#They are idiots your honor

[susanoosama01]

On Moff Gideon's ship,

Luke, mentally: I will have your babies.

Luke: I will help your baby.

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Love is Blind (but mostly oblivious)

*doorbell rings*

Jason, answering his front door: What?

Cass: Can I come in?

Jason: Obviously. *herds Cass inside* But why bother with the door? Usually you just break in like everyone else.

Cass: It’s important. I need help.

Jason: Are you bleeding or are we making someone else bleed?

Cass: Neither. I need dating advice.

Jason:

Jason: What.

Cass: No one else has had a relationship last more than four months in at least six years, so…

Jason: That still does nothing to explain why you’re asking for my help.

Cass: You are successfully dating. So, you’ll actully be helpful.

Jason: What? I’m not dating anyone?

Cass:

Cass: Where’s Roy?

Jason: Grocery store. Why? I mean, I guess maybe he’d have some advice or something.

Cass: How long have the two of you been living together anyway?

Jason: I dunno. Three years?

Cass: So what’re you doing tonight?

Jason: It’s our anniversary. Seven years together.

Cass: Uh-huh. And for how much of that have the two of you been dating?

Jason: We’re no-

Jason:

Jason:

Cass:

Jason: Well, shit.

Cass: I love you, but you’re a disaster.

Jason: Wait, how long HAVE I been dating Roy?

Cass: At least three years.

Jason: And does Roy know we’re dating?

Cass: Your guess is as good as mine.

Jason: I’m gonna have to tell him. Wait, how do I tell him we’re dating?

Cass: How about when he gets back you just tell him. Say, ‘we’re dating’ and leave it at that.

Cass: I’ll stay here.

Cass: For reasons. And moral support.

Jason: Thanks. So what was it you wanted help with, anyway? I feel like I kinda owe you one now.

Cass: I just need to figure out how to tell someone I like them.

Jason: Wait, did you and Steph break up?

Cass: What?

Jason: What?

Cass: We’re no-

Jason:

Cass: Ah.

[lydiablackblade]

"Still a demon, then?"

Aziraphale, babe, this is the second lamest pick up line told in a bar tavern EVER... You are really not good at how to ask him out, aren't you :D :D

[sleepyscully]

5x4 Detour my beloved

[jamazzilblog]

Sometimes boys will be boys just means a guy will make a very long and difficult trip through the nether without elytras and a stack of diamonds just to be knighted by one of his friends and out of spite because his other friend didn't believe he could do it.

[hitoshi-yuuto]

Why Roy and Ed are never sent on missions together

Edward : Oh fuck, oh shit! Quick what’s your type?

Roy *lying on the ground bleeding out* : The most beautiful golden eyes I have ever seen, gorgeous blonde hair, annoying, but like, in a cute way...

Edward: YOUR BLOOD TYPE, YOU STUPID BASTARD!

Roy : Oh... B positive.

Edward *frustrated* : Yeah, thanks, I try but you're not helping me!

[sophiemars]

Neil, Kevin or Jean, whenever they are feeling somewhat uncomfortable: aS LOng as iT DOEsn't InteRFEre WitH tHE GamE

Every normal human being around them: 😒😑

[jewel-shard]

[samstree]

A Careless Omission

Jaskier reveals he has a type. Geralt behaves strangely. (Or, the "Jaskier likes a dilf" fic, 2.9k, on ao3)

Jaskier doesn’t try to hide his interest.

His face has been slowly heating up with a blush, his lips worried and bitten with nervousness. It nearly makes him feel like a blushing maiden at the sight of her first crush, stomach fluttering and all. Who can blame him? His eyes have been caught by the barkeep since he sat down at the table.

Distantly, he knows Geralt is able to tell, sitting in front of him across the table. A witcher’s senses are too sharp for Jaskier to hide his intentions for anyone they meet on the road, but there’s no room for self-consciousness. His attention is away, following the other man as he works.

The barkeep is tall and burly, with wide shoulders and long legs, hair slightly wet with sweat from working in the kitchens. A few strands of grey hair pepper his brown curls beautifully, as well as his well-groomed beard. The simple clothing cannot hide the taut muscles underneath. Every time he rolls up the sleeves to show the strong lines of his forearm, Jaskier lets out an audible gasp.

Meeting Jaskier’s eyes, he comes to their table and serves two cups of ale with a bright, warm smile.

