Bruce goes on a date with someone the kids don’t like

Dick: *Yelling while pushing a reluctant and extremely suspicious Bruce out of the door* YuPp BYE OKAY! HAVE A GOOD TIME! WE LOVE YOU!!!

Dick: PheW!! Okay…time… to Sabotage™

——– half an hour later ———-

Tim: Why are we all wearing really bad beards and trench coats?

Dick: *Rolls eyes* becAUUUSE we’re in disguise Tim!

Jason: Alright, but why does the demon kid have a mustache? He’s like five??

Damian: I AM ELEV-

Dick: Tonight he is a man. A very very tiny and strange man!!

—— later ——

Date: …Why does that table of strange bearded men in trench coats keep flicking peas at you?

Bruce: *Calmly as another pea smacks him in the head* Gotham is full of… unique characters as I’m sure you’ve heard. A table of bearded men throwing vegetables at my head isn’t that alarming

Date: .. I think they’re trying to get your attention..

Bruce: *Loudly and firmly so the others can hear* Then they can make an appointment, we’re on a date and NOTHING IS GOING TO RUIN IT!


Dick: Damn it! The peas aren’t working…

Tim: We can try the carrots next?

Damian: *Glaring at his father* or the knives

Jason: I vote knives!!


Bruce: We should just order desert and go

Date: Okay

Alfred: *Appears wearing a glued on mustache on top of his original mustache and a waiters outfit* May I recommend the tart for the lady?

Bruce: oh my god

—– 20 minutes later —–

Steph: *Bursting through the restaurant doors a pillow shoved up her top wailing dramatically* BRUCE WAYNE YOU CAD! YOU TOM CAT! YOU MAN OF THE NIGHT! CHEATING ON ME WITH ANOTHER!!! WHEN I AM CARRYING OUR SECRET LOVE CHILD!!!!!

Dick: *Spooning large mouthfuls of ice cream sundae into his mouth* You’re too late steph, the chick left after Alfred called her a tart

Alfred: I did no such thing! I simply suggested a desert

Jason: *Eating his own ice cream* Suuureee Pennyworth, sure

Damian: *Huffing* She was hardly the same standard as Mother, Father!

Tim: *Gently patting Bruce’s head lay on top of the table in defeat*

Steph:*Ripping off the wig* Oh thank GOD! my ankles are killing me!!

anonymous asked:

24. “Just because.” with burrfayette maybe?

24.) “Just because”

Who knew the area around the coffee machine was such a dangerous place to be? Who knew that that was where Aaron Burr would find himself being harassed by his co worker.

He had just been standing idly, waiting for the pot to fill, when he sensed someone watching him. And as he turned, he found he was not only being watched, but he was all but cornered by none other than one towering frenchman.

He rolled his eyes. No doubt he was about to receive another bout of Lafayette’s childish insults. So he quirked an eyebrow, his face practically saying, ‘well get on with it.’

What he had not been expecting, however, was Lafayette’s soft lips suddenly pressing against his cheek. When he stepped back, Aaron was at a loss.

“What was that for!?” Aaron exclaimed, not so much outraged, just…startled.

“Just because.” Lafayette answered with his signature shit eating grin, turning around and moving to go back down the hall.  Now Aaron was outraged.

“Oh no you don’t, you, you…cad!”

He all but leapt forward, racing after the frenchman who simply laughed as he went into his own office.

“You can’t just go around kissing people!” Aaron hissed, shutting Lafayette’s door, beginning his rant, “Especially not in the middle of the office!”

“Ah, but I didn’t go around kissing people. I kissed you.”

Lafayette turned to grin at him, leaning back against his desk. This simply made Aaron even angrier.

“What’s the difference!?”

“The difference, my dear Burr,” he started, taking first one step, then another towards him, “is that I like you.”

“Oh.” was all he could get out as Lafayette put one hand on his shoulder, a pressure that made him focus.

Lafayette’s smile was soft and his eyes twinkled as he looked at Aaron. The shorter man could feel a blush creeping up his neck and face, his skin growing warm.

“I like you very much.”

There was a soft silence between them, the noises of the office muffled behind the door. Lafayette’s hand moved slowly down to Aaron’s waist and Aaron didn’t move to stop him.

