#Tim probably has to pay too much so that this is not on the front page

[akuworld777]

The newspaper

Tim had told Kon all about the cloning incident, so a year later Tim hadn't really thought about it but now Kon was in his Wayne office wondering, why because Bruce refused to take over the company again unless that Tim would finish his education, but getting back to the point , Kon was there with a book in his hand, a book very very similar to Tim's diary, the diary he started after his dad's death, the diary in which he planned the murderer's death. of his father, even if in the end he did not kill him, diary where all the cloning data is, where each documented attempt is, where…. Where Tim goes crazy and Kon has the diary…

I had thought that he had hidden it, Tim had hidden it with all the cloning things, with the capsule, the generator, the data, the DNA. Tim had hidden it and if he had told Kon the address when he confessed to him about how he had tried it. clone in case he wants to go see, or destroy it, Tm's actually not sure why he told him that, hell he's not sure why he didn't burn everything to the ground, Probably because he was thinking of trying again, after all He only stopped because Cassie intervened and Bruce disappeared, he wasn't dead, Tim had brought him back and he wasn't dead, he wasn't crazy.

Actually Tim had thought that Kon would destroy everything and if he didn't he wouldn't find the diary, but he did and now he's probably here to tell him what an idiot he was, how disgusting he is for trying to clone his best friend 99 times, for that matter. How he kissed Cassie just to feel it, how he planned to use his DNA if the 100th attempt didn't work, trapping him with a baby, it didn't matter that at that moment Kon was dead, that there was actually no one to catch, god Tim It really was disgusting, wasn't it?

Too caught up in his head he didn't notice the intense look Kon was giving him, though his thoughts were cut off by a laugh, “I can't believe it, Cassie told me you were sick when me and Bart died but, I can't believe it.” I said that you kissed her to feel me” probably because he didn't know, Tim thought, although the thought didn't last long as he focused on what Kon was saying. "And although I knew about cloning, I didn't really expect you to have tried so hard, Tim, you were actually going to make a baby with our DNA, as if it were a husband who died and you were the mother who decided to keep the child to remember her dead loved one, it's very soap opera-like”

Tim felt like those words were digging into his conscience. Kon was saying it as if it were something absurd, he didn't seem malicious or angry, but his words felt wrong, it felt like he was making fun of what Tim had gone through, of his feelings. of his unrequited love, as if everything he did was nothing more than a bad joke, as if his mourning was worthless.

Kon seemed to realize the state Tim was in because he stopped laughing, examining him as if he were seeing him with his x-ray vision, examining him thoroughly. Unlike Bruce, Tim didn't mind being used, he felt seen in the way his parents never saw him.

Kon obviously realized something, because Tim felt the tkl pull him closer and suddenly he was trapped in the muscular, tanned arms of a Kryptonian, Tim felt himself melting in the embrace as Kon's ever-present warmth sank into him. his bones, relieving phantom pains that Tim had not even realized were there, it was like returning home, to his home, a home that seemed to have been missing for a while, he could not contain the sigh of satisfaction, but he did not regret leaving it. He left especially because Kon hugged him tighter and surrounded them both with his tactile telekinesis.

"I'm sorry, I didn't express myself well," Kon's voice sounded right next to his ear. that someone could do so much for me, could have fallen so low, could have I've suffered my loss enough to try everything." Tim felt a chill as Kon spoke, while that voice tickled his ear, but he also felt conflicted, a conflict between telling him that it wasn't that big of a deal and telling him that anyone would have done it, Cassie is proof she went and joined a cult because of his death, that he deserved that recognition, that he deserved people to worry about him, but he bit his tongue and let Kon continue instead of interrupting to express how incredible it was. It was Kon and how much it affected everyone that he was not there, how much it affected him.

“I don't want to say that what you did wasn't fucked up, damn it's actually kind of funny I'm a clone and you decided that to bring me back you were going to clone me instead of going to Constantie and making some deal with a god or demon.” Tim continued listening to Kon but made a mental note to dabble in necromancy since Kon seemed open to that and get more blackmail on Constantine, hell next time he would throw Kon's body in a lazarus pit or just jump in a building, before being without him again. As if Kon read his mind, Tim felt a tug on his hair which Kon had been stroking earlier and saw the disapproving look the super gave him.

"I'm sorry… I don't know what happened to me, you were gone, so many people were gone." Tim buried his face in Kon's shoulder. "I was just thinking about bringing you back, about bringing at least a part of you back." lap" Kon sighed “I'm not asking you to apologize Tim, I actually thought you were going to be much worse, it doesn't mean I approve of this but if I had come back to life and you had managed to have another me, I wouldn't have been angry… if you had achieved the “Baby, I wouldn’t be mad either…” The silence after that was louder than if this had been a shouting match, Tim once again confirmed that bats are not made for feelings… or maybe the trauma was simply preventing him from being good at feelings, or something. Maybe it was negligence.

Kon clarified the guarantee and spoke again, “Actually, it had been a year since all this and I probably should have talked to you since I read the entire diary, but I kept putting it off because I didn't know how to tell you this… I didn't know how. explain my feelings and I didn't know if I had really understood yours correctly, the hell I chose this moment because Cassie threatened to destroy the diary if I didn't talk to you and…and I thought that now that a year has passed, it probably won't affect you that much…" The pause felt like a shock so Kon wasted no time in continuing quickly.

“Probably what you feel for me is already gone and I thought if that's how I can deal with rejection… I can deal with that, I'm used to not having much luck in romance and this is Rob, he wouldn't make fun of me or nothing, our relationship could continue….” Kon's voice became lower and lower as if he felt unsure of continuing, but Tim couldn't pay much attention to that, because Kon had just confessed to him, to Tim Drake, he had just confessed and he was actually thinking. that Tim would reject him, he thought that Tim would have gotten bored of him because it had been a year, just a year and Tim wanted to hit him because Tim had been feeling something for him since they were only 4 in young Justice and Kon thought that one year he would to be enough to make Tim forget about his feelings, to make Tim reject him.

Kon had arrived with the damn diary where Tim poured his soul, his sorrow, his pain, his mourning, his love and he had tried to take it with humor as he always did with serious topics trying not to get hurt, the trauma appeared in many forms and everyone They had a way of dealing with him, Kon had always used humor, kind of like Dick. He probably planned to pretend that everything was a joke if Tim rejected him, but Tim would never reject him so he took a deep breath and separated from the hug, the TKL let go easily but at the same time seemed to want to keep him there, Kon looked at him sadly, he seemed resigned and Tim couldn't allow that.

"I still like you… If you hadn't come back in the middle of my search for Bruce, I probably would have done the baby plan after bringing Bruce back, put my DNA and yours in a capsule and spent months hiding creating fake IDs, buying a house, getting a fake job, in some random country and I would have raised the baby there.” It may not be the most poetic or emotional declaration of love, hell in reality he hadn't even said that he loved him or that he liked him but Tim was a vigilante, above all he was a bat and practically Tim's entire life had revolved around heroes and That Tim is confessing to Kon what is basically that he was going to retire from being a vigilante with a test tube baby of the two, was very significant.

“I liked you from the beginning of Young Justice, I may not have loved you that early but I liked you, and after breaking up with Steph I realized that I wasn't that interested in her, because the breakup didn't hurt me that much. Instead I was more focused on the fact that we were going out the next day and that I had nothing to wear, damn Steph helped me choose what to wear because she had also realized it long before me", "you are, nice handsome, you smile seems to light up the day, your hugs are like scorching the home, I can feel the heat, the comfort, the affection, you are like a respite from the pain, the memories are the discomfort, you never judge anything, damn it, I tried to clone you 99 times and you keep saying that you don't blame me for it, even knowing that you had a lot of problems regarding your identity due to cloning, you always support everyone, you always seem to know everything, you never push me or anyone to do things I don't want to do, Hell, when my parents weren't at Christmas or when Bruce and I were arguing, you were the angriest, you always defended me, you gave fucking Jason Todd a threat for trying to kill me, you…" Tim could have spent hours talking about everything good about Kon if he had the time he would even show you his power point and his graph of over 100 reasons why Kon was a unique, admirable person and anyone who said otherwise was obviously a villain, but he couldn't since warm lips that felt like the sun on the morning of a spring day rested on his lips, effectively silencing him.

Tim had priorities and preferred to indulge in the kiss than in his talk about why Kon is the best person in the world, sue him, if Superboy kissed them they surely wouldn't be able to think, much less continue with a speech.

The kiss was perfect, not in the traditional way after all, Tim. And him still didn't know what the other liked and it was a little awkward for it being the first kiss they shared, but the feelings were there, every movement of lip to lip, They told praises of love and professed devotion, each touch was warm and moved the heart of the other, it was a promise, a prophecy fulfilled, a river that overflowed as the minutes passed and the feelings of each one were transmitted in the kiss.

The only thing that brought them out of their concentration was the noise of a pile of leaves falling to the floor. They quickly separated. Tim had thought that Kon had dropped the newspaper but unfortunately they were not so lucky. His assistant Katerin, the substitute since Tam was sick, had just seen 18-year-old Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, kissing Superboy… Tim would have to pay her so much to keep quiet.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You have what some might consider to be an odd celebrity crush. Until you meet him in real life, that is. | 1.1k+ words of fluff!

Part 2: Celebrity Crush, Table for Two >

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

As you twirl your straw in your drink, you tune out the conversation of your friends. The message to get ready had come last minute, with only a few minutes to prepare for an outing before your best friend arrived to pick you up. You had been watching a true-crime documentary when the message came through, and rather than listen to your friends discuss their weekend plans, you think about the case in the show. Or, more specifically, one of the officers who worked the case.

“Hello,” one of your friends calls.

She draws the word out and waves a hand in front of your face, which you bat away when your attention returns to the restaurant and the people around you.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “What are we talking about?”

“Celebrity crushes!” she cheers. “Mine is Tom Cruise.”

“Gross! He’s old enough to be your dad,” another girl comments.

“And he can pay for everything like my dad, too.”

“Can we move on?” someone interrupts. “Who’s yours?”

“Mine?” you clarify, pointing at yourself. “Oh, uh, you probably haven’t heard of him.”

“C’mon, spill!” they encourage.

You shake your head, and the friend closest to you repeats, “Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Tim Bradford,” you answer softly.

“Who?”

“He’s a cop, and he’s been in some documentaries. Like the ones with Corey Harris and Aaron Thorsen. Plus, a new one with doppelgangers,” you explain.

“So, he’s a cop, not a celebrity,” your best friend argues.

“He’s been on TV! More than once,” you point out.

“Girl, you know I love you, but that’s more of a ‘hear me out’ than a celebrity crush.”

You shake your head and sit back in your seat. The sooner you get home to finish the documentary, the better.

The next day, after you’ve finished the newest documentary and your crush on Tim Bradford has strengthened, you find yourself out shopping with your friends. Thankfully, they’ve moved on from the celebrity crush comment. While you’re in the third store of the day, you wait in the dressing rooms to rate your best friends’ choices while the other girls shop.

