#I’m shuttin the fuck up I promise

[morgana-ren]

Wait wait... you're leaving?! Nooooooo

I’ve actually decided that it’s a horrible decision to allow myself to make any decisions (wanna see how many more times I can add a form of the word decide in a sentence?) when I’m in this particular headframe.

Full disclosure, I’m a bit mentally unwell lmao and I’m out here raw doggin’ reality cause my ass is uninsured and I can’t afford medication or therapy. I lose track of reality and sometimes forget to tell myself “it really is not that deep, chief.” Hobbies are just that. Hobbies. They’re meant to be fun and relaxing, and I’m not out here writin’ the new Iliad. Instead of obsessing over a grammatical error I did 4 years ago or lamenting because I should have used this word instead of THAT word, maybe I should just shut the fuck up and just.... write.

It’s a tiny bit of a bitch to remind myself of that but it’s not healthy to give into despair either. I gotta find a balance somewhere. This would be like the 8th time I’ve given up something cause I just go “ah fuck it” and throw it out.

TL;DR: expect more bullshit from me in the future lmao same quality, same ol’ creepy shit.

[nokas-meme-den]

Shit heard in Ghost Stories meme

"When this bitch kicks, I'm moving to Vegas."

"Have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior?"

"I don't care about your cat, he's probably dead."

"Principals always look like lesbians."

"When a stronger spirit appears, the weaker spirit cowers. But all evil spirits cower before Jesus!"

"Oh my, what a gifted seamstress. I hope you're not a homosexual."

"If you want something to happen, you just need to pray! And not be a Muslim. Or Jewish."

"What the fizzityuck was that?"

"Where's the damn cat?"

"These pajamas are gay."

"Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you come to the scary, isolated pay phone on the bad side of town, alone?"

"Maybe you have a hidden talent you don't know about! Like Paris Hilton being an actress! Oh, scratch that."

"THINK OF A BIG BLACK MAN CHASING YOU!"

"A car accident... must have been hit by an old Chinamen. I don't mean to be racist, but those people CANNOT drive."

"You'd be surprised just how many transgressions a filthy little sinner like you can rack up in just a day."

"Look, a little Jew boy."

"Come rub my nipples."

"Drop the Krispy Kreme, Serpiko! We need your help here!"

"My BS detector is going DING!"

"I can read. Not well, but I can read. And those letters... are BACKWARDS!"

"The weird part is, I'm not even high. Not a bit. Totally sober!"

"The internet was a blessing from the Lord Jesus to spread the word of God throughout the world, but then Muslims and pedophiles stole it and used it to lure out and seduce children like you."

"Hey, want some candy little boy?"

"You can use it if you promise not to be on the phone too long. I know how you Pagans take advantage of others."

"A bunch of somber, quiet people against a red nuclear sky near a river of blood. Wow, that doesn't look threatening at all."

"Why? Because Jewish people rock!"

"That's so sweet... in a 'you scare the crap out of me in an Emily Rose' kind of way!"

"Here, you can take pooky-poo. He used to be my man, but we broke up."

"The V on my sweater stands for 'Very Big Deal', but that's beside the point."

"Come on, jump... I SAID JUMP!"

"Yes, the animal cemetery. Hear the plot point bells going off?"

"I hope Stephen King never sees this."

"She's looking straight at us, I don't think we hid very well."

"Those 3 to 4 cardboard boxes aren't going to hold them for long!"

"Lord reveal your salvation, for I am your favorite among these heathens."

"Yo sensei Dave, what's haps on the snaps with the craps?"

"You two-timing son of a bitch! Who's gonna take care of these little bastards!?"

"Oh splinter ohhhhh!"

"Shut up. You're here, and you're an idiot."

"Years ago, people went in there but they didn't come out. Not unlike your sister."

"2.2 Celsius... Metric system. Who thought this was a good idea again? I'm just gonna put 100. No one's gonna know."

"Oh perfect, it's in Japanese. Ching chong nong ding tow! Wait, that's Chinese."

"God, can you go bomb an abortion clinic or something?"

"Creepy Japanese men can be cabbies too y'know. But women should never be allowed to drive."

"Obeying horror movie rules, I'm going to go out alone. You stay here while I go look for help."

"I'm not giving you a reach around."

"You're such a bitch."

"First we do a geographic montage to show we traveled a long way from your house. There, that should be enough."

"I'm gonna beat you retarded."

"Jesus saved my ass."

"And what a lovely little ass it is, too."

"¡NO CORRAN EN EL HOSPITAL, CABRONES!"

"Now that is some really nice animation."

"Nice rack. Mind if I make 'em a little bigger? Ahahaehehahhha boobies. Loooove boobies. Nice lips too. I USED TO HAVE LIPS!"

"Lunchtime BJ?"

"Let's see... purple, for your hair. Can't tell this was a goddamn anime."

