#<<< as a contingency plan if this just takes over my brain

[fujii-draws]

(Thinks about smd hero and partner)(explodes 100000 times)

[synamartia]

“ Need A Hand … ? „

“ Let's make your thoughts a reality … „

synopsis ┊ ◜ For the weeks following your one-night stand, Alastor was beside himself with a desire still fairly new to him - his mind constantly occupied with thoughts of you and your shared evening. Night after night, he would watch you from the shadows, a familiar ache in the pits of his belly winding tighter and tighter as you tried to recreate the very same event in your mind's eye with your silicone toy. Eventually, having had enough of your failed attempts at self-gratification, Alastor takes pity on your tortured soul and decides to offer his assistance . . . ◞ wc ┊ ◜ 4,130 ◞ warnings ┊ ◜ Alastor x Reader ✧ Afab!Reader ✧ Non-sex repulsed Alastor ✧ No pronouns or Y/N used ✧ Explicit / 18+ Only / MDNI ✧ Sexual situations ✧ Slight Stalker!Alastor ✧ Shower masturbation (Reader) ✧ Mutual masturbation ✧ Vaginal fingering ✧ Tentacles ✧ Hand job ◞ notes ┊ ◜ Can't believe we're already two weeks down! Time sure does fly when you're having fun, huh? Go check out last week's work linked down below on the Coven's Kinktober 2024 masterlist, and don't forget to give some likes, a few reblogs, and a follow to my darling wives~! Heaven and hell knows they deserve it! And to all my Haunted fans: this was a scene I had planned out for Haunted, but decided to cut it after writing 4+ chapters of pure smut. I wanna try to focus on the plot real soon! But don't worry, there will be more sexy times in that series! So for now, enjoy this little snippet~! ◞ links ┊ ◜ syn's masterlist ✧ coven kinktober 2024 ◞

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand; a friend helping out another friend; a one-off occurrence contingent entirely upon your careless mistakes and Alastor's prowess as a deal-making sinner. Weeks had gone by, and you hadn't uttered a single word to one another about it, dancing around the subject almost as if you were afraid to speak of it. As if talking about it outside the safe confines of Alastor's bedroom would make the heated memories disappear and any unspoken thoughts or desires evaporate into thin air, along with the few scraps that remained of your now tattered business relationship and friendship.

But you still found your mind wandering back to that night, struggling to hide the way your cheeks would flush a bright red at the memories flooding your brain; how your voice would crack with both nervousness and excitement when speaking to him about an issue with the hotel or a resident; or how you would rub your thighs together for the smallest bit of friction when he would enter the room and flash you that wide grin of his, the knowledge of your endeavors dancing behind carmine irises.

And in the late hours of the night, after everyone in the hotel had long since gone to bed, you would desperately try to recreate your experience in your mind's eye as your fingers drew fast circles on your clit, your silicone toy plunging deeper and deeper into your needy cunt - Alastor's voice at the forefront of your mind, coaxing you closer and closer, just as he did back then. But you failed every single time; your imagination was simply not enough to get you there, your fingers and toy nothing but a cheap imitation.

It had become a nightly ritual of sorts; when it wasn't done properly, Alastor felt more restless than usual - unable to read more than a single paragraph of his favorite book or properly hunt the deer scampering through his bayou pocket dimension without it. At the end of the day, after all of Charlie's redemption exercises and your basic duties as an employee, you would immediately slink off to your room under the false pretense of exhaustion from a long day's work.

Although you were none the wiser, Alastor was never far behind, slipping into the shadows as you stripped yourself of the hotel's uniform the second you heard the lock on your door click into place. A rush of pride would wash over the Radio Demon when he noticed that you were wearing the new undergarments he'd gifted you, to replace the ones he'd made a mess of so many nights ago - followed by a sense of possession when he eyed the faint bruises and scratch marks on your thighs and breasts that had yet to fully heal.

Once completely nude, your discarded clothing laying in a heap at the foot of your bed, you would saunter off to the connected bathroom, turning the knobs of your shower until steam filled the small space, obscuring your view of anything more than five feet away. He'd listen quietly as you washed off the day's dirt and grime, the hot water relaxing your tense muscles and lulling you into a false sense of security and solitude, the now all too familiar scent of your shampoo wafting through the air and clouding his senses. And he would wait patiently for that tell-tale sigh; the same one you made when he touched you, signaling that his new favorite broadcast was about to start.

The steam was thick, making it so that your silhouette was all Alastor could see as you removed the detachable shower head from its hook, tracing the steel object down your front until you felt it against your heated core. Excitement coursed through his veins as he imagined the expressions you were making, hands gripping tight his microphone as his own muscles flexed beneath his now much too restricting clothes. Eventually, you would begin to moan quietly as the pleasure began to build, raising your leg high enough to rest your foot on the grab bar, using your free hand to spread your folds apart and turning the head until the warm water sprayed directly on your clit.

And when he caught a faint whisper of his name as it fell from your lips, he would sink his teeth into the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. It was a grand symphony, the sounds you made, and the last thing Alastor wanted to do was interrupt such a beautiful performance before its crescendo and climactic end. He waited with bated breath as your moans rose in volume, your hips moving involuntarily as you chased that elusive high, but like so many nights before, it wasn't enough. Your body felt tense once more as you teetered on the edge of release, unable to push yourself off that cliff despite your intense desire for the freefall into ecstasy.

Soon, the pleasure died down, your orgasm eluding you once again and you eventually gave up on the shower head, a frustrated groan slipping from your throat as you moved to shut off the water. Alastor dissolved into the shadows just before you stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel folded neatly on a nearby shelf and wrapping it around your body. Careful not to enter your line of vision, he manifested nearby and admired your skin, beads of water rolling down your body to be absorbed by the plush fabric wrapped around your torso and upper thighs, or the bath rug beneath your feet.

For a split second, Alastor had gotten distracted by a faint bite mark behind your left ear made by him during your escapades, and barely avoided being caught in the mirror when you wiped away the thick layer of steam and condensation blocking your view.

Blissfully unaware of your company, you went about your usual nighttime routine, starting with your dental hygiene, then your skin care, then your hair. By the time you finished gently raking your brush through your damp tangles, your skin had dried almost completely despite the humidity of the steamy bathroom, and you discarded your used towel in the hamper near the door as you reentered the main room of your suite. Your frustration was clear by your stiff movements as you made your way to your wardrobe for a fresh set of undergarments and pajamas.

He almost felt bad enough to end your nightly routine in that moment, to help you reach your end that you had been chasing after so desperately night after night. But the promise of an even greater, more illustrious second act in an already superlative performance helped him to steel his resolve and remain hidden from your eyes. And just as he had watched you do so many times before, you closed the doors after picking out something to sleep in and turned on the balls of your feet, walking over to the side of your bed and tossing the clothes on top of the duvet.

Alastor had memorized this scene, eyeing your naked form as you grazed one hand over your abdomen, letting it drift up to your left breast and cradling its weight, slender fingers pinching the sensitive bud between your thumb and forefinger. With a light tug followed by an experimental twist, you sighed as you squeezed the squishy mound, your other hand coming up to mirror its twin. Another sigh, followed by your eyes closing shut and your head lolling back, and then another frustrated groan after a few seconds of teasing your own nipples.

"I should just go to bed..." you would whisper to yourself, your hands dropping back down as you reached for your panties and slid them up your legs. He eyed the way the lace bit into your flesh where the elastic wasn't as stretchy, baring his teeth as he fought back the urge to reveal himself and tear the offensive fabric from your body. Then you reached for the oversized tshirt, pulling it over your head and slipping your arms through, pulling it down until it covered the panties hugging you close.

Alastor wasn't sure why you bothered with clothes - you would end up removing them later on during your efforts. But who was he to question the mind and the methods of an artist as talented as you?

You stood there for a few minutes, looking between your bed and the table beside it, contemplating if you should even make an attempt tonight. You were almost positive that you would fail, just as you had the night before, and the one before that. Maybe if you tried a visual aid, that might help?

With another groan, you didn't waste any more time thinking about it and turned to the night table by your bedside, reaching into the bottom drawer for the obscene toy that had worked wonders for your tense muscles and stressed mind before he ruined your vivid imagination. Tossing it onto the bed, you slid your panties back off before climbing onto the soft mattress, crawling to the center and lying flat on your back. Spreading your legs open, Alastor inhaled sharply when he saw the glistening sheen of your slicked hole, his fingertips overlapping the shaft of his microphone and digging into his palm.

You sighed again, placing one hand on your clothed breast and giving a gentle squeeze, trailing it downwards until you touched bare skin. Grabbing hold of your toy, silicone heavy in your hand, you lowered it to your aching cunt and rubbed the tip between your folds.

Alastor's brows furrowed together in confusion when he realized you had skipped a step, not teasing yourself with your fingers like you had so many nights before. You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, which was odd but not entirely out of place for your behavior throughout the day. You skipped breakfast that morning, rushed through your work, barely ate any food during the communal dinner Charlie forced everyone to attend, and you had excused yourself much earlier than usual - now you were skipping steps in your nightly endeavors? Something was wrong. Perhaps he had waited too long to initiate a second encounter, and you were beginning to lose interest? Or perhaps you had fallen ill.

"Alastor..." you whispered, rubbing the length of your silicone toy against your clit for a moment or two, then lowered it until it was lined up with your entrance. Part of you wanted to give up before you even tried, knowing full well how this would end from past experience. Closing your eyes, you pushed the toy inside, wincing at the painful sting caused by the stretch, silently cursing yourself for not preparing before this step. But you thought, maybe switching it up might help in the long run, even if it was painful at first.

Alastor watched you from the shadowy corner of your dimly lit room, shamelessly palming himself through his slacks as you took your time in sliding the toy deeper into your aching heat. Part of him wanted to wait longer, to see how long it would take you to come to him, to ask for his assistance. But several weeks had already gone by, and he was beginning to lose what little sleep he was able to get just watching you try and fail over and over again. As much as he wanted to hold out, his impatience was getting the better of him.

"Need a hand?"

"H-huh-?!" you yelped, eyes shooting open and head snapping to your left at the sound of Alastor's static filtered voice. At first you thought you had imagined it, expecting there to be nothing there when you turned your head. "Oh my god!" you screeched when your eyes locked with Alastor's, your entire face turning a brighter shade of red than his hair. He was laying there on his side, head propped up on his elbow and eyes teasing, reveling in your scared reaction.

"Not even close, dear."

In a panic, you pulled the toy from your core and threw it to the side in an attempt to hide it, your legs slamming shut as you moved to sit up. But Alastor stopped you with a single hand to your chest, pressing you back down into the bed as he cradled his own with his free hand. "A-Alastor, what the hell are you-?!" you started, but he only pressed a single clawed digit to your lips, the corners of his mouth pulling up even further than usual. He waited until you were completely silent, then trailed his finger down your chin to your neck until he reached the collar of your t-shirt, tugging on the hem as his eyes traveled further south.

Humming to himself, Alastor looked back up at your face and raised a single brow at the confusion he saw in your eyes. Were you actually confused, or were you just pretending to be shy and embarrassed to get a rise out of him? "Let's not beat around the bush, darling. I know what you've been doing every night since our last encounter," Alastor told you, causing your face to flush an even brighter red, looking away from him as you fidgeted beneath his gaze. "I don't... how?" you asked, only to have him raise a brow at the question, as if he were asking you, 'really'?

Grinning wider, Alastor let his gaze travel back down along with his hand, slipping between your thighs effortlessly and grazing two fingers over your slick entrance. He didn't miss the gasp of surprise tumbling from your lips followed by that same delectable little sigh he'd come to enjoy so much - the same one that had him crossing his legs during Charlie's redemption exercises or pressing himself into the side of the island countertop to hide his growing arousal when you would taste test his dishes.

Dipping his fingers inside your quivering hole, Alastor gave a few shallow pumps before retracting his hand altogether, raising it up just enough for you to see your own slick glistening on his fingers. "Would you like me to help you?" he asked you as calmly as he could possibly manage, enunciating each word as he patiently waited for the consent he just knew you would give.

Releasing a shaky sigh, you didn't hesitate in making your decision, a rush of exhilaration you hadn't felt since the last time you were together coursing through your veins. "Yes," you whispered, staring at his face as something carnal took over, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on you again, to have his lips pressed against yours, to feel the burning stretch of his cock inside your needy cunt as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

"Very well, dear. But first," Alastor responded, letting his hand slide between your legs again. "My price."

Of course. You knew Alastor was going to want something in return, which was why you didn't go to him after your first week of struggling to reach orgasm - there was no telling what he would ask of you, and seeing as his motives for even being at the hotel in the first place were still very much so a mystery to everyone, you were being overly cautious. And then there was the whole deal-making sinner Overlord thing. But something else that was plaguing your mind: why did he have to say it like he was taking pointers from your resident porn star? "Okay, Angel. What do you want?" you asked, unable to resist teasing him a bit by emphasizing the name.

"Ha! Funny," Alastor said, and suddenly his hand was gone from between your legs and your cheeks were being squished together between his clawed digits as he gripped your chin tight. "I want you to tell me all the naughty little things you thought about each night while you were fucking yourself with that toy," he spat the last word, almost as if he were offended that you chose a piece of plastic over him. And for a while, he was - which is one of many reasons why he waited so long to initiate a second encounter. He wanted you to suffer the burning ache of a lost orgasm every time you decided to use that thing instead of coming to him and asking for his assistance.

