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femcel404 · 5 years

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Batfam headcannons

These are random, enjoy.

Tim cannot sing for shit, he sounds like a dying pig. Unless he's singing in a Florence Whelch-type voice, because then he sounds absolutely amazing. Not even he understands it.

Stephanie loves heavy rock music and recent pop music equally, and likes to play it loud.

Damian once called Harper "practically useless" while she could hear him, to which she replied "Choke on it" almost instantly. Earned instant respect from Jason, Tim and Steph.

Babs has turned off Tim's computer remotely more times than she can count, and each time is equally hilarious.

Jason starts his facts with "it is a truth universally acknowledged" in a British accent. Every time. He loves Jane Austen.

Tim gets along REALLY well with John Constantine, because disaster bi TM, and Tim just thinks John is super cool (John called Tim "son" once but ssshhhh).

When Dick first brought Wally to the manor, Damian didn't like him one bit. When Dami caught them kissing on the couch though, he was frustrated because West makes Grayson happy so I can't eliminate him, but I still don't trust him!

Bruce gets annoyed when Dick Brings Wally on patrol with him, only because they flirt over the coms and it's REALLY cheesy. He has cringed one too many times.

Cassandra absolutely adores vintage dresses, and has over 40 of them.

Helena and Damian get along. They put salt in Tim's coffee together and it makes Jason laugh.

Steph can speak in a variety of different accents, including German, Irish, British, Australian, Indian, London, and more. When she and Tim first met John Constantine, she greeted him in an accent the same as his own, and he burst out laughing. She calls it her great victory.

Babs puts whoopie cushions under the seats of the bat-mobile. Hysterically hilarious every single time.

Harper and Duke can say "what the fuck you trickass bitch" is absolute PERFECT unison, and they use is regularly.

Tim can walk in heels. No one knows why or how.

Dick can also walk in heels, because even though he is now fully grown, Wally is still a good 10 inches taller than him. So Dick adapted.

Jason, Cassandra and Donna Troy have a book club. They meet on Sundays. Only 4 people know, and that 4th person is Rita Farr/Elasti-girl, who joins them when they read books from the 1930s.

Jason and Rita Farr have a friendship built on their mutual love for old books. They actually recognised each other from league database photos at a secluded book shop.

Damian get anxiety if he leaves something behind, like his mobile phone on the coffee table, or something as simple as his drawing in another room. This annoys him on patrol, because he gets twitchy and anxious if he doesn't retrieve a batarang.

Alfred doesn't swear when Bruce is around. When Bruce is not around, the occasional "shit" can be heard. Occasionally. No one says anything about it.

Wally once pranked Jason by vibrating at such a frequency that he was able to walk through Jason without hurting him. It scared Jason so much he squealed.

Tim is asexual and proud. He takes approximately zero shit.

Tim doesn't actually talk much unless he is spoken to. He's kind of a happy loner.

Cass communicates through morse code when she can't be bothered signing or forming words.

Dick tried joining the JL for all of one week, but Wally kept slipping their inside jokes into conversation and Dick essentially got kicked off for laughing.

Tim and Steph are strangely close friends for people who used to date. They say they look past that though. They believe they are healthier as best friends.

Steph loves being single because she enjoys not having the pressure of a relationship with this lifestyle. Although, she would like a small family one day.

Tim, the disaster bi TM that he is, has yet to find himself a partner. (Though there is this guy in his physics lecture at university, Jesse, who Tim thinks is a literal angel.)

Kate , Tim, Dick, Wally, Harper and maybe sometimes even the disaster bi magic duo (Constantine and Zatanna) go to the Gotham pride parade. Tim hacks the speakers and plays lady Gaga.

Kate also teaches Tim how to fight without needing to use much physical strength, bc we all know Tim is Smol TM.

Tim can mimic the joker's laugh perfectly, and for that, the joker has expressed respect for Tim. Though it was pretty funny when the joker started laughing only to be joined by Tim who then proceeded to beat him up. Even Bruce laughed a bit.

Jason and Cass have "emotion sessions" in one of Jason's safehouses once a month, where they share their frustrations and sorrows, and smash cheap mugs of the walls.

Steph makes waffles out of chocolate mud cake mix. Not even Alfred can master the art of it.

Damian sometimes wishes the role of Robin wasn't as important to him as it is. He never acts upon those wishes.

Tim has a Tumblr and posts fanfic, headcannons, gif sets, and legendary shitposts. (One of us, One of us, One of us!!)

Stephanie and Barbra both donate at least 12 inches of their hair to charity every 3-4 years.

Both Stephanie and Barbra totally rock neck-length super-choppy hair for the first 2 months after the donation. They also seem to somehow pull off the awkward length where their hair falls in their face, but it's still not long enough to fit into a pony tail. (Also the both DEFENANTLY rock swishy between ears and shoulders, then between shoulders and back lengths. These girls look stunning in anything!)

Dick still owns his discowing suit, and he wears it to Halloween parties. Wally likes it.

Duke once had to get Bruce's help as batman during the day, and joined the villain they were fighting in laughing at how stupid the batman costume looks during the day.

Jason sounds like darth Vader cross iron man when he has his helmet on, and Dick, Wally and Roy all tease him about it.

Tim stands in corners at charity balls and galas. Partly because he doesn't like talking to strangers, but mostly because no one will catch him drinking coffee and champagne mixed together like a madman.

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dimenovelhero · 6 years

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@lipstick-and-shotguns

“Would not have been my choice, sister.” The Emperor smirked a little into his wine, but kept his eyes on the baffled crowd, watching like a hawk for any sign of someone going against the wishes of his sister even as he questioned her taste. “Perhaps he isn’t so pretty up close, without the helmet.”

“Perhaps I like them broken and bloody.” She replied easily, also not looking his way.

“Perhaps why they believe you’re Bellona herself.”

“Perhaps not. They think us equals.”

“Am I not godlike enough?”

“You would compare yourself to a god?”

Jessie raised a pointed brow at him, lips turning up in a small, triumphant smile at the way the servants and senators around them alike all tensed. He paused, letting her have her small victory in pinning him in a corner of silence or heresy, turning his attention back to draining the rest of his wine.

“I would never, but many men would do so for me…” Laughing, he pointedly ignored the way his sister rolled her eyes at him.

“So, what with him, then? Before he bleeds to death and your mercy is useless.”

One of the officials stepped forward, no doubt to anxiously waiting to get the order of what to do with the one left alive. Jessie was famous for always having some sort of plot, and of course those in the know were likely already trying to put things together in the bigger picture. Does the Empress have a weakness? Has something made her more merciful, more peaceful?

“I’d like to see him again, once he’s been cleaned and treated. Let him eat with us, if you agree.”

For once, Jesse wasn’t exactly sure what she was angling for himself, but sent her a matching smirk and a knowing look, mostly just for appearances.

“…I suppose they both deserve some luxury after a show like that. The winner get’s the public’s favor and the loser gets… us. I like it.”

Jack had no sooner made it out of the arena, limping heavily as he leaned on Mush, than Snyder appeared with an icy smile. Jack knew the man would have been more than happy to see him killed--both because Jack was a known troublemaker, and because he was valuable enough to put a high reparation price in Snyder’s pocket. But being spared by the Empress made him valuable, too, and if Snyder bided his time and made sure Jack survived to fight again, he could get even more money when someone finally killed him.