"Okay. Stop trying to look up my skirt. IT'S A CARTOON!"

"Holy time machine, Batman, it's 1973!"

"Holy pre-Parkinson's Michael J Fox Christopher Lloyd Back To The Future plot ripoff device! Where's my DeLorean?"

"I'll grab her ass!"

"Oh damn anime, look what's happened to my eyes."

"Leo! Leo! Leo! Leo! Goddamnit! Goddamnit! Goddamnit! Goddamnit!"

"It's the chick from The Ring! I mean, The Grudge! What movie are we ripping off again?"

"Oh my god, did that spell work? You know, like the one where you write your name in an eraser? I hear the head cheerleader's having an abortion."

"Such a bitch! Stop being such a friggin' skank and give it back!"

"Sometimes yes means no!"

"Moshi moshi! I mean, hello."

"Tomomi? Ain't no Tomomi girl living here, so what?"

"Get your cracker ass into some rehab, I ain't got time for this bullshit."

"MOTHAFUCKA."

"Run! She's a ghost and a bitch!"

"I'm goin' fuckin' crazy."

"HEY! Maybe if they paid their fuckin' phone bill, you could call again!"

"Nobody's talking to you. Just drive the bus, bus driver. Fuckin' nosy."

"Oh, sorry. All you little yellow people look alike to me. And African Americans, but not the Mexicans. Why do you think that is? I mean, don't you find that just the weirdest thing?"

"Romans 1:26, God gave them over to shameful lusts!"

"A view of the blood-stained lake. AHHHHHHH"

"Oh it may be blue now, but soon it will be redder than Republican Texas."

"No, I'm serious, bitch. I swear to god. Blue."

"Maybe this vase isn't nailed down."

"We go with the snow but not the snow that is yellow!"

"Alright everybody, it's 4:30. School is finally over. Time to go home, load up that bong, and watch Pokemon!"

"Leave me alone, I'm doing my standard anime 'elbows up' pose."

"Oh wow. I can't even comprehend how inappropriate this is."

"GOD YOU'RE MAKING ME SICK."

"God you are four of the ugliest fucking kids I've ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. I can't wait for this bitch to kill you."

"NANIIIIIII?"

"Oh my, definitely a 10."

"If you do, I'll suck you all for a Scooby Snack."

"Any closer and there'd be insertion."

"I may be a successful doctor, but first and foremost I'm a Jew."

"You know what I hear? I hear the sound of you shuttin' the fuck up."

"Let's see... 7?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about!?"

[fandomsfeelsandfanfics]

The Arrangement, Part V/// Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: Draco apologizes for being a dick.

WORD COUNT: 1,753

WARNING(S): nothing honestly, a lil angsty ig

A/N: where have i been?? your guess is as good as mine but ANYWAYS here we are we’re back on track, let’s get into it!! also if ur reading this pls fuck with the playlist because i worked really hard on it and i promise it’s good. listen to it while you read this part if you want.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

   After last night, you began to think that maybe Narcissa should’ve reevaluated her options. She could’ve done any number of things before getting you involved. If she would’ve asked Pansy (and Pansy would’ve easily complied) this probably would’ve in a completely different direction. But she chose you. 

   She said it was because your connection with Draco was different than his connection with any other person and for awhile you believed her. You saw the way he looked at you and you knew that there was something special there. But now, you weren’t quite sure. 

   When you woke up that morning, you had dozens of missed calls from Draco and even more texts. You didn’t even bother to look at them, choosing instead to completely ignore your phone for the entire morning. As you went on with your day, your phone buzzed a few more times and you only hesitated briefly before continuing to ignore it. You didn’t want to speak to Draco right now and you were determined not to waver. 

   You wondered just how long you could get away with it. Eventually, he would find some way to get in touch with you and even if you did manage to evade him, Narcissa wouldn’t let this go on for very long. It was only a matter of time. 

    There was a knock on your door and you realized that you’d already run out of time. 

   For a moment, you considered ignoring it. But then another knock came and you knew that wasn’t an option. If it were Narcissa, she might give you one more knock before simply apparating in there and if it were Draco, he might be desperate enough to stay out there all day. Persistence ran in the family.

   With a third knock, you crossed the apartment and threw open the door. Draco was standing on the other side with a bouquet of roses in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other, and an apologetic smile. You crossed your arms, trying to keep your face entirely neutral. 

   “I gave you my address to write, not to visit.” You turned away from him and walked back into the apartment, sitting down on a couch across from the door. He stepped into your apartment, shuttin the door behind him. He stared around the room, taking everything in. You realized that this was the first time he’d ever been in your apartment and instantly, you began to feel slightly self-conscious.

   “Well,” he said absentmindedly, still surveying the room. “I figured, if you weren’t returning my texts or calls, you wouldn’t return a letter.” Finally, his eyes snapped back to you. 