A bright, warm smile, and a little girl trailing behind him.

“Aww,” Jaskier whispers to Geralt as the man walks away. “Look at him with his daughter.”

The barkeep has brought his daughter to work. The girl looks no older than six, demanding bedtime stories and tugging at his apron constantly. He has to gently coax her to let him finish work first, all the while leaning down to kiss her on the head.

Jaskier’s breath catches, the hammering of his heart so loud he can practically hear it in his ears.

“Hmm.”

Geralt only gives a noncommittal hum while sipping his ale.

“Here we go.” The barkeep returns to their table with two bowls of soup, his smile still bright despite the late hour and his daughter’s chirping. “How do you find our establishment, kind sirs? Hope you liked the ale?”

Before Jaskier can chat up the guy, Geralt cuts in quickly.

“A bit sour,” he says, seemingly grouchier than usual. “And the place is loud.”

It’s entirely too rude, but before Jaskier can apologize for his friend, the barkeep scratches his head shyly and does it first, which makes him all the lovelier.

“Apologies,” he says sincerely. “My Lucja can be a menace when she’s tired. It’s a shame her bedtime happens to be our rush hour. She’s not bothering you too much, is she?”

“No, no!” Jaskier answers, rather too eagerly. “She’s adorable! I hope she’s not making your job difficult, is all.”

Jaskier’s face becomes even hotter when he takes his bowl, their fingers brushing, lingering. Finally, the barkeep is looking at Jaskier properly. His smile grows, stretching almost to his ears.

They hold each other’s gaze, until Geralt sets down his cup suddenly, much louder than necessary, breaking the moment.

“It can get hard at times, but I don’t mind,” the barkeep answers, eyeing Geralt for a moment before turning his attention back to Jaskier. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, you see. I’d choose raising her on my own every time.”

“Oh? Where is her mother?” Jaskier frowns.

“I do not know where she is, sir, nor Lucja’s real father, for she was left at my doorstep as a babe. I meant to send her to the orphanage, but in the end, I just couldn’t see a little girl without a home. She is as much my daughter as she can be. We are a family, as destiny intended.”

What a sweet, sweet man.

Jaskier holds his chest as the fluttering inside intensifies. He’s nearly melting on the spot “Aww…” he sighs softly. “Such sadness, and such a happy ending. You truly are a kind man, sir…?”

“Andrej.”

“I’m Jaskier.” They shake hands, lingering some more.

“Still, it must get lonely for you, being on your own. Would you ever seek other forms of companionship, Andrej, when the long nights are difficult to pass?”

The hopeful hint hides so well under the concern in Jaskier’s voice. He’d like to think he’s rather smooth in his probing, after all these years.

“Well.” Andrej looks as flushed as Jaskier feels. His eyes lower, before lifting up again, looking at Jaskier from under his lashes. “I try to find company when I can, but none as fine as yourself, Jaskier.”

He drags out Jaskier’s name, patiently, sensually, making his bones hum.

The man leaves Jaskier with a suggestive look, and finds Lucja again. He lifts the girl easily, muttering about how he can finally tuck her in bed now. They disappear upstairs, with the girl draped over Andrej’s shoulder, her cheeks round with happiness.

Jaskier stares at them as they leave, eyes following the man until he cannot see them any longer, and then turns back with a dreamy sigh. He stirs his soup absently, occasionally letting out a goofy smile and a quiet giggle, ears still burning. Thoughts of Andrej fill the whole world, his eyes, his smile, his loving heart.

Jaskier knows he’s quickly, entirely, and head over heels, falling in love.

He lets out another giggle at the thought.

Their interaction replays over and over in Jaskier’s head, making him completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Out of nowhere, Geralt clears his throat.

“Oh, dear!” Jaskier startles, blinking. “Geralt, um… You are… still here.”

Huh, he seems to have completely forgotten about Geralt.

“My, my,” Geralt snorts. He looks like he’s trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Jaskier has no intention of being mortified. He is no longer capable of that emotion when the stars align and hit him with a spell of love. Still, he gives some attention to his friend.

“Sorry, I was a little… beside myself,” he says, his spirit too high to be ruined by Geralt’s inexplicably bad mood. “You know,” Jaskier whispers, revealing the great secret. “It’s my weakness.”

“Weakness?” Geralt narrows his eyes.