“But as much as I like you,” he continued, his voice now barely a whisper, “we have work to do.”

Aaaaaand the moment was ruined by a hard slap on Aaron’s back.

“Come Burr! The wicked never rest!”

Aaron was left stunned for a moment, watching as Lafayette laughed, strutting past him and back out the door.

“H-hey! We’re not done talking about this!”

“Later! Over dinner perhaps. Tonight?”

“Y-you- I-” Aaron sputtered, trying and failing to get upset. Finally he deflated. 


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Quick Change

From this request: Sherlock x Reader one shot were they are in a relationship and the reader is an actress and Sherlock can’t deduce her completely cause she keeps “changing” her personality when Sherlock is bored.



The problem with most people is that they were boring. They had their tiny little personalities and they never changed. You met them once and you could immediately know what they would do and say and act like for the rest of their days to come.

At least, you could if you were Sherlock Holmes.

But you… you weren’t a boring, mindless person. You weren’t a singular person on a daily basis. You recognized your abilities and knew how to use them, especially in the moments when Sherlock needed them most.


“Sherlock, stop moping around.”

“I’m bored.”

“Well, if you hadn’t solved those three cases in a matter of a week…”

“So you’re complaining that I’m doing a good job, cleaning up the messes the police are too dim to take care of?”

“Not at all. You know I love the work you do. And you are the smartest man I know.”


You watched the detective for a few moments. “Let’s play a game.”

“What sort of game?”

“A guessing game.”


“It’ll use your skills of personal perception.”

Sherlock glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ll dig through my repertoire and pull out different characters from classic stage performances. I’ll fully embody the character. It’ll be up to you to figure out who I am.”

“Do I get to ask you questions?”

“Of course. Twenty.”

Sherlock’s mouth was a thin line. “I fail to see how this will be a worthwhile experiment.”

“It’ll solve your boredom while giving me ample dramatic exercise. Unless you think you’d fail.”

Finally, that old glimmer could be seen in Sherlock’s eye. “Let the game begin.”


The first one was relatively easy for anyone who had graduated high school.

Sherlock watched as you sat in John’s chair. A strange, fierce calm crept over your face. Your posture was stiff, an air of importance radiating from you.

“You really should ask for more cases,” you said, your voice hauntingly empty, yet forceful. “The more cases you solve, the more prestige you’ll have in the department.”


“Prestige equals power.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, a tickle in his mind leading him toward the answer. “And why are you concerned with my prestige? What pleasure would it give you?”

“I’m attached to your name, aren’t I? People see us as one entity.”

“So power for me means power for you?” Sherlock noticed your left thumb digging into your right palm, scrubbing furiously. “And tell me, dear lady, is this a dagger which I see before me?”

A smile lifted the corners of your mouth. “Very good, Sherlock. That took almost no time. But that was just a warm-up.”

“Then let’s continue.”


The game lasted for weeks, intermingling with the down periods between cases. Sherlock watched as you easily slipped into other personas: the drunken Blanche from Streetcar Named Desire, the seemingly innocent Ophelia from Hamlet, the violently addicted Violet in August: Osage County, the devilish, jealous Abigail from The Crucible, the bubbly optimistic Tracy in Hairspray, the hopeless romantic with a twisted heart Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd, the naïve Wendla from Spring Awakening, the quiet yet powerful Nora from A Doll’s House.

Some of the newer shows Sherlock had to do his research on, but he still came to the correct answers.

John walked in one day as you draped yourself over Sherlock’s shoulders. “Um…”

“How often do I see you?” Sherlock asked.

“Whenever you come to town. I do miss you when you’re away.”

“Me… or something I give you?”

You laughed. “You are a cad.” You walked around and sat on the arm of Sherlock’s chair. “But is it wrong if I say both?”

Both John and Sherlock watched as you bent over, trailing your fingers up your leg, ankle to knee.

“I give you a present when I visit,” Sherlock stated.

“You always seem to have something for me.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “Am I married?”


“But not to you.”

You smirked at him.

Sherlock leaned closer to you. “You know, I really must get you more stockings.”

“Sorry… what’s going on here?” John asked. “Am I interrupting something?”