An employee approaches you with a nervous smile and asks if anyone else is in the fitting area.

“Yes, one of my friends is trying something on. Is everything okay?” you answer.

“Oh, of course. I don’t want to alarm you, but we’ve locked the doors because there are some suspicious characters in the area. The police are on the way, so everything will be under control soon.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say.

She sighs in relief that you were kind about the ordeal, then walks away to alert other customers. You look toward the large windows on the storefront but don’t see anything happening in the parking lot.

A few minutes later, after your friends have purchased their items and are waiting to leave, two police officers walk to the locked door and knock on it. The employee you spoke to earlier rushes to let them in and obeys when the male officer instructs her to lock the door again.

“Ladies, we’re with the LAPD,” the shorter man says. “Our colleagues are outside handling the situation as we speak. However, we need your help; if you’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary today, please meet me at the counter and we’ll fill out a report.”

The employees follow him to the counter, and you realize that he is in the documentaries you’ve been watching. As you turn to look outside again, you see the other officer.

“Are you Sergeant Tim Bradford?” you ask.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, I just watched the documentaries you were in and thought it was you. Your insight was informative; I liked listening to your side of the case.”

He smiles kindly and says, “I’m glad.”

You nod, then step back and look around the store. Unsure how much longer you’ll have to wait, you take a moment to look at the merchandise. You usually tag along on shopping trips but don’t buy anything. Your friends have different tastes than you, and an easier time buying things for themselves. One item catches your eye, and you run your finger over it. They have your preferred size, and you tap it a few times before you look away again.

Unknown to you, Tim watches you. He’s seen people come up to Aaron, Lucy, and even Nolan, and claim to have seen them on television. Those encounters usually end with someone asking for a picture, an autograph, and, once, to get their cousin released early. This is the first time he’s heard a genuine compliment, and he’s happy to have been the one you chose to give it to.

“Officer Bradford?” his partner calls. “A word?”

You smile at Tim when you look toward him, and with his eyes already on you, he notices immediately. He dips his chin as he walks past you, and you walk across the room to your friends.

“Wait, is that your celebrity crush?” your best friend whispers. “You didn’t say he was like… Abercrombie model hot!”

You shrug, and she turns to your other friends to talk about how attractive the officers are. Your gaze wanders back to the only thing in the store you’d ever consider buying, but you shake your head and look at Tim Bradford instead.

“The situation has been handled and the area is safe now. You’re free to go,” he announces. “Thank you for your help.”

Your friends rush out, eager to get to another store, but you walk toward the door at a normal pace. Tim and his partner are walking out too, and you hold the door for them.

“Go ahead,” Tim tells his partner. “Thanks,” he says to you.

He stops beside you, and you let the door close. After a glance over his shoulder, Tim passes you a bag.

“What is this?” you inquire.

“A thank you.”

“For?”

“Being nice. Plus, you didn’t ogle me like your friends.”

You chuckle and smile as you argue, “You’ve got to be used to that.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

You peek in the bag and see the item you were looking at. “I can’t accept this.”

“The ladies inside told me I had to take something for keeping them safe.”

“And you got me something?” Tim smiles, and you shake your head. “Thank you.”

“If you’d really like to thank me or hear more about those cases you seem to like so much, maybe we could meet for dinner sometime.”

“I would love that.”

“Great. I have to go, but… give me a call.”

You watch him leave, then realize that he didn’t give you his number. As you walk away, you pull the receipt from the bag. But it isn’t a receipt. It’s a piece of paper with his name and number. Under that, he wrote, I never wanted to be a celebrity crush before today.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead On Main part 7

Masterpost

dedicated to @cervinebotanist and @leafyeyes417 for responding so quickly and with such enthusiasm to part 6. Thank you for the encouragement and support.

Danny takes a deep breath. He can hear scrambling from somewhere else in the car, but he can’t pay attention to what’s happening as he focuses inward. He closes his eyes, and reaches inside himself.

Jason has a tiny baby core! Danny almost coos at it, but it’s so underdeveloped that he’s sad instead. Danny can feel ectoplasm in himself, in Jason’s body. But it isn’t enough. This ectoplasm has been reused, reduced, recycled one too many times. It’s got barely enough to stay alive left in it. Jason is mostly being sustained by his human half right now. It feels like play-doh that turns to dust where it should stretch, dried-out and old. It makes him even more sad. And slightly ill. But the sadness makes the rioting ectoplasm calm back down inside him.

Danny opens his eyes. He’s slightly disoriented, but calm now, eyes no longer glowing. They had stopped the car. He looks at Tim, who is leaning against his door and braced against it and Dick’s chair, giving Danny as much space as possible. His hand is almost on the door handle and his tablet on the floor. Dick and Bruce are exchanging panicked looks in the front seat, both now unbuckled for some reason and completely turned to face the backseat.

“Hey, speaking of ectoplasm, this body really needs some.” Danny informs them. “If it doesn’t get some new ectoplasm soon his core is going to cease functioning, and that would be really bad, and possibly irreversible.” 

“Uhhh.” Dick’s panicked look is turning straight to confusion, as is everyone else’s. “What?” 

“I didn’t realize that Jason was, I mean he had mentioned he died, but he- well, I guess I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone either. Does make it easier to talk about since we’re the same, but of course we couldn’t have known yet. But his core needs some help, do you not have access to ectoplasm back home?” Danny is rambling, brain spinning at the thought of how much he and Jason have in common. This big thing that no one else would truly understand by each other. And Vlad, sort of, but nobody likes Vlad. “It’s amazing that we ended up soulmates. He’s only the third person in the world I’ve even heard about with this condition. How long has he been without ectoplasm? Is he having trouble finding any, or does he not know he needs it? Either way, I’m giving him some as soon as possible.” Danny doesn’t know whether he should freak out over that fact that his soulmate is as dead as he is, that he’s currently dying from lack of ecto, or that his soulmate’s entire family is probably going to end up learning about him and ghosts, or the fact that he is currently taking another body that the GIW is going to want to study straight to them. All of these things seem like great reasons to freak out on their own, so all together he is just panicking.

Danny doesn’t seem to be able to breathe. 

“Hey, come on, that’s fine, you can totally give Jason some… ectoplasm.” Dick says.

“Danny, you have to breathe, okay.” Tim is much calmer than Dick, so Danny focuses on him as Bruce and Dick whisper in the front. “Danny, match my breathing.” Danny stares at Tim, who is making very exaggerated breathing movements, and tries to time his breathing to match. “We’ll figure everything out, but we don’t need to do it right now.” Tim is still helping Danny, talking calmly, but he says this with enough force to distract the two in the front seat enough for them to shut up for a second. Danny appreciates the bit of silence.

“You need to start driving.” Danny, tells Bruce. “Right now, his human half is sustaining the rest of him almost entirely. If Jason doesn’t get more ecto soon, his other half will die, and I’m not sure what will happen to his human side if that happens. He may die again completely.”

There’s a beat of silence in the car. Bruce stares right into Danny’s eyes.

“You are saying there is an active threat to my son’s life, ” Bruce asks, voice hard. 

Danny nods. Then everyone is buckled back in and Bruce is pulling them back onto the road. 

“You know what’s happening and how to help him?” Bruce asks, voice steady but Danny can sense all the emotion underneath. Bruce is really worried right now, he looks around the car and realizes that Dick and Tim are as well. They both have phones out, but are tense, tuned into his conversation with Bruce.

“Yeah, It’s a simple enough fix, I’m just worried because he’s really…” Danny takes a moment to think of the right word. “Ecto deficient? His core is definitely malnourished, and his body and mind definitely need it. They are being sustained with human stuff for now, but eventually that won’t be enough.” 

“How urgent is this?”

Danny feels for Jason’s core, feeling like he’s invading his privacy, but without other options to check. It’s not cracked, but it’s not fully formed either. Half starved baby core, not even strong enough to present. Its link to an obsession is strong, but frayed enough that Danny can’t tell what it is. The core is not strong enough to produce it’s own ecto, even in response to the obsession being fulfilled. Everything is stable, but strained.

“I’m not an expert, but he’s sustained himself this long. And we’re already on the way. We should be fine, but I’ll keep an eye on it just in case.”

[diamond-champagne]

11. I Trust You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

In which walls hold secrets and whispered confessions

Warnings: None :)

a/n: thank you for loving you as much as I do!

Paige gets excited easily.

It truly doesn’t take much to get the energetic blonde filled with enthusiasm and anticipation. These feelings turn in her stomach and result in a concoction that has her bouncing from the inside out. 

So it’s no surprise that once she touches down in the airport and she sees the Fudds holding up signs to welcome her and Azzi, she smiles as bright as she can. In her heart, she knows that the brown-eyed girl in front of her is her home but Virginia is close second too.

The smile never leaves her face. Not when everyone is greeting each other with hugs in the middle of the airport. Not when they all shove into the car to get back to the house. And certainly not when she walks through the door and sees all the reminders that they consider her family.

The entire house is a reminder of what she’s unintentionally built with the curly-haired girl. Paige can see every laughing fit and hear every late night conversation echo through the walls of the house. They whisper every secret and every confession shared between the two girls. 

Secrets only they know. Secrets only they keep.

Paige thinks about that when they sit at the dinner table that night. She wonders if Azzi feels it too; the idea that home could include Paige. The older girl is deep in thought but makes it a point to nod her head when Tim calls Azzi out for not paying attention. When the two lock eyes across the table, Paige thinks she can get used to having Azzi’s eyes on her all of the time. The idea that they’ll find her in a room full of crowded people makes her giddy. Her heart soars at the feeling of having Azzi’s attention. 

Her reverie is interrupted though when Katie asks Paige a question. 

“Paige, do you trust Azzi to do that?”

The blonde isn’t sure what the context of the question is. She wasn’t listening but the answer is truthful anyway.

“I trust her with everything.”

Her own words ring in her ears. It’s like saying the words aloud makes them real. They settle a fire internally that she’s been struggling to put out. 

Trust.

She broke her heart and healed it with one word. She carries that thought with her to the shower. It’s been a long day and Paige swears she can still smell the airplane after traveling for the day.

As she stands under the spray, she thinks back to when she realized that she did indeed trust Azzi with everything. 

-

She didn’t sleep well. Not today, not yesterday, and probably not tomorrow.

The kiss that the two shared in the bathroom lives in her head. She wishes that she pressed a little harder and stayed a little longer. However, it isn’t the kiss that keeps her up at night. It’s the being close to Azzi that she misses. She misses the way Azzi looks at her and touches her.

How could she not?

Not when Azzi’s eyes seem to hold the answers for everything Paige is scared to ask. Not when her eyes seem to scream “fall for me and I’ll catch you”. Not when Azzi spent the time tracing her name on the blonde’s hip, as if she was hers.

