#home call

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

[prlssprfctn]

Give me Bruce and Jason, who are not on the war path anymore, but they are still awkward and absolutely clueless on how to make things up, so they pretend that they need something from each other in order to spend some time together. Even if these things are absolutely simple, and both of them could handle it themselves, if they wanted to.

Bruce, calling Jason in the random Friday night: So, Alfred left for a week. And I promised kids to do a homemade cake for them. And you know how useless I am in the kitchen. So.

Jason, who knows that Bruce is, in fact, not useless in the kitchen, but low-key misses cooking with him, because the last time they did it, it was Alfred's birthday before his death, and they did the cake together: Theoretically, I agree.

Bruce, sighing in relief: Theoretically, I will need you in Manor tomorrow in the morning. And I theoretically will pay for that.

Jason: Theoretically, see you tomorrow.

Bruce: Theoretically, thank you.

Jason, dealing Bruce in the middle of the night: Old man. Bail me out of the prison. I am in CGDP's building.

Bruce, knowing well that Jason wouldn't be caught in the first place, if he didn't want all of this to happen, and even if he did, he would easily escape without him, getting involved, but also knowing that today is anniversary of the day Bruce adopted Jason, and it is his way to spend time together: ...Okay. May I ask what did you do?

Jason: ...Stole Gordon's tires.

Bruce, stifling his laughter: I see. I will be here in a few minutes.

[todaysbird]

give me good bird news

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

haunted houses being portrayed as "infested" with evil spirits....yes obviously the house is infested it has uninvited human occupants.

you get pests you call in exterminators, just how it works

[eraserbread]

nanami married you four days ago... he's so obsessed with you he forgets how to be. <3

kento's been physically unable to keep his hands off you since you took his surname. there's just something different in the way you move around him.

like this morning, you slide out of the big resort bed in absolutely nothing, dragging your feet as you head to the showers. of course you were careful not to stir your sleeping husband, but you couldn't last another second under the mugginess of the comforters. though, your langkawi honeymoon resort was full of love, just not air conditioning. kento hated sleeping with windows open, so you succumbed to the mugginess.

as soon as you turn on the shower spray and dip your head under, the door draws open so slowly you don't even notice it. you can only notice the sudden rush of cold that falls over your skin. peeking open a single eye, you smile when you see him shedding his sleep shirt and stepping into the steamy, tiled sanctuary with you.

he doesn't speak a word, but every little movement is so deliberate and kind. starting at your shoulder, he traces the expanse of your neck, breathing heavily behind you before pressing a kiss right above his touch. you crane your neck, offering him more.

"i hate to be a bother, but you are just so beautiful this morning." he whispers against your wet ear, nuzzling deeper into his back with his stringy, blonde hair dripping down his shoulders. "can you feel it? how much I need you? can I put it in - my nanami, please?"

he knows you'll say yes, but always asks. you'll always tell him to touch you whenever he needs it, but he's so respectful it's stupid. so, you nod, rubbing water out of your eyes so when you turn around, you can see him through the fog. all of his tight features, the cut of his jaw, the softness of his eyes. it all rings true and feels like home.

wrapping both arms around his shoulders, you nod. "as long as you keep treating me so well, you can have whatever you need." you remind him, leaning close to trail yours across his dripping lips.

"now, i'm not a religious man, nor did I lead a very fulfilling life. but, you, my dear..."

"what?" you're flushed, still so used to his compliments but always prisoner to his charm.

"you are my purpose."

around his back, your hands turn to fists, trying to fight the visceral body response his words never fail to give you. "god, don't look at me like that. you're perfect."

he would humor you more, but that look in your eyes makes him rather fuck you gruelingly slow against the harshness of the hot water.

so, that's what he does.

shower sex always unnerved you, but kento is so alarmingly stable on his two feet that he can sustain the weight of both of you against the slickness. it just gives him purpose for fucking you soft and slow, watching the girth of his cock split you open so delicately like you're made for him.

he makes you watch, this time, wrapping your legs around his waist as he supports you against the shower wall. you love the feeling of his thick fingers digging into the swell of your ass, and love the sound of his sweet, deep voice, recognizing all of your lewd tendencies.

"see how it gets all red when I pull out. like you're blushing on my cock, my baby - nanami."

"mm, oh i love that,"

"look at it," he demands, pressing the top of his head to yours as you let it hang between your shoulders. "no matter how many times I do this to you, I never get over just how well I fit..."

"almost like you're made for me. in fact, I know you were."

[shanklin]

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling. 

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up. 

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that. 

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb in. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

[yooo-lets-go]

Johnny, you with me?

[occudo]

A fish out of water...

Did you know that in every story, even if they marry, the selkie is still longing to go back to the sea?