“It’s just a game, John,” you said, standing. “Something I do occasionally to get Sherlock over his boredom.”

“What, theatre charades?”

“There’s no talking in charades,” Sherlock said.

“Could… I play next time?” John asked. “I do enjoy the theater every now and again.”

“Of course, John,” you said, smiling at him.

“Brush up,” Sherlock said. “You’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Me, making a wild and radical claim on tumblr dot com: hey child porn is bad
Demons: how dare you sir. how dare you. you are anti art and anti science you will bring about the end of free civilization with your intolerance. you are trampling all over my rights. you cad. you wretch. you irrational emotion-driven scallywag.

anonymous asked:

For the alphabet thing! A (allergies) Y (yellow) U (unkempt)

“Kyo? Honey? Snff.” Tohru scrunches her itchy nose, tries to will away an oncoming sneeze. “C-cad you…cad you hold the ba…the baby, I…hhh…!” 

Kyo swoops in and grabs snatches the baby out of his wife’s arms. “Got him! Are you okay?” He stares at her, eyebrows raised. 

“Y-yeah, I’b fide, I’b just goid to–ahhh…CHIEW! Hek-KIEW! Ah-SHIEW!” Sniffling furiously, she clamps her hands over her nose to contain the mucus streaming from it. Kyo tries to work out the gymnastics required to get her a tissue while the baby is trying to pull remove Kyo’s lips from his face. 

Tohru sneezes four more times, her hands firmly curved around her nose. Her hair comes loose from her braids with the force of them. Finally, Kyo manages to situate the baby such that he can use one of his hands, and he hands Tohru a handful of tissues. 

“Th-thadk you–hek-KIEW!” She blows her nose–it sounds like running water. 

“What the hell is making you sneeze so much?” asks Kyo, gently removing the baby’s hand from his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’b fide. Snff. It’s just um…you kdow those flowers Ayabe brought over earlier–I’b…hh…hhhEHH…ehCHIEW! ah-CHIEW! Allergic. Snff.” 

Kyo glances at the bouquet of yellow daffodils that Ayame had dramatically presented Tohru with earlier. “Why didn’t you say so?” he asks. “They’ve been in the house all day! Has this been happening all day?!”

“Ndo…well, a little, but I took sobe medicide. I thi…I thidk it wore offhhAHHCHIEW!” Tohru snaps forward so far with that sneeze that it looks like she’s bowing. “I’b okay,” she insists, despite the fact that her eyes are dripping with allergic tears, and her voice is so horrendously  congested that Kyo can barely understand her. 

He strides over to the flowers, takes them out of the vase, and walks toward the door. “I’m throwing these out,” he says. “You go wash your face and take a nap or something. I’ll watch the baby.” 

“No, K-kyo-kun, Ayabe gave be those! I cad’t throw theb out, he’ll be upset if he fides out–hhek-SHIEW!” By this point, Tohru’s pink nose is running so profusely that the one tissue Kyo gave her can’t keep up.

“If Ayame is actually such an asshole that he’d want you sneezing yourself into a coma just so he could gloat about having spent 1500 yen on you, I will personally beat him to a pulp!” 

Kyo realizes that he’s yelling, softens his voice for the sake of both his baby and his wife. “It’s okay for you to take care of yourself, Tohru. Please let me throw the flowers out. Ayame won’t mind, I promise.” 

After blowing her nose into the second tissue that Kyo hands her, Tohru agrees.

So I tried out the first two episodes of G1 of transformers last night. It’s somewhere between amusing, adorable, and what. Just. WHAT. 

I’m fairly sure Megatron is turning into a gun. Then again, I only saw it once and I might’ve been mistaking him for one of the MANY OTHER FREAKING ROBOTS ON THE SCREEN, LIKE SHIT SON, DO YOU NEED THAT MANY ROBOTS?!!?

Then again, this is coming from someone who has bee putting off watching what’s left of season 3 of the Prime show because I’m scared of the feels.

The Pirate’s Prize

AN: Okay, so not really a gold ‘theme’, but it still makes an appearance. :)

‘Take everything of value – gold, silver, whatever strikes your fancy, boys!’