Alastor wanted you to be completely dependent on him for your pleasure, and until you learned to swallow that silly little pride of yours, he had planned to let you suffer every single night - plagued by the blissful memories he'd given you, unable to recreate them no matter how hard you tried.

But oh, best laid plans and all that, right?

"S-seriously?" you squeaked, your face somehow becoming an even deeper crimson as Alastor stared into your eyes, face unchanging as he rubbed his index finger against your bottom lip. "Deadly," he responded, pupils changing to radio dials for a split second, pushing his finger past your lips and against your tongue to let you taste yourself. A black tendril out of your line-of-sight slithered between your legs, prodding at your wet entrance unexpectedly. "Ah! Huh-?!" you gasped, looking down between your legs at the sudden contact.

It was only a second, but it was enough to have him gripping your chin once more and forcing you to look back at his face. "You know better than to look away, my dear," he chided your simple mistake, pushing a second finger into your mouth and pressing both of them flat against your tongue. When the tendril pushed past the first ring of muscle into your dripping cunt, you whimpered around his fingers, sucking gently at your fluids that still coated them.

Fuck, he's barely touched you and you're already so much closer to an orgasm than you had ever gotten by yourself.

Reaching up to grab hold of his wrist, you pulled his fingers from your mouth so that you could speak. "Alastor..." you started, a soft moan interrupting your speech as the tentacle pushed deeper into your core, a squelching sound filling your ears as it pumped slowly, your juices coating its black surface.

"Tell me, did you think about me?" Alastor asked, urging you on as he moved to wrap his hand around your neck, squeezing gently when you nodded your head. "Yes," you admitted, your walls clenching around the tentacle when it began to pick up speed. He hummed at your response, his hand moving further south to the bottom hem of your shirt and sneaking under it. "Did you think about me touching you like... this?" he asked, his fingers pinching the hardened nub of your breast, making you inhale sharply at the pain followed by the pleasure of him kneading the soft mound.

"Yes," you answered, your moans progressively becoming louder as the tendril began to move with more force, now pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. "Y-yes, Alastor... I thought about you," you breathed, digging your fingers into the duvet you were laying on. "About the way your voice sounded when you would praise me," you continued, inching your mouth closer to his as he released your sensitive bud, pulling it from beneath your shirt entirely, much to your dismay.

"Is that all?" Alastor asked you, to which you shook your head no, taking a moment as you searched for the confidence to continue with this debauchery.

"I thought about... how your lips felt on mine, and your tongue on my skin," you whispered, hearing the sound of his belt buckle being undone, but you dare not look away as the pleasure began to build higher and higher with each pump of his black tendril.

"And...?" he urged you on, his own face inching closer to yours as he pushed his trousers and briefs down far enough to free his leaking cock from their confines.

"And I thought- ... fuck-! Hahhh..." you moaned, fighting the urge to look down as you felt his hand take hold of yours. You were so, so close! The last thing you wanted to do was irritate him in any way, potentially risking him edging you even further than you had edged yourself night after night. "... I thought about the way you fucked me with your hand, and your tongue," you moaned when you felt a second tendril bump against your clit, rubbing up and down on the sensitive little bud.

"Keep going," Alastor told you, guiding your hand to his hard length and wrapping your slender digits around it, urging you to pump him - slowly, at first. But as your pleasure built higher and higher, your moans becoming more frequent and louder in volume, he gradually gained speed, wanting to match the pace of the tendrils as they pushed in and out of your squelching cunt. The sounds you made were divine, so much more beautiful than the ones you made with that thing now laying on the floor, completely forgotten by you.

Faster and faster, they moved, and soon it became difficult for you to form a coherent thought, focused solely on the way the tentacle stretched you open wide and the other applied the most delicious amount of pressure to your throbbing clit. "I thought... I thought," you tried to speak, jaw falling slack as you were right on the cusp of release, your walls quivering and thighs shaking as the knot wound tighter and tighter in the pits of your belly. "... I-I thought... about your cock in me," you gasped, your hips rising from the bed just barely and grinding down against the tentacles involuntarily, desperate for that blissful release.

"Don't stop..." Alastor whispered as he lowered his head, his lips mere centimeters from yours as he began to buck into your hand, his own orgasm not far off as he forced you to tighten your grip on his aching cock. Taking a little initiative, you angled your wrist and pressed your thumb to his leaking slit, smearing his precum and using it as lube to pump his cock faster. With the way that he gasped and how his hips jerked forward, you knew he was close to his own release.

"I thought about how you..." you swallowed hard, it was becoming difficult to keep your thoughts straight, to follow his no-looking-away rule, to keep jerking your hand up and down his hardened length as your muscles contracted almost painfully the closer you got to your end. "I thought- ... oh fuck, I'm gonna cum, Alastor-!" you gasped, eyes barely open as you reached with your other hand to lace your fingers in his hair, nails raking over the backs of his ears.

"Say it! Say it, and I'll let you cum," Alastor promised, his breath hitching in his throat as his cock twitched painfully in your hand, a third tentacle joining the first inside your wet walls and pounding into you roughly now, coaxing you closer and closer. Your eyes began to water as you felt the first tether snap, signaling your end as you opened your mouth to do as he obliged.

"I thought about the way you filled me up, and how you made me yours," you said, arching your back as you inhaled deeply, pulling his head further down until your foreheads were pressed together. "A-and about how you made me cum on your cock, over and over aga- ahhn, fuuuck!" you cried when, finally, the coil snapped, and your release crashed over you, your walls clamping down on the tentacles and your vision going white.

"Marvelous..." Alastor praised you as his hips bucked wildly into your hand, his own wrapped around yours and forcing you to maintain your tight grip through your orgasm, chasing his own as you rode yours out. It wasn't long before he was spilling his seed all over your hand and duvet, some of it landing on your bare hip as his own stuttered through each spurt.

"Fuck, fuck..." you mumbled, trying to regain your senses as you tried to come down from your high. You couldn't make sense of the world around you yet, barely taking notice of the tentacles retracting from your pulsing heat and his body from your own. When your vision finally cleared, you looked around for Alastor, soon finding him sitting on his knees between your legs. One clawed hand was stroking his half hard cock until it stood at full attention again, the other pressing against your overly sensitive mound, drawing lazy circles into your clit and sending jolts of pain and pleasure through your whole body.

"Let's make your thoughts a reality, my dear..."

story ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ header ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ dividers ┊ ◜ kodaswrld ✧ strangergraphics ◞ summoning ┊ ◜ @hazelfoureyes ✧ @minkdelovely ✧ @sugoi-writes ✧ @fraugwinska ✧ @macabr3-barbi3 ◞

Please do not copy or repost as your own! Thank you!

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Tim Drake Fics On A03

These are my list of Tim Drake fics on A03. It has everything. Angst, fluff, funny sibling relationship, family fluff, The core four etc... There are few TimKon fics thrown here and there too. Have fun.

Tim Drake (Doesn't) Drink Coffee by BabblingBookends

Every year, Tim goes on a caffeine detox for a month and has to deal with the resulting withdrawal symptoms. He doesn't tell the rest of the Bats about this, because, uh, reasons!

Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once

‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’

Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then-

‘Don’t tell Bruce.’

Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Play it Again by Jazz020

The manor feels too quiet without music. Tim and Damian bond over music.

Send to All by kerosceene

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

-

The bats have a sex pollen release form. Because of course they do.

This is on of the most funniest batfam fic I have ever read.

four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero brain cells to be found by Ms_Trickster

Tim: i need to know what’s the best way to a boy’s heart 

Damian: Easy. The best way to someone’s heart is through their ribcage. Everyone knows that. 

Damian: Come on Timothy, I expected better from you. 

Dick: I-

Dick: Try again

-

Tim is having boy troubles.

Tim goes to his brothers for help.

Tim...did not think that plan of action through.

(In which the batbros give Tim advice on relationships, told entirely through texts.)

Their sibiling relationship is too damn funny.

Home by sElkieNight60 

“Why didn't you call home?” the Red Hood is scolding him, bizarrely making his head spin with how unreal everything suddenly seems. “Why didn't you call Dad? You've been missing for three days and he is losing his mind―he thinks you've been kidnapped again―everyone has been pulling double runs all over the city trying to find you! You fucking disappeared! Seriously, Baby Bird, give us one good reason why we shouldn't drag your ass back home right now and have Dad bench you until the end of all days!?”

The two vigilantes are staring at him equal parts furious and equal parts relieved, but there must be some kind of mistake, because:

“Who is Tim?”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Cork Board Contingencies by PrinceJakeFireCake

If you don’t use a cork board to obsessively plan contingencies for every possible way a date with your best friend can go, how can you go on a date at all?

Excerpt: “Are you free next Saturday?” Tim asked, pretty sure that Kon’s jumble of words was agreement that he wanted to date Tim.

“Maybe!” Kon exclaimed.

“Cool,” Tim commented, taking another sip of his drugged grape soda (“Dammit, Tim,” he mentally told himself. “Do not give in! Buy new grape soda! Stop drinking the drugged grape soda! I’ve shotgunned another can of drugged grape soda, haven’t I? Dammit, that makes five!”) then saying, “That gives me just enough time to pass out for fifty-two hours and plan our first date.”

Bloodlines by chibi_nightowl for exiled-one (mistralle)

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.” 

Tim blinked. “My what?” 

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.” 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

No words. This fic is just mind blowing.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

“You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

Road Rage Robin by heartslogos 

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

Only A03 users can read this fic

Liberal Usage of the Bro-Code by heartslogos for protagonistically (the_protagonist)

“You’re never going to guess who’s blood is on my shirt – similarly, this is not my shirt but these are my pants.”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--

“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.

Dammit.

i totally don't have amnesia by impravidus for odd_izzy

Based on this john mulaney bit: “I also think it's weird in movies when someone has amnesia and they wake up in the hospital. A lot of times they'll be surrounded by friends and family, but when they open their eyes they go "Who are you?" Because that's not how you act when you don't recognize somebody. That's very rude. It would be chaos out there if every time you saw someone you didn't recognize, you went, "Who are you?" I always try to be really polite in life, so like if I had amnesia, you'd never know it. I'd wake up and they'd be like "Hi John, we're so happy you're awake." And I'd just be like, "Oh, hey, man, how's it going?", "Oh, hey, dude, nice to see you again." because that's how you act when you can tell that someone recognizes you and you have no fucking clue who they are.”

Detective Timothy Drake and the Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Dildo by JpegDotJpeg

Tim had a lot of experience with problem solving. Every goddamn day he was solving problems. There was no shortage of problems in Tim’s life. He’d learned how to deal with overbearing parents, underbearing parents, malfunctioning equipment, in-team conflict, lawsuits, emotional breakdowns, financial difficulty, broken ribs, ill-timed boners, and a whole host of other bizarre, anxiety-inducing, or life-threatening issues that plagued his existence.

None of them had prepared him for finding a dildo in the dishwasher.

I had so much fun reading this.

Little Overlooked Dreams by Lunette3002 for Marzue

Tim weighed his options. He was alone at night in some alleyway in Gotham. He had nothing except the clothes left on the ground by someone and the cloak wrapped around his skinny shoulders. His camera was nowhere in sight. His backpack was gone too.

He brought the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Whatever talking had been on the other end of the line immediately cut off at his hesitant greeting.

“Who is this?”

Family Photos by KelpieCodyne 

“I thought you quit your photo stalking?”

“In my defence, I never said I was quitting, and you never asked if I would,” Tim immediately counters. “So really, this is kind of on you.”

Just because Tim became a bat, doesn’t mean he stopped taking photos of bats. Several times Tim took photos of the batfamily, and one time they took photos of him.

One of my all time favorite fic. And only A03 users can read this fic too.

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224 

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Have You Seen My Kids!? by Cute_Bear

Five Times Bruce's kids interrupted him as Bruce Wayne and One Time they interrupted him as Batman with the Justice League.

This is not Tim - centric, but it has really nice batfam fluff.

ten cents richer by Ms_Trickster

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

That’s how the saying goes. Take enough punches from the universe and eventually it becomes harder and harder to pop back up, to see the worth in fighting back, to stop yourself from turning around and delivering some punches of your own.

Tim never wanted to become the villain—

“Appendicitis,” Tim breathed in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to burn the world to ashes when shit like this kept happening to him.

A Saturday Evening by malcyon

Jonathan shrugs, catches the expression still on Tim’s face. “We did throw out the cyanide.”

“Only because it expired.”

“Marty.”

“Well, it did.”

*****

Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

unfurl by shipyrds

"Hey, Dick," Tim says. He's in costume, and fiddling with his gloves, but he doesn't remove his mask: nervous, and trying to hide it. "You've had sex with aliens, right?"

"I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?" Dick says, resigned.

"How did you deal with the whole. Junk situation," Tim says, in his best professional Mission Report voice. Its success is kind of undermined with how red his face is below the domino. — Tim asks some questions. Bruce and Clark come to some realizations.

The Conner Kent Conspiracy Board by Hayleythewriter

Tim figures out Kon’s feelings before Kon does.