But, as Mush returned to the arena to collect his earnings and laurel wreath, Jack didn’t expect what he heard: “Go with Wiesel. You’re dining with Caesarissa tonight.”

Already dazed, Jack blinked, sure he’d misunderstood. “...What?”

Snyder gripped his tunic and yanked him closer, and Jack barely held back a yelp as he stumbled forward. “The Empress has requested your company,” the lanista hissed. “And if you so much as look out of line, you’ll pray you’d been sentenced to death instead.”

Leaving Jack to Wiesel’s poor approximation of medical care, Snyder swept off to supervise Mush’s return, and all Jack could do was stare after him--meeting the Empress? Maybe he would have been better off dead.

But he knew there was no chance of refusal, so he let Wiesel patch him up and then bathed as well as he could when what seemed like half his body was swathed in bandages. Finally, dressed in a new tunic and sandals from who-knew-where--doubtless something else Snyder had bought with their earnings--he was announced at the palace.

He wished he’d been allowed to take his armor and weapons.

#Jack has HEARD STORIES and IS SUSPICIOUS of these two :p #v: habet hoc habet #lipstick-and-shotguns

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illuminating-dragons · 6 years

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In Time

Summary: A glimpse into the future for Team Free Will, their family, and their healing. The conclusion of the 'Team Goddamnit John' series.

Final part of the trilogy of In Vain and In Name, otherwise known as the Team Goddamnit John trilogy.

In time, Dean will believe that he is his own man.

Knowing that your father hated you, that you could never be good enough for him so why not make the people you love happy instead, is one thing. Accepting that you tried to be like him for so many years, and being unable to disentangle yourself from those facets of your identity, is another.

But Dean will manage it, because he is that kind of person. He responds to positive reinforcement like a flower to the sun (as Cas says when he feels poetic), and he will learn to listen. He will spend time with his family, with all his family, and he will be grateful for every moment. He will work cases and fix cars and set up Safe Houses all over the country, driving Baby with sackfuls of things that hunters will need and want when they stumble into one of those sanctuaries.

He will take up knitting too, because Mom does it and Kevin does it, and he’ll make sweaters for everyone, one at a time, with the best yarn he can find for each person. Sam’s sweater will take the better part of two months (and ends up being just a little too big), and Cas’ is made of the softest yarn Dean can find.

Young ones will still gravitate to Dean, and he will step into the role that Bobby did, being Dad to anyone who needs him. He will even connect with Ben, whose memories get fixed by a mysterious force when he’s eighteen. There will be a huge fight between Dean and Lisa over that decision, but when the dust settles, Ben spends weeks at the Bunker with his dad, blood or not.

Dean will always love rock, but he likes to listen to softer music every now and then, especially when he and Cas are alone. He will buy satin panties and expensive salt scrubs, call all of his children on their birthdays, and write Cas little love notes.

He will also still engage in prank wars with Sam (and their Mom, and anyone else who wants to join in), blare music too loud, and he still hates witches, though he’ll make an exception for Rowena.

Dean will always be Dean, but he will be the man he’s always wished he could be, the kind who was open with all of himself, who loves as hard as he fights, and enjoys little luxuries.

And the man who will drive his Impala as fast as he can get away with, sometimes with a full car, sometimes just him and his brother, sometimes him and Cas, and sometimes all by himself, driving under a crescent moon towards home, towards family, towards love.

In time, Sam will feel healed.

Not that Chuck’s healing didn’t work. All of the aches were gone, but for someone who’s been in pain for the vast majority of his existence, it will take a while for it to sink in.

When their family starts coming back from Heaven, Sam will think it’s the peak of happiness. He’ll hug everyone for as long as he can, sleep as little as possible, and talk himself hoarse. It will feel wonderful.

There will be an awkward moment though, when Jess reveals that she and Sarah are now together. Sam will smile, because he’s happy for them both, but he will worry about Sarah’s husband, and her daughter, who will soon be four.

Then they will hear from the husband, and find out that he found love with a man, and they’re raising Bess together. And of course his ‘parted-as-friends’ ex-wife (Amara has gotten better at painting realistic scenarios for the returning) is welcome to partial custody of Bess, and Sarah and Jess will have the bright little girl every weekend.

Angelic travel is quite useful.

So Sam will support Jess and Sarah, and he will get to work with Charlie and Bobby to digitize and organize every resource in the Bunker, and they find record of other Bunkers (smaller ones, backups for the backups), and they will go on a road trip to find the others, open them up, and make them appropriate Safe Places (if hunters can’t make it to Dean’s Safe Houses).

But Jess and Sarah will come on that trip too, and after Charlie and Bobby are asleep (or at least pretending to be), they will tell Sam that they love him, too. And that three people in love sounds great to them.

Sam will be nervous at first, because he loves Jess and he was once close to falling in love with Sarah, but things are different. Their lives are different, he is different. Could they really love him, with how much he has changed?

Jess and Sarah will assure him that they do. They’ve changed too, after all, but their feelings haven’t.

And so they will become three.

And a few weeks later, when they encounter Eileen, they will start to become four.

Sam will love his ladies, and his ladies will love each other, and their relationship will only strengthen with time, as Bess grows, as Jess and Eileen both become pregnant within two months of each other (this wasn’t on purpose, and Sam endures some teasing because of it). They will name their son Patrick Dean and their daughter Abigail Lee, and they will be happy.

But it’s before then, the first morning when Sam wakes up with the three of them in his bed and the sounds of family outside the door and the world becoming brighter, that Sam will feel healed.

Because he loves and is loved, and that is what he deserves.

And at last, he believes it.

In time, Cas will find his faith again.

When he was growing up in Heaven, he had faith in the word of God, the tenets of the angelic world. He believed that he should protect and serve humanity, that the Creator deserved his allegiance, and that evil would be extinguished with the Apocalypse.

He attached these values to the Father he never met, and so believed in Him. It was enough to sustain him through long years of training and battles, and actually prompted his many rebellions (the ones Naomi and later Zachariah quashed). After all, the word of God counted above all, how could some of Heaven’s plans be correct?

But the Lord works in mysterious ways, and so Cas never truly questioned the Word, even when he questioned his fellow angels.

Then the apocalypse happened, and Cas encountered humanity for the first time, really saw them. And he saw angels properly for the first time.

And as he fell in love, so his faith began to falter. Because how could his Father plan for Dean Winchester to be merely a vessel, only a pawn?

And seeing Sam Winchester’s struggles against every instinct, against everything Heaven and Hell threw in his path, Cas doubted further. This wasn’t right. This was wrong.

But this was the Word.

And when he couldn’t find his Father—when prayer, when pleading, when threats, when searching did nothing—Cas gave up on his faith. Clearly God didn’t need his angels to believe in him, or he would have heard Castiel’s prayer. He would have fought to protect humanity from Lucifer and Michael’s fights, from the clashing of Heaven and Hell played out through two good men.

But Cas will find it again.

He will spend time with the Winchesters and aid other hunters, but he will spend time in Heaven too. He will learn about Amara, begin to understand her wildness, and his fear will turn to respect and love, because he recognizes her delight in the small and glorious, just as he does.

And he will spend time with his Father, and speak to him as an equal—not an unquestioning soldier, not a desperate son, but as an equal. As someone who understands the depth of error and the triumph of redemption, who earned these on his own.

And he will come to understand at last how flawed his Father is, and how many of these flaws were transferred to humanity. He will see his Father’s mistakes, hear excuses that are insufficient, and grasp how petty an immortal, all-powerful being can truly become.

