try it first

anonymous asked:

I just thought about what if Jason accidentally fakes his death? Like the batfam thought his still in a warehouse or something when it blew, and his comms destroyed so they can't call him, and he just went to a safe house after to sleep and like he doesn't know until a few weeks later when he shows up at the manor to meet up with Alfred for tea.

would it be better or worse if he wasn’t even really getting along with the rest of the family at that point? either way you play it, jason has a bunch of redundancies for his safe houses, and he was trained just as well as any of them. there has to be at least one or two he’s managed to keep secret from the rest of the bats. 

jay doesn’t really make a habit of carrying explosives in his helmet anymore; that was really more of a one-off when he first came back to gotham. since then, he generally just carries more explosives with him to make up for it. because of that, and because he’s usually fighting standard-grade humans, it’s not all that likely that he tosses his helmet aside in the middle of a fight.

a warehouse blows. red hood was in it, they know that (it all but had “This Is A Trap For Red Hood” written all over it), and when searching it, the bats find the badly burnt remnants of hood’s shattered helmet. no body, but –

it’s easy to assume the worst. it’s already happened once, after all. they hold on to hope for a week, but they haven’t been able to find any sign of jason. he can’t be raised on his comms, he hasn’t been in any of the safe houses that they know of, oracle couldn’t find any sign of him on cameras. 

no sign of him in a hospital or even leslie’s clinic, no body matching his description in the morgue. (that last doesn’t mean anything. no body at the warehouse, but someone had set the trap – they could have easily dumped it somewhere else.)

there’s no sign of him, living or dead, anywhere in the city so far as they can tell.

red hood’s been throwing himself into ever-escalating fights since he came back to gotham, and finally they have to assume that this time, his luck didn’t hold long enough for him to get out. 

the family sinks into some kind of shock. it’s impossible to believe that they lost him again.

it’s not something that can even be explained to the public. how do you explain that you’re in fresh mourning for a son and brother that was declared dead over half a decade ago? 

then again, all the bats are good at hiding how they feel. 

they mourn quietly, but they mourn.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Destiel + Coffee

He readjusted his backpack as he stood in the doorway, looking into the classroom trying to decide what the hell he had done to piss the fates off to screw him over this badly because obviously he had done something.

Otherwise there would have been more seats open than just the two. The one in the front row and then the one right next to the beautiful boy who seemed to be more interested in his sketchbook than what was going on in the class.

And for the first time in probably ever, Dean’s palms began to get sweaty and his stomach was tied up in knots at the thought of sitting next to him.

Dean scoffed, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans and decided to take the seat in the front of the classroom. The boy didn’t even look up as the bell rang and the teacher walked into the classroom, glasses pulled down on the bridge of his nose, reading off the names that was on his roll.

His name was Castiel Novak and Dean refused to actually acknowledge his existence because honestly it was easier for him to believe that Cas wasn’t there than admit that anytime Cas looked at him or hell, looked up from that sketchbook at all, made Dean’s stomach flutter in a way that he didn’t understand.

It was the third week of school and Dean was already hating the seat that he had stupidly picked over the one in the back of the classroom (just another reason to hate Cas because if he wasn’t so… so… whatever he was then Dean would have sat in that seat and everything would have been okay).

It was the third week of school and Mr. Singer had already managed to call on Dean enough times asking for an answer that Dean stumbled through to make him look like he should still be in elementary.

For godsake, it was only American History. It shouldn’t be this hard.

Usually Dean loved group work. It meant that the work would be divided up amongst the group and if he was lucky enough, he would be paired up with someone who cared about their grade so much that they would just take over the whole project, do all the work and let Dean put his name on the final product. And if he wasn’t so lucky, well… he knew how to do enough to get a decent grade.

However, it was the year that the fates wanted to fuck him over and Mr. Singer decided that group projects would be the way to go. And groups that were “completely randomized” according to the man himself, he and Cas managed to get paired up together.

The one kid that he didn’t want to be paired up with, the one kid that he literally hadn’t spoken two words to since school had started, the one fucking kid that put him in this situation in the first place, he was paired up with.

Cas closed up his sketchbook as Dean gathered his stuff and moved to sit in the one empty seat in the entire class.

For the rest of the class, the didn’t speak to each other than to divide up the work and that was that.

The bell couldn’t ring fast enough. Dean had his belongings packed up and stuffed into his bag and out the door within seconds of it ringing. It wasn’t until he was seated in his next class that he realized that his heart literally had stopped beating out of his chest the entire time that he was sitting next to class.

And it was a damn shame to have waited this long to figure out that Cas had the bluest eyes that he’s ever seen.

And honestly, why did Dean care about that anyway? Cas was just some guy that was in his history class who managed to look pretty enough to make his heart race. If they actually held a real conversation, those feelings would go away. Wouldn’t they?

They managed to be a B and Dean was happy with it and he was back in his respective seat and he and Cas hardly ever spoke.

Which did nothing to help his little, ridiculous school boy crush.

Cas always carried around his sketchbook. He kept it held close to his chest when he was walking through the hallways as if it contained every secret that he had and whenever anyone asked him if he could look at what he was working on, he would blush and shake his head.

He was geeky to say the least. An adorable, little geeky art kid that managed to draw trouble to him like flies to sugar water.

Dean was walking to his next class, taking one of the side stairwells that weren’t often taken when he heard a whimper quickly followed up with the sound of a slap and something falling to the ground.

Dean furrowed his brow as he backed down the steps and rounded the corner of the hallway only to see a crowd of boys trapping some kid against the lockers.

“Whatcha drawing in here, Novak?” One of the kids asked as he bent down and picked up the sketchbook that he slapped out of Cas’s hands. Cas made a move to take his sketchbook back but his hand was slapped away.

“Please.” Cas begged. “Let me go. Keep the sketchbook if you want but…”

Anger boiled underneath Dean’s skin as he walked towards the group and grabbed the shoulder of the kid that had Cas’s sketchbook and shoved him backwards, hard. The kid stumbled, dropping the sketchbook in the process.

“Get outta here.” Dean growled. “Get outta here and leave him alone before I decide to break some of your front teeth in for messing with the kid.”

The kid chuckled, squaring his shoulders as he righted himself and Dean didn’t hesitate to follow through his promise. The kid howled in pain, holding his mouth, took one look at Dean and then he and his buddies ran, probably to go tell a teach. Maybe not.

Snitching on Dean would only be snitching on themselves.

Dean bent down and picked up the fallen sketchbook at the same time that Cas made a move to grab it in a rush, probably to keep Dean from seeing what was drawn in those heavy pages but it was too late.

Dean felt his heart stop beating and get stuck in his throat as he looked at the sketches.

They were all of him. All sketches drawn with charcoal of profiles or the back of his head but none of them were of Dean looking head on. He flipped through the other pages and while there were sketches of other things but most of the pages were full of himself.

“I… I can explain.” Cas stuttered as he straightened himself.

But Dean looked up from the sketches to meet that those blue eyes and he couldn’t keep himself from saying it. “Wanna get some coffee sometime?”

[ ship/character + word ]


I never thought I’d get to see club penguin’s iceberg tip but here we are, probably 10 years since I stopped believing it was possible, and dreams have come true. (Excuse the sniff in the middle - I was holding back tears)


Sasuke: What are you doing, Menma?

Menma: *looks away* ….Eh… Nothing….

Sasuke: Don’t disturb your Papa and I when we are sleeping. 

Menma: Heh heh… sorry. ♥

Merry Christmas from the SNS family! 2016