But isn’t she? Paige thinks if she was Azzi’s she would never want to be anything else. She would never want to belong to anyone else. 

The blue-eyed girl is scared though, and it’s something that she feels deep within her. Paige doesn’t want to end up with a broken heart. It’s what keeps her from jumping out the metaphorical cliff to fall all into Azzi and everything they could be together. So Paige stands on the edge of a cliff, looking over everything she’s ever wanted for them; unable to move and not trusting herself or Azzi to do so. 

She can’t jump but maybe she can dip her toe in. Maybe she just needs a reminder that it’ll be okay. Maybe she just needs Azzi tonight and she can worry about forever tomorrow. 

So, Paige decides to see her best friend but realizes at the last minute that she can’t show up empty handed. So she orders Chipotle and then stops at the target next door to get ice cream. It’s only when the older girl is walking by the endcap to check out does she see the book and grab it before she can talk herself out of it. 

Her hands are sweaty when she knocks on the door to the curly-haired girl’s apartment. Negative thoughts plague her mind and she can feel a twister of emotion ready to rip through her. However, it’s quickly settled because the expression on her favorite face is nothing less than welcoming and longing. 

Then to make matters better, Azzi admits that she always misses Paige. The blonde can’t help but be hopeful that maybe she’ll get some sleep tonight. Azzi pulls her into the apartment and begins to sort through the various bags. It’s obvious when they land on the book.

Paige allows herself a silent victory for buying it. It’s worth Azzi’s reaction. 

The night is spent reveling in the curly-haired girl’s embrace and attention. When they lay together on the couch, the blue-eyed girl can feel hands drift up her back and she knows immediately that Azz is once again writing her name on Paige’s back.

It stirs something deep in Paige and the blonde is reminded that she can feel like this forever.

Something tells the blonde that this must be what poets feel when they write poetry. 

A feeling this great must come with great risk though so while Paige lays in Azzi’s arms on the couch, she chooses to jump.

Azzi is worth trusting.

-

Paige reminisces on that night as she finishes her shower. By the time she’s drying off, she knows that the walls will hold yet another confession.

Her heart beats out of her chest as she changes into her pajamas and starts her venture to Azzi’s room where she’ll be sleeping. The blonde is nervous but she can’t help but smile at the chance to finally have everything and not just something. 

Paige wonders if Azzi can feel her nervousness as she walks into the room. It’s quiet but comfortable, at least that’s what Paige thinks before she looks at her best friend through the mirror. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I love you.”

Paige gasps in response and then goes silent. Her mind is racing. 

Could this mean what she wants it to mean? What she needs it to mean.

“Say something.” Azzi demands. Paige supposes that she’s been quiet for a bit too long for her best friend’s comfort. She closes her eyes and breathes through her nose to mentally prepare herself before taking the final plunge. 

“I trust you.”

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[alittlebitofloveliness]

PLEASE write more mini fics about ponyboy and curly i love them together

Hi anon! This is the first of the PaperCut asks I'm cooking up, so I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long!

****************

Curly Shepard knows he’s the hottest person alive, which is good, because he needs this to go well. 

He’s got a pair of Tim’s jeans on- they’re a bit long, but unlike his own they don’t have any stains- and he might pay for that later but right now it doesn’t matter. His muscle shirt might’ve belonged to Tim at one point or another too, but right now the important thing is that it shows off his arms. Gotta show off his gains if he’s gonna get a date for the rodeo this weekend. 

He really needs a date for the rodeo this weekend. Angela had bet him three dollars and a pack of kools he couldn’t find one and he was determined to prove her wrong. Also, he doesn’t have the scratch to spare if he loses- he’s trying to save up for a nail gun. Dally Winston told him a week ago about a guy in New York who used a modified nail gun as a weapon, and Curly wants to try it.

So, the date. He’d considered asking Catalina Perez- she’s been making eyes at him for weeks, and despite what Angela thinks he isn’t completely clueless- but he doesn’t really want to take a girl out. Girls are fine, but he’s gotta be like…nice and gentlemanly and shit and it's so boring. Besides, Angela just said he had to find a date. She didn’t say it had to be with a girl. 

There’s only one person he actually wants to ask out. Of course, Ponyboy will probably tell him to fuck off, but he tells Curly to fuck off a lot and only means it like a third of the time, so it’ll probably be fine. 

Curly flexes once more in front of the mirror (for confidence) and sticks his switchblade in his pocket. Momentarily he considers grabbing a jacket, but he didn’t spend the last three months beefing up his arms just to cover them with sleeves. Besides, it’s not that cold yet.

Angela’s in the living room with Sylvia, and he promptly decides he does not want to hear them rip him to shreds for his very cool outfit, so he climbs out his bedroom window instead. It’s good practice for gang stuff, he tells himself, because saying he doesn’t want to feel the sting of Angel’s judgemental gaze feels a lot like cowardice.

Once he’s outside he runs into a problem: he’s finally psyched himself up enough to ask Ponyboy out, but unfortunately he doesn’t have any idea where to find him.

Ok, that’s not completely true. Truth is, the guy is pretty predictable on account of his grumpy ass older brother keeping him on a leash shorter than Angel’s temper. Tim didn’t keep half so close an eye on him, and he’d done things Ponyboy probably hadn’t even dreamed of.

It wasn’t like Pony was any sort of goody two shoes. No, Curly didn’t like teacher’s pets and he liked Pony something awful. Pony just…wasn’t as dumb as him, that was all. And he had more to lose, with the state breathing down his neck and all. Curly could respect that.

He’d try the movie house first, he decided. Shit Ponkid liked movies, and anytime he went with him Ponyboy would get all pissy if he said anything about Paul Newman. (What did Pony like so much about that guy anyway? He wasn’t even that tuff looking and he talked like a soc.)

When he shows up, the movie house is empty except for a pair of socs getting handsy in the back row, so he makes his way to the library instead, hoping the old lady behind the desk has forgiven him for time he spilled Pepsi over half the books in the history section (it's not his fault ok? He got distracted.)

This time, his detective skills are as flawless as his face, and he spots a familiar head of reddish hair in the back corner near the biology section, Pony’s shoulders curled in his familiar slouch. The sight of it makes a familiar warm feeling start in his chest, like how good whiskey goes down, a feeling Angela had explained to him two days ago was ‘what a crush feels like, dumbass’ with an eye roll and a not so gentle swat on the head. Much as he hates to admit it, it’s a fairly common occurrence. He’s good at describing feelings but not naming them. Angela feels nothing, but knows what things are supposed to feel like. It works for them, even though Tim calls them weird for it. 

“Hey Ponykid!” His voice is too loud for the library and he knows it, but what’s the old bitch behind the desk gonna do? Kick him out? He could kick her ass.

Ponyboy scowls. “Shut up!” 

“You goin’ to the rodeo this weekend?” Shit. Curly had meant to build up to that, honestly he did, but Ponyboy Curtis has a way of getting him to act like a prize idiot instead of his usual cool, suave self. He hates what this crush is doing to him, and also never wants it to stop.

“No.” 

He goes back to his book. 

Rude.

“Why not?” Curly presses, leaning on the table in a way that makes his arms flex just the way he practiced. The moment is wasted though, because Pony doesn’t even glance up.

“Because.”

“Because why?” He should’ve known better than to come to the library. The only time Pony ever gets proper mad at him is this godforsaken hellhole.

“Because Angela told me you were gonna ask me out,” Pony shuts his book, a shit eating grin crossing his face, and fuck this was not part of the plan. Curly can feel his cheeks flushing and he’s not for the first time he’s glad his skin is dark enough it won’t be obvious. If Pony- or anyone else for that matter- had any idea how much he made Curly blush he’d never hear the end of it, “and she paid me a pack of kools not to say yes unless you ask again after this weekend.”

“She- she what?”

That had to be cheating. Even Tim would have to agree that was cheating, or racketeering or- or something. She was rigging their bet against him. Worse than that she’d told Ponyboy he was gonna ask him out, and now Ponyboy was prepared with his smirk and that face and whatever cologne he’s wearing which smelled so good it should probably be illegal.

“Sorry,” Ponyboy grins, not sounding sorry at all. He climbs to his feet, and Curly is suddenly acutely aware of how close they are, almost chest to chest. Pony’s maybe three inches taller, and Curly finds himself having to look up a bit into his eyes, “guess you’re gonna have to try again next week.”

Then he leans in and kisses Curly on the cheek. 

Curly’s brain melts. 

Pony must see it, because despite the slight flush on his pale cheeks, he manages to look completely smug as he turns away.

“Now fuck off, would ya Curls? I’m tryin’ to read.”

[cookeybg]

The Colony Possessed - Chapter 1

Title: The Colony Possessed

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

Narrators: Hal Jordan, will add others as chapters progress

Honorable Mentions: Barry Allen, will add others as chapters progress

No romantic relationships

Stuff to Know: Cryptid Batfamily, maybe a bit spooky, Hopefully a bit amusing, Gotham LOVES Batman and she always will, it's concerning

[The Colony Possessed Table of Contents]

Chapter 1 - Hal didn’t get spooked easily.

Hal walked through the halls of the Watch Tower, the silence of the comfortably cool halls welcoming. The tower itself had many rooms for the various heroes to live in, but despite the ample room and pretty sweet amenities, which included not paying rent, the majority chose to live down on earth, himself included. Many stated that it was much more comfortable to be amongst the people, the whole work-life balance that has become popular as of late. While others placed the blame on the rumors of the place being haunted. In Hal’s opinion, what establishment didn’t have those kinds of rumors? In their line of work, where anything was possible, he wouldn’t be surprised if the place actually was. It didn’t bother Hal in the slightest, he enjoyed scaring the others with made up ghost stories. It was fun giving the tower a bit of a mythos, especially when a certain speedster got so spooked. He reached the door leading to the monitor room, tapped in his code and the door slid silently open. The room was dark, darker than normal, the florescent lights unable to penetrate it. A set of glowing, hazy, green eyes stared back at him, no pupil, no white, only green. Its unfocused body leaned over the hunched figure who sat in front of the monitors, its wispy arms wrapped around the figure’s neck. Hal felt his heart sink into his stomach, felt like the oppressive darkness would swallow him, felt the tinge of something, other, stain him. “You’re late.” The sitting figure turned toward him, voice like thunder, white eyes too bright. Hal let out a very unmanly scream, his focus on the horned monster in front of him. Green eyes forgotten. The monster stood, stalking toward him. The paleness of his muzzle left him shaking, did he smell blood in the room? Without much thought he surrounded himself in a spherical green shield, his body ready to bolt. No, he should fight, running sounded better. The hair on his body stood on end, his bladder ready to let go. The figure let out a grunt, one of disapproval, familiar. “What’s wrong with you?” Batman said, grumpily. Right, he was in the Watch Tower, he was here to relieve Spooky. This was Batman, not some monster, just some human, well he claimed to be human. He let the sphere dissipate and clutched at his chest trying to get his breath back. He looked around the room, it was well lit, the monitors doing their monitoring and Spooky was just standing there in all his broad shouldered, thin waisted, menacing demeanor. Yeah, there was nothing strange here, except for the bat themed furry. “Nothing.” Hal said, clearing his throat. Batman stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. Hal did his best to look nonchalant, the cold sweat at his back slowly drying, trying to control his slight trembling. No way in hell would he give Spooky the pleasure of knowing he got scared of him, no surprised, he got surprised. Batman grunted and walked passed him. Hal shivered, he could swear he heard something laugh, could feel cold fingers touch his cheek in passing and see a dark tendril trailing behind the black clad man. It was probably just his cape. Yeah, he must have been more tired than he thought, imagining things, jet lagged from his trip to Oa…the one he took three weeks ago. He texted Barry, asking him to join him at the tower, he didn’t want to be bored during his shift. That’s all it was, not the possible darkness coming to life. Hal didn’t get spooked easily.