And he will love him, anyways. Cas will accept these flaws and forgive Chuck and appreciate him for his mercy, for his enthusiasm, for his love. He will join his Father in a strange bar, and they will drink and talk about all the questions eternal beings can understand. They will work on Heaven together, and Cas will understand at last that he was loved and trusted, and that he is worthy in Heaven’s eyes.

Which will be nice to know, but Cas will always find his worth in Dean Winchester’s eyes and in the warmth of the family they share, and this above all else will restore his faith.

Because in all of Father’s creations, Cas will find his home in these people and in this time, and that was the Word.

#spn fanfiction #destiel #team free will #goddamnit john verse #acme146 fanfiction #crosspost from ao3 #sam winchester/jess moore/eileen leahy/sarah blake

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jiveammunition · 6 years

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Title: Peppermint Bark Rating: General Characters: Jesse McCree, Sombra, Gabriel Reyes, Jack Morrison Tags: Family AU, Christmas Fluff Summary:

No one could ever accuse Jesse of lacking holiday spirit. If anything, Jesse had it in spades just like his fathers, as evidenced by his excited shouting at six in the morning on Christmas day, yelling for everyone in the house to wake up to open presents.

A Very Merry Christmas at the Reyes-Morrison household.

A commissioned fic for @lifewhatisthat‘s Family AU! Please check out their lovely art, the basis and inspiration for this work!

If there was ever a thing that simultaneously boggled Jesse beyond belief and also made him more excited than a kid in a candy store, it was the Morrison-Reyes’ household's attitude towards holidays. Whenever any holiday that involved festivities of some sort rolled around, without fail, the house would be covered from floor to ceiling with enough decorations to rival even seasonal shops. And it wasn't just the decorations that embodied the holidays either, Jack and Gabriel themselves would go full out in their celebrations, cheerful and excitable and dressed to the nines in whatever apparel was most fitting. Hell, Gabriel even went so far as to hand-make costumes for the entire family for Halloween, each and every one just as detailed and elaborate as the next; they even had a dedicated shelf for all of the awards for Best Halloween Costumes Gabriel had won over the years — many of them earned before even Jesse and Sombra were adopted.

Nevertheless, despite the somewhat jaded attitudes Jesse and Sombra held about the various holidays thanks to their years spent at the orphanage, Jack and Gabriel's collective holiday spirit was simply too contagious to fight, and after a rather rocky first year in the Reyes-Morrison household, Sombra and Jesse found themselves just as excited about seasonal festivities and holiday celebrations as their adoptive fathers.

For certain, no one could ever accuse Jesse of lacking holiday spirit. If anything, Jesse had it in spades just like his fathers, as evidenced by his excited shouting at six in the morning on Christmas day, yelling for everyone in the house to wake up to open presents. Sombra wasn't quite as keen on waking up so early, but after a rather excitable shake that jolted her to full alertness, the two children all but hurtled themselves into their parents’ bed like twin wrecking balls.

“WAKE UP! IT'S CHRISTMAS!!” they squealed, slapping loudly on the comforter and playfully bapping the sleeping figures with pillows they had taken from their own rooms. “WAKE UP! PRESENTS! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

After several moments with no response, the two children looked at each other with concern and stopped. Jesse pulled down the covers, wary of what he'd find, and to his and Sombra's surprise, what laid beneath the blankets weren't their fathers at all, but piles of pillows along with a rather sizeable stuffed purple rabbit — Jesse reckoned it was almost the same size as Sombra — with a bow on its head and a gift tag on its ear that read “ Sombra ”.

“It's a bunny!!” Sombra shouted gleefully, pulling the stuffed animal from under the covers and squeezing it in a tight hug. Though happy his sister got something she'd wanted, Jesse was still confused as to where his parents had gone to, and began to look around for clues.

He didn't have to wait for long, however, as the deep sound of someone clearing their throat rumbled from the door and immediately drew his attention. Sure enough, in the doorway stood Gabriel, dressed in an almost obnoxious amount of Christmas-themed clothes: a poofy Santa hat on his head, the ugly laughing reindeer sweater that read “You SLEIGH me”, flannel pajama pants patterned with elves and presents and trees all over, and slippers in the shape of Santas covering each foot.

“It's Christmas,” Gabriel said, “What are you kids still in bed for?” He snorted at his own joke, and turned to make his way down the hall, but not before nodding his head in a gesture for the children to follow. The two scrambled from the mess of pillows and covers, shouting in delight as they followed their father downstairs into the living room, nearly tripping over themselves in glee.

The smell of pancakes and cookies and bread greeted them the moment their small slippered feet crossed the doorway, and they immediately plopped themselves down on the couch and on the floor in front of the coffee table to tuck into the traditional Reyes-Morrison Christmas breakfast. Neither of them wasted any time digging into their meal, the two of them rumbling in content and happy noises as they stuffed their faces with the fluffiest pancakes ever known to man and the sweetest fruit preserves courtesy of the Morrison family farm.

“Where's daddy?” Sombra asked, after cutting into her second pancake. Suddenly realizing Jack was nowhere to be found — he hadn't even heard a single sound from the kitchen since he'd woken up — Jesse too swiveled his head around to look.

“He had to do a quick errand,” Gabriel answered smoothly, taking a sip from his coffee.

“For eggs again?” Sombra asked, knowing Jack's almost chronic issue of running out of eggs every Christmas due to his overzealous amount of baking on those mornings. Not that anyone in the house could complain about it, though, what with the piles and piles of baked goodies that lasted them through the entire week and into the new year — even after losing half to the guests at the holiday party they hosted at their own home.

“Something like that,” came the somewhat cryptic answer. Jesse eyed Gabriel suspiciously, and as if to distract him from investigating any further, Gabriel added, “He'll be back any minute now, so after you finish stuffing your faces, each of you figure out which present you're gonna open. Remember, only one for now. You'll get to open the rest later at the party, okay?”

All suspicion went out the window, as just like that, a switch was flipped and Sombra and Jesse began to chew furiously through their food, motivated by their one-track minds now focused on the colorfully-wrapped mysteries beneath the trees.

“Pace yourselves, for crying out loud! I raise children, not animals!” Gabriel playfully scolded, trying not to laugh at his children's excitement, “If either of you choke, I'm gonna take your presents for myself, y’hear? And then neither of you will-”

Before he could even finish his sentence,noises at the door interrupted him, followed by the sound of a familiar voice calling out.

“Babe, I’m home!” came Jack’s voice, echoing from the foyer. “Come help me?”

“Yup! Coming!” Gabriel called back, getting up from his place on the couch. Jesse and Sombra moved to follow, but Gabriel shook his head and said, “Nah, you two finish your breakfast first. Slowly , please. Your father and I would rather not come back in here to see the two of you passed out because you gluttons couldn’t pace yourselves,” before leaving the room.

The words “No peeking,” didn’t need to be said, as Jesse and Sombra knew very well of the repercussions that would occur if they did, and neither of them had the gumption to take Jack’s “I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-very-disappointed” face head on, which somehow had the power of Grandma Morrison’s and Ana Amari’s combined with the power of a sad puppy. Not even Gabriel himself could brave such a look for more than a few seconds before crumbling like the tops of one of Jack’s famous Christmas coffee cakes.

The two children watched as Gabriel walked down the hall to greet Jack at the door, smiling that tender smile of his that he always had on whenever the two of them were together, and pulled him into an embrace.

