#and this office is no exception

[rohirric-hunter]

I gotta call my dentist office and ask a question and I'm dreading it because the receptionist is just. So mean.

[aquuaryo]

posting this here as well hehe

[klanced]

can we start placing bets about the live action voltron movie. everyone download draftkings right now

[electronicmail]

my class notes this past week

[fourphoenixfeathers]

My disappointment was immeasurable when i realized there was a canon humanformers TF:Animated episode, and the human designs were just this:

THIS WAS SUCH A MISSED OPPORTUNITY! THEY ARE SO BORING! So i took it upon myself to redraw it. 😌

I know Prowl wasn’t in this scene, but i wanted an excuse to draw him anyway. He’s silly and i love him.

I tried to push the scale a little bit too, because i imagine the team would be feeling pretty small in a medbay built for cybertronians. Imagine Ratchet is standing on something out of the shot.

[prettybabyimblue]

[snake-and-mouse]

One of the funniest things about modern aus of mxtx series is the ways writers have to conquer so many of the mcs complete and obvious inability to keep a steady full time job in today's society

[painted-bees]

A quick, sketchy little comic about a pair of nerds who are just living and working together, dw abt it.

The early days of Raf and Margie's relationship were full of uncomfy little moments like this lmao A lot of it is just...Margie needing to do a lot of growing up and crash-coursing socialization that she nerver really had the chance to do yet. She's in her early 20's and likes to think that she's a fully fledged adult--but moments like this make it obvious to Raf, especially, that she still has a lot of growing up to do in certain ways.

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Husk: I hate being touched

Husk: The last time i maintained physical contact with another person was in battle

Vaggie: Angel is literally in your lap right now.

Husk: *Angel lounging across his thighs* This means nothing. Fear me.

[hypertechnica]

star trek as a concept is completely sexless. it is utterly devoid of sex. not one drop of convincing sexual tension has ever graced the screen on any star trek show. the weird unintentionally homoerotic psychosexual mind game shit on the other hand,

[antlergrave]

i didn't see him in the teaser but if officer callahan dies, i die

[altcvnningham]

troy marshall, the rook’s resident artist :)

(and a bonus masterpiece from his room the day the team moved in)

[starry-bi-sky]

*points at bruce and danny in 'late at night when the nightingale sings'* THESE TWO MFERS MEAN SO MUCH TO MEEEE

no thoughts head empty just these two socially inept fools finding family in one another. like yes you go you funky little death omens stole that one from a comment on the fic, so if you see this you know who you are, discover that family isn't only tied in blood.

bUT onto less mushy stuff: these two being shenaniganizers; tomfools. Bruce realized that Danny didn't actually know he was Bruce Wayne and instead of going "oh actually im bruce wayne" he went; "hrm... how long can i keep this going until he realizes...."

like. i think they deserve to be the sillies. just utter goobers the both of them. like, danny makes the wittiest side comments, dry quips, under his breath towards Bruce while they're out in public (Danny covering his face with a face mask) and Bruce is trying not to laugh. Meanwhile if Bruce makes one sly comment about someone to Danny, Danny's gonna collapse with laughter.

Bruce plays straightman in most of their bits, he has the best fucking poker face. But also I firmly believe he does actually enjoy Danny's puns. Look me in the eyes- look me in the eyes. Try and tell me that a man that willingly agrees to call a car "the batmobile" even after his eight year old ward grows up (thus negating the need to go along with his antics) doesn't enjoy a good, well-placed pun. Look me in the eyes and try to tell me that. That's right you can't.

He's gonna spit out a well-placed pun in the driest, most boring Batman Voice Ever one day while he's getting ready for patrol, and Danny's gonna fucking die of laughter. He's gonna lose his mind. Bruce is going to have a half-dead sickly teenager laughing his lungs out in the chair. That's a new core memory right there, every time Danny thinks about that he's gonna start giggling.

just!!! these two making each other laugh! That's so important to me. So so much. I nEED Danny to get Bruce to smile and laugh and I need Bruce to make Danny do the same. Danny's all snark and sass and Bruce is all deadpan and dry quips. Do you all see my vision.

[gemsouffle]

Headcannon that the ADA relentlessly abuses junichiro's ability by playing the floor is lava

[superbat-lmao]

Each of Bruce’s kids fluctuate between full throttle action and I’m-going-to-die-of-boredom inaction. The life of a vigilante ricochets between extreme stress and recuperation.

When he was new to parenting, Bruce had a difficult time adjusting to the cyclical nature of his children’s moods. How much attention they wanted, how to provide it, whether they wanted his input or just for him to listen. It took some getting used to.

Now, he’s a bit better at understanding what his kids need from him. The one that he looks forward to the most, since it’s relatively infrequent compared to all of the other ways his children interact with him, is when they seek him out to sit with him.

Bruce has learned from being called overbearing and invasive that his children don’t enjoy when he encroaches on their space. This has mostly culminated in him becoming a home-body. Rarely leaving the manor if not for work or on explicit invitation. He seldom finds himself in Dick’s apartment, Jason’s safe houses, or any other place his children are staying, unless it’s an emergency.

The converse of that, is that his own routines in his own space have become reliably predictable. A book he’d read early on when fostering Dick had said routines were crucial to establishing a sense of normality for children from chaotic situations. That they were reassuring. So Bruce had allowed himself to become a degree of predictable. Findable across the many rooms of the manor.