Let me know what you think. I get super excited seeing comments, a bit nervous too, but it brings me joy.

I really enjoyed typing up Gotham possess so hopefully this one is just as fun!

FYI: I'll start adding the chapter in the title to my posts to make it easier to find.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Idk if this is a request or something but I just wanted to get it out there before I forget it. How would the batfam react to a batsis coming from the last of us universe?( the last of us is a zombie apocalypse type game.) How would they react to all of batsis PTSD from being born in a world over ran by zombie’s and learning to survive at a young age. How would they help them? How would they react if they ever were transported to there(batsis) world?

Sorry for this random ask I just wanted to get this out there before I forget about it. Anyway hope you have a great week!

SOFT YANDERE BATFAM x THE LAST OF US! READER BRAINROT

Recently had a TLOU brainrot (at this point it’s more of a heartrot with how devastating the story is eugh) so this came at a perfect timing. I’m guessing batsib (I’ll make it gn I hope you don’t mind anon) has a similar life to elle if they’re not just elle entirely.

I think Batsib would have to be close to the boys before they eventually spill their guts (aka their severe trauma out).

Like when they’re at least 60% there on the yan scale of things.

They see signs like you being hella adamant on the boys at least trying to fix their relationship with Bruce since you know the most out of everyone how it feels to lose a father figure.

You’re the closest with Jason purely because you both have baggage, and luckily you like to talk about it and sort it out.

Your whole life had been the apocalypse so going to Gotham and seeing everything in its prime fascinated you. When the Batfam first took you in due to your status as an anomaly, it took very little to impress you.

But it also took a lot to terrify you.

If we’re going full on Ellie! Reader here then them (batfam) seeing that huge bite mark on your arms, presumably after you’ve dumped info on your past and your reality, almost turned them feral.

It was that moment they decided to never let you go back.

You’re allowed to join them with their vigilante activities as long as you were under strict surveillance.

Bruce is kind of off-put by your nonchalance when it comes to beating up people to a pulp. He had to jump in and stop you from completely killing a dude.

Jason on the other hand approves. Definitely eggs you on.

The rest of the boys, as is my headcannon with any violent MC, get turned on when they see you covered in blood.

In summary, they definitely cherish you more. The spoiling is dialed up to eleven. And since you didn’t know much of the world prior to its apocalypse state, they wouldn’t lock you up like in most cases and instead bring you to explore as much as you’d like.

There is a sick part of them that enjoys your PTSD and how dependent (and distrusting of others) you can be because of it. So unless it gets really bad where you can’t get sleep at all I can see them just not trying to get help for you.

ON THE MORE WHOLESOME SIDE:

I am now imagining reader going to a museum with them all and just climbing the fossil in front of like dozens of people while screaming “LOOK AT ME I’M ON A MOTHERFUCKING DINOSAURRRR!”

Bruce definitely had to pay a lot for that

and all the younger ones + Dick cause he’s Dick throwing fedora hats on all the dinos??? please im on my knees that’s too cute augh-

If they were ever transported in your world, it’d definitely be the other way around. Say you aren’t like Ellie and are completely susceptible to the infection- oof you might as well just be in jail.

They’ll disinfect everything. Masks 24/7. Generally just extremely careful as to not get infected or infect you in any shape or form.

Tim has already researched on fungal infections so you bet he’s ready. Wouldn’t be surprised if he single-handedly ends the apocalypse with how thorough he was. Him, Dick, and Alfred focus more on taking care of you.

Jason and Damian are more with survival and the annihilation of anything that may be dangerous to you within the vicinity. May it be zombies, thieves, the military and what not.

Bruce is probably tinkering on more equipment and helping Tim with actually getting rid of the fungi. The former will definitely use his charm and looks to get more supplies.

In short, these dudes have everything on lockdown.

You’ll wish you didn’t come back to your original world.

A.N. I hope this was to your liking anon!

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Dunno if you’ve already done this and you don’t have to, but how about m!greaser casually giving the gang + Shepard siblings the ultimate princess treatment??

I’m talking like MAJOR princess treatment. Holding doors without asking, popping off beer caps, lighting cigs with his own lighter, bridal-carrying them away from a rumble when they’re hurt, etc etc. m!greaser isn’t even teasing abt it too, he’s genuinely just a whole ass gentleman

Of course anon!!! I love this request 🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️

Ponyboy Curtis

-he’s surprised whenever you start treating him like damn royalty

-honored but surprised

-he loves the treatment he gets from you

-he always makes sure to say thank you

-he loves leaning on your shoulder when you carry him back from getting hurt

-he reads you stories that you fall asleep to as a way of saying thanks

-the other greasers tease him so hard about it tho

-he would do the same things for you that you do for him (:

Johnny Cade

-wow

-he’s like so not used to people treating him with baseline kindness or respect

-so you goin get extra more to do these things

-to light his cigarette, always make sure he has a place to stay for the night, bridal carry him at the slightest injury

-he’s pretty grateful

-also gets pretty flustered whenever you do it

-always says a quiet, “thank you” with a tiny smile

Sodapop Curtis

-he’s often overlooked as the middle Curtis sibling

-and he’s really only used to people doing things for him

-well, because he’s pretty. He has pretty privilege and he knows that

-and whenever you do these things for him

-just because he’s sodapop

-it’s what makes him give you genuine grins

-not his fake, charming demeanor that he so often carries

-but a genuine smile is what you bring to his face when you do these things

-and he’ll kiss your cheek 😊

Darry Curtis

-he does the same thing tbh

-most gentlemanly out of all of them

-you two are so mutually so sweet to each other

-but it backfires sometimes because you both want to do the same nice things for each other

-probably the most stable couple

-I really ship yall personally

-you guys would spend like 45 minutes fighting over who pays the bill at dates though 💀💀

Dallas Winston

-the least gentlemanly

-bro just does not think about much other than his own surroundings

-💀💀

-but he would definitely smirk whenever you do those things for him

-“Well ain’t you a doll, y/n?”

-that’s kinda the most thanks you’ll get 💀

-deep down he’s grateful but it takes him MONTHS of dating for him to even mutter thanks

-would not let you carry him though

-his egos too heavy anyway 😔

Two Bit Mathews

-he’d make jokes

-it’s two bit what do you expect

-but like jokes of affection

-really cheesy

-If you lit his cigarette “Y’know what else you set on fire? My heart.”

-if you carried him “Givin’ me a preview of the wedding hm? I see you…”

-and ur like two bit you literally broke your ankle

-but he’s actually really grateful whenever you do those things for him

-🫶

Steve Randle

-he would act nonchalant about it

-but he would totally care

-and brag to Sodapop about you and all you do for him

-and would try to kind of pay you back by spending his free time always upgrading or working on your car

-but he still mutters thank you to you

-but shows his full gratitude in other ways

Tim Shepard

-he’s absolutely not used to this

-he’s pretty smug whenever you do it though

-and definitely shows you off for it

Curly Shepard

-he would definitely be smug in a similar way to him

-like heh yeah my baby treats me like a goddamn king

-he would kiss you in front of anyone every time you do something for him

Angela Shepard

-she’s so cute

-she’s so grateful because most of the guys she’s dated have been dicks to her

-and when you come along and treat her like a princess she wants to cry tbh

-she gives you so many hugs n kisses

[cluelessandsenseless]

Tim Laflour headcanon

Had to make a cute collage of my current obsession Tim Laflour (x blackfem!Reader- since I’m black and finding content for melanated girls is like finding a good man) use of she/her pronouns for Y/N.

Y/N is supposed to be Darryl’s little sister so like Bbf vibes. Cute bunny girl vibes just effortless, pretty and girly, ya know?

Y/N is Darryl’s sister who might transfer so she comes to check out some classes and tour the campus.

She’s only heard good things about Tim and thought he was hot when they first met.

Tim helps her carry her bags up even though Darryl is there (no ones complaining tho).

Tim thinks she’s cute but he thinks she’s probably judging him because of his fashion sense.

They get along so well when she arrives.

Y/N is kinda shy but not with Tim, he was just so sweet.

Y/N asked about the chiming sound.

They love how opposite they are to each other, like Tim thinks she’s so cute with the way she dresses.

Tim loves when she looks up at him with her doe eyes, she’s small in comparison to him (since he’s 6’4”).

Whereas she thinks he looks so cool/hot with the dark clothing, pierced face and how his personality juxtaposes his style.

Y/N loves everything cute but reads and watches horrors.

She loves Buffy the vampire slayer and clueless (because I do).

Y/N listens to Riot girl music and soft alt rock because she loves rock for girls

They just like to admire each other.

Y/N has long box braids.

She wears cute little pjs and always smells like fruits.

Tim loves that after Y/N showers the smell of her fruity body lotion and shower gel is all over the appartement.

Y/N loves that’s Tim smells like leather and cologne, she thinks it’s very masculine (ignore the low key internalised misogyny)

They don’t know that their crushes are mutual (Darryl does tho and he won’t tell).

Y/N deffo flirts with Tim in front of Darryl, she doesn’t see any issue with it.

Y/N always makes eye contact when he speaks to her, bites her lip and laughs at all of Tim’s jokes

She makes him blush.❤️

Gives him a kiss on the cheek for good luck (just a little too close to his lips) before he gets on the ice.

Y/N leaves lip gloss stains on his cheek.

He skates up to her whilst she is taking a tour of the campus (he’s even taller in the skates).

Tim offers to give her a better tour.

Gives her his jacket if she gets cold, It’s so big and harsh looking on her.

Y/N loves listening to Tim talk about whatever new thing he’s into.

I think Tim low key loves attention and she loves to listen.

When Darryl isn’t home they order takeout and flirt (they can’t help it).

They watch hockey in Tim’s room and she gets very comfortable meanwhile he can’t pay attention to the game because she’s wearing her pjs in his bed.

Tim takes her and Darryl to a punk bar, Y/N loves it.

Asks Tim to take her to get a piercing, Tim is conflicted because he think she would look hot but also loves how untouched she looks.