“Yes, a man like Andrej.” Jaskier’s eyes brighten in fondness. “I happen to have no resistance around a good father like him.”

A pause of silence, and Geralt squints harder.

“A good… father,” he states, very, very slowly.

“Of course! Did you not notice? He was so good with his daughter earlier, so gentle and loving. I bet he tells the best bedtime stories, and little Lucja will want for nothing in her life. Oh, I cannot help myself, and I—” Jaskier sighs, once again. The amount of sighing today is a bit excessive, even for a poet. He’s well aware. “I think I’m falling in love.”

Geralt looks like he’s trying to suppress a growl, but ends up with an unpleasant grimace.

And Jaskier takes issue with that. He makes an unhappy noise.

“Oh, stop with that face. I know you want to mock me,” Jaskier admonishes, mouth forming a pout. “But I am not ashamed, I’ll have you know. I see being a good father as one of the most attractive qualities in a man, if not the most attractive! Though I admit, I have a soft spot, especially for him. Did you hear the story? To think Andrej took in an orphan girl under such tragic circumstances, just to give her a home… How can my heart not go out to him?”

Jaskier looks into the distance, lapsing into silence. The soup is no longer hot, and he digs into it slowly, mood still chirpy and stomach still full of warm fuzziness.

For some reason, Geralt keeps staring at Jaskier.

He seems offended, even.

“Hmm,” Geralt deadpans, stressing every word. “You are in love, because he is a good father?”

“Mm-hmm,” Jaskier hums absently.

Geralt stares for another moment, and another, his food and drink forgotten. It’s disconcerting. He simply slurps his soup loudly, filling the silence.

Tentatively, Geralt opens his mouth, and closes it, and then, he does it again a few times more.

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. Geralt does the same.

“What?” The bard is running out of patience.

“Nothing,” Geralt answers at the end, rather pointedly, looking directly at Jaskier. “So… Ciri.”

Jaskier blinks at the non sequitur. “Hmm?”

“You do remember her,” Geralt adds, “Ciri?”

Frowning, Jaskier is slightly concerned for Geralt’s sanity. Or his.

“Yes? I’ve not suffered a blow to the head, Geralt. I remember Ciri.”

“Just checking.”

The tiniest pout forms around Geralt’s mouth, a hint of dissatisfaction tugging at his lips like an overgrown child. His eyes are still boring into Jaskier’s face. He pauses for a beat, as if waiting for Jaskier to catch up on something.

Jaskier is even more confused about the weird mood of his witcher. He waits with bated breath for a moment longer, but Geralt is still looking at him expectantly.

Losing patience, Jaskier gestures for him to go on. “Well, what about Ciri?”

Geralt sighs, somehow sounding defeated.

“She wrote to me,” he says, finally dropping the grouchy tone when talking about Ciri. “I got the letter today.”

“Oh.” The mention of Ciri’s letter brings joy to Jaskier’s heart. The girl tends to write to them sporadically during her travels, and Geralt always discusses everything about her with Jaskier. It’s nice to hear from their little witcher-princess, who is actually not so little anymore. “That’s good, Geralt. What did she say?”

Taking a very deep breath, Geralt continues.

“She’s traveling, mostly. Took contracts here and there. Also—” Geralt says carefully, “said she missed me.”

“Yeah?” Jaskier smiles, proudly.

“Yeah, you know. She does… um, miss me, because I—um, you know, I’m her…” Geralt doesn’t finish the sentence, but leaves room for it to be finished. With what, Jaskier isn’t sure.

But Jaskier’s heart twists in sympathy. He misses Ciri dearly too, and it could explain Geralt’s strange behavior today, so he tries something else. “You know, we could visit her,” he suggests. “Write back, see if we can meet up and travel together for a while.”

Geralt’s eyebrows lift, ever so slightly, at those words.

“We can,” he agrees, voice lighter. “And… you remember how she has nightmares. If we travel together, I can stay with her at night until she falls asleep.” He thinks for a second. “Tell her a story or two, chase away the bad dreams, perhaps. It is my duty for her, as she is my… um, Ciri.”

The phrasing is perplexing. She is… all of their Ciri, of course. There’s no telling why Geralt said it like that.

“That’s a shame.” Still, Jaskier doesn’t like the idea of their little girl having nightmares, but then— “Wait, does she still let you tuck her in? She’s turning… twenty this summer, I believe? And now an independently working witcher. Isn’t she too old?”