Rarely, in the cycles of downtime that all vigilantes used to recuperate, would his children seek him out in this routine.

The first time Dick had come looking for him, plopped down in a chair in his office, and proceeded to work next to him for six hours without saying anything, Bruce had been beside himself with worry. He’d been concerned. Dick was an outgoing and energetic young man, silences with him were few and far between. Or, more often, a sign that something was wrong.

The whole time, he considered broaching the topic, asking what was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out how to ask. Didn’t want to disrupt the quiet.

When Dick had completed what he’d been working on, he’d looked up at Bruce and smiled. Then he’d gotten up from the chair, side arm hugged Bruce, and left his office altogether.

It had left Bruce momentarily stunned.

He’s asked Alfred about it and was assured that sometimes children just needed a quiet place to work and don’t want to be alone. That Dick was fine and not somehow picking up all of Bruce’s worst, antisocial habits. He was glad.

By the time Jason had come around, Bruce was fairly acclimated to “parallel play” as Dinah had put it when discussing Oliver and Roy’s tendency to work on different projects without speaking but always in the same space. Jason was an avid reader and clearly seemed to prefer the library, but Bruce had learned to space out his ventures into his son’s space. To be a reliable presence, but not one that encroached on his privacy.

So it was a quiet novelty when Jason would brave the exorbitance of the manor to join him. Usually, he would read a novel on Bruce’s couch. Sometimes he had a puzzle books instead, sudoku or crosswords. Bruce enjoyed glancing up to see him deep in thought about some of the clues but never asking Bruce’s help in solving it. His boy enjoyed a challenge. And he knew Bruce to be unfairly good at crosswords. He said it took all the fun out of it if you didn’t have to think about the answer.

Tim, of course, was a frequent flyer in Bruce’s office. Invariably, both of them would be cooped up there discussing WE projects or personnel. This meant that if Tim needed to quietly sit next to Bruce for a few uninterrupted hours, it was often when Bruce was supposed to be on bed rest and had instead convinced Alfred to let him sit in the entertainment room. Tim liked one of the chairs the best, wedging himself into the armrest while scrolling on his phone.

Cassandra spent a lot of her time in silence, not needing the words to communicate what she meant. She had turned the concept of “quiet time” into nap time. She would curl into Jason’s favorite couch and drool on one of Alfred’s more comfortable pillows. Bruce liked the way her hair stuck up in the back after being pressed against the lumpy upholstery.

Stephanie was perhaps the rarest sight in the manor, aside from Jason. She had never lived there, even temporarily. The first time she had joined Bruce in silent company it had been with Tim. The two had squished together in the same chair and silently held their phones in each other’s faces periodically before going back to scrolling.

Now, she was more likely to join Cass for a nap in his office. But there had been one instance when most of his children’s hero teams had been occupied at the same time, that they had been in the manor together. She had wandered into his office with colored pencils and clear plastic sheeting, plopped down across from him, and began drawing all manor of colorful things. It hadn’t been a cohesive picture, but several small and distinct pieces. She’d helped herself to a pair of his scissors and cut them out, disposing of the excess plastic in his waste bin.

There must have been a puzzled look on his face because before she’d left she’d told him that she and Damian were making “shrinky dinks” and that Alfred had asked her to make a couple experimental ones to test the oven settings. Bruce had smiled and asked to see the completed creations. The next morning he’d found a small piece of plastic next to the Batcomputer. It was a cartoonish strawberry wearing a backwards baseball cap on a skateboard. One of the strawberry’s “hands” appeared to be doing the hand sign for Y, but Bruce guessed it was meant to represent the shaka symbol. He placed it on the inner door of the locker he used to store post-patrol clothes.

It took almost two full years for Damian to seek him out. The boy was intensely private, but even Bruce was eventually aware of the fact that his son liked to sketch. It had taken a long time for Damian to bring any of his art materials out of his room. Most of the rooms in the manor had multiple exits and were too open to be easily defensible, especially from the prying eyes of his brothers, so Bruce understood why it took so long for him to be comfortable using common spaces. Even less frequently, if it could be said to happen at all, did he show what he was working on. That being said, when Damian finally found his way towards seeing Bruce out, it was most often with a sketch pad.

At first he was sat as far away from Bruce as possible, but with each subsequent visit Damian slowly but surely inched his way closer, until he was sat across the desk from him, scrunched in a chair with the sketch pad resting on his knees. Bruce’s high point of these interactions was the time that Damian, still silent, passed his sketch pad across Bruce’s desk. A wordless request. The rougher lines hadn’t been completely erased or covered up, but smoother and more confident ones gave shape to something Bruce knew would become a masterpiece in its own right. It was Bruce’s desk. Neatly arranged and carefully mapped.

The part that stood out to him were the pictures. The only ornamental aspect of his desk were the pictures of his children, which Damian had captured in striking detail. Before he could begin to formulate a response, Damian’s hand reached across the desk and gently lifted the top sheet, gesturing for Bruce to look at the image below as well. It was the same, every detail a mirror of Bruce’s civilian desk, except for the fact that each of the photos of his children showed them in costume.

Their poses were identical and their uniforms meticulously drawn, the exception being that Jason had his helmet tucked under his arm so that his domino was visible. Bruce hadn’t been able to formulate words, looking between the two, which Damian had seemed to realize. Two weeks later, he had found both pictures inside his locker in the cave.

[lightgamble]

DAREDEVIL | 1.01

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