Maybe Y/N tells Tim she already has a nipple piercing/piercings and he melts at the thought.

Tim always compliments her outfit and hair, that she makes extra cute for him.

She thinks he’s pretty.

He thinks she’s pretty.

Y/N leaves after 2 weeks but transfers over the next semester.

They spend so much time together.

That’s all for now.

It’s just a bit too much text for a mood board collage but I wanted it to be like a headcanon almost, so we move.

All the photos are from Pinterest.

I love making little mood boards and I love my man Tim, he’s so cute and eats down I know it!

I might make more of these and maybe try and make them gender neutral. I could never write a full fic but I do love a good mood board. Xx

[mac-cheez]

I feel like at this point the Waynes kinda have to be unhinged chaos children at this point. Like, if they start having a sane streak then the news will just start fiending for Wayne drama to the point of harassing random strangers.

Like one day Tim pays for a lady's coffee cause she complimented his shirt or some shit, and she immediately gets mobbed and asked if she's his secret girlfriend or some shit(bonus points if she seems slightly too old or young).

So shit like this all comes to a head when a younger family friend/acquaintance gets fucking bombarded by the press at the front fucking door.

It could be anyone like Wally or Roy, but my personal favorite is just some rando kid of an acquaintance of Bruce who needs a place to crash while at uni or something(I do have a backstory for someone like this in my writing drafts but idk if ill post it). TLDR: Random Child at Wayne Manor.

One day to help Alfred out they head to the mailbox to grab the mail, or maybe they are about to get in their car, all that matters is that they are within reach. And once that happens they immediately drown in the plethora of questions from the press.

There so much talking that they can't hear a word and upon hearing the question "Is any of this true", they say yes to make them happy and immediately run back inside because they probably don't have press training.

This leads to huge headlines about the "New Wayne Kid!?!" and Bruce and his PR team have a heart attack. The kids are split between worry for the rando and unmatched amusement at the situation. Eventually, it gets straightened out after a press conference with Bruce, rando, and their current parental figures or lawyer if there is none.

Basically, it's now mandated that the Batfam has to have at least one crazy nondetrimental headline a month just to make sure the press is well-fed.

Edit: I wrote it........

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter four: walking slow (i’m all alone) | read chapter three

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5k

━ warnings: blood, minor injury

━ masterlist

“So, what brings you to Keystone? Internship?”

You watch Flash serve himself a cherry Slurpee. Then after a moment of contemplation, pick up another cup and serve blue raspberry. 

Your eyebrows raise but you still answer. “Yeah. Internship.”

“You go to GU, then? Who are you working for?”

You blink and he’s at the counter, one blue raspberry Slurpee set in front of you, with him already sipping on his as he awaits your answer. 

“I’m here for Quickstart.”

“Quickstart, huh? Workin’ with Jesse Chambers?”

“Hardly. I’m just an underling with the PR department.” 

The company’s main location was in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, anyway, so Jesse Chambers, Quickstart Enterprises’ CEO, could be found there. Not to say she didn’t drop into Keystone’s location, though. She did. Quite frequently, according to your supervisor. 

“So you came all the way out here for it. They have a location in Gotham, don’t they?”

“Harder to get into,” you say dryly. “Plus, I couldn’t afford to study abroad, so this is the next best thing.”

He laughs. The sound surprises you, mostly because it sounds genuine. Any attempts to squash down your own pleasure at making him—a world renowned superhero—laugh that way fails tremendously. Oh, well. You’re only human. Anyone would appreciate making one of these guys genuinely laugh. If you made Wonder Woman laugh, you think your life would be complete. You could die there and wouldn’t be upset about it.

(Flash is cool but he’s not that cool, sorry.) 

His laughter tapers off, a smile lingering behind. He gestures to the Slurpee. 

“That’s for you, you know.”

“I didn’t want to assume.”

“Assume.”

Your lips twitch. “Thank you. I’ll pay for it.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? Kid, I wouldn’t get it for you and make you pay for it. That’s messed up. I’m paying for it.”

“You don’t—”

“So!” He belches, then pats his stomach. “‘Scuse me. What’s the dream, then? Y’wanna work at Quickstart after you graduate?”

You sip at the Slurpee. “Not necessarily… but I wouldn’t say no to it.”

“Then?”

You lift a shoulder. “Wayne Enterprises, probably.”

“Ooh. The big one. Not LexCorp? I hear the going rate for a spokesperson there is high…”

“Yeah, because they have to constantly field rumors about illicit R&D projects and illegal Kryptonite shipments.”

He barks a laugh and you shake your head, smiling. 

“Yeah, no, I’ll pass. WE has a better track record and they still pay well.”

“True enough. Probably also less likely to be indicted as an accomplice for something or another.”

“Exactly.”

“Ever thought about the Titans? Or the League?” 

“And be at constant risk of kidnapping or death?”

“To be fair, I think you have that risk when working at Wayne Enterprises, too. And also, we are obligated by contract to rescue any and all employees that get kidnapped.”

“The fact that that is a clause in an employee contract is a bit of a red flag.”

“Or a green flag,” he counters. “Wayne probably doesn’t have that. If you get kidnapped, that’s it. You’re just—gone.”

“That’s… a comforting thought.”

“Just sayin’. Though I guess the average person would be much happier with something ‘normal’ like WE. Family and loved ones, too.”

You nod thoughtlessly. “If my parents were alive, I’m sure they’d prefer that.”

He blinks. You wince. Right…

You take a sometimes flippant approach to the death of your parents; if anyone makes dead parent jokes the most between you and Tim, it is definitely you, though they never cease to amuse him and Steph. 

“It’s nothing,” you say in the next moment, glancing up at him. “Sorry.”

He huffs. “Jeez, what are you apologizing for? If anyone should—”

“It’s fine, Flash. It happened when I was a teenager. I have a bad habit of joking about it just to… not make things too heavy.”

“Sure. Sure. I get it. I’m, like, the leading authority on using comedy as a defense mechanism.”

You laugh. “Very self-aware.”

“I try.” He pauses, head tilting as he looks at you. “I am sorry, though. That they’re gone.”

You smile bracingly and shrug. “Can’t change it. But thanks.”

“And it’s cool what you want to do. Really. Good luck at Quickstart.”

You smile and it feels genuine.  

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up, then he’s gone, blue lightning zapping in his wake, fine hairs on your arms raising because of it. The accompanying gust of wind knocks some stuff off the shelves but you don’t mind.

Flash isn’t so bad. Not bad at all.

“So… what’s your story?”

“In the present, I am being harassed by a vigilante—”

A soft groan. “Come on. You know what I mean.”

You suppress a smile, fixing the display of Lays chips. Next to you, Red Robin watches you for a moment, then does the same for a display of Takis.

“Don’t you already know?”

“What makes you say that?”

People call Batman the world’s greatest detective. You’re sure the trait has to pass down to his underlings.

You relay that to Red, who huffs.

“We are not his underlings. That’s a little offensive, you know.”

“You know what I mean,” you say, throwing his earlier words back to him, stepping over to the candy section, organizing packs of gummy bears and gummy worms. 

You partially expect him to get annoyed again but he lets out a soft snicker, amused by something. Your gall, maybe.

But after thinking about it for a while, you are the person with the advantage here. After all, Steph and Tim know you are getting vigilantes as visitors. Even if you piss him or any of the others off, if they do something, you very much trust your friends to raise hell about it. 

And, well, there is something deceptively familiar about Red Robin. Enough so to lure you into this weird sense of comfort. Like he’s a friend or something.

(Which is ridiculous. You know that. But you can feel that way as long as you acknowledge it.)

“Pass me some gummy bears? Thanks. Well, it is true that I could get that information—”

“Not have?”

“I like to give people the benefit of doubt.”

“Really?”

“Give me a break,” he complains but you catch the twitch of his lips as he fights a smile. 

“Alright,” you relent. “You were saying?”

He shrugs. “A record is just a record. It’s not the full picture, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“So.” He makes an aimless gesture to you. “Fill in the gaps for me?”

You finally chuckle. “There’s not much to tell, Red. I was born here. Have lived here all my life. Parents are dead. Died in the earthquake. That’s really it.” 

“Sorry about your parents,” he offers.

“It’s fine.”

“But that can’t be it.”

“You seem very certain about that.”

“W-Well,” he stammers, making your eyebrows raise. “Just—call it a hunch.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say doubtfully. “Is there something specific you’re after?”

He relaxes some. “I mean… you’re in school, right?” 

You nod, deciding to pause your work right now to focus on this conversation, a bit curious yourself as to why he even wants to know. 

To better his reputation, perhaps. It is not wrong to say you have your own reservations regarding the city’s vigilantes but again, that’s just a side effect of their effective management of it—ruling by fear. Why change that for you? You’re no one special. 

“So… what do you want to do when you graduate? Any hopes and dreams? Anywhere you want to work?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You sound like my friends,” you say, shaking your head.

Steph knows where you’d like to work. The answer has been the same since you started college and picked your major. The dream is somewhere like Wayne Enterprises. One of the few companies that you actually trust, that you think are doing good work for the world. 

But you obviously can’t say that to Tim, whose adoptive father owns the company. 

Steph says you can. That he’s not going to think you’re telling him that to get a leg-up in the application process. You believe it, too. You’ve known Tim long enough for at least that. But it’s still a little bit embarrassing.

“It can’t be that bad. It’s not, like… LexCorp, right?”

You laugh. “No way. Of course not.”

His lips curve, seemingly pleased by something. “Then?”

You scratch your cheek. “I dunno. Wayne Enterprises, I guess. They’re not… the worst.”

“No LexCorp, that’s for sure.”

“Half of the appeal.”

“What’s so wrong with wanting to work there?” he asks next, head tilting.

“Ah, you know…” you say evasively, turning to resume your work. “Everyone and their dog wants to work there. For a good reason, of course. I dunno. Guess I just feel a little basic for it.”

That’s a lie, of course. You’re embarrassed because of your connection to Tim and his connection to the company. Like out of all the companies that you actually want to work at… it’s the one his adoptive father owns. It’s the one where Tim himself had a brief stint as major shareholder when he was seventeen. Where he worked there for several years and only recently began cutting his work back…

He sits on that for a while, following you around like a persistent puppy as you organize things. 

“I think it’s a cool aspiration,” he eventually says after he helps carry a box of candy and chips to be restocked, kneeling on the shitty tiled floors to help you.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“And I don’t think you should be embarrassed about it… they try to do good at WE. Nothing wrong with wanting to join to help that.”

“Well, it’s not that selfless. I’d really be there to get them publicity and cover up scandals.”

He snickers. “Still. I’m sure your friends would support you, too.”

“They would,” you agree, sighing. 

“Is that bad?”

“It’s complicated,” you say vaguely.

“Un-complicate it.”