His Baby by Musafir

Bruce once made Tim a promise that he would never break, just have to reaffirm later in life.

“Hi Tim. I’m Bruce and I am always going to be here for you.”

Banshee In A Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion.

When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn.

But most of all, Tim is alone.

(If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks 

What the comics neglected to cover after Bruce returns from being lost in time.

Only a03 users can read this fic.

charity by Valkirin for Ms_Trickster

The biggest downside of being adopted by Bruce Wayne is putting up with rich people events, including one where Jason will be in a room with a bunch of rich kids for a couple very long hours while Bruce goes to the adults' meeting. Jason is ready for a very bad time but the Drake kid listens to him from the start and keeps backing up Jason's ideas even though they've never met.

Jason warms up to Tim Drake long before Mad Hatter tries to take over the meeting and Tim backs him up again.

city of stars by lovelyre

College friends-to-lovers AU with Tim Drake.

This is Tim drake x Reader fic. Trust me its really good.

Tricks of the Trade by Jazz020

Jason and Damian learn about Tim's fool proof method of getting what he wants from Superman

Security Updates by Jazz020

Hal, Clark, and Barry find an unexpected guest playing with the watchtowers security.

Vacation at the Watchtower by Jazz020

A continuation of Security Updates

It may have been a mistake to let Tim stay at the Watchtower while he heals from his injury but the kid really needed to get away from his brothers.

“Wait, what if I go to the Watchtower with you.” “I don't think-” “It’ll be great. I'll even help out if you need me to. I'll be the best unpaid intern the Justice League has ever had.”

Birthdays by Jazz020

Bruce was always aware that Jack and Janet Drake were bad parents, but every once in a while they give him an unfortunate reminder.

Loss by Jazz020

Out of all of Tim’s self-destructive tendencies, it was his willingness to die for his loved ones that frightened Alfred most.

Sick by Jazz020

Tim’s never quite figured out the proper behavior for someone who’s sick. Instead of resting, he often makes his way to the Watchtower.

We Can Work It Out by blackash26, Tigrislupa

Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.

In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.

Don’t tell Dick.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

you'll never find a thing like today by remrose

"I'm just saying, I don't think I've ever been to one of these things that hasn't ended in explosions," Bart tells them, eyes on the crowds as he tugs at the ends of his cuffs.

To the Boy Who Called Yesterday by Shirokokuro

Bruce wonders when six-year-old Tim changed, when he shed that sad look he’s wearing now.

Or, perhaps, when he got so good at hiding it.

Cough syrup by Stardustwrites17

It’s the coldest night in the year. So of course Tim falls into the Gotham-fucking-harbor.

Featuring a worried dad, Tim's missing spleen, and of course, Tim battling with himself between being independent and letting himself be loved.

Chili dogs seasoned with tears by Robin_The_Robiner

Ever so slowly, Tim looked down at his plate. On it was a steaming chili dog, topped with fried onions and fresh parsley.

“Oh.” he whispered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taking the place of a beloved dead boy was difficult, but Tim managed to do a decent job. He's smart, confident, and put together, so he wasn't effected by their devastating grief at all.

Tim is also a dirty little liar when it comes to his mental health.

A Pile Of Pillows By The Couch by reinersbigtits

Tim has always hated getting sick. He hates the haze and the pain. But, when he finds out his family is sick he jumps in to help without a second thought. However, without a spleen, he's incredibly susceptible to the illness and quickly realizes just how much he's missed out on.

Or: Tim Drakes repressed trauma followed by worried family feels and lots of comfort.

stepping on landmines by Ms_Trickster

There is a scar curved around Drake's neck that Damian does not understand.

So he asks Todd.

the butler's neighbor by deargalileo

It starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne's property. it's alfred's job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more.

after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds?

Stranger than Fiction by foxy_mulder

"There are details in this document that absolutely no one should know unless they have inside information on us. There’s hints that they know our patrol schedules and regularly keep tabs on us. I don't know who's behind this, or what they want with Batman, but tracking the writer needs to be a priority."

"And this document is… a fanfiction?"

_________

(Tim Drake writes Batman fanfiction. He doesn't expect Batman to actually find it.)

There are many many more fics which i will post later. Have fun reading

[devilfic]

Do you still make Batman x reader? If yes, could I request a "reader figures out Bruce Wayne is Batman"?

Thank you!

❝honeymoon❞

parts: next plot: 'til death do you part. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce. words: 760.

a/n: a little something quick that I thought of!

Recognizing that you had agreed to this, you had been prepared to accept anything. An affair, a drug addiction, secret ties to the mafia overlords like high society always suspected. That was your job as Bruce's spouse: contractually obligated to be okay with it and never let anyone find out about it. Whatever it was.

Even now, as your brain short circuits and the floor feels like you're about to sink right into it, you're looking for ways to be okay with this, and he's looking at you like he wants to kill you.

It's a fleeting look. One second there, the next vanished. Neither of you say anything but there is a world of things being felt, you're certain. One of you has to budge. "This... isn’t what I was expecting."

But Bruce doesn't laugh (and you'd never expect him to, not in your presence). He stands there, heaving slow breaths to calm himself down, the cowl still conspicuously trembling between both of his hands. He could've tossed it or let it go but it's almost like you've frozen him solid.

"Where did you get that?" Is all he demands, eyes trained on the key glimmering in your hand now. "The doormen have orders to-"

"To not let me in? I know. I had the key made myself. Your doormen are easy to persuade with the right amount of money."

Bruce's lip twitches and he scoffs. "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, about 75% convinced of it yourself, "It does me no good to have extra eyes on me, and I'm sure you've got contingency plans in place were I or anyone else to expose you. You were always very good about that. Plans."

"Of course you won't. Your mother wouldn't approve of the disruption in cash flow."

Your eyes narrow. "I am not interested in what my mother wants."

"Why not? She's a part of this marriage, too. Isn't she?"

"Can we talk about the suit?" Bruce stiffens when you bring back attention to the compromised position you'd found him in. "I have questions, and I suppose if you want me to be good at lying about your... hobby, you'll have to prep me."

"I think the less you know, the better. Personally."

"The 'my husband's just busy with work' spiel is getting old, and people are already starting to talk about us living apart. Now, when I agreed to marry you," you watch him flinch as you take a step forward, "I promised that I would be with you in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, 'til death do us part. Your business is my business. Your secret," within arm's length of his cowl, you wrench it from his grasp and he relents rather easily, "is my secret. I will take it with me to the grave so long as you keep up your end of the bargain."

Up close, you take in the black paint smeared over his eyes, a fitting backdrop for his stunning eyes so cool. The fire in the hearth flickers off of them, reflecting back at you as you stand but inches apart.

Just as you stole his cowl, Bruce steals your key. He holds it up in the palm of his glove, "You want to move in."

You hum, "It would help with appearances. And my mother would be pleased."

"I thought you weren't interested in what your mother wants."

"I'm not, but she's interested in you, and given tonight's revelation... I think you'd like someone keeping her nose out of your business."

You punctuate your point with a touch to his chest, palm laid flat over his heart and the several layers of iron-clad padding in front of it. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks down at it, then back at you. There's discomfort there but... something else. Resignation, you'd wager. Defeat. You almost sigh in relief when it dawns on you that you've—rather miraculously—won this battle going in completely blind.

Later, it will dawn on you (or plummet on you) just what you've witnessed tonight. Just what you've agreed to. Just who you've married.

Bruce peels your hand away, placing the key in your palm before releasing it like a burning stone. "There are guest rooms on the second floor." He pauses when you're not fast enough to school your expression, his mouth turning down into a scowl, "This changes nothing else." And he stalks away.

Nothing else. This changes nothing else, but if anyone were to ask, the honeymoon was going great.

[vladdyissues]

Hi! First time asking... sorry if I did or say something inappropriate. Sorry for the anonymous as well.

But I really want to know your opinion on this idea I have, whether it aligns with their personality or if it's even possible.

I was thinking something like, it's the usual where Vlad was beaten by Danny and he became frustrated of all his fails especially the last one where Danny humiliated him, perhaps by manipulating his feelings for Madeline. So he decided to have a payback in the same nature. Planning for several days and night without sleeping he came up with a plan to screw Danny over by possessing Paulina and seduces Danny only to reveal that it was Vlad all along, thoroughly humiliating him.

So he went and donated the newest state of the art air conditioner to Casper High to be put in every class, hall, to mask the boy's ghost sense like it did with Spectra. Of course he also had a contingency plan, he is a genius after all, so he made something that would supres his ghost powers and presence in a form of a collar.

In the end Vlad possessed Paulina, Danny was over the moon that Paulina, the most popular girl in school was into him. But as time went by and he noticed that Paulina seemed different, she gave of the air of a spoiled, beauty obsessed rich girl before. But now she seemed thoughful, still a bit haughty but she seemed genuinely interested in Danny's conversation and could catch up with him even when he accidentally said something about his parents experiment.

One time there was a ghost in school he accidentally transformed in front of her, and she didn't even run, scream, or hide. She protected him by leading the others away. And Danny fell for her instantly.

(I just have to add, Vlad's brain at that moment: You fool, why did you run here to transform!? Will this thwart my plans? Don't you know everyone else is also running here? This fool!)

So Danny confessed everything to her, his identity, his family's situation and finally his feelings for her. He knows that he is not worthy of her since she is rich, popular, has a stable family and all he could offer her was himself. Danny had grew to love her.

Vlad too, ever since Danny looked at him with those sparkling puppy dog eyes and the way he and the boy could have a decent conversation without tearing each other's throats out. How whenever he tries to think of Maddie instead his through fell back to Danny. He wanted Danny to fall for him and humiliate the boy, but his plans backfired, he was the one who fell hard for the boy.

Danny was leaning if for a kiss when Vlad couldn't take it anymore and decides to tell the truth. He came out of the girl and showed himself as the unconscious girl fell into Danny's arms. At first Danny was angry that Vlad was possessing Paulina, ruining his confession when Vlad admitted, he was possessing the girl for a long time, the first time she tries to seduce Danny, it was Vlad.

The information was too much and Danny had tears in his eyes. Vlad wanted to comfort the boy but the boy had looked at him with such hatred in his eyes. "You win, Vlad. You got what you wanted so stay away from me." He left while carrying the unconscious Paulina to safety.

Vlad stood there, right hand was reaching for the boy but he placed it back to his side. He regretted his actions. He thought that as long as he explained things Danny wouldn't look at him with that much hatred, he would beat him up in frustration, yell at him but things never worked out in his favor. He should've known that he destroys every relationship he has. He could never make any intimate connection with anyone. It's his curse.

I only though of things until here but I would love to see Vlad and Danny making up. Danny realises how the one he fell for was Vlad, forgives Vlad and probably chase after Vlad who now stubbornly pushes people away after getting hurt (by his own actions)

I know its not much but If you read this or respond to it, thank you!

Not much? NOT MUCH?

Anon, you just sent one of the juciest, most fantastic, well-constructed story ideas I've ever read. It's intriguing. Compelling. Clear motivations, a stellar twist. True to character, because Danny does have a crush on Paulina in canon, and Vlad is known for being so monomaniacal that he fails to consider the consequences of some of his actions. Also he's ruthless, petty, and uses people for his own personal gain. To see that come back and bite him in the ass with the added bonus of opening his eyes to his own past mistakes is just—utterly splendid. And Danny learning the painful lesson that appearances aren't the end-all be-all of a person, that the fantasy of dating a pretty, popular girl is nothing compared to the reality of loving—and being loved by—someone who understands you deeply and truly.

It's all just 😤💪😭😘👌 so good. What you've got here is pretty much the first half or two-thirds of the story, with the climax being Vlad's reveal and Danny storming away. Then that plot rollercoaster plummets down to the abyss where Vlad deals with the repercussions of his charade and only begins to climb once Danny starts to come to terms with his feels. That resolution, when it happens, is going to be so delectably satisfying. I can almost taste it 🤤

[arbiterlexultionis]

Instant Eternity Pt. 2

So, Danny has the infi-map and uses it to go on vacations and the like to enjoy his now eternal life. The infinite realms are Infinite, really and truly. But locations within the realms correlate to spaces in the “real” world, so what happens when you travel beyond what should be the ends of the “real” universe in the realms? You find other universes. All universes, realities, multi and Omni verses connect with the Infinite Realms, hence the name kind of implying the existence of infinite realms. With the infimap Danny’s able to visit and explore these other planes of existence to his hearts content, and over the course of his travels makes a number of close friends.

He can’t just say goodbye forever, can’t leave them with no way to call for aid or call for small talk so, he comes up with a bit of a crazy plan to make sure all his new friends can meet each other and stay in contact. A combination of the infi-map, Fenton portal technology, time medallions/assistance from clockwork, help from the yeti’s and maybe even some help from Dr. Strange or Dr. Fate all come together to make a private club that connects to who knows how many dimensions. In a Ghost King AU his royal palace has all the normal palace stuff but surrounding Phantom’s Keep is a whole town for inter-dimensional travelers. The portals themselves are all in a massive tower, either leaning tower of Pisa style or a massive clock tower because of how much Clockwork helped out, arranged kind of like how all the statues of the avatars are arranged in the air temple in ATLA.

