#Come On Home

[yeowninefive]

Come on Home

[secretlystephaniebrown]

3, 9 and 11 for back to prison and come on home

Back to Prison

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Weirdly for me, the one that immediately comes to mind is actually the closing of the fic!

But, tentatively, he puts one foot in front of the other, and moves out of the tunnel, following Tucker and Carolina into the harsh, blinding light of day.  

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Mmmm kind of? I wanted to write a "Wash, still evil, hanging with Felix and Locus" thing for a while before actually coming up with Back to Prison. I wrote some snippets over the years, most notably something that was like... a fun "what if the brainwashing in PMGITG worked" thing that I remember sending to @saltsanford WAY back... and probably a few other random bits, but I incorporated a lot of them in some way or another into the fic itself!

11: What do you like best about this fic?

Oh I loved getting into Wash's head. Wash is genuinely such a fun character to write from, and this was a fun, angsty, introspective thing, and also Tucker really worked in this fic in a way I often worry about with him.

Come on Home

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

There’s the familiar cocky asshole. The one who not only has all the cards, he’s stacked the deck, so he knows what cards you have.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Nope! This one was very straightforward.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I earnestly loved doing the Grif, Locus, and Kai dynamic! It was just delightful.

Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it

[bethfuller]

limited perception.

find me on instagram!

[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.)

[lustfilled-indulgences]

my inbox is looking kinda empty. where did all the anon’s go.

[stuckinapril]

Incredibly alarming that talks of “peace” in Gaza seem to extend no further than a ceasefire. How do you think they’re gonna start off where they left off themselves? Their houses are destroyed, so many have lost mothers and fathers and brothers and children, they still have no clean water and no food. Any area Israel withdraws out of is an area it already knows has been rendered inhospitable. There was even a direct quote by some IOF soldier gleefully stating how he “wasn’t sure Palestinians could go back to their homes.” So what happens when the US “succeeds at negotiating a ceasefire”? Who will be responsible for helping the Palestinians rebuild all that they’ve lost?

[crocodiller]

*Myshka is left safely at camp before any trips to the Hells ~extra~

[sunsbleeding]

Strange and beautiful how one afternoon with friends equals the desire to live for a million brilliant years

[kensatou]

fascinated/horrified by this set of tweets…

[nanaomei]

WHAT I GOTTA SAY TO GET A PIECE OF THAT?!

art by: mossmaybe1 on twt

[nouverx]

*proceeds to drink the whole bottle*

Yeah Alastor you're gonna be loved and appreciated wether you want it or not :)

[heavenbarnes]

I used to date an older guy (like mid 40s) a few years back and I always got stupidly turned on when he fixed stuff around his house?? Like, he just knew hot to do it and did it. No googling, just him and his tools. Feel like it would fit somewhere in your older bf Simon stuff.

god love a fully capable “fuck it i’ll do it” type of man 🫶🏼

you know that your older bf!simon doesn’t believe in hiring tradespeople for a service.

“why would i pay someone to fuck about in my home?”

“they’re not fucking about, si! they’d be fixing the sink”

“i’ll do it”

you have no doubt that simon was more than capable of fixing things around the house but you also wanted him relaxing when he was home.

turns out he couldn’t relax at the thought of another man doing something for you.

so you let him do it, you threw your hands up and waved your white tea towel in defeat as you heard him banging around in the garage for tools.

hearing the faint sounds of grunting and the occasional swear word coming from the bathroom, you thought it might pay to go and see how he was getting on.

fucking hell.

simon was on his back, arms stretched up above him as his hands dwarfed the pipe they were wrapped around. t-shirt riding up, lines of his stomach leading right to his belt, knees bent and boots firmly planted on the floor, you could honestly just-

“oi, you gonna’ stare or help me?”

now how the fuck?

“your heads in the cupboard, how did you know-“

“i always know where you are, pass me the wrench”

crouching down beside him, you handed it over and stayed down there to watch him work. scarred knuckles wrapped around the handle of the tool, other palm flat against the base of the sink so you could see the veins.

he was something else entirely.

“how d’you know how to do all this?”

“taught m’self, come hold this”

you reached over to replace where his palm was so he could have both hands back. “but why? surely other people don’t learn all this?”

“other people don’t care about their sweet’art not having to lift a finger- move your finger for me”

the more you stretched to hold the sink, the more you felt yourself losing traction with it. naturally, simon noticed before you did.

“y’need to get closer, cm’ere”

tools landing to the side of him, two large hands plucked you up till you were dropped in his lap. precarious situation but you couldn’t deny the sink was a lot easier to reach.

you stayed like that, letting simon work in peace as you enjoyed your view. honestly, he could invite you to the end of the world and you’d just be happy to hold his hand.

one hand splayed out on his chest, the other holding the sink, you suddenly felt a tickle forming at the end of your nose. before you knew it, you were pulling your hand back to scratch it- the one holding the sink.

you panicked, realising it could very well land on simon’s head. but it didn’t, it stayed completely still. face screwing up, you leant in again to give the sink a nudge only to find out it was totally fixed.

“what the hell, si? why’d you have me doing all that?”

you saw the smirk on his face as he flashed a look over at you. suddenly, you realised you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

the hand that didn’t have the wrench came out to give you a pat on the side of your hip.

“c’mon sweet’art, i can’t get anything outta’ this?”

[chloesimaginationthings]

The day FNAF Charlie Emily was shut out..

[indestinatus]

ao3 in the last couple of days