“Not a word. Also not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

The box with the chips is full of those styrofoam packing peanuts. You grab a bag of chips, then one of the packing peanuts, tossing it at him. He barely reacts as it bounces off the bridge of his nose, looking steadily at you. 

“Why does it matter to you?”

“I don’t know. I’m curious.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“You’re curious? Is that specific to now or in general? Because…” Can’t help but prod just a little at his intentions because it surely has to be something more than trying to prove a point. 

“Is it concerning for you to have my curiosity?” he asks lightly.

“Befuddling is a better word. You still haven’t answered my question, by the way.”

You have entirely abandoned the task at hand. Red is fine to stay crouching, not even once swaying on his feet as he shifts to face you more fully, but you are not him, so you settle on the tile, legs crossed underneath you as you look at him expectantly.

He tilts his head. You can’t help the way your eyes cling to the shift of his dark hair. It feels so familiar to you. Everything about him. Although this moment, the sudden tension, is not so familiar. The worst part is you can’t even decide whether it’s good tension or bad tension. He’s… annoying. 

(Beguiling, really.)

He sighs, the sound amused rather than tired, and your eyes can’t help but catch the lift of his lips. Pink and… very soft-looking. 

“Alright, fine,” he says. “I’m curious in general about you. As for the why… you’re not the worst company I’ve ever kept.”

“And considering—”

“Considering the company I keep are the others, who are fine within their own right, as well as the likes of criminals, you’re a breath of fresh air.”

Your face goes hot. “So, the bar isn’t very high.”

“What, do you care for what I think?” he asks and something about his tone, gently teasing, makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

“Of course not.”

“Really? Sort of seems like you do.”

Can’t deny that. Not with how flustered you’re growing. So, you deflect.

“And you?”

“I admit to it,” he says easily, shrugging, still smiling. “Like I said, you’re not the worst company I’ve ever kept. I like you. I want to learn more about you. And manage to stay on your good side, too.”

“You aren’t doing a good job.”

He leans forward, curve of his lips settling into something almost like a smirk. “Aren’t I?”

You glower at him. “You suck, you know that?”

He leans back, pleased as the cat that got the canary. “Whatever you say.”

Ugh.

It was a particular kind of pathetic to be treasuring all the things Tim ever gave you since he, you know, doesn’t talk to you much these days.

But you have to get your Tim Drake fill in somehow.

Today’s activity is the few playlists he’s ever shared with you, mostly alternative and indie, playing on the speakers overhead. Though it includes more than a couple Bruce Springsteen songs as well, again, in homage of his father. You and Steph can hardly tease him about it, other than maybe a poke at his affinity for listening to older groups, like Oasis. 

Either way, you aren’t thinking of making fun of him for it.

Mostly, you just miss him. 

Like you always do these days, accompanied with the usual soul-crushing guilt at the fact, at the why behind it. 

In this moment, however, you are not so willing to partake in the usual moral quandary or self-flagellation. 

Like you said, mostly, you’re caught up in missing him. 

“You know, I realized I never got around to asking how you are.”

Red’s voice startles you from serving yourself a cup of blue raspberry Slurpee. You barely heard him come inside…

A frown tugs at your lips. His voice sounds weird. 

Nonetheless, you press a cap to the cup and respond. “How I am in regards to what?”

“Everything that happened that night with Huntress.”

You step around the aisle. “I’m—holy shit, dude!”

Blood flows heavily from his nose. A bruise is already forming on his cheek and he leans against the counter, gloved hand cupped to his bleeding nose. Something about it doesn't sit right with you, stomach rolling at the sight of him injured like this. 

“It—it really looks worse than it looks.”

You turn sharply, not responding to that as you set your cup aside and snatch up several napkins, then stride back over to him. He takes them from you quickly, using them to stem the blood flow, leaning his head forward. As he does so, you spot a cut on his temple, bleeding heavily, too. 

“Jesus, Red, are you okay?”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? You heard me, right?”

“That is so not the point right now. Wait here. We have some first aid stuff…”

“You don’t have to—”

“Save the heroics, Red. I do.” 

He reads the tension in your voice, falling silent. You take it as the sign to do what you need to, turning again to find the aisle with toiletries. You get what you need, then go back to him, finding him sitting on the floor now, napkins still pressed to his nose.

“Broken?”

His head lifts slightly at the sound of your voice. You sit down next to him.

“No, luckily. Just… got hit hard.”

“I can tell,” you say, frowning, eyeing the bruise on his cheek. “How’s the bleeding?”

“Starting to slow. Should be a couple more minutes. I’ll be fine.”

You purse your lips and don’t respond, instead opening up your supplies to take care of the cut on his temple. 

“You really don’t have to, you know.”

“And yet, you get to come in here and check up on me?”

“Kind of my job, isn’t it?”

“Since when has any of this just been about that?”

A brief moment of silence as you rip open an antiseptic pad, wiping your hands, the acrid smell of alcohol burning your nostrils. 

Finally, he lets out a tired chuckle. “You got me there.”

“Unfortunate that you had to stumble in like this to get that,” you murmur, reaching up for him with another antiseptic pad but pausing before you touch him. “Can I?”

“Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.”

You carefully push away his hair; it is damp with sweat, as is his hairline. Most likely from the oppressive heat and humidity and from whatever fight he just came from. 

“Gonna sting,” you say in warning, then press the pad to the cut. As it soaks up the blood and cleans the cut, you get a better look at it. Not too big or too deep. Head wounds always bleed excessively.

He says that exact thing in the next second.

For whatever reason, it endears you, your lips twitching, injecting some much-needed levity.

“I know,” you say simply. “Doesn’t look too bad, either. Not like it needs stitches, anyway.”

“Good. My patrol isn’t over yet.”

You sigh, shifting onto your knees next to him as you discard the bloodied pad, reaching for another one to clean the area around it. 

“Can’t tone down the savior complex even a little bit, can you?”

“I appreciate your help,” is all he says.

“It’s nothing. And, anyway, to answer your previous question… I’m fine. I’m used to that kind of stuff.”

“That’s not reassuring, you know that, right?”

You give him a look. “I don’t think you get to say that. But your concern is noted.”

He sighs. “There’s that, I guess. If you need to talk—”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off gently. “I know, Red. Let me finish this up…”

You find a band-aid large enough to cover the cut, carefully pressing it onto his temple.

“Should be more careful. This area is… dangerous,” you murmur, tapping lightly at the band-aid on his temple. You’ve seen and heard enough about people taking hits there and going down permanently. The thought of that happening to Red unsettles you deeply, something cold twisting your insides.

But Red doesn’t appear to be listening to you. Instead, he’s… listening to something else. You think it’s some kind of comms, initially, but then you realize he’s listening to the song currently playing overhead. Which you quickly recognize.  

“I’m On Fire? Really? Didn’t peg you as a Bruce Springsteen fan.”

It’s obviously meant as a tease and you need to put a stop to the growing grin on his lips immediately. The only one allowed to get flustered here is him. Fair’s fair, after all, after last week’s conversation. 

“Not a fan. It’s from a friend’s playlist.”

He blinks, expression rapidly morphing into surprise. “A—friend?”

“Yes, I do have friends. I’ve mentioned this before. It’s not mine, it’s his.”

“I… see.” 

He pulls the wad of napkins away from his nose in that moment, successfully redirecting your attention from his odd reaction. You lean around to get a look. Blood smears over his upper lip, the shadow of a bruise starting to form on his nose, swollen, too.

“Well?”

“Don’t worry,” you drawl. “You’ve still got the pretty boy thing going on.”

“That’s—” he stops and you watch, stunned, as he actually, honest-to-god, blushes.

Holy shit.

“That’s not what I was asking,” he eventually mutters, looking away sharply.

It amuses you, for some reason, and you suppress a smile. “Well, still. Sleep easy tonight knowing your good looks are not tarnished—”

He shakes his head. “You’re… really something, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “It looks fine, by the way. Like you need to ice it—and your cheek—but fine. Not broken. You were right. Hold on.”

You get up and grab a can of Zesti from the fridges, then go back over to him. He takes it, pressing it over his nose and cheek, and you seat yourself next to him again, shuffling the used pads and supplies into a small pile, frowning a bit to yourself as you realize there are more pads than you recall. 

You don’t ask why or how he got these injuries. Not sure if he’d tell you. Not sure you want to hear about it, anyway. 

A bit of a stark reminder about what he does, isn’t it?

“So…” he starts a second later, pulling you from your increasingly morbid thoughts. 

You narrow your eyes at seeing fresh mischief on his face. This won’t bode well for you.

“Yes?”

“By you saying all that stuff about my ‘good looks’ and ‘pretty boy thing,’ that means you think that, too, right?”

“You aren’t half-bad to look at,” you concede, shoving down your embarrassment at being called out and admitting it, too. But in a roundabout way. Much better than stating quite plainly you do find him a little bit attractive. But that’s all it is. Attraction. Appreciation of a pretty face. 

“Not half-bad?” he asks, laughing. “Because that’s a nice way to put it.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

A smile lingers on his lips as he looks at you and you can’t stop your own from mirroring his.

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” he says, glancing away first, gloved hand—clean from the blood now, which explains the extra antiseptic pads—reaching for his utility belt. “You took on the painstaking job of patching me up.”

“Wasn’t that painstaking, Red. Just cleaned the cut and slapped a band-aid on it. Band-aid is probably doing more work than me.”

“Still. For your efforts…” He produces a lollipop from one of the pouches on his belt with a flourish.

You blink. “You… keep lollipops in that thing?”

“Helps if we’re handling a kid,” he says and oh, okay, yeah, that makes more sense, you think, taking the lollipop and unwrapping it. 

“All of you?”

“Batman started it first.”

The thought of Gotham’s resident caped crusader carrying lollipops in his utility belt is an amusing, if not incredulous, one.

Red sees must see the doubt on your face, snickering. “I’m being totally serious.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just messing with me. This is payback for the half-bad thing, isn’t it?”

He laughs. The sound is achingly familiar as usual but the full picture of why it is familiar escapes you—like it always does.

“It’s not, I swear.”

“Sure,” you say. “Gotta be a hassle to remember exactly where it is, though, right? Since you apparently keep all manners of things in there?”

“Just what we need.”

“So, like, an arsenal of weapons.”

“Tools,” he corrects.

“Uh-huh.”

He fiddles with another pouch, pulling out something that you immediately recognize as a batarang. 

You've only glimpsed these but you’ve never seen one up close. The metal glints under the light. 

“Can I—?”

“Just be careful. Easy to slice yourself.”

You bet. 

The metal is cold under your fingertips, an unfamiliar weight but not heavy, exactly. 

Some people like to try their luck and keep batarangs they find as mementos, or sell them on the black market but the word on the street is that the Bats have never left one unattended; the people who take them never mention a direct confrontation, just that one day they have it and the next, they can’t find it, which, in your personal opinion, is more unsettling than a direct confrontation. But hey, maybe that’s just you.