Danny’s sitting at his desk in his office while 7 Gokus, 13 Vegitas, 4 Beeruses(Beerusi? A pod of Beerus? Flock?) 10 Piccolos and 1 Gohan crowd the rest of his office. “Two Hundred and Forty. 2-4-fucking-0. That is the number of of Territories that have lodged official complaints about the ruckus your fights have been causing! Queen Patet sent a fifty seven page long letter asking me to give every single one of your dimensions eternal travel bans to all of your dimensions and every dimension where even one of you exist. Because the shockwaves from your fights were still strong enough to shatter glass when they reached her Territory. The territory of Vitrum, which makes Fucking Everything from glass! Including the Goddamn Buildings! They build their cities in massive glass orbs! More than thirteen hundred buildings torn down in one day. Including every single hospital they had. You fought for nine days straight. Get out. Get the crap baskets out of my office. Now. Go home. Let the Bulmas know that they’re paying the reparations.” They all file out of the office, Vegitas and the flock of Beerus mumbling about how they shouldn��t have made their buildings out of glass if they didn’t want them to get broken. The one(1) brain cell the group had, otherwise known as Gohan, was apparently the only one with manners, profusely apologizing and offering to help with the clean up even as he got shooed out of the office.

More then a dozen Quirckless!Izuku vigilantes come together to form a great big club to share intel that match’s across their various worlds, analyze quirks, train and give each other therapy. It’s all going well. Then the Batmen stop developing contingency plans for literally all the beings they meet here juuust long enough for their adoption senses to start tingling. The Dad Mights, Dadzawas and Dad for Ones put aside their differences to combat this new threat. The Spider-men are sitting in a corner grateful that their spider senses and Peter tingles helped them avoid all that nonsense. Until the Iron Dads show up. Then they’re all to busy running and cursing their Parker luck to be grateful.

Passing through a gateway to another universe that isn’t yours require approval from no less then half the visitors from that verse and/or Danny himself. Same thing goes for leaving the compound to explore the Realms.

All the adoption addicts from across the multiverse take one look at Danny, listen to all the rumors about his parents and go “Mine!”. Luckily for Danny he doesn’t really have to to worry to much, doesn’t even notice really, because 2.3 seconds after they did that they all turned to each other and went “No! Not yours, Mine!” The infighting has kept them busy ever sense. However, according to an ancient, sacred prophecy(something that Clockwork mentioned in passing 2 months ago) they will eventually all decide that Danny having a proper support network is more important then who his favorite supporter is. So he’s going to get parented so hard by all three hundred and eighty of them. More moms, dads, ma’s, pa’s aunts and uncles then he’ll know what to do with.

[redbirdandbluebird23]

Concept: Established relationship jaydick faking a "fake relationship" because they are not yet ready to disclose their real relationship to the rest of the batfam. So when Tim, Damain, Bruce, Steph, Cass,Duke, catch them out on a date, playing tonsil hockey on the rooftop, grinding on each other at the club, etc, they're all "obviously, we're only doing this for the mission, dummy. He's so not my type." And the other batfam members being various degrees of convinced about the "fakeness."

Honestly, I think it would be a hell of a lot funnier if they were caught in a compromising position by Bruce, who being the emotionally dense human being he is, just goes, huh, they must be working an undercover case.

Jason and Dick, being the gremlins they are, just decide to run with it and see how long they can fuck with Bruce before he has to admit its not for a case.

Cass and Alfred obviously already know about their relationship, but they're also down for messing with Bruce whenever the opportunity arises. But the rest of the family are completely oblivious. So, the announcement that Dick and Jason are fake dating for a case meets mixed reactions.

Babs and Steph are definitely suspicious, they can both see the little things Dick and Jason do for each other that are just a little too real to just be them faking. Eventually they can't take it anymore, and one, or both, of them outright ask if they're really faking. Jason would be shy admitting it, but Dick would be all beaming smiles and showing Jason off, but they were never planning to hide it indefinitely, so they have no issues coming clean when asked.

Tim and Damian are a bit like Bruce in the way that they don't even want to consider the alternative. But eventually Tim, much like Babs and Steph, sees something he can't ignore. It's probably not explicit either, just Dick and Jason trying to have a movie night in one of their apartments, wrapped up in each other on the sofa. They look so soft and domestic that a switch flips in Tim's brain and he's like, oh shit, this is serious. He definitely doesn't leave them to it though, he essentially crashes through the window and starts up a whole interrogation while Dick tries to stop Jason from just picking him up and throwing him back out of the window.

Damian though, Damian will willingly ignore all the signs that are right in front of him, just like his father, because it just doesn't compute in either of their brains that Dick and Jason could be together like that.

But then something drastic happens, maybe Jason gets badly injured on patrol and Dick comes into the cave begging and screaming because he can't lose him.

He ends up standing vigil at Jason's bedside, whispering into Jason's hair about how much he loves him, and please wake up, little wing.

Bruce is watching, because of course he won't leave the medbay, not when it's Jason injured, and he's suddenly forced to accept that it was never fake, that this is real and it terrifies him. Because if they lose Jason again, he knows Dick won't come back from it if he's emotionally involved, and if something happens to Dick, they'll lose Jason for good because Dick is the main thread keeping Jason in the family.

Bruce obviously doesn't say any of this, he just gives his support in the most monotone voice once Jason wakes up, and then goes to update his contingency files because he knows has a whole other angle to consider.

(Damian, however, initially can't decide which one of them he wants to stab because they both played a hand in raising him and he doesn't trust either of them with each other. It takes lots of bribes of homemade food and antique weapons to win him over onto their side)

[incomingalbatross]

I finished the TV show so here is the Dresden Files/Dresden Files crossover fic I have been revolving in my head and am unlikely to ever write in full

Starts with Book!Harry (around White Night? certainly pre-Changes), having a nightmare about fighting Justin -- but in the dream Justin is somehow his uncle and also killed his father

He wakes up and is like "that was weird"

Continues with him going about his daily life but feeling a lot of weird disorientation at weird moments

He has split seconds where he doesn't recognize his friends and loved ones, he walks past the Beetle while looking for his car... little things keep taking him by surprise when they should be normal

He consults with Bob about it (also very disorienting) and Bob suggests it could either be a magical influence OR a possible brain injury

It DOES seem to be decreasing over time, though, so Harry doesn't get around to an MRI or magical equivalent...

And then he gets a call from Murphy that there's a weirdo with a sword at the SI offices who wants Harry. Please get him out of her space, Harry

He shows up. There is, in fact, a man with a sword who says he's Morgan. He's not. More importantly, he's holding a skull, and this fills Harry with a visceral urge to get the skull back from him even though he's never seen it before

A second man materializes out of the skull. At that point, Harry's brain just whites out, because someone inside it, who isn't him, has just leapt into control in order to go "Bob??" with his voice

There is some degree of turmoil and drawn weapons all around

Eventually they straighten things out enough to realize that, surprise! Chicago's favorite wizard PI currently has TWO Harry Dresdens in his head for the price of one

Somebody was trying to toss TV!Harry's soul into the outer darkness, but he slipped sideways and ended up in another universe. Was drawn to Book!Harry's body as the closest thing to his own, and Book!Harry's been getting bleedover from his mind/memories

...However. The bleedover has been getting weaker. TV!Harry's been getting assimilated, without anyone even knowing he was there

Ghost Bob (so named by Harry to differentiate him from Skull Bob) essentially has to go in there to pull him out

Room here for fun explorations of all the differences in the two Harrys' lives -- Bob struggles to detach his Harry because the problem is, even with all the apocalypses, Book!Harry is kind of a nicer person to be. He has a clearer self-image. He has more loved ones. He likes his family background. That's hard to give up.

(The key turns out to be that Book!Harry does NOT have anyone who is even a clean parallel to Ghost Bob. TV!Harry remains sensitive to that difference, and it's a gateway to considering the other ways his own life matters to him)

They pull his soul out, Book!Harry gets to offer some life advice like "watch Star Wars at a drive-in" and "look up Ebenezar McCoy" and "get a license to carry," and the TV contingent goes home to put their Harry back in his body

Reunion with Connie Murphy (and other supporting cast?) when Harry "wakes up from his coma." Ends with him appreciating his life but also making plans to use the lessons he learned from the other place.

[nokomiss]

For prompts, JaySteph, "How long has that been bleeding?"

“Hey, can you come help me with something?” 

A brief silence, then Jason’s voice came through the comm. “What is it?”

“I’m tracking this dealer, and he went to a carnival,” Steph said. “Pretty sure he’s selling to kids, but I thought I’d be less conspicuous with someone else than creeping along after him alone.”

And everyone else was busy, she didn’t say out loud. Well. She was pretty sure Cass was trying to get her to make a move and was only claiming to be busy with her own case, given how she’d slyly suggested that Jason might be free.

Steph hadn’t even gotten around to bringing up her sorta-crush on him yet, and Cass was already coming in clutch. She wondered if Cass had noticed something in Jason’s body language, and that’s what inspired the suggestion. She thought about asking, but honestly that would just make her self-conscious.

“Sure,” Jason replied. Steph tried not to read into a one-word reply, and just let him know the when and the where.

An hour later, she and Jason were in street clothes, walking side-by-side past food vendors and games.  Her mark was ahead – twenty-something, looking sleazy as he tried to chat up some girls who were clearly too young for him. Steph tried not to think about back when she’d been one of those girls, and instead decided to take this guy down before any of them made the mistakes she had.

“Thanks for coming,” Steph said. “It’s not exactly the most exciting call for backup ever, but I thought it would be way easier to just walk around eating fried Oreos than skulking around the shadows, ya know?”

“Definitely not a problem,” Jason replied. “Most of my cases were stalled out anyway, and I was just going to patrol. This is a much better way to spend the evening.”

Steph was sure that her cheeks were red, and she tried not to read into the way Jason’s voice had dropped a little on that last statement.  She compensated by offering him one of her deep fried Oreos.

He made an appreciative hum as he took a bite. Steph showed remarkable self-restraint by not making an appreciative hum of her own at the sound. She didn’t even stare. She was probably going to be nominated for sainthood at any moment. 

The dealer chose that moment to slip between two food vendors in a very sketchy way, and Steph shoved her last deep fried Oreo into her mouth as they exchanged a glance, both knowing they were going to follow him.

A tiny part of Steph’s brain brought up contingency plans if they were caught following him before it was time for a takedown, and almost all of them involved shoving her tongue into Jason’s mouth. A few of them featured doing something to draw the dealer’s attention so that she would have an excuse to explore Jason’s mouth. 

Tonight was definitely an exercise in restraint.

Jason rested his hand lightly on her wrist as they crept along. Steph tried not to over-analyze – she was sure that at some point she had done the same to someone else in a completely casual and platonic way, even though she was coming up blank at the moment. Instead she kept her eyes on the prize, who was looking around furtively and just in general being such a cliche that Steph was almost embarrassed that she’d done actual detective work to catch the guy. 

They were tucked in between two vendors – hot dogs and funnel cakes – watching the dealer. He was standing next to a chain-link fence that marked the boundary of the lot that the carnival was set up on, overlooking the docks.  

The dealer kept looking at his phone and then around, and it wasn’t hard to deduce that he was waiting on someone. Steph hoped it was his source; she’d been trying to get evidence that he was dealing for one of the Maroni offshoots.  

Jason whispered, “Do we wait on him to do something stupid, or just go and jack his phone?”

Mugging the dealer hadn’t been one of Steph’s contingencies but she did appreciate the irony. “Wait, he looks like he’s prone to stupidity. But I gott ask, do you mug your targets regularly?”

“I mean, how does one define regularly?” She didn’t even have to glance up at Jason to know he was grinning, but she did anyway. 

She nudged him with her shoulder and said, “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh?” he said, like she was talking about a date instead of just some run of the mill vigilantism.

“You heard me.”

Cass had been totally right to encourage Steph to invite Jason; this was better than she had hoped for. 

She didn’t get a chance to flirt some more, though, because the dumb dealer she was trying to take down finally did something interesting.

And by interesting, that meant that the guy decided to drop on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

“What the hell?” Steph dashed toward the guy, who was still breathing but was otherwise totally unconscious. His phone was still held loosely in one hand, unlocked, and she took medical duties while Jason plucked the phone out and began to scroll through it.

The dealer looked fine, barring the fact that he was inexplicably unconscious. Pulse average, heartrate steady, everything appeared normal. 

“Well, I think our job here is done,” Jason said casually, tucking the phone back unto the dealer’s hand. “Got all the info about his next big meet-up saved, and I'm pretty sure there’s enough evidence there to get him convicted.”

“But why is he unconscious?” Steph said, nudging him with her foot. He didn’t react. 

Jason finished patting down the dealer, and held up what he found in one of his pockets. “I think he roofied himself.”

Steph remembered how young the girls he’d been talking to were, and felt not the slightest bit of pity for the man. “Let’s truss him up and make the call.”

It felt a little weird to be doing that in civvies, but it made blending back into the carnival afterwards that much easier.  They opted to watch the cops do their thing from the ferris wheel, which was more fun than a plain old rooftop. Steph had made a stop by the funnel cake stand on the way to the ferris wheel, and she happily licked powdered sugar off her fingers as she watched flashing lights from above.