   “I wasn’t returning your texts or calls because I didn’t want to talk to you.” His eyes softened slightly and for a moment, he looked almost like a hurt puppy. He stuck his bottom lip out slightly without even thinking about it, which only added to the effect. It took everything in you not to retract that statement. 

   “So, you’re mad.” It wasn’t a question because he already knew you were

   “Oh really? How could you tell?” He let out a breath, shaking his head slightly.

   “I didn’t think flowers would be enough, which is why I brought the wine. I thought maybe we could talk about it over a glass of wine. Do you have any glasses?” He looked at you expectantly. 

   “I think it would be best to have this conversation when you’re sober. I don’t usually like the things you say when you’re drunk or hungover.” He nodded quickly, sitting the wine and flowers down on the coffee table. 

   “Right. Well, make sure to drink it eventually, it’s one of my favorites, I think you’ll like it.” He stood there awkwardly, staring at you. You stared back with an unchanging expression. “So uh...what happened last night?” 

   “You were there, shouldn’t you know what happened?” His brows furrowed slightly in frustration. 

   “I thought we were having a good time and then all of a sudden you started freaking out.” You shot him a look and instantly he backtracked. “I don’t mean it like that, you weren’t freaking out. I just mean all of a sudden you were upset,” he said carefully, ”and I don’t understand why.” 

   You turned away from him, shaking your head. He would never get it. He didn’t care enough to even try. This was all in vain. 

   “(Y/N),” he groaned. He walked around the coffee table and knelt in front of you. He plaaced a hand on your knee and said, ”I know I’m not good at this but I really am trying here. But you have to talk to me, love.” You hated the way you loved hearing him call you that. 

   You looked down at him. He had this serious look in his eyes, almost like he actually meant what he said. You tried not to let the hardness in your eyes fade. 

   “Did you go home with Pansy last night?” 

   His face instantly contorted in confusion. “I-what? No. I left right after you left. I couldn’t have fun knowing you were upset. You would’ve known that if you had answered any of my calls. Why would I go home with Pansy?” 

   “She said some things last night that insinuated...that there may have been something going on between you two and maybe it isn’t over yet.” You crossed your arms and tried to sink further into the couch. 

   Draco took a deep breath, leaning away slightly. “I...I’m so sorry. I mean there was something between us, if you can call it that. It was really just sex but I cut it off the last time I left the country, that was over five or maybe even six months ago.” He reached for your hand and was glad that you let him take it. “I would never do that to you.” 

   “How do I know that? We haven’t even talked about what we’re doing, what even am I to you?” Draco looked down at your hand, twisting his fingers between yours.

   “You’re so much to me. Much more than Pansy ever was. Pansy, she was just...fun. The best I could get when I was lonely but now you’re here and that’s all I need.” He continued to avoid eye contact. “And I would never do something like that if I ever thought I would have even the slightest chance with you. I don’t want to hurt you. I should have just left with you last night and I’m sorry I didn’t, if I knew what she was saying I would’ve. Actually, I would’ve told Pansy off then we could’ve left.”

   He finally looked up at you, only to be met with a smile. “I’ve missed that smile.” He leaned forward and you did the same. When you met in the middle, his lips connected with yours. You reached upward and wrapped you fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. You pulled away and he leaned closer to you trying to chase the kiss. 

   “Pansy is an arse,” you mumbled, bringing your hand up slightly higher on the back of his head.

   “I know love. You’ll never have to deal with that again. I prefer spending time with you alone anyways. I really just want to go away with you, far away from everyone else. Just you and me.” You laughed slightly.

    “We can’t just run away from the world.” He looked up at you with a serious look in your eyes.

    “And why not?”

    “Unlike you, I have responsibilities.” He frowned.

   “Hmm, well, if you could go anywhere in the world where would it be?”

    “Draco...” You weren’t gonna let him drag you into this.

    “Come on.” You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him. But he pulled on your hand, bringing you closer. “Where?”

   Finally, you sighed, giving in. “Fine, I don’t know, how about...Paris.” Draco quirked an eyebrow at you.

    “Paris.” He sounded slightly unimpressed and you felt foolish for saying it.

    “What? You asked?”

    He shrugged. “Yeah but I don’t know. That’s a bit cliche isn’t it. Paris. I’ve been thousands of times. We used to vacation there when I was younger and I guess I just don’t see the appeal. It’s just Paris.”

    “Well, I’ve never and it always looks beautiful. But like I said, I’m too busy to run away with you.”

    “We’ll see.” Draco got to his feet and pulled you up with him. “I should go but we’ll talk later. I assume you’ll be answering my calls now.” You rolled your eyes again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly in a hug and when he pulled away he tried to suppress his smile but you just barely caught it. You knew he didn’t want you to see him smile like that because it almost immediately disappeared into a casual smirk. But for just a moment he looked happier than you’d ever seen him.