It seems to dawn on Geralt too.

“Oh.” He blinks. “So she is,” Geralt splutters. “Never mind, then.”

Jaskier can’t blame him. Sometimes, they both forget how fast their little girl grows. She is now a proper grown woman, slaying monsters with better witchering skills and magical powers than anyone could have imagined.

He understands Geralt’s tendency for nostalgia, though. When you find a scared little girl and help her become this confident version of herself over the course of a decade, you’d want to linger in those memories, even though she can easily stand on her own feet now.

“Still, I believe it if you say so,” Jaskier muses. “She’s been through so much before, and past hurt fades slowly. Seeing you could be good for her too.”

Geralt looks down, suddenly stabbing the gooey soup with his spoon as if it’s a particularly difficult fiend. After a moment, he sighs. The excessive sighing seems to be catching on today.

For all of Geralt’s emotional constipation Jaskier has witnessed over the years, today’s grumpy episode is truly a bad one. And then, he thinks more about Geralt’s behavior all day, mentioning Ciri out of nowhere, insisting that she still needs care even though she’s grown. It’s nearly like Geralt is trying to make up for something, or drive a point home.

It’s just that Jaskier has been missing the point all along.

It clicks, all of a sudden.

Oh.

Of course.

How could he be so blind?

“Oh, I see.” He places a hand on Geralt’s arm, exhaling in relief. “Forgive me, Geralt dear, but I see it now.”

“You do?” Hope shines in Geralt’s eyes.

“I do!” Jaskier confirms. “It’s terrible I have not realized earlier. I have been incredibly neglectful of you.”

Eyes wide with hope, Geralt seems to have stopped breathing in anticipation. “Go on,” he prompts.

“It all makes sense. You have been acting weird since we sat down, and with me fussing over Andrej and his daughter…” Jaskier states gently, eyes bright. “Your guilt is acting up again! Am I correct?”

Geralt is frozen like a statue, incredulous.

He must want to deny it, but everything about him says he’s been caught off guard, which means Jaskier must be right on point. He pats himself on the back mentally, proud for having figured out his witcher’s internal struggles. After a few decades, he has become an expert in reading Geralt’s every mood.

Jaskier pulls the chair to the side of the table so they sit closer together, their knees touching. He wraps an arm around Geralt, hands running small circles on his back, a familiar soothing motion for when his witcher’s mind is being unkind to him.

“Um, Jask…”

“You don’t need to deny it, you know.” It’s silly that Geralt still has trouble accepting Jaskier’s help sometimes, so he remains patient. “It’s perfectly reasonable, with Ciri traveling alone, being away from your protection. You still feel responsible for her, as you should. The bond between the two of you is stronger than destiny itself.”

Geralt pinches between his eyes, looking torn. “You don’t need to tell me these things, Jask. That’s… really not what I’m thinking.”

This ridiculous, stubborn man. Jaskier shakes his head.

“Nonsense. You don’t need to hide it from me, Geralt. It’s only me.” Jaskier smiles encouragingly. “I’m always here when you have these doubts. Always. Ciri has to leave you—leave all of us—precisely because you’ve taught her well. You have prepared her in every way you can, and now the world will see what she can do.” He hugs Geralt tighter, knowing his touch is comforting for Geralt in these bouts of self-deprecation. “It’s okay to feel at a loss, but it’s not like she’ll never need you again. You are her father, and nothing will ever change that.”

The words settle quietly, genuinely, and Jaskier feels the tenseness in Geralt’s body fade. He takes pride in himself again, a grin stretching across his face, feeling incredibly achieved.

“Yes,” Geralt whispers, looking directly into Jaskier’s eyes. Their faces are only a hand’s breadth away, his tone intimate and sincere. “I am her father.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jaskier agrees happily. “You are the best father she could ever ask for.”

“Yeah?”

Geralt breathes in, his gaze lowering. They are leaning into each other’s space, with barely any distance in between. Jaskier’s hand is still wrapped around Geralt’s shoulder, and now Geralt has placed a hand on Jaskier’s knee.

For some reason, the fluttering in Jaskier’s stomach returns. The sensation is such a surprise that he nearly falls out of the chair.

