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Batfamily Headcanon

Dick Grayson hangs up every phone call with “I love you.” At this point, it doesn’t really matter who the calls are too.

There were some awkward times when he had to call the league that he ended up saying “I love you” to people like Clark or Diana, but eventually everyone who knows him really got used to it.

For the most part, everyone says “I love you, too!” (But he’s a real easy guy to love.) Honestly it melts his heart every time.

He’s called a few pizza places or a customer service hotlines and still ended the phone call the same way (to his embarrassment.)

Now I keep thinking about him as the Batman hanging up on the League after saying “I love you” and then getting a call back after a minute only for everyone to say “I love you too”

Could you draw some parental Scar with Mei? I love all your art by the way, 10/10 best blog on this damn website

*accidentally adopts a daughter*

Fanfiction recommendations?? Love your blog!

here are some of the fics we have saved in our discord! (put under a read more cause uhhhh we have a lot)

Keep reading

get you a boy who can do both

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It’s a few days following the Promised Day. Al is regaining his strength, although it happens slowly. Ed, save for the occasional spike of pain through the puncture wound in his arm and the dull soreness in his body, is more or less back to normal. He still has a lot to do before the two of them can leave for good—accounts to close, resignation forms to hand in to the military, personal budgets to balance, tabs to pay. What may be weeks’ worth of paperwork he needs to get sorted out before he can finally close the military chapter of his life. He plans to get the jump on it while Al recovers, so the two can return to Resembool as soon as Al’s ready.

So hardly 72 hours following his defeat of Father, Ed is standing at the hospital check-out desk, running through a mental laundry list of loose ends he has to tie up. He flies through the hospital check-out form—name and date of birth and signature and home town. The secretary at the desk takes the papers and makes a small noise. It stops Ed just as he turns to leave. “You’re not 18 yet, are you?” she asks.

“No. Why?” “Then you need someone to sign the parent or guardian line. You can’t check yourself out until you’re 18.” “I’m a state alchemist. I’m pretty sure that qualifies me to check myself out of a hospital if I want.” “Sorry. These are different rules.”

Biting back a comment, Ed twists back down the hallway. He keeps his eyes peeled for the names on the door, hoping (though he knows he’s wrong) that maybe Hohenheim stuck around for a suture or two. He passes Mustang, who can’t help but comment, “You’re in a rush today.” “Of course I am. I’ve got about 800 different forms to sign before the military cuts me loose, and I can’t even check myself out without a parent’s signature. Where’s my stupid excuse for a father?”

He doesn’t stop to gauge Mustang’s reaction. He rounds corners, climbs stairs, sharp eyes bouncing back and forth from room card to room card. Nothing with “Hohenheim” on it. Nothing even close. His arm aches—both do, actually—but he hardly notices past the aggravation brewing in his mind.

And after 20 minutes of rounds, he ends up back at the secretary’s desk, more flushed than before, arms folded over his chest. “My dad’s not here. How much do I have to pay you off to let me go?” She looks up at him, somewhat confused, and somehow much more tired than before. She blinks behind dusty glasses. “Oh…No, you’re free to leave now. …I guess.”

“Well why didn’t you tell me before?” Ed asks. She pulls his form out and pushes it back to him. Ed takes it, turns it, scans it. All the parts he’d filled out are still there, but the bottom has changed since he last saw it. On the line, in tight blue ink, is “Col. R. Mustang, (Military Commander)” Ed blinks, brow knitted, because the line goes on: “Lt. R. Hawkeye” is looped in neat cursive beside it. Black ink below: “Izumi Curtis” then in thick blockish letters, just the word “Sig”. Taking up the most space, and done in the neatest, most brilliant cursive font: “Major Alexander Louis Armstrong”. To its right is an almost flat line, with just enough bumps to perhaps say “Gen. Olivier Armstrong”. A flowery “Maria Ross” and a messy “Denny Brosh” (both in to visit Major Armstrong). A “Zampano”. A “Jerso”. A “Heinkel”. A “Darius”. “Tim Marcoh” is squished in the paper’s dwindling space. “Kain Fury” “Heymans Breda” “Vato Falman”…

Ed glances up to the secretary, who looks suddenly so tired. “We just… At least one of those is…probably valid. You’re free to go. You’re released.” Ed nods, smiling and peddling backwards. His one metal leg clanks with each step. “Right, thank you!”

The secretary leans over her desk, shouting to keep up with his happily retreating figure. “Just so you know, these are official documents. Patient protocol is not a game. It doesn’t reflect well on me if your Colonel thinks it’s okay to round up half the hospital to sign–this is not a “get well” card–just…Please tell him not to do this again!”

“Oh sure thing,” Ed shouts back. “But that depends on how difficult you plan to be with Al.”

إنسانية 🕊️

‏نزعت الخطاف من فم احد القروش وعند مشاهدة القروش الاخرى لذلك صارت القروش تأتي لنفس المكان لنزع الخطاف من فمها علما ان هذه القروش لا تحب ان يلمسها احد.

هذا في البهاما والغواصة ،خلال الـ 15 سنة الماضية ، أزالت 250 خطاف.

ed: is kind of quiet

roy: oh fuck oh gd why did you ever let me do this i cant be a dad what do 11 yr olds even eat i need to go

hughes: its midnight i think he’s just tired

what are some things that the batkids picked up from bruce that makes them remind people of him, like the way someone smiles or a nervous tick they dont notice

To start off, every single one of them has inherited Bruce’s most prominent nervous habit: counting. Bruce counts exits, people, weapons, seconds, windows, inches, and everything else. It calms him down to know how many. It makes him feel like he’s sufficiently aware of his environment. 

The kids picked it up because Bruce quizzes them. Walk into a room with Bruce and he’s likely to ask for a few stats. It’s part of training; therefore, every kid developed the habit of counting anything Bruce might ask about. None of them ever lost the habit, so any of them can give a statistical situation report at the drop of the hat. It comes in handy. 

Obviously they also gained his ability to appear/disappear at will, but that was intentional.

When he’s annoyed or suspicious, Bruce narrows his right eye more than his left. Tim does the same thing, at about the same frequency.

Bruce wears an heirloom ring with the family crest, and he turns it absentmindedly while he’s thinking. Jason won’t wear rings because he knows that when he does, he’ll twist them too. 

Bruce and Cass have the same asymmetrical grin.

Since Duke is new on the job, he repeats Bruce’s instructions to himself while he works, including the original tone and inflection. It’s not an intentional imitation, but it’s a good one. 

Dick inherited the most. It’s only natural. After all, he’s been with Bruce the longest. Mutual friends often say that Dick and Bruce talk the same, in a way they can’t really explain. It’s a little bit of a different situation, because it’s not just that Dick picked up Bruce’s habits. They’re two people who have borrowed so many of each other’s mannerisms that they end up somewhere in the middle. Nobody quite knows who started what. 

Damian makes the “hnn” sound. Who did he pick that up from? Trick question. It was Dick, while Bruce was fake-dead, BUT Dick picked it up from Bruce, so it still counts. 

Damian actually has a lot of his father’s mannerisms and habits, because he copies them intentionally. He really wants to be like Bruce :)

Ed at age 40: What do you MEAN I can't be cuddled by my dads anymore what am I, an adult???