    “Oh yeah, my mom’s holding this thing in next week. It’s one of her dinner things. I thought maybe you’d want to come with me.” You could feel anxiety creeping in at the mere thought of it. Having to go back to one of those damn parties just might be the death of you and if you went with Draco...who knew what people would say.

    “You want me to go as your date?”

    “Yeah, why not.” He seriously saw no problem with the prospect of this.

    “Draco, I just don’t think I’m the type of girl people want to see you with.” His face immediately looked confused. “It’s gonna be a room full of your family and friends and I just-”

    “Those people incessantly gossip about me and my habits. If anything, I think having you around would give them less to gossip about, they might be quite mad about that now that I think of it, having nothing to whisper about while they have lunch but then again who cares. We’re going show up, looking great and give them a show of how happy you make me. We can watch them try not to stare, it’ll be great.” Your bottom lip stuck out the slightest bit. Draco gave your hand a squeeze. “If you get uncomfortable, we’ll leave.” He leaned down to kiss you and you couldn’t help but to smile into him. If he were there maybe you could do it. Maybe. 

    You leaned away slightly, pressing your forehead against his. “Okay, I’ll go.” You had to try.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

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[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [15/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here's your daily reminder to stay inside, wash your hands and not to hoard toilet paper! As a reward, enjoy another chapter of POA, featuring sass, subtle and not so subtle inklings of romance, and off-screen appearance of another Bat!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

After two movies and being so distracted that Ives kicks his ass at Mario Kart, Tim returns to his apartment. It’s not very late in vigilante time—two o’clock, as promised—and he’s sort of half expecting Jason to be still awake when he gets back.

The older man is sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping absently through the channels, eye flicking to the baby-monitor beside him every few seconds like he’s prepared to jump into action if he hears a cry.  

“Has she been keeping you up?” Tim asks as he strides over.

Jason blinks blearily at him. “No.”

“Then why don’t you grab some sleep while you can? There’s no point staying up if you don’t have to.”

“First of all—fuck you. Second of all, that’s rich comin' from the family insomniac. And third, I’m havin' trouble shuttin' my brain off, okay? It’s still tryin' to figure out if I didn’t accidentally travel to another alternate reality of something.”

A sharp, distorted cry echoes over the monitor and Jason really does jump.

“Stay put,” Tim tells him, already heading for the stairs. “I’ll get her.”

It’s still surprising when Jason listens to him, which Tim puts down to being in a desperate situation. He hopes that having someone else in the apartment to help with Isa will diminish whatever anxiety has the older man wound so tight.

Once upstairs, Tim slips into the guestroom and scoops her into his arm, wincing at the shrill squealing cry. After a quick check of her diaper—blessedly empty—he carries her still crying form downstairs to prepare a bottle for her.

Jason winces when they appear and—he doesn’t really run away, but he makes a hasty exit over the stairs.

Tim huffs under his breath. “It’s not like she’s a bomb, Jason. Geeze.”

Though she is doing an excellent job imitating a percussion grenade while they wait for the bottle of formula to warm up in the microwave, so maybe there are some similarities.

“It was thirty seconds, not thirty years, calm down,” he grumbles as she latches onto the plastic nipple like a starving animal.

He watches her nurse for a few minutes, brows furrowed and mind on Jason.

I know he’s still adjusting, but at some point, it’s got to start sinking in, right? I mean, he’s not even planning on keeping her, it’s all temporary, so there’s no reason for him to be this out of it.

Unless there’s more going on than just a surprise baby—which, given Jason’s past and present activities, could very well the issue.

I wonder how hard he’d punch me if I suggested he talk to someone about this?

Not Dick, obviously; calling him has always been one of Tim’s major avenues of support when he’s going through hard times, but he knows Jason would rather crawl through broken glass than open up to his predecessor.

Sometimes I think Jason’s relationship with Dick is a hundred times more complicated than it is with anyone else in the family…

Isa gives a dissatisfied whimper and turns her face away from the bottle. Tim frowns, seeing that she’s barely drunk a quarter of it, and tries to tempt her to take another, but she refuses, already going dozy and limp with sleep.

“Really? After all that? You raise holy hell and you don’t even finish it?” He snorts. “You really are his.”

It’s an effort to get the sleepy infant to burp, but he manages it; she passes out before he’s even made it back up the stairs and back to Jason’s room.

Despite having explicit permission to enter without knocking, Tim’s still uneasy broaching Jason’s personal space. Especially since Tim can tell he’s not asleep, even if he’s lying on his bad, holding a pillow over his face like he’s trying to block everything out.

Tim carefully arranges the baby back in her basket-bassinet, and quietly asks Jason, “Need anything else?”

Jason mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Another life", and turns his back on both Tim and the baby.

And really, what can he even say to that?

It’s a problem for some other time.

Tim takes a quick shower, before faceplanting onto his unmade bed. The exhaustion he’s been ignoring for the past day or so finally hits him, and he passes out without even getting up to turn off the lights.