“This would be useless without me,” he points out. 

“Right. Your batarang. Weird name, by the way.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You just put bat at the front.”

“It’s a great name. And also I didn’t name it. This was already named by the time I came into the scene.”

He seems a tad determined to make you understand that. 

“I don’t know,” you say, pretending to give it thought. “You do seem the type to give obvious names. Like naming a Dalmatian Spot. Call a batarang a batarang.”

“I didn’t name it,” he repeats again. 

But you just laugh.

You laugh and laugh and laugh, thinking this might be the most honest portrayal of him and the others that you have ever seen. 

And it’s nice.

It’s… it’s nice.

(He isn’t so bad.)

“Wow. This is great. Like wallpaper levels of goodness.”

A snort. “I should hope so. You have no idea how many mosquitos bit me when I was up there taking the pictures.” 

Tim raises his arm and you lift your gaze from the screen of his camera to behold the few red mosquito bite on his forearm. 

“So, you didn’t listen to Alfred, is what you’re saying?”

“It’s April,” he mutters, dropping his arm, head shifting from its place in your lap. “It’s unnatural for mosquitos to be out already. Didn’t think I’d need the spray ‘cause of it.”

You pat his head comfortingly. “Well, your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. This is really good, Timmy.”

You look back at the camera screen, where a picture of Gotham sits, captured from the top of Spillkin Hill in Bristol, affording a view of the entire city bathed in the golden rays of the sunset. 

“Thanks,” he says, sounding just a little embarrassed. 

When you glance at him over the camera, his head is turned, gazing out at the rest of the mostly empty quad, cheeks suspiciously red. If you pointed it out, he would blame it on the shining sun overhead. Even if you two are thoroughly hidden from the brunt of its rays beneath this large oak tree, only slivers of sunlight slipping through the canopy, casting leaf-shaped patches of light onto you.

The sunglasses on his face prevent you from seeing his gaze but it’s most likely the same—away from you, focused on something else. Tim gives as good as he gets but he’s become easier to fluster these days, after your return from the internship last semester. Especially with you. You aren’t sure why but the reactions are always amusing and stupidly endearing, so you don’t say anything about it. 

You two are waiting for Steph to get out of one of her psych classes, then the three of you are going to hit up Big Belly Burger and do some mini-golf afterward. Tim’s older sister and another one of Steph’s close friends, Cass, is tagging along. You like her. You two work on the same wavelength sometimes. 

Right now, you are just trying to enjoy this much-needed peace and quiet. The approach of finals is stressful as it always is but the good thing about it is that the quad is nearly empty right now; most students tucked away in the library, in class, or holed up in their dorms procrastinating their work. Plus, the thought of the summer off from class after—working still, but no finals or midterms to stress about—is a revitalizing one. 

You pass him back the camera—carefully, since it’s more expensive than a single class here at GU—and lean back on your palms, cool grass tickling your skin. Your allergies are going to have a field day with this but you don’t care too much about it. Not with Tim’s head planted in your lap, a reassuring, comforting, weight on your thighs. 

His attention is fixed on the camera again, flicking through pictures. You keep your gaze elsewhere, to give him his privacy, though you can’t help but tease him a little bit.

“Can you even see those pictures with these?” you ask, looping your index finger around the arm of the sunglasses, lifting them from his face. He scrunches up his nose in response and you laugh, terribly, terribly endeared.

To reacclimatize from the whirlwind of warm feelings inside your chest, you slide them on, smiling down at him when he squints up at you, clearly having to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Another flash of warmth in your chest.

Before you can do anything else, though, your eyes accidentally catch the screen of his camera and promptly widen as you realize what you are looking at.

Or better yet—who.

“Is that me?” you ask dumbly, because obviously it is you. 

It’s you, sitting out in the quad, a textbook in your lap, head tilted as you read its contents; simple and boring, by any means, yet, the focus of the camera and the sunlight falling over you turns it into something else entirely. 

You have absolutely no recollection of him taking this picture. 

His eyes widen—soft blue from the sunlight, pretty as always, you can’t help but notice—and he looks at the screen, too, grimacing. 

“Uh… yeah.”

Suddenly, you’re thankful for the sunglasses as heat settles in your face.

“It’s… it’s nice, Tim.”

“It’s—weird, I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he starts to sit up.

“No, no, no,” you quickly say, hand pressing to his shoulder, keeping him where he is. “It’s not. Really. I don’t… I don’t mind.”

You’re really overheating now but you don’t want him to go into panic mode and close off. Which is what you feel like might happen if you let him continue.

He looks at you carefully, studying you. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just… candid, right? Besides it’s you. And I know you’re not a weirdo stalker—” you poke his cheek teasingly “—so… I don’t mind. It’s nice. Nicer than I actually look, so… y’know. Thanks.”

A frown. “You always look nice.” A wince. “I mean, not nice, w-well, yes nice, just—you know, uh, pretty.”

You smile, once again hopelessly endeared; the feeling helpfully overtakes the sudden shyness at him calling you pretty, which is… something you will set aside for the moment. “Thanks, Timmy.”

He nods, seeming resolute to not look at you as he quickly flicks to the next picture; you make a conscious effort not to look at the screen this time. Your gaze lingers on his face—thank you, sunglasses—where his cheeks are still red and so are the tips of his ears.

You bite down a smile and finally look away. 

reblogs are appreciated!

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[somefinn-g]

Hiii everyone, just now an idea for a Hermitcraft + Friends train based AU popped into my mind, I wrote down my first thoughts

now I'd like to know if anyone would be interested or not (I'm currently obsessing a bit over trains :'3)

have fun reading

Mumbo

train broken from redstone explosion

lives "temporarily" in one of his passenger wagon that survived

Grian

plagues everyone by being a blind passenger, clawing himself to the roof

never had an own train

"pesky civilian"

kinda lives with mumbo (guy doesn't care too much about the "annoying" nature of Grian, he got other problems)

Scar

Zoo train

often visited by Grian

jokes about Grian living in his train because of his avian features

Bdubs

Doesn't really have an actual train but rather a horse carriage

get yelled at a lot by Joel because of the horses

almost all other hermits find them the cutest

4 person max if you prefer comfort

"smelly" - Joel

Docm77

kinda DB (is the most punctual person, but can never arrive anywhere on time)

somehow the most advanced train but there always something breaking (only when ppl look, when he's alone everything works of course)

gets asked to build a tunnel system a lot - he always refuses

gets asked if his tunnel can be used for the train tracks - he refuses

gets asked if he can help with the tra-

lives very far away from everyone

amphibia train because the tracks to his place aren't in the best shape

has a rail leading to nowhere !?

Postal service (Pearl + Etho)

The post system

Tango helped them out a lot

Etho does the more technical stuff

Pearl does the delivery and take in of the packages

Etho is never really seen around (he works on a secret project ?)

Pearl doesn't own her own transportation vehicle, but loves to use the postal van for her own deeds (nobody minds, take it as a work benefit)

Z. I. T. S. train company (Zedaph, Impulse, Tango, Skizz, Joel, Jimmy, Cub, Cleo)

they got a thing going on

Tango and Impulse want to create the most technical advanced train the world has ever seen

Joel is a train conductor in their main line passenger Train

Jimmy is the engine driver tho he finds his job boring

Lizzie tho not officially hired loves to drive the train (she kicks Jimmy out which he happily obiges) while Joel is working (he sneaks to her into the driver's cabin on his "brakes")

Jimmy is the only one, except for Joel, who knows about Lizzie driving the train (or maybe not)

Jimmy and Joel tolerate somewhat of Grian visiting them at work, Joel says "it's less boring with this idiot here" Jimmy thinks alike (maybe not the idiot part, sometimes he thinks he's more of an idiot, at least his clumsiness makes him feel that way)

Grian definitely didn't blackmail Joel and Jim (no Tim) because he saw Lizzie in the driver's seat (but nobody would probably believe him anyway if he one day decides to tell on Lizzie, his reputation of being an annoying prankster has exceeded him by far)

Joel always yells at bdubs because he's scared of getting the train delayed and he hates horses

Zedaph works as an engine driver too (Lizzie always needs to be careful not to accidentally walk in on him, because he sometimes replaces Jimmy last minute)

Gem, tho not alway very enthusiastically, helps out when someone falls ill (the pay isn't shabby so "why not" she thinks)

Gem owns a small boat on which she sometimes sleeps, she can't live on it completely because it would be to isolating

Gem loves to poke fun of Joel at work because she knows he's been scolded for ruckus behaviour before and now he needs to swallow his pride to the amusement of Gem (Lizzie, tho not in front of others at work, loves to join in on these shenanigans)

Cub is responsible for the train schedule and signals

False

she has the most beautiful steam train on the whole server

for the nostalgic feels she offers tours of the server

false has a wagon refurnished to be her now called home

some other hermits have wagons they live in and false does transport them to other places from time to time

Stress and Iskall

they both own together 3 refurnished wagons

Stress is a true cat lady (we don't know how many cats live with her, the number seems rising every minute)

Iskall isn't very amused by all the fluffy creatures, he implemented the rule that no cat shall enter the shared wagon

Iskalls wagon is a chaos of unfinished projects

Stesses quarters are something every proud mother of 4 legged furr balls could only dream off (Lizzie would definitely want to move in if she ever visited, surely)

False does transport their home to other places when they want a change of scenery (Iskalls excuse for this is always "A new start brings new creative thoughts and a tone of energy" Stress already knows by now that this enthusiasm isn't very long lasting)

i probably rather draw than write if I'll continue with this

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Author of the Month: July

captainquint | @jesterlesbian

Works in FT Fandom: 8

Most Recent:  I Wanna Be a Cowboy's Sweetheart [E, 3K] Hawk tipped his hat politely towards Tim, the way he always did when he rode back into town and stabled his horse at the Liberty Bell, where Tim worked as a stable hand. The pay wasn’t much, but it was steady work, and the off-chance of spotting Hawkins Fuller in leather chaps astride a horse sweetened the pot considerably.

Hawk flashed Tim the look that he understood meant “Meet me around the back,” so Tim dawdled for a few moments more, trying in vain to wipe off as much dirt and muck as he could from his shirt before oh-so-casually strolling to behind the stables, where it met the treeline and provided just the right amount of cover.

Longest Fic:  I Guess I've Got The Christmas Blues [E, 5K] Tim Laughlin stood in front of Hawk, one hand still raised as if to continue banging on the door, his tweed jacked dotted with snowflakes. Water droplets were trapped on his glasses, maybe from melted snow. But with how red-rimmed his eyes were, there might have been teardrops on his glasses as well.

Hawk’s slightly intoxicated reflexes took a moment to spring into action upon seeing Tim. “Skippy,” he grinned, "what, did you miss me that much? I’ll still be here after New Year’s."

Tim’s face screwed up in a look of righteous fury that Hawk knew meant an argument was coming. And before he could react, Tim was shoving Hawk backwards and into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“You absolute ass!”

