annie help Captain America save his best friend?
Tags:
#fanfic #story ideas I will never write #crossovers #Magic Tree House #Marvel
They don’t have superpowers. They don’t. Or at least, they don’t have super powers.
Sure, Nate jokes that he’s psychic. It’s a con he’s played on more than one mark, not counting the times Sophie (or, memorably, Tara) picked up the role. The rumors of precognition floated around him as an investigator no matter how much he insisted otherwise. As his reputation as a thief grew, so did the rumors. Being assumed as a seer of some kind has been a help as much as a hindrance, really, but it deters more trouble than it attracts, so Nate’s let the rumor lie.
But there are times, once in a while, when Nate pauses. His voice will get raspy. Usually it’s just a word: duck, stop, run, wait. The team has learned that you don’t argue when he uses that voice, because he’s always right, and it’s saved their lives more than once. Nate calls it a feeling, or an instinct, and then changes the subject. One time, when he was drunk and pressed, he slurred, “It didn’t save my son.” After that, they stopped asking.
Sophie isn’t actually a shapeshifter, not like in that 1970’s footage of the person changing, one face after another sliding across their body like a slideshow. They know Sophie can’t do that, because she’s a good liar but they know she cares, and if she could do that, she would have, when they were in a few tight spots where a change of face would have stopped the violence.
But there’s something just slightly too good about her performances, sometimes. Even though it’s her skills that sell it, her features never betray her. Her skin is always just enough of the right shade. Her eyes are always just close enough to the right shape. It could be written off as the mind playing tricks, except that Hardison keep having to update his facial analysis algorithms, because they keep getting Sophie wrong. People who have met her before swear they haven’t, and vice versa.
Eliot is easy to pin down, if harder to prove. It’s just not natural for anyone to take that much damage and never need a hospital. He always waves it off, insists it’s not as bad as it looks, but that doesn’t explain why he has smooth skin in places where he absolutely should have scars, given the injuries he’s acquired during their work.
One day Hardison cracks the right server and finds a photo he recognizes on a list in a military database. After that, he notices the way Eliot reacts to mentions of super soldiers and government experiments. It’s subtle. It could be mistaken for the general dislike many army grunts have of superheroes, if he didn’t know better.
Parker also has instinctive reactions, though she denies them even while tensing, just enough for her teammates to notice, around large men in lab coats when they tower over her, around needles and syringes. She doesn’t know why because she was far too young to remember anything before the endless foster homes.
When she trusts them, eventually, they get glimpses of Parker dislocating joints that shouldn’t be able to dislocate and popping them back into place without blinking or bruising. It’s a bit too much for even the most limber double-jointed acrobats. Hardison thinks of cats, who can fold their collarbones to fit through tight spaces, and deliberately does not go looking for Parker’s past.
And Hardison? Hardison doesn’t think he has anything at all above baseline. Sure, he’s always talked to his tech. He names his computers, the vans, the robots. He whispers soothing encouragements or desperate pleas off-mic. Like any good programmer, he’s irrationally superstitious, but he doesn’t really, logically, objectively think much of it, until the day when Parker thrusts her phone in his face, cracked and probably irreparably dead, and tells him to ask it to turn on for just a bit longer so they can call for help.
He does. It does. Parker seems completely unsurprised. Haridison starts being more aware of how he talks to things, starts leaning how to feel the connections that he’s been tapping into unconsciously his whole life.
They don’t have superpowers. But then again, none of them ever claimed to be normal.
I blew the dust off my tumblr and dug out this post (which I originally saw on Instagram) just so I could say thank you for inspiring this ridiculousness.
Crowley likes to sleep, Aziraphale likes to read. A bed is comfy for both of these things, so sharing works. Usually.
After all, Aziraphale was just enough of a bastard to be worth liking. <3
i wish i was capable of writing narratively because there is absolutely a fanfiction wanting to exist where the crew of ds9 collectively comes to the agreement that “wormhole aliens” is a really shitty and disrespectful way to refer to your coworker’s sincerely held religious beliefs re: her gods so the bulk of the episode has all non-bajorans randomly trying on different ways to refer to them without saying they are gods because starfleet has a stick up its ass about admitting any given religion can be provably correct. episode ends with an exasperated kira telling everybody that wormhole aliens is way better than anything theyve come up with so please just drop it
the comedy b-plot is odo futilely trying to recycle the euphemisms into explaining to weyoun that he’s not divine and the Founders are not infallible, but it’s small versus far away and weyoun just cant grasp it
Tags:
#oh look an update #story ideas I will never write #Star Trek #DS9 #language #embarrassment squick
scott lang, completely misunderstanding peter parker’s power: hey if u want man we could get tiny and just like hang out, i don’t know if you’ve ever been in a lego castle but it’s pretty sweet
peter parker: u have no idea how much physical pain having to turn this offer down is causing me but,
I was gonna SAY, Tony would fly out there, look at the thing, and go…. No, this isn’t life size. Impressive though. Okay, bugs, put on these helmets, we’re taking this into orbit and doing this at 1:1 scale.
AJ Crowley and Harry Potter bump into each other in public:
Harry Potter: Oops, sorry about that.
Crowley: No, it was my fault, don’t worry about it.
Public: *stares at the two men making strange hissing noises at each other*
Both: Wait…
I need this fic immediately
Someone passing, whose business this whole affair was not, said “Speak English, this is England for fuck’s sake!”
The young man and Crowley turned as one and hissed at the person, who suddenly remembered an urgent and important errand elsewhere and ran off to sort it.
Then they turned back towards each other. The young man scratched the back of his head. “Um, this is awkward,” he said, in English, “I don’t run into this often. On the street. Or… Ever. Actually.” He had casually laid a hand on his hip, and Crowley was suddenly sure that there was a wand concealed in that pocket.
Crowley remembered that it was very common in England for serpent speech to be considered a trait of evil. Which, well… anyway. “It’s not common,” Crowley allowed. “Special circumstances all around, I’m sure.” He tried to think of a good way to defuse the situation. “Fancy a pint?”
The young man looked relieved. “Yeah.”
“Crowley,” he said, offering a hand.
“Harry.”
“C’mon, I know a pub nearby. First round’s on me.”
If Harry was surprised by being led to the Cauldron Bottom, he didn’t show it. It was one of the few wizard pubs not attached to Diagon Alley in London- they were a growing population, but still unusual. It was middle of the afternoon and there were a few regulars at the bar, but it was otherwise quiet.
Crowley nodded to the one-eyed barkeep, who nodded back, and then gave a friendlier wave to Harry. “Evenin’, Mr. Crowley, Mr. Potter,” she said.
“Room in the back open, Jane?” Harry asked. “We’ve got some business to discuss.”
Brinens and Things 