By some miracle, he gets six hours of uninterrupted sleep before his alarm goes off later that morning. He doesn’t feel fully rested, but he gave up on chasing that sensation two Robins ago.

After dressing and taming his hair (it might be time for a haircut soon), he spends an extra ten minutes checking the bruises on his face—they’ve gone from dark purple to blue—and applying a liberal amount of cover-up. A beat later, he adds a bit of eyeliner as well, to give an appearance of alertness that he doesn’t quite feel.

Heading downstairs his nose twitches as he becomes cognizant of an unfamiliar smell.

Of...someone’s cooking?

He finds Jason in his kitchen, flipping pancakes. The baby carrier is in the middle of the kitchen island, Isa sleeping soundly in a cocoon of blankets.

Instead of asking Jason why he’s cooking, Tim grabs a coffee cup from the cupboard and turns on his Keurig. “How was the first night?”

He doesn’t expect Jason to respond beyond irritated grunting, and so is surprised when he answers.

“Took me an hour to fall asleep,” he says. “Then at four she woke me up…then at six…and then just now. So, I decided, screw it, I’m hungry anyway. And about the only thing you have all the ingredients for are pancakes.” He shoots Tim a judging look. “I don’t even think you have maple syrup. It’s a disgrace.”

“I think there might be corn syrup in the pantry?”

“Disgrace,” Jason repeats.

Tim ignores him and glances at the two dozen pancakes he’s caught sight of behind Jason’s bulk. “Exactly how many people are you feeding?”

Something that might be a blush darkens Jason’s cheeks.

“I may have gotten a little distracted,” he admits defensively. “But I needed something mindless to do and it worked, so just…shut up and eat.”

He shoves a plate with three pancakes at Tim, who doesn’t have the heart to tell Jason he doesn’t really eat breakfast. Instead, he goes looking for the much-maligned corn syrup and takes the smallest pancake he can find in the bunch.

It’s only polite, after all.

Isa starts to whimper again and Jason groans. “There is no way you’re hungry again, I just fed you.”

Instead, he carts her over to the coffee table—the vintage Henredon table Tim actually spent a couple of weeks tracking down because it resembled one his parents had when he was a child—has since yesterday seemingly become the chosen changing station. 

There are piles of fresh diapers and wipes spread out on it, clearly from earlier changes, and there’s a pail next to it, along with the detritus of the packaging it was in.

“That can’t be sanitary,” Tim says. “Or environmentally friendly.”

“Yeah, well, your highness can shell out for cloth diapers and hire a service to clean them if that’s your issue.”

Tim rolls his eyes but wisely doesn’t reply to that, instead busying himself with finishing off the giant pancake and a much-needed cup of coffee.

“Ugh,” he hears Jason say after a while. “Are we sure this is a human child? Because what’s coming out of her doesn’t look human.”

Tim chokes on a large lump of pancake and glares across the room. “Yes, thanks for that while I’m eating.”

“As if your stomach hasn’t been tested by many a murder scene.”

“Never while I was eating,” Tim grumbles and pushes his plate away. He hunts down a travel mug for his second much-needed cup of coffee and then grabs his messenger bag from the hook on the door.

He’s halfway headed for the garage when he pauses and considers Jason again.

“Do you need me to stay?” he asks. “I mean, it’s the first day you’re doing this, so—”

“I don’t need you holding my hand, Drake,” Jason deadpans, “especially since you’re not going to be here during the day anyway. No point in getting used to a crutch.”

Tim isn’t sure he likes that comparison.

“You sure?”

“I figured out how to defuse bombs, I can figure this out.”

“Okay…but Safiya did give you her number, right? You know there’s no shame in calling her if you’re stuck.” That earns him a withering glare. “Just saying.” He offers Jason a mock-salute. “Enjoy learning how to baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language!”

“She’s two days old, she doesn’t know what the hell I’m sayin’.”

“A-plus childcare, Mary Poppins,” Tim mutters—under his breath because he doesn’t actually want to be punched this early in the morning—and finally leaves.

Once at the office, he falls into his usual routine—perfunctory greetings to people he should only know by sight but for whom he has done extensive background checks, sitting in a board meeting and chewing out the legal team for not filing their water-filter patent faster (he may have brushed it off to spare people the wrath of Damian, but he fully understands the kid’s anger), a stop at the break-room for a third cup of coffee and to keep an ear out for the office gossip.

Tam is waiting in his office when he finally settles in for the rest of the morning.

“How’s everything going at home?” she asks, closing the door behind her. She hands him his schedule for the day and a checklist of phone calls to return and products that require oversight.

“As well as can be expected,” he replies, sipping his coffee. “It’s an adjustment.”

“No kidding. You go from single, introvert shut-in bachelor to living with Dream Daddy overnight.”

Tim promptly inhales and then spits out very hot coffee, only narrowly missing a stack of contracts that need reviewing.