“Gross! Get a room!” Jesse called out playfully.

Jack merely stuck his tongue out at Jesse from over Gabriel’s shoulder, making a show of hugging his husband even tighter and rocking side to side in place to emphasize the embrace. Gabriel played along, as usual, even going so far as to say, “Look, Jackie, mistletoe!” as he pointed up to the flowery sprig hanging from the light hanging in the foyer before kissing his husband sweetly on the lips, the both of them making exaggerated “Muah muah muah!” kissing noises to taunt their children even further.

The noises of laugher and exaggerated affection continued for a little longer until the two men disappeared back out the door to collect what Jack had brought home in the car, and the children went back to their breakfast, eating slowly and methodically as Gabriel had requested of them.

After finishing their meal, the two watched the Christmas movie Gabriel had originally put onto the television for background noise, barely cognizant of the noises and clamoring of their fathers in the kitchen.

“Jesse? Sombra? Could you two come to the kitchen, please?” they heard Jack call to them suddenly. The two looked at each other questioningly, as if the other had the answer as to what their father would possibly be calling them for. When they both could only respond to the other with an equally confused shrug, they figured it would be best to heed Jack’s request as quickly as possible.

They padded to the kitchen, wary and clueless until the distinct and curious sounds of yapping called their attention.

Immediately, Jesse broke into an excited run at the sound, so eager to confirm his suspicions as to the noises’ origins that he nearly slipped and fell face first onto the hardwood floor had it not been for his clever little sister on his heels pulling him upright before he toppled over. Not a split second after he got his bearings back did the two of them break back into a run, barrelling towards the kitchen in their curious glee.

The sight of their fathers standing behind a waist-high gate in the kitchen doorway that had never been there before greeted them, and the two children stood in awe and anticipation as to what that could only mean.

“Merry Christmas, Jesse!” Jack and Gabriel called out, stepping aside with flourish and waving hands to reveal a very large box with a bow stuck to the side.

As if on cue, a furry head poked up from inside the box, letting out a happy yelp as if greeting the sight of the two children. Though the dog seemed to be missing an eye, that didn’t put any sort of damper onto the children’s spirits.

“A pupper!” “A dog!” Sombra and Jesse both cried out in unison, bouncing in place with excitement. Jesse clambored to unlatch the gate, hands shaking in excitement at the prospect of meeting his present face-to-face. He’d always wanted a dog, but had never even thought to ask for one - let alone even put it on his Christmas wish list. After several moments of fumbling, Gabriel moved to assist, only for the both of them to be brushed aside as Sombra competently opened the gate and all but forced her brother into the kitchen before her.

Just as the gate clicked shut behind them, Jack tugged on the ribbon and undid a hidden latch on the side of the large box, letting the front flop forward down onto the floor and freeing the golden retriever — which seemed much larger now that Jesse was up close — of its confines. Without any hesitation at all, the dog rushed forward, just as eager to meet the children as they were to meet her, and all but knocked Jesse to the floor as she bounced up to lick his face.

“Oh my goodness!” Jesse exclaimed happily, laughing as the dog covered him with wet, sloppy licks, barking happily all the while. His hands rubbed at her all over, petting and stroking the soft fur with just as much affection, if not even more so. “Thank you! Thank you! I love it! Thank you!” he cried to his fathers, tears of happiness forming at the corners of his eyes. How could they have possibly known?

“Sombra overheard you talking to Genji about your dog-walking one day,” Gabriel spoke up, as if to answer Jesse’s unasked question, “And made a case for us to get you a dog for Christmas.”

“We were thinking of getting you one anyway,” Jack chimed in, “I mean, what dog-loving 12-year-old boy doesn’t deserve a dog of his own?”

“So,” Gabriel gestured to the furry bundle of joy still piling Jesse with affection, “Merry Christmas, Jesse.”

“You’re welcome,” Sombra said smugly, taking a sugar cookie from the pile on the kitchen island.

“Thank you all so much,” Jesse replied, nearly in tears at how grateful he was, “I love it! Thank you!”

“Her,” Gabriel corrected, “We got her from the pound and kept her at Ana’s for the last week or so-”

“We still need to thank her for that,” Jack interrupted.

“Isn’t that what the limited edition tea set we got her is for?”

“No, that’s just her normal Christmas present, babe.”

“Anyway,” Gabriel shook his head at Jack, pulling the conversation back to the original topic, “They said her name’s Peppermint, but I don’t think she’ll mind if you give her a different name, do you?”

“What do you want to name her, Jesse?” Jack asked.

“Don’t pick something stupid,” Sombra scolded, stuffing the rest of the cookie into her mouth and reaching for another.

Jesse paused for a second in thought, hands resting idly on the dog’s neck. As if to give him the chance to think, the dog pulled back sat down, panting happily as she waited for Jesse’s hands to resume.

After a bit of thinking, Jesse looked to the dog, and confidently announced, “I’m gonna call you Deadeye.”

#jesse mccree #sombra #reaper76 #jack morrison #gabriel reyes #overwatch #commissioned fic #jive writes stuff #lifewhatisthat

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aughtpunk · 7 years

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McHanzo Week 2017 - Day 2

Deep within the Underdark once lived two dark elven brothers, cursed by fate to be the only Drow within their city to be untouched by Lloth’s evil. For years they hid the goodness within their hearts until one day the youngest brother rebelled against the Spider Goddess’ High Priestess. He was punished by being changed into a Dryder, a centaur-like creature with the upper body of a Drow and the lower body of a monstrous spider. His family, deeply ashamed, commanded the elder brother to kill the younger. It was the only way to bring honor back to the name Shimada.

Things did not go as planned

***

If there was one blessing about the sudden rainfall, it was that it would prevent what remained of the bandits from tracking them down. Of course, this so-called blessing from the Gods (if their newest hanger-on was to be believed) did bring up a problem that no one in their merry band had thought of before: Genji’s massive dryder body sank like a stone in the mud.

Which lead to our heroes’ current situation: huddled naked around a fire in a cave under some thankfully dry wool blankets as their clothes were laid out to dry. Hanzo had chosen to share his blanket with Jesse, even though he had to make it clear to his lover that absolutely nothing was happening anytime soon. Not while Hanzo was cold, aching, and in the same open space as his equally-naked brother.

Genji had fallen asleep the second he sat down in front of the fire. He, more than anyone, gave it his all against the bandits. Truly, the brigands signed their death warrants the second they kidnapped Zenyatta. They were curled up together, dryder legs wrapped around Zenyatta’s metal body tight, daring the world to try to take his love away from him again. Of course Genji also had a few legs around the other person they saved from the bandits. Mercy, cleric of Ilmater, was also curled up against Genji and Zenyatta.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Jesse finally said. “First a warforged, and now an aasimar. In record time, too.”

“Genji said they had met previously,” Hanzo replied, not sounding so sure himself. Genji had scarcely left his side since they stumbled out of the Underdark. He didn’t think Genji had the time to become so closely acquainted with anyone outside their group.

“Pretty sure I’ve seen her travelin’ with Sir Morrison before.”

“That doesn’t make her the enemy.”

“Yeah, but she might also be itchin’ to shove that holy staff right up my-”

Genji let out a half-snore half-cough before rolling over onto his back, taking Mercy and Zenyatta with him. There was a brief fight over the blankets before the three of them fell back asleep. Hanzo watched as the feathered wings on Mercy’s back flexed once before folding against her body. Before Jesse could say another word Hanzo moved his own hand to scratch right under Jesse’s leathery wings.

