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Human: Deal.

Fey: Very well. When you return home tonight, your mother will be in pristine health again. It will be like she never fell ill at all. Even the memory of her suffering will fade…

Human: Thank you so much. She means everything to me.

Fey: I know, I know. Let’s hope the price wasn’t too much for you after all… Only time will tell.

Human: So, when do we start?

Fey: …If I may ask you to elaborate?

Human: You said you wanted my firstborn.

Fey: Yes? And you agreed?

Human: Yeah, so, when do we start?

Fey:

Fey, blushing: Ah.

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I made a post a few days ago about Clark Kent inexplicably being friends with the Waynes (because he knows Batman as Superman, but the people who just know mild mannered reporter Clark Kent don't know that). And the thought of Lois Lane, pre-knowing that Clark is Superman, just being extremely baffled by her writing partner from the middle of nowhere Kansas being friends with the Wayne family continues to amuse me. So the alternative situation from the one I posted the other that's been bouncing around in my head is

Lois, charging into Clark's apartment after being let in: Sorry, Clark, I know it's your day off, but I need help--

Lois: ...

Lois: ...

Lois: Hey, Clark? Why is Bruce Wayne's son doing a puzzle on your coffee table?

Clark: Bruce is in town for business and Dick didn't want to sit in an office all day.

Lois: Uh huh. Yeah. Okay, let me rephrase. Clark, why is the son of one of the most rich and influential men in the country sitting in your apartment?

Young Dick Grayson, having not looked up from his puzzle: Uncle Clark, do you not tell your friends anything about your life?

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Batman's for Batman Day

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Booh!

#pascalcampion

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Leanne Hatch on Instagram

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Some borrowed mannerisms from previous regenerations

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Dick: You killed my brother.

Joker: I've killed very many brothers. You'll have to be more specific.

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— Silas Melvin

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my father said to me once that one of the things he deeply regretted was not putting music on for his father while he was fading away. he told me that grandpa would just sit in his old armchair in the quiet, and not until after he’d passed did my dad think of how he could have played of his favorite classical music tapes for him so grandpa could listen to something while he still could. i was very young when this happened and not much older when my dad told me this, but it always stuck with me as something important.

my mother died at home in a hospice cot, slowly shutting down over the course of about a week. when she had stopped responding, i remembered what dad told me about wishing he’d played music for grandpa, and i put the radio on her favorite country music station and kept it on for her until she died.

daddy died in hospital. no cassette players, no decent radios. the day after he was brought in, i thought again of what he told me, and i bought a little portable bluetooth speaker. even though he never woke up, was never aware, i played music for him too.

there’s no real significance to sharing this, not really. my motivation is selfish, again: i just want to hope that someone might think of this when their loved one is stuck in silence somehow, and maybe they’ll play music for them, and they won’t have to regret not doing so. i want to hope it helps someone. and i want to hope that someone will remember my dad with me, even in just a “story i read on the internet” way.

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because cops are bad you might be tempted to think that organised crime is good. do not do this.

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Christopher Robin and friends playing in the autumn leaves 🍁

My favorite time of the year! 🍂

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everyone in young justice separately sending this tweet to tim

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“If someone asked me “What are the signs of love?” I would have said without hesitation, It’s the familiarity and the removal of cost, And to find yourself not having to lie, and the embarrassment removed between you two, and see yourself acting in your nature without trying to be something else so she likes you, And that you two keep silent and the silence gets delicious, And that one of you two talk and listening gets delicious.”

— Mustafa Mahmoud

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The real reason why none of the bat-boys are allowed in the kitchen

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I was looking through some of my old fanart and OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT THIS

This is easily my favorite drawing I’ve ever done of Cass

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The same leaves over and over again! They fall from giving shade above To make one texture of faded brown And fit the earth like a leather glove. Before the leaves can mount again To fill the trees with another shade, They must go down past things coming up. They must go down into the dark decayed. They must be pierced by flowers and put Beneath the feet of dancing flowers. However it is in some other world I know that this is the way in ours.

Robert Frost, "In Hardwood Groves," from The Road Not Taken: A Selection of Robert Frost's Poems