Tam’s eyes flick to the mess. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“Why would you say that?” he splutters as his brain frantically tries to reboot after the shock.

“Because it’s not my job to clean up after the functional man-child that is my boss?”

“Not that.” He glares. “Filling my brain with disturbing notions.”

“Is the disturbing notion that I said it, or that you know what Dream Daddy is?”

“The disturbing thing is that you think my—” He pauses, hesitant to use the word ‘brother’ in relation to Jason, if only because it feels wrong for some inexplicable reason. ‘Friend’ is also a gross over-estimation of their relationship. “—new roommate is attractive.”

“Well, some of us have eyes,” Tam shrugs.

“And some of us have criteria for what we find attractive beyond looks.”

“Right. Forgot. You like the dangerous types that try to kill you first and ask questions later.”

Tim opens his mouth to object, and then tilts his head to one side to acknowledge it: given his recent dating history, she’s not wrong. “You forget that type tends to be female. As in something my new roommate most definitely is not.”

“Puh-lease, I’ve seen you when you’re hanging out with Connor. You can’t tell me that’s a hundred percent platonic.”

“It is!”

“If you say so,” Tam replies. “But you forget—I’ve kissed you. And I’ve never felt less spark or even interest in a guy before.”

“Because I was surprised,” Tim grouses. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like women. You’ve met Stephanie.”

“Yeah, but she told me she hit you in the face with a brick the first time you two met.”

“I regret ever introducing you to each other,” Tim groans, pressing his face into his hands. “Look, you’re the one who decided us dating would be a bad idea, so don’t go taking that as evidence that I’m gay.”

“First of all, our dating would be a bad idea, and not even just because of the inevitable involvement of ninjas or Vicki Vale’s byline. I’ve already explained why—which you agreed with at the time. And second of all, I never said you were gay, I said you had a type. Lynx tried to break you with a sword, Connor broke your arm, and as I said, there was Steph…Point is, gender has nothing to do with it, you’re just a masochist.”

“I must be since I put up with you,” he sighs. “Let me be clear: I have no interest, nor will I ever have interest in…my new roommate. And this is so far from the appropriate place to talk about this stuff.”

“And he pulls the ‘boss’ card,” Tam narrates sarcastically. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. For now. Only because I have a conference call with my opposite number in Hong Kong.” She heads out but can’t resist throwing an over-dramatic sigh over her shoulder. “Maybe if I had the ability to throw you through a wall, you and I would have had a chance. Guess we’ll never know.”

She opens the door to the office, and then she’s gone, leaving Tim to parse the utterly bewildering turn to the conversation.

“How did we even get on that topic?” he mutters to himself, searching his desk for his glasses.

God, she can never find out that Jason tried to kill me that first time we met. I’ll never hear the end of it. Even if she’s completely wrong about all this, I’ll have to deal with knowing looks the rest of my life…

Tim makes a valiant effort to lose himself in his work after that, if only to erase the memory of Jason being called ‘daddy’ by another adult. He cleans up his desk as best he can, wrinkling his nose at the idea the place is going to smell like stale coffee for a while, and then does a quick triage of what work needs to be done now and what can wait.

He manages to lose himself for a few hours, working even through lunch, before setting aside time to wrestle with the current problem in his life: namely, helping Jason find someone to step in and deal with the baby situation.

It’s not like a business deal or falling stock options. A human being doesn’t come with cheat codes or hacks.

Well…not directly.

Tim grins to himself and opens an encrypted server to access to the CPS servers. Jason’s adamant about not working through the system, but that doesn’t mean they can’t investigate families within the system on their own and outside of whatever arbitrary criteria individual caseworkers use to evaluate potential parents. It’s a starting point.

At the same time, he’s using his personal computer that’s linked in with the Nest system to add a few extra layers of protection to Jason’s falsified information. It’s a fairly routine task, but he wants to ensure no one realizes he’s there.

His screen freezes.

 O: Do I need to know why you suddenly needed to hack the SSA?

 “Almost no one,” Tim corrects himself with a sigh; of course she’s keeping tabs on him.

He types a quick reply:

 T: You mean you don’t already?

O: No. I’m waiting for you to be upfront about it.

 That would be a definite change from the usual Bat modus operandi. He wonders how long it’s going to last.

 T: Precautionary alias for a case.

O: I see.

T: You know if it was anything more than that I’d have reached out.

O: Even if it involves a certain red sheep of the family?

 Tim groans, and only just refrains from pressing his palms against his eyes in frustration. Babs’ stance on Jason isn’t exactly clear, and she’s just as likely to give Bruce a heads-up about possible Red Hood antics coming up as wait for him to figure it out himself.

 T: Even then. This is a personal thing and I’m handling it.

O: Alright. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.

O: For now.

 Which Tim knows from experience will only last for so long; any potential threat in Gotham—and Jason is still occasionally classified as one of those—and Oracle might just take a page out of Batman’s mitigation playbook.  