“Geralt…”

“Jaskier, look,” Geralt breathes, lips parting, “I—”

Before he could finish a sentence, they are interrupted by someone coming down the stairs, their footsteps echoing loudly in the tavern. Jaskier snaps his attention away in an instant.

Oh, Andrej is back!

Jaskier lets out a delighted squeal, all thoughts replaced by the barkeep’s warm smile.

“Hold that thought, dear,” Jaskier says absently, patting Geralt on the back. “I should be… going.”

“But I—”

Geralt’s eyes are wide, darting between Andrej and Jaskier.

Jaskier stands up, checking on Geralt again. “Hmm? What is it? Do you still need me here?”

He would stay with Geralt, comforting him for the rest of the night if those old insecurities still plague his friend. A good night with a handsome and kind man will always come second when it comes to Geralt, but…

But, but, but…

Jaskier’s heart is already soaring away.

Luckily, the moment of panic in Geralt’s eyes fades into calm acceptance.

“Nothing,” Geralt says, resigned with a quiet smile. “I don’t need you here, Jaskier. You should go.”

His posture goes slack. It must be the relief after all of Jaskier’s words, all the doubt eased, judging from the way Geralt’s face morphs into an emotionless neutrality. Once again, Jaskier mentally pats himself on the back for having cracked the problem.

He beams at the thought, bending down to press a good night kiss on Geralt’s cheek, who lets out a little gasp, leaning into the chaste kiss.

“Don’t wait up!”

Jaskier winks before turning away, not looking back again. When he takes Andrej’s hand, there’s even a spring in his steps.

Oh, Jaskier should be allowed to feel a little smug, just a little bit. He has had the most wonderful night. On top of seeing right through Geralt’s emotional turmoil, he’s also landed himself a fine companion until morning.

The wonderful night can still get a lot better, he thinks.

[angelsdean]

love fics where these idiots in love put themselves in Situations and deny that all they want is to be stupidly in love and domestic together. no, you both are not too damaged for a relationship. no, a friends with benefits situation is not enough nor is it what you really want. they are so silly and suffering so much and i am frustrated but also enjoying it immensely

[tomatoshapedstars]

lil reunion comic I did for these dumbasses. yes gwen's overemotional and debating either punching or hugging kevin

[thenwhatthefukcisthis]

I LOVE how despite being perfectly capable efficient adults, both Arthur and eames suddenly become children at the prospect of the other liking him romantically cause of their long running pigtail pulling like one would say “what if we go to dinner... not as friends” and the other would inevitably blurt out “as enemies???!!!” making Ariadnes head hurt and cobbs eyes squint themselves in to slits I HATE THEM

[aerascreamer]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), Fluff and Crack, Bruce Wayne is So Done, Family Fluff, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members - Freeform, Everyone being an idiot, Fluff and Humor, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Miscommunication

Summary:

(Inspired by @incogneat-oh ‘s post on Tumblr. Link here)

Tim decides he needs sleep, for once. As he winds down in his new safe house near Crime Alley, his dream of sleep comes to halt, all thanks to a noisy neighbour.

——

Tim stretched his cold limbs with a grunt. One last look through his binoculars confirmed that the warehouse in front of him was still empty. He curses under his breath at another dead end.

The young detective has been investigating the Penguin’s operations for a while, wanting to find clues about his alliance with Two-Face. But the man keeps slipping between his fingers like a penguin sliding on ice.

Tim decided to call it a night and head back home to get some sleep. Everyone in the family has been pestering him to get some rest, to the point Alfred started to send ominous and scary voicemails. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d fall asleep standing if he just closed his eyes for more than two seconds.

However, the Manor or his dorm room was too far away. Way too far. His best option was his new safe house next to Crime Alley. Not fully equipped yet but there was a bed at least. Tim made his mind and headed towards the sector.

-

After a warm bath, he sunk into the soft and welcoming grasp of the bed sheets. He buried his face into the pillow, Morpheus calling him… until the sound of water rushing through the canalisations woke him up.

A voice started to sing, loud and deep.

Tim looked at the time on his phone.

3:30.

Someone was taking a shower.

At three thirty.

Someone was singing their heart out.

AT THREE THIRTY IN THE MORNING.

Tim got on his knees and banged against the wall he shared with the neighbour who dared disturbing him.

“SHUT UP YOU ARSE !”

The voice didn’t stop.

In fact, it grew louder.

“I SWEAR I WILL CALL THE COPS !”