“Mmm, darlin’,” Jesse purred. “Thought you said we were keeping our hands to ourselves.”

“I did not wish to imply we could not cuddle as well,” Hanzo said as he pressed against Jesse’s side. In return Jesse wrapped an arm around Hanzo to hold the drow close. If Hanzo didn’t know any better he could have sworn the tiefling was warmer than the fire. They sat there like that, lost in the sounds of the crackling hearth and the rain echoing against the cave walls.

“Million gold pieces,” Jesse said, ruining the moment.

“That is quite a lot of gold,” Hanzo replied.

“Million gold pieces, but you have to lick every magic item you come across.”

Hanzo rested his head on Jesse’s shoulder. “Do you mean every magic item I find and wish to keep for myself?”

“Nah, it’s every magic object you can directly see. Even if you don’t know it’s magic! The good news is that you now have a sure-fire way to detect magic.”

“Mmm.” Hanzo shook his head. “I must pass. If I ever find myself in front of royalty it might end with my beheading.”

“Good point. Wouldn’t want that to happen to you, darlin’.” Jesse kissed the top of Hanzo’s head. “Your turn.”

“Very well. A million gold pieces.”

“Sure is a whole lot of gold, sugarpie.”

Hanzo scratched between Jesse’s wings, earning another happy whimper from the man. “A million gold pieces, but everything you read has a one-in-twenty chance of being enchanted with Explosive Runes.”

Jesse shifted his body under the blanket, which just so happened to pull Hanzo closer. “Can I hire someone to read for me?”

“I said everything, Jesse. Signs, labels, graffiti, tattoos, everything has a one-in-twenty chance of exploding in your face.”

“Better not then. Hate to have someone’s tattoo blow up just because I looked at them.”

Hanzo felt Jesse’s hand move and squeeze his thigh. Suddenly Hanzo couldn’t really remember why they were just talking instead of acting. It would be so easy to pin Jesse down on the cave floor, take his time to appreciate every inch of Jesse’s body, to-

A deep groan from the other side of the cave snapped Hanzo right out of it. One of Genji’s back legs lifted up in the air as he grumbled “I’ll give you both a million gold pieces if you shut up!”

And like that Jesse and Hanzo’s hands were back to themselves. Neither of them spoke until Genji’s leg went back down and the cave once again was filled with the sound of his snoring.

“Well,” Jesse said as he risked an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t want a million gold pieces anyway. Already got everything I need right here.”

Hanzo laid his head down on Jesse’s shoulder and smiled. “Agreed.”

#mchanzo #mchanzo week 2017 #McHanzo Week #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #Dungeons and Dragons #SATAN'S GAME

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charity-angel · 7 years

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On Buns and Ovens (2/?)

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3] which I always recommend, especially on mobile, because formatting and cuts. Also, Mando'a translations.

There was a lot that Kix suddenly felt the need to learn: there were entire branches of medicine devoted to the care of pregnant women and their babies, and for the care of children once they were born. And, there was an entire army of people (mostly women) who tended to women during the birthing process itself, which was something that normal doctors, healers, and medics tended to stay well away from. He should probably learn that too, just in case (because they were them, and things rarely went to any kind of rational plan).

He had just started downloading some files on basic obstetrics and midwifery when his peace was invaded by Jesse (typically), carrying Ryll (somewhat less typical).

“Hey, cyar’ika,” Jesse greeted him cheerfully. “Your hibir’ika tried to take on Orar.”

Kix sighed. Ryll always tried to push himself a touch too far because of his little issue, but Orar – a touch more heavily built than most brothers – should have more common sense. He and Jesse were the oldest two members of the 501st and really should know better than to let the younger ones get injured on the ship.

“What’s the damage?”

“It’s a sprain,” Ryll grumbled, gesturing to his right knee. “I could have walked.”

“And I said you shouldn’t,” Jesse said with a smug smile. “Right, Kixy?”

Kix shrugged. “Well, there’s not much sense in causing any further damage that might take longer to heal,” he admitted grudgingly. He hated having to agree with Jesse when he was in one of his obnoxious moods. “We don’t know when we might get diverted to a battle. Set him down on the bed, Jesse.”

“I keep telling him that I just need to rest it,” Ryll grumbled as Jesse set him down.

Kix rolled his eyes and got up. “Probably, but let’s make sure you haven’t done anything more serious.”

.oOo.

Somewhat predictably, Ryll’s diagnosis turned out to be correct. He tried to persuade them both that he was okay; that he would rest in his bunk, but even Jesse kept glancing at the kid’s hands.

Ryll’s unfortunate name came courtesy of an equally unfortunate accident during his first mission on active duty: an accident that had involved him being doused with spice from head to toe, and had left him with permanent side-effects. They weren’t enough to keep him from duty (in Kix’s opinion, and his was the one that mattered), but he did tend to be a little jumpy, and it was obvious when he was tired because his hands started shaking. That in itself was a precursor to sporadic twitching, and Kix generally jabbed him with a sedative before things had a chance to progress from there.

Currently, Ryll’s hands had picked up a tremor that was a pretty good indicator that he needed rest. To anyone except Ryll, who saw it as an affront to his usefulness as a soldier, and a sign that he could be shipped back to Kamino as ‘defective’ at any second.

That would happen over Kix’s dead body, and even if Kix’s dead body happened to be around, General Skywalker and Commander Tano would put up a damn good fight. It was just a shame that Ryll couldn’t ever quite believe it. He pushed himself too hard because of it, in an effort to prove that he was just as good as his brothers.

“You’ll rest right here,” Kix said sternly, “where I can keep an eye on you. You can have a chapter on battlefield drug regimens and why over-stimulation is bad for the body to read up on.”

Given Ryll’s tendency to pull extra med-bay shifts, Kix had cautiously allowed him to study medicine so that he could be helpful in a different way. It was absolutely against the regs, and no-one in the 501st cared.

Jesse sniggered unhelpfully at Kix’s (somewhat pointed) choice of reading material, though.

As Kix was downloading the chapter to a data pad, Rex entered. He was alone, all four limbs intact, and no injuries apparent. He took in the scene without comment, and only the tiniest of expressions to give away that he was less than impressed, but unsurprised.

He jerked his head towards Kix’s office, and stepped inside. Jesse took the hint and left, ruffling Ryll’s fine, straight hair as he went. Kix sighed, handed Ryll the pad, and followed Rex, ensuring that the door was sealed behind him before turning to his friend, who had propped himself against the desk.

“I shouldn’t say,” Kix said in answer to the questioning quirk of Rex’s eyebrows. “Medic/patient confidentiality.”

That earned him an unimpressed look. “She’s not currently your patient, and you don’t actually have a firm diagnosis because you’re half the galaxy away. You’d be speculating, at best.”

Yeah, he had known that excuse wasn’t going to fly with Rex. He also knew that he could trust Rex absolutely.

“I think she’s pregnant.”

There was a moment where Rex looked confused, trying to place the definition of the word. Kix couldn’t blame him: it wasn’t something they had any experience of. The majority of the Kaminoans were clones, as genetically tweaked and perfected as the vod’e themselves. Natural hatchings were rare but permissible since they permitted genetic diversity.

“Yaihadla,” he repeated in Mando’a, which was probably more useful, in context. It was more descriptive, at least.