Beside her, Jason leaned back, his legs leisurely sprawled into the footrest, thigh tucked up against hers.

It was easily the best end to a night of vigilantism in Steph’s recent memory. 

She nudged Jason in the side with her elbow, ready to let him know just that, but the pained sound he made was not proportionate to the force she exerted. Steph was proud to say she’d made most of the other Bats let out similar “Oof”s by this point in her career, but never with just a nudge.

She leveled him with a glare. “Jason.”

“It’s nothing,” he said in that casual voice that all of them had perfected. Unfortunately for him, he was trapped on the ferris wheel with her, and couldn’t escape without making an even bigger scene. She nudged open his jacket and, yep, his dark t-shirt had a suspiciously wet spot on it.

“How long has that been bleeding?” she sighed, because why were all the boys she knew like this.

“I might have been minorly stabbed right before you called me for help,” Jason admitted.

“This was absolutely not a dire situation,” Steph said. “You could have said, ‘Maybe next time, I’m currently bleeding from a stab wound.’ Did you even clean it first, or did you just slap a bandaid on it?”

“I smeared some ointment on the bandaid!” Jason said, like that made it any better.

“As soon as we’re off this ride and I finish my funnel cake, we are dealing with that,” Steph said. She resolutely took another bite of her treat to prove the point.

“It really isn’t deep,” Jason said, clearly attempting to mollify her. “I wouldn’t have come if I thought I would pass out or something.”

“But why did you come?”

A beat of silence. Steph glanced over at him, and Jason was looking at her with a soft, fond smile. He reached out, brushed the side of her mouth. She thought for a brief, glorious second that he was going to kiss her, but then she remembered the powdered sugar. “Because I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Oh.”  Steph could feel her cheeks heating up. “I… I asked you because I wanted to hang out with you, too.”

They grinned at each other, and Steph offered up the last bit of her funnel cake to him. He took it, and when she wiped away the powdered sugar from his mouth, brushing her thumb along his bottom lip just a bit too slowly to be taken as anything but an invitation, he pressed a tiny, soft kiss to the pad of her thumb.

“Maybe after you’re patched up and no longer actively bleeding out, we can try that for real,” Steph suggested, trying to act cool, like she couldn’t hear her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

“Deal.”

[gremlinscomics]

9 for angst writing >:)

Dealers choice for charas

Ah, well, this was certainly a fun choice! Not my best angst, but here's an idea I've had cookin' around for a while, hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~

The last will and testament of Cassandra Jones is on a flash-drive covered in glittery stickers.

One might think she would have hated such a thing, but those closest to her know it’s because Mikey found a pack of shiny, hockey themed decals while scavenging and spent hours with Casey Junior meticulously covering every one of Casey’s belongings with the designs.

Including a once-plain black drive.

Leo hates that it makes him smile as he holds it in his good hand, hesitating to plug it into the computer in front of him, childishly unwilling to believe these are his friend's final words.

His brain is almost on autopilot as he fumbles with the plug for a moment, not getting it into the port the first time, flipping it over, then having to flip it again for it to finally connect.

The screen loads for a moment before a video thumbnail appears and-

And there she is.

Frowning as though disgruntled by the task of making her will.

Briefly Leo wants to call in one of his siblings to watch with him, maybe so he doesn't feel so crushed by the emptiness around him.

But April’s on a mission, Mikey’s meditating, Donnie hasn’t come out of his lab in a week, and someone needs to watch this before giving it to the others, just on the off-chance it’s out of date or corrupted.

He presses the play button and watches as Casey springs to life, holding onto the camera to make sure it’s recording before leaning back and glaring at the lens.

“Last will and testament of Cassandra Jones.” She huffs, crossing her arms defiantly, “Don’t expect any sappy bs.”

Leo could cry at her signature bluntness, it’s so familiar, it’s almost a comfort at this point.

But, true to her word, she doesn't linger, doesn't get over-emotional, just begins to lay out information as though she’s planning a raid or a supply run.

Her clothes can go to whoever in the colony needs them, but her hockey mask and stick need to be set aside for Casey Junior, and her wedding ring needs to be given to April.

She spends a moment speaking directly to April, then Mikey. Even Donnie gets a few choice words, though those are mostly the passcodes she changed behind his back and a threat about what she’d do if he dared to try and make a mech in her likeness.

There’s no section where she speaks to CJ, but Leo knows she made a separate video for that, just so he wouldn’t have to sit through this entire, morbid affair to hear his mother say that she loved him.

Leo’s not sure he can handle showing his nephew that video, he can’t even handle seeing this one. 

He wasn’t supposed to ever have to see this. 

It was only a contingency, a yearly task they all groaned at then filed away to be forgotten, never meant to be seen by anyone.

This video should have never been played.

Just like Casey’s grave should never have had to be dug.

“Lastly, Leo-”

His blood runs cold.

It’s just a recording, a video on a screen, but it still takes every ounce of strength he has to tear his gaze away from the floor and look at her.

Yesterday she’d been here. She’d been here, helping Mikey braid his hair, tugging on Leo’s mask tails when he wasn’t looking, and now all they have is this.

“Leo,” Casey repeats again, like she’d known he’d break when addressing him, “I know we didn’t get along very well for a while-”

That’s an understatement, it’d taken an apocalypse and a handful of years crammed together under government surveillance for them to not try and rip one another's throats out whenever they had to work together.

She hated how cocky and arrogant he was, and he hated her for always acting like he was a liability.

Then he’d hated her for being right.

“But-”

Shit she’s still talking.

“I hope you’re past that by now… because I need you to hold onto something important for me.”

Casey pauses for a moment and, in that pause, it’s just Leo staring at a person he’d once despised, once screamed at Raph for even considering befriending, now mourning her loss as heavily as he’d mourned his brothers.

“I want you to watch over Casey Junior for me, got that?” She cocks an eyebrow at the camera, “You are still one of the most impulsive loudmouths I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting-” 

Leo can’t help but laugh wetly at her insults.

“But you’ve made a half-decent leader, and I guess you’re a mediocrely-fine uncle.” She purses her lips in thought for a moment, taking a deep breath before she continues, “Casey deserves more than the apocalypse, Blue…”

He knows, goddamnit he knows. 

Leo would give anything for CJ to not have to face the horrors of the world at such a young age, and he knows Casey felt the same.

In front of him, grief shadows over his fallen friend's face, as though she’s just now realizing what all her words mean, “And… I guess I’m not around to get him to the end of this anymore…” 

Leo’s vision blurs, his chest burns.

“So you’re gonna’ do it instead, and you’re probably gonna’ be an awful Sensei but you’ll do whatever it fucking takes to keep my baby safe.”

She leans close to the camera, so close that Leo instinctively ducks his chin down into his shell, just like he did when he was twenty-something and getting chewed out for hiding Casey’s hockey stick in a portal.

“Blue, if anything happens to my kid, I will find Red, and we will come back together and drag you to the spirit realm ourselves, understood?”

“Yeah, yeah…” He mumbles, as though she can actually hear him.

Casey waits a few more beats then nods, leaning back and looking at the camera with melancholy, “I’m trusting you, Blue,” Leo swears he sees a wet sheen in her eyes, but it could just be a trick of the light, “I’m trusting you to make sure Casey gets to live…” She reaches up towards the camera, fumbling for the ‘off’ button. “Don’t make me regret it.”

[ladytauria]

44 with timdami? if the muse strikes~

the muse struck and struck hard. this ended up about 2k words XD

my brain went "terminal illness? oh! hanahaki 😌" so i hope that's okay <3

there is also not really a... resolution to this. i debated between happy and sad, but, as the words kept coming... i ultimately ended up going open instead <3

thank you for the prompt!

Tim coughs up the first petals on a Sunday afternoon.

He’s sitting outside—Dr Thompkins says he needs more vitamin D, and despite what the others might think, Tim does try to stay on top of his health. Damian is sitting outside too; though not on the porch where Tim is. Instead, he’s sitting under a tree, sketchbook balanced on his knees and Titus lying by his side.

Dappled sunlight dances on his skin, and Tim’s fingers itch for his camera.

Then his throat itches too; diaphragm spasming as he coughs into his arm. Something flutters in his throat; on his tongue. He worries for a moment he’s coughing up phlegm—and then he tastes something… sweet. Floral.

He thinks. He might have preferred the phlegm.

After a quick glance to make sure no one sees, he spits the petals into a napkin. They were likely a bright, vibrant white before they sat in his mouth. A few speckles of blood dot them; vivid even with the darkening of their color.

Tim crumples the napkin, crushing them within.

Then he tucks it into his pocket, takes the rest of his tea, and heads inside.

~

The petals don’t stop coming.

Of course they don’t. Once they start— It’s hard to get rid of them. Tim knows that.

It’s inconvenient anyway.

Even more inconvenient is the way that suddenly, Damian is everywhere, just when Tim wants to avoid him most. Or doesn’t, he supposes, because… he never seems to excuse himself. Not until the coughing starts, anyway, and then he finds a way to leave without calling too much attention to himself.

It’s only a matter of time before one of the others notices something is wrong. They’re all too damn nosy and observant by far—something Tim appreciates when it comes to solving a case, not so much when it comes to butting in his personal life.

It’s also harder to lie to them. Not impossible. Tim’s done it enough that he knows just how to do it best; what each of them needs to hear to make them believe it. He’s practically an expert.

This, though.

It’s harder to conceal.

Especially as the tickle in his throat grows more frequent, his chest growing tighter. The petals get larger, too. It won’t be long before flowers form. As soon as that happens—

Tim will have to disappear.

Oh—sure. He could confess. The flowers in him will wither and die without that built-up longing to cling to. But—

He would have to leave anyway, wouldn’t he? He doesn’t think he could stand it, working day in and day out with him after a rejection. Doesn’t want that cloud hanging over any of them—or to put Damian in that position in the first place. Sure; rejection won’t kill him, that’s a myth, but. For Damian to know that Tim’s feelings ran deep enough that they had taken root and bloomed within him—?

Tim can think of many ways to describe Damian, not all of them flattering, but— Cruel isn’t one of them. Not anymore.

He might accept Tim’s confession in some misplaced kindness—out of pity, and that— Would be worse than any rejection could be, actually.

So no. Either way, Tim has to disappear. At least this way his dignity will be intact.

He always figured he’d have a short life. Granted, the method of death he pictured was different, but— well. Actually. With Ivy around, asphyxiation by flower isn’t really that different from something he could have faced as Red Robin.

There is also the surgical option, too—but Tim would rather die than become unfeeling. While some claimed that the surgery caused only dulled feelings, especially with modern technology, there isn’t enough information for him to be willing to take the risk.

Leaving is best, then. For everyone.

~

Tim does not have as many contingency plans as Bruce—but he comes a close second. Among them, there are many plans for disappearing and starting over somewhere new.

Picking one is the hardest part.

From there? Smooth sailing.

He quietly divides his cases between the others. Some, he offers outright. Others, those less pertinent, he quietly slips onto their systems, as if they had always been there. He does the same with his patrol route.

Tim works with Babs fairly often these days—especially with the blooms growing larger; the coughs more frequent. He blames it on the changing weather, and Oracle is happy enough to have an additional pair of hands. Tim exploits access to her system to make subtle tweaks to everyone’s patrols until his is virtually non-existent.

He also packs. Lightly, of course; just a few things to look at, to reminisce about the past in his dying days. 

He has a will, and some pre-recorded messages. He shortens the period of inactivity which will automatically send them; tweaks the messages a bit; and moves on.

Tim allows himself a few indulgences, too—spending more time with the others, not skipping group meals, taking more time off of work. He knows it raises a few eyebrows, but— Tim is practiced at explaining his oddities away.

All in all, it’s quite easy.

And when the time comes—

He disappears, quietly; into the dawning light, when everyone else is tucked into bed. When the city—never truly sleeping—is beginning to bustle again.

Tim burst into their lives with a bang.

He steps out of them without even a whimper.

~

Damian is the first to realize that Drake is missing.

He wishes he could say it was because he noticed—but he cannot. He discovers it when he pays a visit to Drake’s theater penthouse, and finds it empty and cold. Devoid of life.

His home has always been somewhat austere… but this is different.

Damian knows that something is wrong. He is—afraid. He texts the others immediately, asking them when the last time they heard from Drake was. It does not take them long to realize that Drake’s disappearance is unrelated to their vigilante lives; that, for all intents and purposes, it seems to be willing. Which meant— there must have been signs. Damian turns through his memories with a growing sense of desperation.

Drake is—

Complicated.

Their initial relationship was fraught. Damian will take the larger share of blame for that. When he did, eventually, somewhat reluctantly, get to know Drake—it. Changed. He gravitated towards the older man, and his perspective; often unique from either his Father or Richard. He found him a good listener, too, and while he could be dismissive—Damian’s words usually held weight to him.

It—

Was nice.

Up until Drake’s presence started to make his insides squirm. Until he found himself with ears pricked for compliments from Drake. Until he found himself gravitating to Drake’s presence—choosing to take patrols with him even when Richard was in town.

Until he spoke to Jon and realized he had all the symptoms of a schoolboy crush.

He placed distance between them, then. It wasn’t hard, though it hurt when Drake did not appear to notice beyond a few things. But it was better than facing heartbreak.