Sherlock strode across the gangplank to join his men. They scurried about, gleefully obeying his second-in-command, John’s, order. The passengers sat among the crates, too afraid of the swords pointed at them to attempt an escape. The small crew of the passenger ship were tied around the main sail.

How cliché. Sherlock rolled his eyes at John’s dramatics and dropped down onto the deck. His curls hung loose over his face and his tunic fit tight against his torso, gaping open at the chest. His belt was slung low on his hips, pulling down on the right from the weight of his trusty sword. His black knee boots, a prize from a raid against a slave-trading ship, thudded strongly as he walked across the deck.

The ship itself would have been unremarkable, but for the cargo it carried. No other ship in the East Indies had such precious cargo. And Sherlock was not going to pass up such an opportunity.

While John and the men hurried about, tossing bags and crates of loot over to the Hudson, Sherlock circled around the prisoners, deducing them from the corner of his eye.

Coming to a stop in front of one of the crew, he turned to face the man with a smirk. ‘Hello, Mr Brook.’

‘Captain Holmes,’ the Irish man smiled hollowly, fury flashing in his black eyes. ‘It’s been almost three years, yes? Switzerland, I believe.’

Sherlock hummed in agreement. ‘The top of the Reichenbach Falls, in fact.’ You walked away thinking you’d destroyed me. But little did you know I survived… and have been tearing down your empire ever since. Then, he leaned forward to whisper, ‘I know what you stole from me. And I’m here to take it back, Moriarty.’

James Moriarty, aka Richard Brook, practically giggled. ‘You think it will be so easy?’

Turning away from the black-hearted deceiver, Sherlock smiled. Yes, it will be.

‘Back to the ship, boys!’ He bellowed. ‘We’ve got enough!’

John strode up to him. ‘Sherlock, you better grab what you came for. The crew is getting feisty and I reckon Moriarty could get free any time. Makes me wonder why he hasn’t already.’

‘Because, as evil that man is, he knows any wrong move and he’ll have 17 bullets blasting through his body from the gun of every single one of my men. You, included.’

‘Ready, Captain!’ Lestrade shouted from across the way.

Sherlock jerked his head toward the gangplank. ‘On your way, Watson. I’ll be there shortly.’

The last of his men began crossing back over, and shooting him one last dubious look, John followed.

Sherlock grinned. ‘And now, I shall take my portion of this looting and be off. I thank you all for your kindness in letting us divest you of your unnecessary bobbles. I very much doubt you shall even miss them, if your gaudy states of dress are anything to go by.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Captain! Get a move on!’ John bellowed.

‘As much as I would like to stay and further mock your indulgent lifestyles, I must away. But not without my prize.’ Sweeping over to the passengers, he reached down and pulled a lass to her feet. Soft brown hair pulled back in a soft twist, pert nose and fury in her brown eyes, she wore a simple soft pink gown, dotted with flowers.

‘Hello, Molly.’ He smiled.

She yanked her hand from his grasp. He didn’t even have time to react when her other hand flew through the air and slapped him so hard he saw stars.

Stretching his jaw, Sherlock admitted quietly, ‘I probably deserved that.’

‘You deserve a lot worse,’ she hissed. Oh, how he’d missed her voice these three long years.

‘Well, you’ll have all the time in the world to curse me out, my dear. But right now is not the most convenient of times.’ With that, he took her hand once more and began pulling her toward the gangplank.

‘Let go of me! I’m not going anywhere with you, you-you-you cad!’ She shrieked and tried to wrest her hand away. Several of the male passengers stood to defend her, but with a motion as swift as breathing, Sherlock drew his sword on them and halted them in their tracks.

Molly took his moment of brief distraction to duck under his arm and try to run away.

‘Oh no, you don’t!’ He easily caught up with her and, twisting her around, tossed her over his shoulder.

‘Sherlock Holmes, you put me down right this instant!’ She shrieked and pummelled his back with her tiny fists. He tightened his grip on the backs of her legs and sauntered across the gangplank.

Dropping down onto the deck of the Hudson, he turned around and sent a salute to the now-scrambling crew of the passenger ship.

‘You jammed their rudder, of course.’ Sherlock said as John stepped up to his side.