And it did help: Rex’s eyes widened, just fractionally, before he groaned and rubbed his hand over his blond fuzz.

“And we think Skywalker’s over-protective of Senator Amidala already. Think what he’s going to be like about an ik’aad.”

Kix tried very hard not to think about that again – once had been bad enough. “I’ve got some reading to do – turns out growing a kid is kind of rough on the body. That’s why she’s sick right now. I need to find out how it all works for next time she’s with us. And birth sounds a lot more complicated than decanting: I need to look at that too, because, well…”

“Because we’re us,” Rex finished, wearily. “And, let’s face it, this barely even registers on the ‘weird shit’ scale.”

“Very true.”

There was a moment of silence as they both contemplated how things were going to change, and what they would need to do in order to maintain the happy equilibrium the legion enjoyed. It was broken with:

“Who’s going to get rich from this?”

.oOo.

As it turned out, not many members of the 501st would come into money when word eventually got out: while they all knew about their jetii and his senator, the vast majority had a healthy respect for the senator’s common sense. A baby was something that they wouldn’t have planned on, and Senator Amidala did, Kix knew from her records, have a contraceptive implant. Babies were needy things, and Kix didn’t think that normal people raised their children in huge batches like clones were. Even the jetiise younglings were kept in very small batches, and they weren’t considered to have a ‘normal’ upbringing either. Kix was pretty sure that normal babies were normally raised by their parents: something that neither General Skywalker nor Senator Amidala had time for, given how involved in the war they both were.

It had been painful, glancing through Jesse’s meticulous book, to see Hardcase down as having bet on it (just the thought of it would have amused him, and that made it worth a bet), as well as Waxer (romantic sap). Wolffe and Bly were both going to be very smug. It was odd, seeing brothers from other units on a 501st book: such things were generally kept in-house. The 212th and 501st shared regularly, and battalion commanders kept their own (kept by Cody, because he didn’t otherwise participate), but to have another company’s commander in their book (let alone two) was unusual.

(In fact, there was a notation for ‘GB’, which Kix didn’t recognise at all, and Jesse smugly refused to tell him who it was. It led him neatly to the conclusion that it was General Koon, which was definitely shocking.)

Jesse had found out the secret in short order. Kix really, really needed to learn to sleep at appropriate times and not get so caught up in reading that he fell asleep at his desk. He was lucky that it was only Jesse who found him, and happened to glance at the screen before marking the section and shutting it off.

And he was lucky that despite the fact that Jesse was loud and occasionally irritating and obnoxious, he also knew how to keep his mouth shut when it was important, and he only lost his shit about it when they were alone. (Although he complained loudly in public that Kix wasn’t as light as he had been before he had caught up to the rest of his brothers in size, and maybe he could fall asleep more considerate places, like in his arms, in their bunk? But there was nothing particularly unusual about that.)

Kix supposed that it was sweet that his vod was excited about the little one. It wasn’t something they were never going to be able to have for themselves, and he did love the kids they met throughout the galaxy. They had talked about maybe adopting an orphan or three once everything was over, and they would both love their kids, Kix knew, but it wasn’t the same as the idea having one of their own blood. He had considered that maybe, one day, if they had a compatible female friend who was willing, maybe Jesse could father one, but that was long-distant.

But a little girl, with their eyes and Jesse's brown hair? Kix could dream.

#star wars #Clone Wars #swtcw #tcw #kix #jesse #ryll #padmé's pregnant

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captainignatiuspigheart · 4 years

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I’m now three days into a mostly well-earned week off and have no real knowledge of what came before… We’ve been trying to do more things, or at least more things that involve the outside world. It’s been a fortnight of new firsts. I’ve finally been into Nottingham city centre for the first time since mid-March. It was very strange to wheel back in – I only visited for an eye test – and see what seemed like millions of people. In retrospect it was probably the equivalent of a disappointing Tuesday morning. I went back in a week later to pick up my new glasses and it was certainly a lot busier. I cycled around for a bit, and there’s just nothing there I need any more. My desire to wander round a shop is at a new low (unless it’s a charity shop, bookshop, or LEGO shop. And there were none of those available), and I find it hard to imagine that changing much. I guess I’m not gonna be the shot in the arm our economy needs… We’ve also finally been to a pub, for a spot of birthday lunch with my mum. It was great to see her, because it has been ages, but the weirdness of being back in the Victoria was overwhelming. Not just having to wait to be seated, and leaving my name and phone number, but its gaping emptiness. We were the only people dining inside on a Saturday lunchtime, except for the group that briefly ate directly behind us (there was so much other space!) and perhaps fifteen people in the beer garden. I didn’t feel unsafe, just a little weirded out with thinking “what’s the point of this place?” I imagine some of this feeling will fade as these places become normal again with more activities being arranged in them.

Oh yeah, and I’ve been swimming! My beloved Lenton Centre is open again, and I am delighted. I’m not a huge fan of evening swims, since I’m normally well into wind-down and the sleeping drugs are kicking in, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. They’ve done what they can for safety: super-wide swimming lanes, restricted numbers, widely spaced changing rooms, and (alas) no showers. Mind you, can you be safer than when immersed in a giant tank of coronavirus-murdering chlorinated water? I did the full hour, taxing muscles which have been utterly forgotten for four months. The next day I felt like I’d been crudely hewn from wood. It was a joy to be in water again. So much so that I’m getting up before midday on my birthday to do it again! Plus, we’re going to the cinema this week – The Empire Strikes Back is available on my birthday, and that’s the kind of normal I can’t resist. I’m even contemplating a trip to a real live LEGO store this week, though I may not if I don’t have my AFOL flag added to my card for the VIP day next Saturday. Who knows! It’s not like I’m short of LEGO at home…

LEGO: Merging Hidden Side Sets

I’ve been really happy with LEGO’s Hidden Side line, even though I’ve little interest in its augmented reality play features – the sets are just really cool! I was very taken with the Shrimp Shack Attack and Wrecked Shrimp Boat, which were both a delight to build with nifty techniques and great colour scheme. They seemed to have that same nice subdued sand-green/blue vibe as the stunning LEGO Ideas Old Fishing Store, so why not combine them… Originally, I wasn’t going to change very much at all. I wanted to retain the fantastic shrimp shack sign and the generally grungy vibe of the shrimp shack, plus the whole shrimp boat. As you can see, it did get a little more complicated. I ended up curving the shack round so it could fit in a corner of the baseplate and leave room for the boat, but it didn’t leave enough room, so… the boat became part of the shack, and into a nice little cafe. Making a floor I could tile around the three sections of the restaurant was challenging, but I like how it turned out. Inevitably, including the boat meant taking it apart and rebuilding the underside with different elements. There’s an awful lot of junk under the pier which was a nice chance to use my many crates and lobsters. I had a little fun making an ice-cream stand too, with a rather nice LEGO Friends sticker. I’ve hidden many things in the build and intensely enjoyed its construction. I reckon it looks pretty sweet next to the Old Fishing Store too. Hurray.