And then—

Drake drew closer.

Damian kept his distance.

Now… Regret coats his tongue in ash. If he had not pulled away… might he have noticed sooner? Might he have been able to stop whatever caused Drake to disappear?

There is no sense in ruminating on it.

The important thing is to find Drake.

With Oracle in his ear, Damian makes his way to Tim’s Perch. Logging into his computer, even with Oracle’s aid, is generally a tedious affair.

This time it is not.

He can tell by the way Gordon quiets that she likes this no more than he does.

Drake’s face appears on the screen. He looks paler. The circles around his eyes are darker. He sits in the same chair Damian sits in now, wearing civilian clothes. Something comfortable—a t-shirt that should have been thrown out years ago, a pair of leggings that conform beautifully to the curves of his legs.

“If you’re watching this,” he says, “you’ve noticed I’m gone.”

Damian’s fingers itch to pause the recording.

He does not.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s…” Drake’s face scrunches. “...shitty of me to disappear without notice like this. I promise you it was for the best.” He pauses. He looks—almost hesitant.

Damian does not want to hear what he has to say next.

He keeps listening anyway.

“I’m dying.”

Damian’s heart falls to his feet. He thinks he hears it shatter there—a silly, poetic notion brought on by reading too many of Todd’s recommendations, he’s sure, but nonetheless. Blood roars in his ears. He hears little of what Drake says next. Something about pre-recorded messages, spaced out by time, and easily accessed by Gordon.

When Gordon directs him, Damian lets her instructions carry him through.

He sends the messages; all sent to personal devices, save for a few directly to the Batcomputer. And then he makes his way back to the manor. The trip is a blur. He realizes, only when he is seated on the couch, strange looks sent his way, that he has taken a blanket from Drake’s apartment. It is a fluffy purple abomination—a gift from Brown, he’s sure. Rather than explain himself, or tuck it away, Damian unfolds it over his lap; stroking it the same way he does Alfred, when he deigns Damian’s lap a better place to sit than a patch of sun or soft cushion.

Richard’s arm settles around his shoulders, tucking him into his side as if Damian is still small. Normally he would bristle; especially since he is half a head taller than Richard himself. Today he settles without argument, letting the solid presence of his older brother be a comfort.

Brown leans against the back of the couch. Her fingers comb through his hair. He does not fight this either.

Instead he listens.

Gordon has accessed his medical records; a liberty she normally does not take. He has been diagnosed with no terminal illnesses across most of his aliases.

“Most?” Richard asks.

Gordon’s mouth pinches. “There is one. I don’t think Tim knows I know about it—though I wouldn’t rule it out. He went to a clinic in Boston, and was diagnosed with Hanahaki. He picked up medicine, then bought a bus ticket. After that, I believe he shed that identity. I haven’t been able to pick his trail back up… yet.” Gordon says ‘yet’ with such certainty, Damian believes her.

“Hanahaki…” Jason repeats. He swipes a hand down his face. “Fucking figures. One of us would be too emotionally constipated to just get over it and confess, wouldn’t we?”

Damian frowns. He pulls away from Richard’s side, Brown’s fingers slipping from his hair. “Drake left— because he was a coward?”

The words are vile and bitter on his tongue. It is an unpleasant feeling that does not even come close to touching the fire in his chest. There are two cures for the disease of love—

The first, to confess. Face rejection, or reciprocation. Allow yourself, your feelings, to be known.

The second, to have the blooms removed, and risk dulling or losing the ability to feel forever.

To choose death—

“Damian, that’s not—”

“Quiet,” he snaps. He stands, thrusting the blanket at Richard, who takes it with startled eyes. “I am going to find him, and then I am going to wring his neck.” He spins on his heel and stalks out of the room.

How dare he. How dare he.

Damian does not think he has ever been angrier. Drake, who has more audacity and daring and stubbornness than anyone Damian has ever met—who’s passion and conviction and love has held this pseudo-family together even when they were separated by the eons of time—would rather disappear, leave them all to mourn instead of swallow his foolish pride and let someone—someone with whom he has fallen in love—to see the truth of him.

Damian will find him, and his object of affection, and he will tear the words from Drake’s throat if need be.

He does not get to die.

Not like this.

[storm-angel989]

Outside The Office Part Thirty Four

I love love love and appreciate the comments! I am so glad y'all like this story!

Three days later I stood in front of the mess of demons in front of me. I tried to hide the nerves that threatened to overcome me, and bit back any trace of kindness. This was the group I had chosen, the group of souls who had the potential to become higher up in my military. The group of souls I needed to trust, because as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t train them all on my own, especially not with the time crunch. 

I was grateful Lucifer did have some sort of starting point, encampments of demons who formed some sort of a military base. I sorted through those positions first and kept the ones who demonstrated excellence- and got rid of those who didn’t. I was hopeful that I could fill those spots from the ones in this group. Those who didn’t make it would fall in with the next group of recruits. 

“You’re here because the data shows you’re the best of the crop. That isn’t saying much, judging by your peers,” I began. I heard the coldness slip into my voice. I was a soldier, just like my father. “You’re here because on paper, you have the potential to be a leader. Let’s see if you can prove that.”

I fell into the commander role easily. Walking around the room, barking orders, assessing, eliminating, sorting and managing came naturally to me- hell, it should. I’ve been training for this my entire life. 

Midday, Lucifer waltzed in to fuck up my plans.

“Ah, no no,” he scolded as he looked over my elimination choices. “No, he’s the bastard son of Greed, I can’t not have him in a leadership position.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. That recruit in particular showed zero judgment, zero remorse, and absolutely zero sense of self preservation based on his actions during our first exercise of the day. 

“With all due respect, Uncle Lucifer, he doesn’t deserve or fit into this role. Maybe with time and training.” And a swift kick in the ass, I thought. But I didn’t say it.

Lucifer sighed and leaned back, “do you know what makes my job so hard? Appeasing the beings your mother created.”

“Respectfully, Uncle Lucifer, I don’t give a shit what they think of me and neither should you,” I replied. “Because if this doesn’t work, they’re fucked just like we are.”

Silence filled the room. Thoughts raced through my head. I didn’t have enough time- there just wasn’t any way around it. 

“Your brain is working, I can see it. Talk to me, love,” Lucifer said as he leaned forward. He rested his head in his hands and waited patiently. 

“There is no way my plan is going to work,” I said out loud finally. “It just can’t happen, I don’t have enough time.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “What were you thinking of doing?”

I explained my thoughts to him. The idea of entering the same portal the angels came out of. Of going through and confronting Sera, of ensuring Adam was taken down. But I didn’t have enough faith in the leaders on the ground to leave them alone. Lucifer would have to step up and take over my total command while I was gone.

Lucifer considered my proposition. “It isn’t a bad idea. But I think we’ll have to see who actually enters the battle. Adam will, and he’s the primary target, correct? Wasn’t our plan to take him down and watch heaven scramble?”

I nodded, “he is, and it was, but am I even powerful enough to take him down on my own? And wouldn’t this send a stronger message?”

Lucifer laughed. “Oh sweetheart. You haven’t even seen yet just how much you’ve grown.” He stood up and began to pace, “as far as messages go, you’re not wrong. They can’t ignore a blatant invasion of their own territory. We’re down to our final month, but I think we can pull off your plan with a few contingencies. One, you’re going to have to go through the portal yourself. I can’t join you for a variety of reasons. Two, we don’t know exactly where Adam will be. And he’s the one we should take down first.” He paused as he considered, “the more I think about it, the more I like your idea. Leave the ground battle to me. You slip through that portal. Give them a good scare. If you see Adam, kill him. If you don’t, leave him to me.”

I considered the amended plan. I supposed it could work, if Lucifer did truly take over my position. As I thought about it, another question popped up in my mind. “Uncle Lucy? Is overpopulation and lack of resources for the sinners in hell an actual concern? Isn’t that what the extermination was initially about? Too many sinners who could overtake hell?”

He shook his head. “No. I have the power to expand the rings of hell as much as needed to contain the sinners within. My father’s creations will never actually over populate Hell…it was a propaganda I needed to utilize to limit riots around the extermination. Vox’s idea, actually.” He paused his pacing and looked at me, “and if you’ll remember, the deal I had with your father was a controlled extermination. I chose the sinners- the worst of the worst- to be sacrificed to heaven. No amount of sinners could ever truly take down heaven. They would need a portal to go through, which is why you’re such a threat. You’re something they failed to account for.”

“How so?”

Lucifer shrugged, “I suspect that with enough souls owned, you’ll be able to open up portals to heaven and hell, much easier than I can see as you’re half and half and not banned from heaven. Technically, you never fell. Nor do they know you don’t yet have that ability. But that’s besides the point. Getting back to your initial question no, the extermination was initially nothing more than a power play. And now, with the end of this deal, we need to make sure that Heaven desires a new contract as much as we do. So yes, I support you going through the portal. I support you going through to Sera and hitting them where it hurts. Show them how dangerous we are, especially with you on our side. Maybe then…we can come to a better agreement. Perhaps end the extermination all together.”

I nodded as I processed the gravity of the situation. “So to be clear, in one month's time, the portal is going to open. You’re going to stay on the ground and be our primary leader. Take out Adam if you see him, or I will if I do. I’m going to take the first opportunity to slip into the portal, and…”

“And approach Sera. Make it clear to her that you will come back and finish the job if she doesn’t call off her troops and agree to a remediation meeting. But whatever you do, I need you to come back through that portal, unscathed. Understood?”

“I’m a bargaining chip. I understand.” I replied without considering my words. 

“No,” he said sharply. He reached over and grabbed my shoulders. “You’re my niece. And I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. Understood?” He released me and gave my hand the briefest of squeezes. “We’ve got one month. Let’s do this.” 

Later that night, I sat across from the V’s at dinner, half listening to them chat about their day. Lost in thought about the extermination and upcoming battle, I twirled my pasta listlessly. 

“Reader? Reader? Hey! Reader!” Vox’s fingers snapped in front of my face. 

I shook my head, trying to bring myself back to reality. “Sorry, Vox, what?”

He looked at me with concern. “You’ve twirled that same strand of fettuccine at least ten times. Are you okay?”

I looked down at the uneaten dish, and then around at all of their empty plates. Great, one of more thing for them to be on my case about. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” I answered. “Guys, is there any way I can skip the club scene tonight? I have a lot on my mind.” 

Valentino looked at Velvette and Vox. “Something you want to talk about, cariño?”

I shook my head. “Not here. Not in public. Maybe in the privacy of our apartment.”

“Then consider your request granted,” Valentino said gently. “I’ll have them wrap up your dinner. You can eat later, okay?” 

“I think we could all use a night at home anyway,” Vox added. 

“Agreed. I’m dying to catch up on the latest season of All My Favorite Drama,” Velvette added. “Any interest in joining? We can flop on the couch.”

I looked at them with surprise but agreed instantly. Valentino snapped his fingers and within ten minutes we were back in the limo. I laid my head against his shoulder and he kissed the top of my head. He didn’t press the issue, and instead he wrapped his arms around me tighter. 

“We’re here for you, pequeño amor,” he replied gently. “You can talk to us. Even Lucifer told you that, right?”

“He did. It’s just a lot,” I replied quietly. “Honestly, all I want is a cup of hot chocolate and to be told it's okay. And I’ve never craved that comfort in my life.”

He sighed and guided me to his chest. “We can provide the hot chocolate and comfort you desire. You have family now, a real family. And we love you.” 

The limo pulled to a stop and I interlaced my hands in his as we made our way upstairs. One elevator ride, comfy pajamas and warm mug of hot chocolate later, I was snuggled against Valentino on the couch, Vox and Velvette on the other side, the television playing softly in the background. 

“Alright, fill us in babe, what’s got your heart racing?” Vox asked as he looked up from his phone. “And I do mean literally. Come on, you’re gonna have to debrief us at some point.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “This is the plan, guys. We have a month before the angels come down. Lucifer and I decided that while he acted as lead commander down here, I’m going to slip back through the portal they open-”

“Fuck no you’re not,” Valentino interupted sharply. 

Vox shook his head at Valentino. “Val, let her finish.”

I pushed myself away from Valentino ever so slightly. “Val, I’m going back through the portal and will confront Sera. Lucifer mentioned that he thinks with enough souls, eventually, I will also be able to open the portal between the two worlds on my own eventually, and that;s going to scare them. Lucifer can already open the portal, they know that,  but to have an unknown entity, and I’m one they physically cannot keep from heaven? That’s a double threat. That’s a bargaining chip. Listen, if I don’t do this and we don’t come to an agreement, the world we know will literally end and there will be no one left. We won’t win this fight in the end, so we need to scare them into submission.”

“I don’t like it,” Velvette said slowly. “But I understand it.”

“Princessa, is there really no other option?” Valentino asked softly.

I shook my head. “It’s the best plan Lucifer and I could come up with. And I’ll be fine Val. I know heaven’s layout like the back of my hand. Even though I lived in the military ring, I was taught every inch of the land.”

Valentino reached for me and I let myself lay on him.

“Are you afraid, bebita? Are you frightened?” He asked quietly. “It’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not afraid of dying,” I replied quickly. 