“Problem for another day,” he tells himself.

He’s starting to feel like that’s going to become his new mantra.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

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Next Chapter

[needsmorememes]

Song Starters - Betrayal - Part 1

"99 Times" - Kate Voegele

I was sure you would keep every promise.

I try to put your stories in line, but nothing adds up right.

You looked me in the eye and swore you weren't lying.

I was so blind. I never saw the signs.

You're not invited.

These things are unforgivable.

You're invisible.

Don't ask 'cause I'm not offering.

You caused enough of my suffering.

"Alarm" - Anne-Marie

You're shuttin' down.

I know what's happened here in our bed.

I should've known a cheat stays a cheater.

I'm better than this, I know my worth.

I might be gettin' what I deserve.

What's done is done.

"Away From Me" - Puddle Of Mudd

I think you found someone else.

Why can’t you see that I’m drowning in a pool of misery?

I’m always afraid that you’re lost in somebody.

I don't wanna be by myself.

I think you’re fucking someone else.

Now I’m gonna have to find a way to take the knife out of my back.

How could you leave me?

Maybe you could let me stay?

You could help me stay the same.

Maybe things won’t ever change?

How could you let them take you away from me?

"Backstabber" - Kesha

Twisting stories, all because you're jealous.

Now I know exactly what you're all about.

You're such a backstabber.

[fireteam-dumb-luck]

Breaking Point

It was a rather peaceful day in the Tower, all things considered. For Drifter, it was positively slow. No Guardians had come to visit in the past three hours, for all the activity Ada-1 next door and everyone up top got. Oh well. At least he got to manage inventory, which he was doing on a datapad. Nevia was perched in her usual corner, watching the door. He was wondering whether she ever got bored when a slight disturbance outside caught his attention. Footsteps, light but at a full sprinter’s pace. Something’s come up. A Hunter bolted into his space, leaping over the railing behind him and — huh? She slid under the platform he stood on, and from what he could hear as he turned to follow her movement, she was trying to burrow even further under there. The hell? He pushed himself over the side of the platform and walked to a spot where he could see her. Nevia had sprung to her feet, looking incredibly confused. Who was it?

Oh.

~

Ralia heard her breath coming in ragged gasps as she pressed herself further into her hiding spot. Light damnit, shaking limbs was not helping!

“...sister? What the hell happened?” Her heart jolted at the voice and she shifted to look at Drifter as best she could.

“N... nothing. I just. Comfy right?” Oh Light why were her eyes stinging? It had to be dust, right? No way she was crying. It was just dusty under here. And she had a perfectly good reason to be where she was.

“Hey, that’s pretty obviously a lie. Come on, you can tell me. City’ll get all concerned if their chosen o-”

Snap.

“Don’t call me that!” She came back to herself to find that she was ridiculously tense, teeth bared and breath shaking. Drifter had drawn back to where she could still see him, but couldn’t get to him easily. “Don’t.”

“Okay, it’s okay. I won’t call you that, don’t worry.” He turned, looking up to the left (her left. His right.) “Sister, would you mind shuttin the doors?” She heard movement to her left, followed by metal clanging. “Don’t often use those.” He looked back to her, drawing the gun out of his pants and kicking it to the side. “You’re alright. I don’t know what’s going on, but I like you, and besides. You’ve done a lot for me.” She had to bark out a laugh at that.

“You have no idea everything that I’ve done. And I’m keeping so many fucking secrets and there’s at least one that you deserve to know but I don’t know if I should tell you because it’ll most likely put even more of a target on your back and a target on mine and maybe Liran’s and Archer’s and. And I can’t do that to anyone. I just-” she broke off, horrified to realise that she had started crying.

Drifter looked... kind of horrified, honestly. Light, she was such an idiot.

After a while, he let out a deep exhale. “Look. I’m, uh, not so good with the touchy-feely stuff, but I like you. I’ll keep your secrets if you need to share ‘em. Hand on my heart. Besides,” he added with a rueful grin, “you already know a bunch of mine and you haven’t shared any. Earns you points in my book.”

She said nothing.

After a while, he had obviously decided that he was... something. Wasting his time? Everyone knows how little everyone cares for Guardians. Throw your living weapons at everything that threatens you, they’ll come out fine! Not like anyone cares anyway.

She shook her head. Acceptance? Defeat? Who knows?

“You... you promise that you’ll keep anything I say secret?” Two voices answered her in affirmation. Okay then.

She pulled herself towards the open side of the crevice she had found, Drifter jumping down to offer her a hand out. That was nice. He’s only doing it because- no shut up. “It’s not... it’s not just secrets. It’s everything.” She knew she had a bitter smile on her face but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. “Everyone’s badgering me about everything, they want me to complete Nightfalls and win Crucible matches and patrol the wilds and be this fucking paragon of Light and I’m not. I’m just a person. And it’s been seven years of ‘hero’ and ‘chosen one’ and ‘will save us all’ and I’m sick of it. No, that’s not... I can’t handle it anymore.”