But at least he has a siren husband who can sing for him.

more of them

[gothghostiie]

thinking about something that happened to me while babysitting and I am unable to cope with it so obviously I have to make it something for yall

thinking about babysitter!reader being hired by price, you just go to check on the little one in their nursery. the baby is sleeping peacefully, you close the door - but the handle fucking breaks off. naturally you start to panic, the baby is in there all alone and you can't get in, so you call price in literal tears. telling him what happened, desperately scrambling around to look at the baby monitor. He tells you to take a breath, trying to get you to calm down, that its okay, he'll come home.

you're sat on the couch, crying in a panic while watching the blisfully unaware baby over the monitor until Price gets home. he comes in, making a beeline to the small utility room, then to the nursery. its an easy and quick fix, you definitely could have done it yourself you think as you watch over his shoulder. he opens the door quickly and sees the sleeping baby before closing the door with a chuckle and turning to you. you're still sniffling, babbling soft apologies, telling him youll understand if he doesn't pay or ever hires you again - but he shakes his head and leads you to the couch with him, sitting you down.

"sit, love. take a breath." he murmurs, vanishing to the kitchen, from where he comes back a minute later with a cup of tea that he hands you. sits down next to you, then gently pulls you into his side. "C'mere now. its alright bird, don't cry now."

[originalartblog]

Someone's last crush didn't live up to the hype 😬

[idontmindifuforgetme]

[morganbritton132]

Hopper is never having a good day when he has to deal with children but he’s having an even worse day when the kids in question are Eddie ‘Come Back With a Warrant’ Munson and Steve ‘I’ll Answer Your Questions When My Lawyer is Present’ Harrington.

They are eight and seven years old in the backseat of his truck after Hopper caught them separately doing shit they’re not supposed to do. His plan was to drive around a bit, scare them, and then send them on their way but neither are taking it seriously.

Steve, at least, is sticking to his words and hasn’t spoken since he requested a lawyer. Eddie, on the other hand, hasn’t shut up.

Hopper said he was talking them to jail and Eddie’s response was to point out that they weren’t committing crimes. They were committing miss-de-meters and second, “The police station’s that way. You’re drivin’ to Uncle Wayne’s.”

Hopper feels like a glorified taxi driver at this point. He makes one last attempt to instill a little fear of god into these future felons by saying, “You’re going to get grounded by your parents and you’ll deserve it.”

There’s a beat of silence before Steve pipes up, “What’s grounded?”

“It’s when your parents bury you in the backyard,” Eddie supplies helpfully.

“Oh…” Steve says and then loudly announces, “Mr. Hopper, I can’t be grounded. We have a pool.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie cuts in before Hopper can steer this conversation in the right direction.

He clasps a hand on Steve’s shoulder in the rearview and tells him, “They’ll drown you instead.”

[prlssprfctn]

Jason Todd arrives to the Gotham after being brought back alive for the first time, and while building up his career as Red Hood, visits Harvey Dent in the Arkham. They talk in a surprising peace, discuss this and this, and Jason even shares some of his insane ass lore, because, honestly, who is going to believe Harvey Dent?

And no one doesn't.

But there is a problem. The next time Bruce Wayne visits Harvey, Harvey randomly drops a bomb on him by saying that he is so, so glad that their Jaylad is back, and he grew up so much, looks so much like Bruce now! He even tries to assure him that, you see, yeah, Jason was dead, but he crawled out of his grave, and then, the Lazarus Pit fixed him!

Bruce thinks Harvey finally had reached the end of his line. Like, low-key, the last stage of insanity.

Harvey: God, he is still so well-mannered. I feel so pleased that he came to visit old me first, though. I always thought I was his favourite over you.

Bruce, laughing awkwardly, while asking the medics to add some new medicine to Harvey: Ahaha, yeah, that sounds like our Jaylad.

Harvey: Super happy for him, seriously. I mean, look at him, getting himself a new career as a Red Hood. That's our son. Feel a little bit bitter that he is into Al Ghuls family now, but that's fine.

Bruce, frowning, because Harvey isn't supposed to know about Al Ghuls and their connection to Lazarus Pit or about Red Hood: Uh, had J-Jason said something else to you?

Harvey: Oh, damn, we spoke for the whole night. He was pissed at you, though. Like, for the Tim guy, whoever he is.

Bruce, turning to the doctors: ...Maybe, uh, give me the same pills you gave him. I feel like I need it, too.

[shotmrmiller]

someone said price eats his girl out before work so he can have her smell on him or something, and that's so incredibly bold of him considering johnny mactavish exists.

[differenteagletragedy]

Mechanic Simon doesn’t have a shop, he just works out of his garage at home. He gets his business from word of mouth -- he's good and he doesn't overcharge, so he's never wanting for work. And that's how he likes it.

He always smells at least a little like sweat and motor oil, and if he didn't bite his nails down to the quick, there'd be grease trapped under them, always. He works in jeans that are all stained by the work, knees worn by how often he bends to see the engines better, and whatever t-shirt he can find. Sometimes just the jeans in the summer, when the garage gets too hot.

He smokes a lot too, even though he knows how much you don't like it. You tell him it's an accident waiting to happen, being around all that gas and lighting up cigarettes. Truthfully, he doesn't get why you bother, but he knows if he kisses you, slow and sweet how you like, you'll give him a break. He also knows that if lays you down and fucks you in the backseat of the Cortina he's fixed up ten times in as many years, you'll not only hush, but bring him a glass of lemonade, too.

It's a quiet life, but he couldn't dream up one he'd love more.