“That isn’t what he asked, sweetheart,” Vox replied.

I shook my head. “Guys. I trained for this. Have been groomed for this my whole life. Trust me, I’m fine.”

“So confident, muñeca,” Valentino said with a kiss. “What can we do to help you?”

As considered his question, ideas slowly began to form. “I need to work out a little harder. I need to collect more souls, gain more power, and keep myself, my emotions in check. I think that will be the hardest part.”

Vox took a sip of his own hot chocolate. “Well if you and Valentino did less fucking on the gym floor, you might have more time to lift weights or whatever will be in the next plan my algorithm comes up with.”

I choked on my hot chocolate and Valentino gently patted me on the back. “You knew?! You watched?”

Vox snorted. “Fuck yeah I know. And no, I turn off that camera on my monitor specifically so I don’t see you two fucking each day.” He took a sip from his mug, “it’s gross.” 

Valentino looked offended. “Are you saying you don’t enjoy watching us? Reader is the most perfect…”

“Alright, enough. Thank you Vox, for the privacy. Val, consider our days of gym sex done.” 

Valentino frowned. “But Princessa, I had a great idea for…”

I reached over and covered his mouth. “We can discuss it later. For now, Vox can you algorithm me up a harder workout plan? And maybe a diet plan?”

“I mean, we can start by getting food in your tummy tonight, and I can get it to you by the morning,” he replied. “But only if you think you can stomach something more than sugar. Your body can’t run on empty.”

I laid my head against Valentino. “My stomach is just off, I’m not scared or frightened but its in knots.”

“That’s generally your body telling you you’re anxious about something,” Valentino said gently. “And it has every right to be.”

Vox stood up. “I’ll make something that will make you feel better. Just a little something. Can you agree to that?”

“Yes, Dad,” I said sarcastically. 

Vox stood up and walked behind me. I felt his lips press to the top of my head. “Yeah, well, Vel can’t have kids and someone needs to step up and parent you.”

“I was being sarcastic and Vox, I’m in my twenties. I can look after myself.”

“Doesn’t matter, someone has to teach you you’re loved. Show you what an actual family is like. You know, one that supports you for who you are and doesn’t see you as a machine. ”

Velvette looked at me as Vox disappeared into the kitchen. “That doesn’t make me a mom though. Think of me more as your sister, if you don’t already.” She stretched her arms up. “There is a word for it. Found family. It doesn’t mean Vox is your actual Dad, or that I’m your biological sister. But it means we love and treat each other as the family we never had.”

I felt something inside of me. Warmness and security. Love and appreciation. Support and encouragement. “I like that. Found family.” 

“Yeah, and if I’m your found Dad, you better eat up or you’re grounded,” Vox said jokingly as he came back out with a plate of toast and scrambled eggs. “See? Told you something light. You’ll sleep better with a full stomach either way.” 

“Thanks, Vox,” I replied as I took a bite. “Honestly, I feel better already. Just getting it off my chest.”

“Helps, right?” Velvette said, “Amazing what happens when you trust the people you're surrounded by.” 

I laid in bed next to Valentino later that night, snuggled against his chest. “Val? Can you do the thing where you put your hand over my heart and press?”

He looked at me quizzically but laid his hand on my chest and gently pressed the palm of his hand into me. The pressure was settling, grounding, and I snuggled deeper into him. 

“I love you Valentino,” I muttered as I closed my eyes. 

“I love you too, bebita.”

[running-with-the-feels]

I'm gone for a few days for an internet break and Sonya and Kira were lovers? And what's this I read about Somya betraying people?

(Honestly I'm lost I just got back lmao)

Welcome back! I hope your break was good!

So basically, In mk9, Sonya and Jax talk about Kano "Tricking" them, presumably by acting as an informant in order to double cross them, and Sonya makes a comment about being the "one he used"

Since Kira is part of the black dragon and ends up taking over at one point in canon, I thought it would be interesting if Kira was the one pretending to be an informant to spy on Sonya and Jax, and this was the way she was made to prove herself to the black dragon.

and then my brain naturally went "Doomed lesbians?" bc I'm predictable and thus we now have Kirablade

The Sonya betraying ppl thing originally came from an ask I think, and the basic idea was that Sonya started the Kombat Kids unit as a subtle method of control over the other defenders. Kind of like a contingency plan, so that if the other defenders act up, she has hostages to ensure their good behavior.

It isn't really meant maliciously on her part, like she's not planning to hold Takeda hostage so Hanzo stays in line, but its meant to be an incentive for everyone to get along, and then If something happens, she has the upper hand.

Its tied to her paranoia after Kira's betrayal bc she doesn't really know how to trust ppl anymore and everyone is understandably pissed to discover that she's projecting that onto them

Does that make sense? I feel like I've just made it more confusing

[kaeyapilled]

hey! your kaeya takes are so real!!! I was wondering if you had any good fic recs?? I want to read something that has good kaeya characterization (+bonus if it's ragbros that isn't just them crying and hugging it out like you were talking about) and am tired of scrolling through tags

!! omg thank you im so honored to hear that people like my takes lol

fic recs huh!! i have some!! do you mind it if most of them are about child kaeya? (i hadnt realized how many of my bookmarks focused on his childhood until i went through them all lmao) hopefully it isnt all stuff youve already read before! here goes:

A Horse Makes for a Stable Life by FollowerofMercy – Wanting to test the boundaries of his host’s goodwill, Kaeya asks for a pony for his birthday. He didn’t expect Crepus to deliver. Or, the story in which things get uncomfortably real for young Kaeya.

do you like kaeya and crepus interactions!! because this fic explores their dynamic in suuuuch a nice way that felt very refreshing to see portrayed!! perfect ratio of hurt to comfort in my opinion. overall quite lighthearted compared to my other recs though lol. good exploration of kaeyas inner conflict since a young age. yeah i love it and recommend it

I'm gonna miss your love when it's gone by imaginarypasta – A selection of scenes from Kaeya's childhood related to his relationships with his fathers, and all they have led him to be.

this one is so good!!!! i feel like its rare to see kaeyas biological father portrayed as anything other than a heartless asshole, and this fic explored kaeyas relationship with him in such a nice manner that makes for a very melancholic and. i guess bittersweet story that takes into consideration the nuance of the situation in a way that i really dont see super often. the parts about kaeyas relationship w crepus are also really well done i love it. oh and the khaenri'ah lore the author takes some liberty with is really really interesting!!

not bad for a walk on death's doorstep by b_attery – Fear is a knife’s edge. Fear is a killer. Fear is how you know you’re still alive.

my bookmark of this work said "literally the best kaeya character study ive ever read" and honestly i still stand by that. the word flow is great and the exploration of fear as such an intrinsic part of kaeya's life and as the driving force for most of his actions and feelings and responses. it's so good!!! this one contemplates kaeyas childhood both before and after his arrival in mondstadt and goes until after diluc's return. absolutely recommend it!!

Hundred-Watt Light by pepperjuice – A story about ten years of contingency plans and holding your own hand. (Because how else are you supposed to live with a weight too big to hold all alone?)

this. this rewired my brain forever. this holds the title of best kaeya character study ever along with the previous one i talked about. definitely mind the tags because it primarily deals with suicidal ideation and thoughts so, if that's a trigger then it's best to not read this one lol but still it is SO good and it explores kaeya's inner conflicts and awful coping mechanisms after having such a heavy burden thrusted upon him at an extremely early age with no good support of any kind. i absolutely love this fic it's very dear to me and i think about it sooo often it truly altered my brain chemistry

things fall apart by kernsing – Happy eighteenth, Diluc.

finally some ragbros content! sadly it isnt the reconciliation you asked for it's about when things fell apart. this is one of my favorite ever renditions of how it all went down on That Day - it reshaped some of my own headcanons, actually. this one is more from diluc's pov than kaeya's, and it's written really really well, and explores diluc's grief over his father's death in SUCH an amazing and interesting way!! and the way it parallels kaeya's own emotions and that is exactly what causes them to fight is extremely tasty i loved it. read it it's good

okay i can probably find some more but this is enough for one post i think. deeply sorry for not delivering the good ragbros reconciliation content.. i tbh haven't gathered a lot.. but i hope you and whoever else reads this enjoys these! thank you for the ask <3

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 9

Synopsis: Can lover's fights be resolved quickly? Or does it set up a new game?

A/N: I would like to thank my younger self for being infinitely cooler than I am now. Also the Kendrick Lamarr version of America has a problem. And to my readers. You fuel this beast that is my spiral into madness. Yippee!

The Doctor had to work quickly. He wasn’t about to let (y/n) slip through his fingers.

How much of a miscalculation this was! He thought this experience would further bond her to him. The swoop of glamor, the gravitas.

So many of his past companions followed a script. See the TARDIS, get a chance to save the day. Enter, become his friend and companion. Come to grips with reality and then cling to him as a life preserver.

He mentally cursed himself out. He should have just stuck to his original plan of never telling. Or just casually, maybe after her graduation, to do a meeting with Missy and explain Nardole.

It was better to keep her in the dark.

The thought of a memory wipe crossed his head. But after all that with Donna and after he got his mind wiped of Clara…the idea was less savory and could backfire.

If not for Missy and his duty to care for her, he would never had remembered Clara.

Missy was good for that. Her psychic skills and progress were always far superior, more accurate than his.

The thought of him contacting her mentally and getting her on board and then having her disentangle this day from his little fawn’s mind briefly flitted through.

Too late, as (y/n) was already climbing out of her shower. She didn’t take her time with it.

He braced himself for the next bit.

He usually wasn’t on the receiving end of this behavior.

She exited, wrapped in the towel. Her eyes were red from tears and lack of sleep. She stood in a defiant stance facing him, water still dripping off her legs.

She kept on hand braced at the top, protecting her modesty. She rose the other and pointed with her index finger. She inhaled and held her breath for a long second. He could tell that she was steeling herself. Preparing what she had to say, and wanted to say it without stopping or stuttering or anything else.

He let her have to floor.

Her next breath was long and rattled out of her like death from a corpse.

“Listen, I understand that you couldn’t have came out saying ‘Hey! I’m an alien stuck on Earth!’ without sounding totally fucking schizophrenic.” She hand went to under her armpits. More protecting of her precious modesty. A mini suit of armor, he gathered. “Am I blaming you for not wanting to sound insane? Even if it’s the truth? Sort of. But like, it’s also my fault. I was too stupid. I also made my happiness contingent on a man’s affection. If you are a man. You look pretty damn male to me. Feel pretty damn male to me. But I digress!” An exhausted, bereaved look fell over her face. “I said from the beginning I never wanted this to happen. But I did. This did.” She caught her breath and swallowed heavily. “I don’t really fucking know what to do or think here. Would it be dumber to leave, or dumber to stay? Would you just abduct me and probe me if I left? I don’t know any aliens besides you. I think. I don’t know…I don’t know what aliens do.”

“It’s too late to get anyone driving.” She finished up. “I’ll sleep on it. But, I don’t know.” Her eyes slammed shut tightly and she shook her head. He dare not probe in her brain to see if he could do anything, say anything, especially after that comment she just made…

“Find somewhere else to sleep.” She ordered. “Or sleep on the cuck chair. I don’t care. I need my sleep and to clear my mind. Don’t fucking touch me.”

It was a better outcome than he was expecting. A testament to his methods and his abilities. It was real affection too. In parts and pieces.

A shot in the arm, at least.

He could make strategies and find the most clever words at night. After all, he did need less sleep than a human. Mental seduction was now a line drawn in not sand, but concrete. And it was drying quickly.

He sat down in what she deemed the “cuck chair”. He’d have to Google that term later.

She got dressed quickly and did her little human skincare rituals quicker. After crawling into bed, she put her back to him and snapped off the lights.

The silent treatment…

He could work with that.

He heard her let out a few heaves of a half cry.

The thought of throwing her secrets into her face crossed his mind. Secret for secret. But he knew that was petty and would further alienate him from her. To shame her into submission was the opposite of what he needed to do.

Plus, with the way she operated, it’d be a blow out. Only a Time Lord with access to her brain would know.

All night his mind raked through scenarios.

And her sleep was restless, tons of thrashing and some talking. He got out of the chair a few times and it seemed she was also leaking tears.

He resisted the urge to wipe them away. And to rifle through her mind.

Thankfully the morning robbed him of overthinking any more.

She woke with such a start, her chest heaving and face crusted with dried tear salt.

The Doctor made his way to fake…something in the bathroom. Give her space.

He flushed the toilet and washed his hands.

She had already dressed up and sat on the chair. Just a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved turtleneck. She was slouched and a glum expression slacked across her face. She was chewing on her pinky nail with one hand and the other was tapping very quickly.

“I’m not going back to Bristol. Fuck it, I’m in London.” She announced very nonchalantly.

She heaved.

“You can’t help how you are. I can’t either. We’re an odd couple. An alien and a…” She caught herself. “Human.” She wasn’t ready to reveal her secrets yet. Of all the people in the universe, he understood the urge for secrecy.

“Don’t take me for a fool. No more wool over the eyes or a snow job. If I want to know, I’ll ask. Vice versa. Of course.” She conceeded.

“If you lay hands on me, it’s my right to launch you into the stratosphere.” She stood up for herself…it seemed like she was speaking from deep experience.