Watching: Snowpiercer

I expected to have a lot to say about this TV show, but I… don’t. It’s a good, more detailed, and fuller version of the movie that came out a few years ago, but it doesn’t really add anything. It’s equally bonkers – the conceit being that a super-train 1001 cars long that continuously circles the ice-choked globe – but has more detail, like seeing more of the engineering and a slightly better sense of this ten mile-long train as an environment. The story is much the same too (I guess that’s not surprising), it’s one of social revolution as the tailies (the “freeloaders” who jumped on the train without a billion-dollar ticket) seek to escape their appalling conditions and democratise the train by uniting with third class (who keep the train going – wait, that might be second class… doesn’t really matter) against the total wanker rich class who live in luxury in first. It’s fun, violent, fast-paced, and has many things to make you shake your head at the excesses of the wealthy. Jennifer Connelly is excellent, as is Daveed Diggs in the two (mostly) opposing leads, and the rest of the cast is well chosen. It works! I assume we’ll watch season two, even though we got confused about whether we’d actually finished season one.

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Reading: Djinn City by Saad Z Hossain

I’ve continued to struggle with reading, and I think this was a change in pace that really worked for me. Djinn City has a familiar setup: Indelbed is a sad lonely kid living with his alcoholic father, who discovers that his dad’s actually a magician deeply involved with the djinn we’ve shared our world with for millennia. He only finds this out when his dad ends up in a coma and he’s kidnapped by bad guys and dumped in a magical oubliette filled with horrifying flesh-eating dragons and an utterly sociopathic djinn who kinda befriends him… This is profoundly weird reading, both funny and very grim at the same time. There are lovely splashes of Bangladeshi society alongside the wildly arrogant and powerful djinn cultures, against the really awful things that happen to Indelbed (experimented on and then burned alive…), and the fantastical worlds and creations of the djinn themselves. Super-dark, full of intrigue and deep dark conspiracies, there is a huge amount to love and get into here. I am… perplexed that this isn’t book one of a series (or isn’t yet) as the ending feels an awful lot like it needs to continue. Read it, even if there isn’t a book two!

We Are What We Overcome

We met up again for our last fortnightly webchat. Much sadface for me as this has been one my anchoring events through lockdown. However, it’s quite a time commitment for those of us with exciting new jobs, so we talked about how we feel about the future. Not just our post-COVID future, but how we look forward in general. It turns out we somewhat suck at it. I’ve always been bad at imagining the future – I just can’t see myself in it. Still, interesting to ponder on, and I found it both thought-provoking and reassuring to hear the others’ attitudes. We’re planning to meet up in person late in August and get back on track with the regular podcast. Speaking of which, I keep forgetting to mention that new episodes are going quite regularly. Check ’em all out here: https://anchor.fm/we-are-what-we-overcome.

Workstuff

It’s been a busy couple of weeks, especially running up to a week off (to continue being at home, without work to do…). Much finalising of cover art, preparing books for print, for very soon our first books will be published! September sees the first two – Wrath of N’kai and Tales from the Crucible: A KeyForge Anthology, but we sorted those out months ago, before the whole pandemic thing flipped the world upside down. It’s October I’ve been working on, and will hit November’s books the second I return! In the last week we’ve finally been able to show off the first two Marvel novel covers we’ve been working on: Domino: Strays and The Head of Mimir – check ’em out at Marvel.com. Full credit to the wonderful Joey Hi-Fi and Grant Griffin for the two covers.

We followed that up with a little chat about how they came together on Facebook Live:

Watching: Preacher, season three

I’m not sure I know how to summarise Preacher. Ex-man of the cloth / career criminal Jesse has the voice of God (the power to command anyone to do anything) but dark super-Catholic religious corporation, Grail, wants that power so they can invest it in the actual descendent of Jesus – a heavily inbred idiot. In this exciting season of insane and hilariously grim adventures, Jesse and his best friend, the vampire Cassidy, bring the recently killed Tulip to Angelville, the hell hole where he grew up because his grandmother can save people’s lives, by eating their souls… It’s a very over the top show, with great fight scenes, lots of swearing, blasphemy and gore. All the good stuff. I’ve given up trying to understand what’s really going on and am just here for the ride. The return to Angelville explains a great deal of why Jesse is such a mess, while Cassidy’s adventures in New Orleans both delightfully mock The Vampire Letsat etc and subvert it. A lot of what I like is the largely British cast having an absolute whale of a time. Also, Hitler working at Subway and using that to restart the third reich is kinda special…

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MissImp: Making Monologues Work for You with Jon Nguyen

We still can’t do proper in-person drop-ins and it looks like there won’t be much in the way of live shows this year, so we’re continuing with our video series inviting great improv humans to share their brilliance with us. These are now fortnightly so we can do a live online Gorilla Burger on alternate weeks! Jon is splendid.

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Last Week: Preacher, Snowpiercer, Djinn City, LEGO Hidden Side, Aconyte Books, “leaving the house”, LEGO building, more MissImp improv and y’know the usual ramblings. #TV #books #LEGO #podcast @aconytebooks @missimp_notts https://wp.me/pbprdx-8HZ I’m now three days into a mostly well-earned week off and have no real knowledge of what came before… We’ve been trying to

#Aconyte Books #cover art #Djinn City #Jon Nguyen #lego #LEGO Hidden Side #Marvel novels #MissImp: Improv Comedy Theatre Nottingham #Preacher #Saad Z Hossain #Snowpiercer #We Are What We Overcome

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d2kvirus · 6 years

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Dickheads of the Month: March 2018

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of March 2018 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

It takes a remarkable lack of awareness to liken somebody wearing a political symbol to the Star of David, the Nazi swastika or a t-shirt bearing the image of Robert Mugabe, yet that’s exactly what FA chief Martin Glenn managed to do - almost word-for-word, in fact.

Defence Secretary Gavin Williamson issued Russia the blood-curdling threat of “Shut up and go away” - which he somehow forgot to say when accepting £30,000 to have dinner with Lubov Chernukin, the Russian banker who happens to be a member of Vladimir Putin’s inner circle.

For whatever reason, NRA TV host Collins Iyare Idehen Jr. (otherwise known as Colion Noir) broke from the channel’s remarkable similarities to ISIS recruitment ads to mock the Parkland teens by saying that nobody would know who they were if their friends hadn’t been shot - somehow missing how that’s the fucking point as there is no reason for anyone to know the names of any of these kids or their former classmates, but rather than consider the reason why (as that would involve taking responsibility) the only thing he can do is mock, and sneer, and underline just how much of the problem the NRA have become.

Twitter user...sorry, former Twitter user MomsLuvTrump20 hit the dickhead jackpot by doctoring an image of Parkland survivor Emma Gonzalez tearing up a shooting target from a shoot with Teen Vogue so instead it showed her tearing up the US Constitution (quite poorly, it has to be said) and shared it online, not only getting tens of thousands of shares and an undercurrent of seething ignorance that someone would dare tell America that they have a gun problem, but this also led to people sending Gonzalez death threats. Yes, death threats, to someone who all too recently survived a gun massacre - which, contrary to what Adam Baldwin thinks, is not satire.

On the subject of Photoshopped images, Newsnight editor Jess Brammar really took offence at accusations that the programme she is responsible for was responsible for manipulating images of Jeremy Corbyn in order to make him fit the narrative that he was some sort of Russian stooge, and did so by...posting an image to her Twitter account that made it even more obvious that Newsnight had Photoshopped the image of Corbyn.

Somehow forgetting to uphold the obvious lie that they are in any way left wing, CNN columnist Jeremy Bailenson came up with a quite remarkable crock of shite in an article ripped from the late 1990s where he said gamers playing first person shooters are being trained to be the next generation of mass shooters citing evidence such as...some gibberish about holding a VR controller being exactly the same as holding an AK47.