The voice kept singing.

As Tim headed for his doorstep, he heard banging and shouting from the corridor, very clear despite the wall.

“SHUT UP YOU PEASANT !”

Tim froze.

He hoped the voice didn’t belong to who he thought. He hoped it wasn’t him. He hoped he didn’t have to deal with him right now, outside patrol. He flung the door open.

Looking to the left, he saw Damian hitting the neighbour’s door while snarling. Dick stood behind him, arm crossed. His expression was pissed but mostly tired. The two turned towards Tim, Damian’s fist hanging in the air.

“What are you doing here ?” The young brat asked.

“Trying to get some sleep.” Tim said

Dick tilted his head and stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What ?”

“You ? Actually wanting to get sleep ?”

“It’s true.”

Damian tutted.

“You said, and I quote: “Sleep is for the weak and I need answers.” ”

Tim pinched his nose, already exhausted by the demon spawn.

“Whatever, why are you two here ? I thought you went back to Blüd, Dick.”

“I did, but there was a lead I found for a case that send me back here,” The eldest replied. “I owed Damian a butt kicking on Mario Kart so I invited him.”

This time, Tim was the one raising an eyebrow.

“Why there and not the Manor ?”

“I needed -“

The neighbour’s door jerked open. Damian dodged at the last second and found himself face to face with a snarling Jason, his hair still wet.

“WHAT ?!”, he shouted. Then his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why are you all here?”

Damian crossed his arms in a mimic of Dick’s pose.

“We were trying to sleep before your poor singing skills disturbed us.”

Jason blinked.

“Wait, you have apartments in this building and floor ?”

“Yeah.” Both Tim and Dick answered. The tall man looked around before letting everyone in his place. Tim took a glanced at the inside, noting with suspicion the knives displayed pretty much everywhere.

“So can anyone tell me why you have set upon around my safe house ?”

“I thought I’d have a safe house here to resupply mid-patrol without having to go all the way back to the Cave,” Tim started. “Though I didn’t know you were here. Nor them”

“Same reasons,” Dick added. “I didn’t know about your presence either.”

Jason looked between his siblings and let out a chocked laugh.

“You geniuses set up next to each other without knowing it ?! So much for the great vigilantes of Gotham !”

“You didn’t either, Todd !”

The group broke into an argument, punctured by laughs as well as insults, before Dick clapped his hands.

“I suppose it’s a prefect opportunity for a sleepover then ?”

“If it means we can play Mario Kart, then yes,” Damian said. “I want a rematch.”

-

Bruce climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. Adjusting his grip on the various of supplies for vigilante purpose, he cursed the broken elevator. He wondered how long it hasn’t been fixed, if there were elderly or disabled people living in this place (Barbara often complained about the city’s negligence and unfriendly structure for wheelchair users), as well as how to get it fixed as fast and discreetly possible.

He struggled with the keys but managed to get inside his new safe house. The small apartment barely had any furnitures, and filled boxes littered the ground. Bruce sighed and started to unpack before putting everything in the drawers.

Muffled conversations leaked through the wall. Bruce couldn’t understand the conversation subject and was surprised people were up that late. Using it as background noise, he continued to clean the room.

Soon however, the voices grew louder. Bruce stopped and listened the conversation turning into a screaming match before crashes and thuds echoed in his safe house.

He got up with a tried sigh. How many times has he broken up fights between his kids and the JLA, and still he had to deescalate the situation even without any of his family or teammates around.

He got out and knocked on the next door. The fight inside his neighbour’s place stopped, then the door flung open.

“WHAT ?” Jason shouted, before his eyes widened in surprise.

Bruce stared at his second son, shock freezing his brain. It clicked back into action when he noticed the dark bruise swelling under his boy’s left eye.

“Why are you here ? What happened ? Are you in danger ?”

“I’m fine,” Jason replied, rolling his eyes. “Damian lost round in Mario Kart and threw a remote at me.”

“Damian ?”

“Father ?”

Bruce saw his youngest son’s head poking from the living room, soon followed by Dick and Tim.

“Waiiiiiiiiiiiitttttt…” Tim said, with a signature scowl of concentration. “Your new safe house…”

“Yes ?”

“You’re setting it up here ?”

“Yes, it’s the apartment over there.” Bruce replied, pointing a thumb to his front door.