“I’m not going to waste whatever is between you and me. But yeah.” She cracked her knuckles and wrists. “Is that good for you? It’s good for me.” She ended getting up and grabbing at her purse.

His time to speak came.

“That’d work for me.” He decided the simplest words would make the best impact. He noted that this incarnation of himself was a sucker for women who likes to pull a bossy act, but came undone so easily under him. He’d lure his fawn back to him. Somehow…

“Okay, ummm. Fine, I’m going to go out, get some things. I’ll be fine. Message me whenever your done with whatever you needed to do today.”

She exited and he went off to help UNIT.

Distracted and raw, he did his duties.

They went off and Kate declared the operation a success.

He texted (y/n) to meet him at a café that was near the unit head quarters.

She met him and he went to kiss her hand. She smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and her sunglasses were glinting, eyes damn near unreadable. She had a few small shopping bags on her.

“You were busy.” He noted.

“Well, you did mention a play and I didn’t have anything appropriate.” She admitted. “I wanted to look nice…for you. Don’t want to embarrass you. Especially since you’re so nicely dressed this weekend.” Her head nodded to the side. “I’ve never seen you in a button down.” She mused, “They suit you.”

She gave a crooked half-grin, half-grimace.

It seemed that yesterday and this morning laid heavy on her mind.

Against his better judgment, he gently entered the surface of her mind and gently swept aside some doubt of self and this. Still there but not probing sharp and heavy. Gently safe, gently there. Letting her still have her free will, just sheltered nerves.

Maybe he still hung around Missy too much.

Even though, this wasn’t as bad as what either of them has done in the past regarding Time Lord’s skill sets in meddling in people’s minds.

This was for the better, would stop her from harming herself, he rationalized…

She relaxed and they finally entered the café. He got his usual cappuccino with enough sugar to overwhelm an entire preschool’s population, she got a simple espresso lungo.

“See!” He said as he took a sip, “Just like humans do.”

“Ah.” She said, her mouth partially hidden behind the cup.

“Sun feels nice…” She said, sitting down at a seat that got the full blast of it on her face. “Rare English sun…” She mused again. “Maybe it’s an omen.” She shrugged, fingering the one pendant around her neck like it was a talisman.

The late-spring sun shone in her hair, illuminating different shades and colors in her (insert your color of hair you have here, dear reader!). Much different than in the early days with the weak winter sun. It was radiant.

Semi-sarcastically, semi-impertinently, he asked, “Can I touch your hair?” His hand already halfway shot out. (Maybe he did have ADHD.)

She took another petite sip of her drink. She nodded, “Sure.” She placed the cup down and let the sun hit her more, shrugging out of her jacket, and extending her arms out to get the rays on then.

He leaned out and slipped his right hand through the line of her hair. Feeling it’s textures and gave a short swirl of the ends between his fingers. With his other hand he gripped her already clasped-together hands.

The cool metal of her rings was already warming in the sun.

It felt right, a small simple moment. He wished he had gotten more with more people.

“Let’s cut the mishegas.” She said after a while. “Let’s make this work.”

The Doctor nodded in assent, taking another sip of his drink. “Whatever you need.”

After a while, and minimal talking, they went back to UNIT head quarters and the Doctor took a meeting with the entire engagement crew and leads. (Y/N) decided to give a quick check in and chat with Petronella and asked her about her favorite place for a brunch on Sunday.

Sadly, Petronella didn’t know any good places, but she’d ask around and get back to her.

(Y/N) went off to prep for the night out.

The Doctor was buzzing, he was entirely intrigued by what his fawn’s idea of appropriate was for a West End play. Especially after her comment about his outfit.

He had no references, just what he’d seen a few companions wear.

He was properly doing a date in the first time since he sent River off to die on his younger self in the Library.

He hoped this one would be less chaotic. (Y/N) seemed a flight risk if any invasions or anything close to his normal dalliances he had on Earth happened.

He could respect her need for peace and quiet. It was admirable.

The meeting was just about ready to close up when she entered and sat next to him, sliding the chair over closer to his.

He gave a quick look over. Everyone did. It was a distraction. She entered in a slightly-overdid cloud of perfume.

She was…glittering. Glowing.

That was the only word to explain it. Obviously, she’d taken certain professional cues. Her legs were elongated in some ridiculous contractions masquerading as shoes. Her hair was pinned back in some areas and let loose in others. She wore a simple black dress and a tight black opened, long cardigan.

It seemed she was trying to send a message.

Her face was shining and her eyes were accented.

Definitely a big one.

He turned, interrupting the already interrupted meeting, slowly blinking.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just wait.” She smiled, crossing over her wrists, sliding her arms onto the board room table, slightly slouched, slight pushed forward.

Whatever this little message was, he felt his cock stiffen a bit.

Is this what her clientele saw? This bejeweled wonder? All a show of confidence and heavily-scented fodder?

Was this her doing? To show him that she could invite the gaze of anyone she wanted?

His mind swirled with jealousy.

Then the rational side, who knew her for what she was when she wasn’t trying kicked in. She was just trying to look nice for the theatre! Nothing more, nothing less.

He hadn’t felt this white-hot dagger of jealousy since that PE teacher…What’s his name, Danny? Denny? Denise?

This human had him stymied again…

Too soon and yet not long enough, his duties ended for the night. She got up and went to Petronella for a moment to exchange numbers and she tossed her head, hair reacting to the little motion, shaking away. He caught a glint of her teeth backed against the lipstick, deeply pigmented.

His observation about them being friends was correct.

He felt a little unable to leave his seat. He had to will his body to do such an action. He accomplished it and went to near the door frame.

“Yeah, text me any time. I’ll see you later.” He heard her say.

She took a giant step away and joined him. She gripped his arm and shrugged on shoulder up. “How do I look for my first West End play?” There was a very new expression in her eyes. One that seemed unreachable.

He was rather uneasy in those micro-clues in this body, unless he relied on his mind to connect and check in...

“You’ll do.” The Doctor beamed.

She fixed her strap under the cardigan and they began their walk to the outside. A swirly motion, it was oddly hypnotic and drew his eyes to her chest. Her necklaces glinted in the light and clinked together gently. He let a small, sardonic grin form on his face.

On to call a cab, the Doctor noticed he had a bit of trouble counterbalancing his weight against her in the added three or four inches of (y/n). His little fawn had little trouble on her wobbly legs. He was the one in trouble, slightly stumbling like a newborn deer…

A reversal.

Before he properly could form any more thoughts she got a cab to come off the side of the streets.

Onto the play, onto a new act.

But what was she getting at showing up like that?

Or was this just nothing…?

He had to find out or give up quickly.

Not acts, no playing.

Just the night ahead.

[shilo-sumac]

Off-Screen Post :3c Um. Our girlie gets hurt but she'll be fine. :3cccc

Tw for gore, and storms, and general Ocs not being okay and Pokemon being in danger! Please lmk if I need more warnings!

There was no time to think, no warning beforehand, dammit why didn’t I watch the news, why didn’t I pay attention, why weren’t my contingency plans better--

There were some measures of course, but Sinnoh wasn’t a place that was often hit by storms, she hadn’t realized how an island would be different.  Idiot, stupid, irresponsible.

No, can’t dwell.  Only act.  Must act.  Go.

Shilo ran into the darkness, commanding her Pokemon to stay.

There was a shout, drowned out by wind and rain.  Alistair?  She shouted something back, something silly, something disarming.  She wasn’t afraid, not really, at least not about herself.  She would be fine.  She always was fine.  

It was her curse.

She lifted a sleeve to her forehead, peering into the darkness.  She could see better than most at night, but the rain and debris whipped around in thick waves.  She knew the island well, but there were obstacles, so many obstacles.  She climbed over downed trees and scrambled away from mudslides.  

Almost there.

She could see the hatchery, the one building that wasn’t quite protected.  A baby that didn’t know its own strength had weakened a wall, and she had meant to fix it, Gods, she meant to fix it, why didn’t she fucking fix it?

She got to the entrance and scooped up the single egg, pink, tied with a little bow, with a Stufful keychain around it.  The hatchery was starting to flood.  She winced at the expensive incubators, now no better than large paperweights.  

Doesn’t matter, can’t dwell, keep going.  

She slipped it into a makeshift pouch tied around her waist.  Not the best, but good enough for now.

She kicked the door to the room for younglings, almost knocking over the Charmander inside.  She whispered apologies to the crying little one, the water hadn’t reached him yet, thank Time.  She lifted him and put him on her back.  

“Don’t let go no matter what, okay?  We’re getting out, I’ll protect you both.”  It grabbed the collar of her shirt tightly, trying to be brave, trying so hard to not cry.

Out once again into the wailing night, running despite being blinded by the brain.  She knew the way back, knew what was in her way, what to expect.

But the terrain had changed.  She hadn’t considered that the mudslides would move the rocks.

She tripped, instinctually turning to her side to protect the egg and baby, landing hard.  She felt a crack in her shoulder.  

Not careful enough.

The Charmander yelped, and she checked him and the egg over, ignoring the shifting bones.  

Later, it can be dealt with later, it can heal, the baby Pokemon can’t make it out without help.

They were okay, if not a bit muddy.  She contemplated her next move, it would be hard to get up in the mud with just one arm.  As she lay there, she heard a worried trill.

Her Kabutops!  It inclined its head, a way to ask if she was okay.  He hadn’t gotten the command to stay inside.  He probably had been busy evacuating his own little entourage of water Pokemon that followed him and had heard the commotion of her fall.

She looked up at him, mostly a silhouette in the rain.  He was old, but his battle scars and chips in his armor gave away his experience.  Retired, but not completely out of the game.  Rock and water type, sturdy enough to get through the rain, agile enough to not get tripped up, not like her.  Plus, with Swift Swim he would make it fine in the storm.  

...  Hopefully.

She untied the pouch clumsily and pried the Charmander off of her as it protested, holding them out.

“Kabby.  Take them to the house.”

The Kabutops clicked as it lowered its head.  She intuited the meaning.  I do not want to leave you.  

She summoned a more commanding voice.  “Please, I’ll be fine.”  She smiled, hoping it couldn’t see the worry in her eyes.

He hesitated a few moments before relenting with a nod, grabbing her precious cargo and disappearing into the night.  She prayed it would be okay.  She couldn’t forgive herself if she hurt another one of her charges, not again. 

She shakily stood, ignoring the pain.  Without the extra weight it was easier, but only just.  The Pokemon were safe now but...  She had to double check the buildings, she had to, she couldn’t trust that they were fine.   

Memory isn’t reliable enough.

It was while she was getting her bearings that she felt the impact.

She opened her eyes again against the outside hatchery wall, a tree branch sharpened by cracking off an old tree protruding from her chest.  Fuck.  She grasped at it weakly.  She inhaled a gurgling breath before coughing up something red.  Not blood, couldn’t be blood.  

Don’t have blood.

... Did have pain receptors, though, and damn it fucking hurt.  Another breath, more coughing, more red getting blown away in the wind, heaviness, broken ribs.  The damned thing was decently thick too, some sort of hardwood.  Oak?  She didn’t know plants that well.  ...  Didn’t really matter anyway.

Lucky shot, wind.

Her hands were shaking, cracks formed up her arms, sucking in the color and any light that flashed from the sky.  These stupid things, every time she was stressed they spread up her arm, starting from their normal position on her palms.  Hopefully they recede again later.

Focus.

She gripped the piece of tree.  Medical knowledge nagged at her to not take it out, that it would cause more damage.  

No other choice.  No one is coming.

She dug her claws into the tree, sinking them into the wood.  She took the deepest breath she could muster with her one working lung.

And she pulled.

The pain was excruciating.  She felt ripping, hollowness, suction.  She ignored the buzzing in her ears.  Heat built inside her head and chest, though her fingers were growing colder.  God, the texture was awful, knife wounds were so much smoother, albeit very, very cold.  Her grip was weakening.

Keep going.

She grit her teeth and roared out into the darkness, and with a horrible wet ripping sound, the branch was extracted.  She tried to not think of the roughness of it, how much it must’ve cut up, how much worse off she probably was now.  She threw the branch to the side, teeth bared in a snarl as if it were still a threat.  Something mixed with the cold rain that slid down the new hole in her shirt, something warm.  

You have been through worse.

She took a step.  So heavy.  She felt like she was going to throw up.  The edges of her vision filled with black and white stars.

You will not perish.

Another step.  Dragging her feet against her will.  Lead felt like it was filling the hollow cavity that had been left behind. 

I will not let you.

Step.

Step. 

She wasn’t even sure if she was going in the right direction.

Step.

Step.

Trip.

Get up.

At this point, it didn’t even feel like she was moving with her own free will.  So heavy.  ...  Keep going forward, keep going forward.

Step.  

Step.

The journey felt blessedly short and painfully long at the same time.  A blur that she was aware of.  Soon the house was in view.  Safety.  Her confidence filled her with enough energy to take the last few steps.

The door flew open, the man she called her roommate almost looked worried.  She ignored his shouting, staring behind him.  Her eyes scanned what little she could see of the inside.  Mr. Kabby was there.  So was the Charmander wrapped in a towel, holding a pink egg.

We’re here.

Shilo collapsed, her blood mixing with the rain.