“What do you mean, seven years?”

Ooh, more bitterness on her part. “You’re over one thousand years old, right?” She continued at his nod. “I’ve been a Guardian for seven years. All my memory, it’s been the same bullshit.” She pretended not to notice Drifter’s exhaled curse when she told him how old she was. And she was young, compared to most Guardians. Half of ‘em could remember the Dark Age and here she was, their damned ‘saviour’ and she had to stumble into everything blind. “I’m lucky I’m still alive. I got thrown into a battle with an Archon on day two and the only reason I didn’t go running for the hills after I learned what an Archon is is because I’ve got Liran. I have to look after her. And everyone ignores her, treats her like she’s second-best or a fucking sidekick and I can’t stop them. At least you treat her like she deserves. She likes you, like, seriously likes you. I don’t know if it’s romantic or not but she definitely cares for you. And no one else cares for her like that. And I know she’s got my back but she’s got a whole lot of shit going on and I don’t want to add more of a burden.” Breathe. “I don’t want to be famous. I want to be an ordinary Guardian if I have to be a Guardian at all.”

Silence reigned in the room as she fought — and lost to — the tears now running down her face.

“I’m so tired. And every other Guardian that’s around my age is so full of life. They’re so genuine. Innocent. I can’t be that anymore. I don’t know that I was ever allowed to be that.”

Drifter had moved to stand beside her, not quite touching her but close enough that she could take comfort in his support. “I had no idea. I’ll, uh, stop giving you those nicknames. Didn’t mean to bother you.” He noticed her surprised glance and shrugged. “Look, I may be a bit of an asshole, and don’t get me wrong I’ve got a shady past, but I’m not that much of a monster.”

“You’re not.”

He looked confused, and out of the corner of her eye so did Nevia.

“You’re not a monster. No monster would comfort someone who was, frankly, a right dick to them for a while.”

He laughed. “You were never that bad. Aunor, however... yikes. I’m pretty sure she still wants me capital-D Dead.”

“She’s been breathing down my neck for months. I don’t even know what she wants.” Drifter was quiet, shrugging in response to her latest outburst.

“So, remember how you reacted when I walked into your hallway with Last Word?”

“Yeah. Still can’t believe you’ve got that damn gun. Didn’t think Malphur’d even consider giving it up.”

“He’s been writing to me.”

“...yeah. I know.”

“He told me it chose me. Makes you wonder. What’s he done to make it switch owners?” Before Drifter could answer, she continued. “He told me that too. Light, I was so pissed when he told me. So was Liran. She almost punched a hole in the wall. But I’m still pissed.” Ralia looked up at him. “You were Dredgen Hope, right?”

Drifter visibly recoiled. “Hey hey, I don’t go about advertising that for a reason!”

“Tell that to the Emissary of the Nine. She seems insistent on telling everyone she can.”

“Fuckin hell. Don’t tell her something once and she never lets it go.”

“That sucks. But. You know Dredgen Vale?”

“Yeah... I knew him. Why?” He looked suspicious, as did Nevia.

“Zyre Orsa doesn’t exist. He’s a pseudonym. Last Word chose me because Shin FUCKING Malphur decided to start up a fucking terrorist organisation. Because that’s what they’ve become. And you know what the kicker is? None of his inner circle know.”

“Yeah. I’ve known for a while.”

Before she could reply, Nevia beats her to it. “WHAT?”

Drifter winced. “Look. This isn’t the sort of thing you go announcing to the world. I haven’t told anyone until now. And I’m only saying it at all because Ralia over here — yes, I know your name — removed those Praxic bugs. And apologised. This the big secret you’ve been stewin over?”

“Mostly, yeah. There’s... a couple others, but they’re not mine to tell.” She’s breathing more steadily now, but you’d have to be very unobservant to notice the flames flickering around her fingers. She’s not overwhelmed anymore. She’s pissed.

By the looks of it, Nevia is also pissed. For a bit of a different reason. She’s currently chewing Drifter out for not telling her about Shin being Vale, because she wants to protect him damnit, and how can she do that if she doesn’t know all the threats? Wow.

Nevia trailed off and Ralia moved to leave.

“You don’t have to leave, sister. Company’s nice.”

She shook her head again. “You’ve listened to my bullshit, and that’s enough for me. Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not a bother. Not many come to me with their problems.”

“I needed somewhere no one would think to look for me. And I know you value your privacy.”

“Yeah. You know, Derelict’s always open. There’s tons of nooks and crannies hidden in there, good if you want to be alone.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, she transmatted away. Next time she sees Drifter, she’s bringing him a whole pot of soup or something like that. It’s the least she could do.

—————

Nevia belongs to @crazy-bone-lady