#call tax

[homunculus-argument]

This counts as vent art.

[calicomarie11]

So I know we all assume Buck and Eddie have keys to each other’s houses, but we are sleeping on all the other things they have keys to.

I want someone to realize that Buck just has a key to Eddie’s truck and Eddie has a key to the Jeep.

They share a storage unit, because it’s cheaper that way.

There’s a safety deposit box at the bank with both of their important docs (cough, Eddie’s will, cough).

They share a note file with all the passwords for their streaming services and Chris’s school apps.

Just, sometimes I think we don’t make them codependent enough.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

probably will be FORCED by Pomp And Circumstance to go to the CLOWN HOSPITAL, for a CLOWN INJURY (may or may not be An ALLEGEDLY Fractured Foot...a MOURNFUL MALADY incurred in the most PATHETIC and LAPSIDAISICAL Fashion of TRAGICALLY UNFASHIONABLY Events......

Anyway. Forgot what I was saying. Buy me 1/25th of an x-ray or whatnot I guess

[joonsbubu]

happy birthday to me 🐶

[awkward-fink]

Finding them sleeping...

John Price

„John, dinner is ready.... John!” You stand at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the rail as you call for your husband upstairs. John had come home from a month-long mission just three days ago and he had done nothing but sleep and eat and lounge around, watching you, recharging his batteries. This morning, he had kissed your temple, one big hand palming the back of your neck lovingly the other grabbing the cheek of your ass possessively and had whispered into your ear, breath tickling the shell of your ear, that he would conquer the only foe living in this house. The one that hid away from open eyes and bred in the shadows, duplicating every time you turn around and become aware of the looming fight again.

Paperwork.

You hadn’t seen your noble knight and battler of paperwork since you brought him a small platter of snacks around midday, having concerned yourself with household chores and doing the dishes, going shopping (because that ravenous man had eaten you out of everything you had stored in the fridge, and even the cupboards).

So now, hours later, after not even hearing a peep from the man you call your husband, you decide to climb up the stairs again, to follow the old wooden hallway to the office right at the end, which’s door was slightly ajar.

“John? Are you alright? Did you hear me?” You speak up again, slowly pushing open the heavy oaken door, the angles creaking as you do. “John? Jo – oh.” You have to bite your lip as your eyes fall onto the big and burly man with slight greying hair at his temples.

John was still here, was still at his work desk. But that was where the picture you remembered from this midday differed from now. Instead of slightly leaning over the desk and rummaging through papers, one hand holding up his chin and head John was now entirely slumped over the surface of his desk, his hand still holding his pen while his other had dropped down, hidden from your sight. His cheek was smushed against the last paper he had worked on, ink stains in blue and red decorating his cheek and even the ridge of his nose. His eyes were firmly closed, his lips parted invitingly if not for the very small strand of drool at the edge of his mouth.

Your poor husband was asleep.

Dead asleep, like a stone, like the DEAD asleep. Just like the first three nights after you both came back from your two-week long honeymoon.

But you couldn’t leave him like that, his neck and back would surely be killing him tomorrow. So, you step closer, loudly, the floorboards creaking underneath your socked feet. (You had tried to touch him once, exactly once, when he was unaware and couldn’t hear you walking closer. He had been so sorry afterwards, coming back quick to himself, but he still had punched you hard and grabbed your arm to put you down. You knew your man, knew his work and the problems coming with it.)

“John… come one, hubby. Its me, wake up for me?” you murmur gently, slowly reaching out with your foot to tap his leg, poised to let jump back if you needed to. But it seemed as you didn’t, as your husbands’ eyes slowly opened, his nose crinkling. With a groan his body started to move, joints cracking and his muscles tense from sleeping in such a weird position.

“Love?” he muttered, his voice low and gravely from sleep, his eyes slowly focusing on you as he leans back in his chair. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing is wrong. I called you for dinner.” “Dinner? But you were just in to… Oh.”

You nod. “Yeah, you fell asleep. Maybe you should go to bed, hubby. You clearly need a bit more time to relax and sleep before you jump into the next fight again.” Instead of talking to you, he hums, a jaw breaking yawn following.

“Come to bed, Dinner is ready but its just in the oven to stay warm, it will be there later on.” “… come with me? Sleep better with you.”

“Always Love. Always.”

[scarapanna]

Fun fact: This guy is THE og cuckoo-esque avian ever, started out the entire genre all by himself

Also he's as good of a mom as a cuckoo mom (pun intended), avoids paying child support since forever

Definetly owns a #1 dad cup somewhere

[secret-sageent]

Rattling off my sexuality and gender when asked like it’s my freaking coffee order

[taxlikesmarsroverz]

Headcanon: each toon handler has a group of toons they take care of

Sam has one less because Shrimpo is A LOT. And there's not enough toons lol

Theres kinda a theme for each but also not??

[altocat]

Sephiroth being a 6'7 grown adult and Glenn STILL doting and fussing over him like he's still a kid is like my favorite little hc from FS.

Everyone sees scary soldier man. Glenn just sees the same tiny socially awkward runt desperately in need of a hug.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 195

“Oh. It’s you.” 

The entity that had been summoned practically growled, a cloak like swirling galaxies- or was it swirling galaxies molded into a cloak- shimmering around their form. One pair of arms crossed over a chest where a star pulsed with the heartbeat of universes, alive yet dying as lazarus green eyes glowered down at the league and bats alike. 

“You know you could, fucking call, right?” they whined, aura of terror suddenly broken, unnatural fear torn away and leaving all of them wrong-footed and confused.

Well, apparently all of them except for Ras, who had an honest to fuck grin on his face, one that looks almost carefree, if a little feral. Nope. No thanks. Not this timeline-

“But phones didn’t exist last we spoke, ya ‘amar.” 

[choccy-zefirka]

The "average Crow lives up to 60 years" factoid is actually just a statistical error. The average Crow lives no longer than 35 years. Caterina Dellamortes Georg, who lives in a mansion and has outlasted her children and all but two of her grandchildren, is an outlier and should not have been counted.

[clownhonkbonk]

oscar n some noel?????

had too much fun with colours ( i live in shame )

[cloudabserk]

i hate my boss i hate my boss i hate my boss

[frownyalfred]

The main Justice League conference hall, but it's just Barry with his head in his hands, Batman (already pinching the bridge of his nose under the cowl), and a strained but hopeful Superman staring at a small car's worth of unfiled tax documents and receipts all across the table.

[mellohiizz]

are requests still open? im super sorry in advance if theyre not

can i get a uhhhhh large wemmbu with a side of fries ^-^

coming right up anon! a wemmbu, but im so sorry we're out of fries, so you get a little egg instead, hope that's okay!! ^_^

[seabeck]

Just found out I live within the shadow (very far shadow, not at risk really but I shouldn’t eat dirt) for one of the first EPA superfund sites. No one told me about this, I found out because I was checking the parcel map to see who owned a property