‘Of course,’ the blond smirked. ‘They’ll be on their way in… oh, about three hours. And we have all the evidence we need; Moriarty will be hanging from the gallows by this time tomorrow.’

‘Sherlock, let me go!’ Molly shrieked, only to continue to be ignored.

Chuckling, Sherlock turned about to face his bemused crew. ‘Weigh anchor!’

Immediately, they scattered and in less than a minute, they were on their way, leaving Moriarty’s smuggling vessel on the horizon.

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he nodded to John. ‘I’ve got a situation to deal with.’

John raised his eyebrows. ‘I’d say so.’

Striding toward the rear of the ship, Sherlock ducked into the Captain’s quarters and gently lowered his burden to the large bed that dominated the cabin.

Her hair had come loose from its twist and fell softly around her flushed face. She was breathing heavily, angrily, making her corseted chest rise and fall rapidly. Tears marked her cheeks and filled her eyes.

They stared at each other in silence, both daring the other to speak first. Unable to bear it, Sherlock knelt down in front of her.

‘Molly, I realise this was not-’

‘Oh, shut up!’ She declared and threw her arms around his shoulders, crashing her lips to his. Sherlock nearly toppled backwards from the force of it. Catching her around the waist, he sank into the kiss, reacquainting himself with the feel of her in his arms and the warmth of her lips as she deepened the kiss.

Breaking away with panting breaths, he rested his head in the curve of her neck and tried not to tremble. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

Her soft laughter washed over him and he pulled back, taking in her smiling face.

‘Only you would die a detective and come back a pirate, Sherlock Holmes.’

‘You’re… not angry with me?’ He asked her in bemusement.

She cupped his cheeks and traced his cheekbones reverently. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am absolutely furious with you. But I’ve spent the last three years believing my husband was dead; I’m not going to waste another minute being angry with you. That will keep for later.’

Joy bloomed in his chest and he surged up to kiss her breathless once more.

*Some time later*

Wrapped in the tangled sheets, Molly rested between her husband’s bare legs, dressed only in his black tunic, with his arms looped around her waist and his lips nuzzling her neck.

His hand slid up her body to trace the necklace she still wore, lifting up the ring that rested between her breasts.

‘You kept it all this time?’ He asked in wonder.

Nestling back against him, she smiled as she looked at the simple gold band. ‘Of course I did, my love.’

‘I don’t deserve you.’

With a frown, Molly tilted her head to look up at him. He wouldn’t look at her, so she reached up and cupped his cheek and turned his face until his eyes finally met hers.

‘Don’t ever think that,’ she scolded him softly. She pressed a kiss to his stubbly chin and rested her forehead against his cheek, closing her eyes. ‘I love you so much, Sherlock. When I thought you’d…’

‘I did it for you, Molly. To keep you safe.’

There would be time for explanations later, but right now, she had her husband back. And that was all that mattered to her.

‘Put it on me?’

She pulled back and looked up at him expectantly, a radiant smile on her face.

With an answering smile, Sherlock slipped the ring from the chain and lifted her left hand to his lips, kissing each finger tenderly.

‘I love you, Molly Holmes.’ He whispered, sliding the ring onto her bare finger.

‘And I you, my beloved Pirate.’


rough sketch :  10 €
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detailed sketch:20 €
simple colours: +5 €
+7 €
full colors with shadows and light effects: from 10  to 15

extra character: +2 € each

you can ask for different styles: chibies, cartoonesque, semi-realistic etc.
check my gallery for more examples. 
Payment:  Paypal only! After the payment I’ll start working on your commissions. 
I don’t draw: explicit nsfw and furries.
I draw: original characters, fanarts of any fandom etc.
contact me at so we can discuss about all the details of your commission and exchange infos.

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         -yes, I do!

A new year of Academy is starting and I have already faced in the past year some issues along the way, considering the fact that I am an art student that lives alone and far from the family.

I’m opening art commissions so I can buy art supplies and other stuff by myself! I would be very glad if you could check out the infos and spread the word around! Thank you <3
EDIT: my tablet is broken therefore i cant guarantee for what regards the colours of the composition - yet please contact me if you wish me to add the colours and i will tell you if the tablet is currenlty avaible or not