Everyone stared at each other, before burning into laughs. Bruce watched with growing confusion as his kids rolled on the floor or collapsed onto the furnitures while holding their side. Even Damian was shaking with chuckles. A voice in his head whispered that he should go fetch a kit to check if the boys were exposed to Joker Venom.

“You’re all morons !” Jason managed to say through the hiccups. “I can’t believe even you would set up a place without knowing there’s a gargle of vigilante living around.”

Bruce narrowed his eye, the gears in his mind finally clicking. He let out a hum of embarrassment before stepping inside the safe house.

“You were playing video games right ?” he asked, trying to shift the disccusion.

“Yeah old man, but I have to warn you - HOLY S&%ç !”

Bruce snapped his head back, and almost jump to the ceiling at the sight of Cassandra. She gave him a large mischievous smile and held out packs of snacks.

“Wait you have a safe house here too ?!” Tim screeched.

“Yes.”

The whole place exploded into chaos.

Bruce stayed the night to play Mario Kart. Despite loosing more time than not, a feeling of fondness and calm bloomed in his chest. At some point, Cass and Dick called Duke, Steph and Barbara, who all came despite the late hour.

They managed to get Barbara up the stairs, flipping off the elevator on their way. As the night went on, everyone fell asleep one by one, the cozy warm of the moment making their eyelids heavy. Bruce stayed up last. It was such a rare occasion to have the kids all together and out of costume lately, so Bruce wanted to make sure to enjoy every second of it.

[lydiablackblade]

*Crowley is driving the Bentley 90mph in the middle of London during the Blitz*.

Aziraphale *beaming, hopeful*: There must be something I can do for you - in return?

Crowley *keep driving like a maniac, not looking at Aziraphale*: Forget it, will you?

Micheal at the first table read:

David at the first table read:

Every member on set during the first take:

We, who were watching the show for the first time:

Neil, probably:

[thekatebridgerton]

Today on another episode of things that will never stop being funny:

Remember when Kanthony was all respectful in their wedding night and suddenly Kate goes like "Hey maybe we should wait to have sex... I need time... Maybe a week"

And Anthony almost died right then and there. Because oh my friggen nugget he's been horny as F for Kate since he met her and meanwhile she's cool as a cucumber telling him he ain't that much of a good lay?

This! This was the moment Anthony knew he'd spend the rest of his life doing mental gymnastics to convince Kate to have sex with him.

I mean don't get me wrong I loved Kanthony first time in the show. But I was robbed of Anthony's absolute 'WTF woman you've been giving me a hard on since I met you and I don't affect you at all ' absolute mental breakdown that was him having sex with Kate for the first.

Kate tells him she wants to wait a week and Rake boy truly was like

[ghostinthegallery]

It is WIP Wednesday and I am feeling saucy. In case anyone was wondering about necron…stamina.

“Suddenly modest, dear?” Trazyn said. “What I wouldn’t give to have had a chance to see you like this in flesh times. Your blushing must have been magnificent.”

“Is this when I get to try and kill you?” Orikan snapped. “As a ‘treat’?”

Trazyn held up his hands in surrender. He rose, quickly surveying the altar. They would have to make some repairs. Heavy, metal bodies had a way of damaging wood, though he wondered how exactly they had managed to break three of the four iron candle stands. His engrams were still a bit…scrambled.

He walked over and offered a hand to help Orikan stand. To his surprise, Orikan accepted, and Trazyn pulled him to his feet.

“Sannet,” Trazyn sent via interstitial message. “I assume our guest’s ship has been fully prepared?”

“My lord!” Sannet’s voice returned, sounding oddly shocked. “Oh, thank goodness. Are you…um…well?”

With some hesitation Trazyn replied, “Yes? You sound concerned.”  

“It’s only…that is to say…my lord it has been a while since we heard from you. I understand if you didn’t want to be disturbed. It’s just that we did consider checking on you, but you weren’t, uh, alone and we didn’t want to interrupt, but without orders—“

“Sannet,” Trazyn said. “How long has it been exactly?”

Silence.

“Sannet?”

“Eight standard months, my lord.”

“Eight months?” Trazyn said aloud.

“What?” Orikan exclaimed, ripping his hand free of Trazyn’s grasp. “You kept me here for eight months?”

“I did nothing of the sort!” Trazyn shot back. “You’re the chronomancer, perhaps you should have kept better track of time.”