To the surprise of nobody, certifiable headcase Munroe Bergdorf didn’t last long on the LGBT advisory panel they were appointed to (while a section of the media still wrongly claim that Bergdorf was appointed as LBGT advisor), yet when stepping down from their role Bergdorf’s response was to cite racism instead of the more common diplomatic response stating their appointment had brought undue pressure upon the panel - which merely added more fuel to the fire of the Tory commentators who kept making all manner of false equivalencies between Bergdorf being appointed to an unpaid role on an independent panel to Toby Young being appointed in an official capacity worth tens of thousands of pounds a year by his mat Jo Johnson back in January.

In yet another example of the right using the “Left = Nazis” rhetoric, we had Minnesota Republican Mary Franson making a direct comparison between the March for our Lives march and the Hitler Youth - and after her making a direct comparison between the two (unsurprisingly) led to her being called out for such idiocy, she attempted to defend herself by claiming she didn’t make a direct comparison between the two nor was her intent to...and when that predictably failed, then she decided to apologise which certainly has nothing to do with her being up for reelection.

Filibustering enthusiast Philip Davies took time out from his hectic schedule of campaigning against political correctness as he refuses to treat women, ethnic minorities, homosexuals or the disabled as being equal to him to conduct himself in the most professional manner when being interviewed by Luisa Omielan - by responding to reasonable questions by hurling out insults and accusations before shoving Omielan around his office.

In response to the imminent threat of a whistleblower revealing the Vote leave campaign broke rules on electoral funding, Stephen Parkinson knew there was only one thing he could do: threaten to publicly reveal the homosexuality of the whistleblower to keep him quiet, and when that obviously didn't work he outed him anyway - which was not only sanctioned by Theresa May, but she also supported Parkinson for his gross violation of privacy, use of blackmail, and endangering the safety of the whistleblower and his family.

Let’s see if I’ve got this straight: Tommy Robinson had a camera crew waiting for him outside a random branch of McDonalds, who just so happened to be in place to film a group of “far left extremists” as they “attacked” Robinson and, more importantly, were able to film him fight them off to show who the “real” “man” is - just as I am sure there is a perfectly legitimate reason for Robinson insisting that the police shouldn’t investigate the incident or, for all his talk of him and his crew being assaulted, the paramedics being unable to find so much as a bruise on them. I can’t think what I could possibly be implying here...

On a similar subject, we have those people wailing about “free speech!!!” at the news of Paul Golding & Jayda Fransen being jailed and, a week later, Facebook shutting down Britain First’s page. Obviously that was what happened, and nothing to do with the pair violating the terms of their exclusion orders for the former, or spending six years violating several of Facebook’s Terms of Service (without the provider batting an eyelid, it needs to be stressed) for the latter.

On the subject of freedom of speech, Sajid Javid referred to Momentum as “neo fascists” in Parliament knowing full well that he could hide behind parliamentary privilege and not be sued for it there - but if he set foot outside and said the same thing he'd receive a solicitor’s letter within the hour.

One of the approximate 357 Liverpool FC correspondents on Sky Sports’ payroll, Jamie Carragher, showed he could handle the mildest form of criticism by...winding down the window of his car and gobbing in the general direction of somebody reminding him that his beloved Liverpool just lost a game to Man Utd from the window of his car, only to miss and instead coat the taunter’s daughter instead. The only surprise is he didn't have seven of his mates join in, just like his ex-teammate Steven Gerrard.

Glorified talent show judge with the business acumen of a market stall trader Alan Sugar thought it was a clever idea to tweet an image suggesting that Jeremy Corbyn shares the politics of Hitler’s inner circle. What is it with Apprentice judges showing levels of judgment and intelligence that would make calling them “halfwit” a compliment?

There’s something remarkably pathetic that it took two hacks from Murdoch’s Hate Comic, Gary O’Shea and Thea Jacobs, to write a sneering article damning “snowflake students” for suggesting that Frankenstein’s monster wasn’t the antagonist of Frankenstein but the victim. You know who else made the same suggestion? Mary Shelley, when she wrote the fucking book back in 1818!

In the latest example of their historic women’s division historically making history, the WWE announced a battle royale for WrestleMania 34 named after the Fabulous Moolah - only to find that quite a lot of wrestling fans are aware of Moolah’s reputation for holding back women’s wrestling in North America for the best part of four decades, not only skimming the vast chunk of her trainees’ salaries but also forcing them to pay rent at her motel if they wanted to work, and even pimping out her trainees and they were quick to let the event’s sponsors know about it.

Seemingly not learning from the last time he made a complete tit of himself (and earned a visit from Jeremy Corbyn’s solicitors in the process) Twitter troll and occasional MP Ben Bradley thought it was a good idea to pose with a pair of former Labour councillors and welcome them to the Tory party - only to be reliably informed that those councillors had been suspended and, in one case, deselected from the Labour party for making racist comments, and that them being happy to cosy up to the Tories sort of proves Momentum’s point better than anything else.

In an apparent competition to see who could act like the biggest fuckwit when discussing the same subject, the intense wave of revulsion that comes from a group of Floridian teenagers having a better grasp of what humanity involved led to Laura Ingraham taking to Twitter to mock how David Hogg got rejected by various colleges as his GPA was too low that led to various advertisers dropping Fox News like a hot, faeces-covered stone before she announced she'd be taking a week-long vacation, while the homophobic, pro-gun, child molesting racist Ted Nugent referred to the Parkland kids as “soulless” which led to...not much happening, because who has given a tuppenny fuck about Ted Nugent in the past 25 years? Either way, still a colossal dickhead.

On that subject, I can’t help notice there’s a lot of pro-gun liars intent on regurgitating the lie that the March for our Lives kids bullied Nathan Cruz, and how the poor innocent victim Cruz fought back against these vicious bullies and we should stop persecuting him for cold-bloodedly murdering seventeen people who, by their own thick-headed excuse for an argument, weren't even the seventeen people he meant to shoot in the first place. And that, Ted Nugent, is what a soulless person looks like - and there’s a shitload of them all over Twitter.

Be thankful for the Salisbury nerve agent attack as it gave the British media even more reasons than usual to avoid reporting how Drug Minister Victoria Atkins banned the growing of cannabis for medicinal use in the UK with one swipe of the pen - and with another granted Paul Kenward, who just so happens to be her husband, a license to grow medicinal cannabis in the UK for export abroad.

Somebody who thinks it’s a good idea to describe themselves as a “professional shitposter” Count Dankula attempted to say that he was going to jail for teaching a dog the Nazi salute, which of course Breitbart and lots of people who used this as an excuse to make completely unconnected rants about Islam jumped on immediately. They probably should have broken with tradition and checked their facts before mouthing off, because what actually got him charged with inciting racial hatred was making comments as “Gas the Jews!” throughout the video, as if the systematic extermination of millions is the basis for some good, hearty gut laughs for all the family.

I know that he wasn't aware of the irony that he was unfolding in front of him, but watching how Cambridge Analytica CEO Alexander Nix went into detail about how the company would use hidden cameras in a ploy to honeytrap politicians while being filmed saying this by a hidden camera did almost as much damage to the firm’s image as the revelations that came out as a result of the piece.

And finally, blaming video games while an elephant with the letters N, R and A emblazoned upon it shits on the Oval Office carpet, we have Donald Trump.

#dickheads of the month

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