Or, Tim confronts Hawk about his being investigated by the M Unit.

Top 3 Highest Rated Fics:  I Guess I've Got The Christmas Blues

Picturing You Kneeling In Prayer [M, 2K] It's the beginning of Lent in 1953.

“During Lent, we’re supposed to give up earthly pleasures so as to better reflect on Christ in the desert, and his overcoming Satan’s temptations. Speaking of which, you should probably be going.”

Tim slid away from Hawk’s grasp and moved to gather his hat and coat for him. He turned to find Hawk still seated on the bed, staring back at him with a slightly confused look on his face.

“People give up lots of things for Lent, things they consider indulgent or pleasurable. Booze, cigarettes, chocolate. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I gave up… you.”

we'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac [M, 4K] He tried to think of what Tim would do or say. The man who had only spoken to his son a handful of times over one weekend in 1968, but had seemed to understand him far better than Hawk ever had.

The business card felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

An idea burst to life in Hawk’s mind. This was an emergency if he’d ever seen one.

“What would you say to coming with me to San Francisco?”

Or, Hawk and Jackson go on a cross-country road trip to San Francisco.

Hidden Gem:  Only The Lucky Ones Come Home [M, 1K] It didn’t make sense. Kenny wasn’t in Italy, he wasn’t in Europe. He was sent somewhere in the Pacific, Hawk wasn’t quite sure. That was the last he had heard. So how could Kenneth Willard be bleeding out at his feet in Velletri?

“You did this.”

The blood in Hawk’s veins turned to ice at Kenny’s words.

Or, Hawk has a nightmare about his time in the war.

FTFR Fave:  All Tied Up With Nowhere To Go [E, 2K] “Are they too tight?” Hawk asked, tugging on Tim’s wrists.

Tim’s wrists were, at that moment, bound to the headboard of Hawkins Fuller’s bed by some carefully knotted neckties. Tim was struck by the thought of Hawk wearing one of these ties to work on a later day, becoming distracted in his office thinking of what they had done with them on this night. His mouth twitched up at the corner. “Hey, are you listening to me?” Hawk placed a hand under his chin and tilted Tim’s face towards Hawk’s own. “This is important. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tim rolled his wrists and wiggled his fingers to show they were fine. “I’m not made of glass, Hawk, you don’t have to treat me like I’ll break.”

Or, Hawk teases a tied-up Tim

Part 2 of FT Valentine's Day 2024 

Upcoming Work I’m Excited About: Tim in Lingerie Fic Snippet (Tim in Lingerie Fic):  He was pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of Hawk slowly removing his sheer stockings, caressing his calf and ankle on the way down. Hawk took one bare foot in his hand and smirked up at Tim with a raised eyebrow, as if to say, “Remember this?” before sucking a toe into his mouth. The wet heat hit him immediately, and Tim whined high in the back of his throat.

“Hawk, get back up here, I need you,” Tim groaned, already creeping toward overstimulation at the dual sensations of Hawk’s tongue along his foot and the slide of the lace against his skin. He had always been… excitable, and the last thing he wanted to do was spill too soon.

Hawk pulled off his toes with an obscene pop! and rose again before him, bringing a hand to the hard planes of Tim’s abdomen and scratching lightly, teasing.

“You’re always in such a rush, Skippy. It’s not your fault, you’re still young,” he chuckled, “but I think I’m going to take my time with you tonight.”

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[theflyindutchwoman]

I’m watching 5x04 at the moment, and I’ve been paying closer attention to Tim (and Lucy) during the episode…

And the worry on this stupid man’s face the whole freakin time 😭 and he keeps looking at Lucy like he’s checking that she’s okay.

Like so far this whole episode, he’s just got this look on his face and he keeps making subtle glances in Lucy’s direction.

And I am so emo right now 😭

Eric really said “Rosalind episode? Bet. Watch me make Tim the ultimate Lucy protector without any words” 😂

I haven't rewatched that episode since it aired so I'm writing from memory (on a side note, I seriously need to start my s5 rewatch…).

But yes, those looks… *screaming internally* The worry, the pining… Like the one in the shop, where he subtly tries to check on how she's doing without drawing attention to her, knowing that she would probably hate that… Or the one they exchange when Lucy panics after Bailey asks her where Nolan is and Tim is right there to take over for her… 'Just be a friend. And if you need a cop, tag me in'… And, of course, the one when he is being lowered to the basement… That moment is just exquisite. The love, the longing, the fear… So much emotions… And I'm emo too now!

But for all those little moments, I still felt let down on the Chenford front in that episode. I get that this was rushed due to what was going on behind the scenes with the actress playing Rosalind… But I guess I wanted and needed more emotions, if that makes any sense? That storyline in regards to Lucy and Tim has always been so poignant and it didn't entirely deliver.

It probably didn't help that it happened right when they were stuck in that limbo. It's a tough act to balance his desire to be there for her with the awkwardness between them, the guilt… So I understand that Tim couldn't be as explicitly supportive and protective as before. Like when he gave her back her ring. Or when he was being the Fierce Protector at the prison. And in a way, it offered the perfect contrast to 5.01, in the sense that you could imagine how hard this must have been for them not to reach out to the other. For Lucy not to have anyone to ground her. For Tim not to be able to comfort her. And that's why I wished we saw more of that struggle. How adrift they probably felt. Those looks were great, but something was still missing. Like, I don't know, Tim about to grab Lucy's hand before stopping himself because he doesnt know if he can do this now… Same with Lucy… They share this history with Rosalind and I didn't think it was properly acknowledged.

And then, there's that last scene that kind of bothered me. The way Tim barely reacted to Lucy's turmoil and conflicted emotions at seeing Rosalind's dead body… I need to rewatch it to be certain, but I remember feeling a bit put out by it. I still can't believe that no one asked her how she was doing… The fact that this felt unfinished and rushed didn't help. (Though when I see what they did to Nolan and Bailey in that episode and how her trauma was not only brushed off, but turned into a joke one episode later, I'm actually happy with what we got lol).

[msfcatlover]

Shadow Tim (Reverse Robins)

So, a few very important things to keep in mind for Tim's iteration of the Shadow design:

Tim is taking it up as a tribute to Steph after her death.

Tim does not have a Moonbeam as his partner. (He was supposed to be the next Moonbeam, apprenticed under Cass, until shit went down.)

Tim lacks the fully context & perspective on Being Shadow that Steph & Damian had about it (but he's trying his best.)

To start with, Tim brings Shadow back to Damian's greyscale & gold color scheme, but with one critical difference: where Damian had pops of red, Tim uses very light touches of purple.

(Tim also keeps Steph's bat symbol, so here's a quickly thrown together contrast. Tim has no Moonbeam, so he gets no light/metallic accent on his bat symbol.)

The second major tribute is that Tim adds a cloak, specifically taken from Steph's original Spoiler design. Tim's version is black with a purple lining, and gold trim around the edge of the hood, calling back to both Steph's dual-tone hood & her hair. The cloak itself is ankle-length; not practical, but evocative & stylish.

(So this style cape, and massive thanks to the Stephanie Brown Costume History page, y'all are lifesavers.)

Tim relies on the cloak to disguise his form, with the costume itself being much closer-fitted than previous iterations. The top is a black bulletproof vest with short sleeves added not dissimilar to his traditional Robin costume, but the weird stripes are actually places for him to tuck gadgets he expects to grab in a hurry.

(Basically this, but all one piece, with the Robin sleeves, and obviously lighter on detail to keep from being visually cluttered. No one wants to draw or look at all those lines & straps, or that little wheel-velcro-thing.)

Tim wears a dull grey chainmail body suit between his black undersuit & outer costume. It shows mainly on his arms, between the top sleeves & his gloves, but if his pants tore it'd be visible there too. The gloves themselves are his spiky gauntlets from more modern costumes, in black but with a gold hem at the very top to reflect the band on his hood (paying tribute to Steph's thick hems & blonde hair, while also bringing back Damian's color scheme.)

(These bad boys.)

Tim sticks with the neck gaiter Steph switched to, but does not keep the greasepaint. Instead, Tim has a headset styled after ski-goggles. He was originally designing it for becoming Moonbeam, hoping an AI scan of his opponents' moves would help him predict what they were going to do (allowing him to better mimic Duke & Cass's skillsets.) It's still a pretty rough prototype by the time Steph dies, but Tim's put a hell of a lot of work into it, he's not not going to field-test the thing, now is he?

(You meet the new Shadow, and this stares back at you from under the hood [lightly edited for appropriate drama])

Below the utility belt (grey with gold snaps/buckles,) Tim wears black heavy-duty cargo pants tucked into knee-high armored boots. The extra pockets even further emphasize that Tim is a character with a diverse set of skills and especially gadgets, and the slight puff caused by tucking not-entirely-fitted pants in at the knee calls back to Damian's "Infinite Frontier" outfit that inspired my original Shadow design.

(Not quite that puffy, but that would probably be down to the artist.)

For the boots, I do really like the ones Tim's been recently wearing in comics... mostly, at least. The ones on-panel have a little tabi toe-stripe most of the time, which either appears to be decorative (just a notch in front of the toe, which I don't like the look of) or does weird things to the depth (making his feet look flat.) Also, as someone who cannot even wear flip-flops without getting bloody blisters, it just looks uncomfortable to me. I really like the version Tim wore on that cover with Damian—the shape looks more comfortable, it looks like it has better grip & heavier armor, and looks like a shoe it'd really suck to get kicked by—but the stripes are nearly invisible, and the weird spike of armor above the knee is a bit much.

Combine the foot from the cover-boots with the shape & highlights from the panel-boots. Make the stripes & knee-pad border gold, and add a gold trim along the top edge of the green sole; the sole itself should be dark grey.

And that's Shadow Tim!

A little higher-tech to foreshadow his ascendance to Oracle, while also reflecting Tim's canonical love of weird gadgets through the ages.

Pays heavy tribute to Steph, but not in any way that'd be super-obvious if you weren't in-the-know, without directly ripping off her designs or looking so much like her that the other Bats could mistake Tim for Steph out of the corner of their eyes.

Pays light tribute to Damian, but aside from being a Shadow costume, Duke & Cass have about as much influence on the changes Tim makes (see: chainmail, glove style, face covering) as Damian does.

Misses a few important details of Shadow's design (see: no longer visible eyes, no more grease paint, dramatically changed silhouette) showing Tim wasn't prepared to step into this role but is doing his best anyway.

Extra armor & pockets shows that Tim's got even more protection than previous Shadows, hinting through design alone about the impact Steph's death had on the family.

Sticks to Tim's fashion tastes without going overboard.

Adds a cape for him to go swish.

I'm pretty happy with it!

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Shoulder to Shoulder

First posted: April 13, 2019

Focuses on: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Favorite bookmark: None, no one is being clever

Tier: Lower-mid on all metrics except comments and bookmarks, where it's in the bottom 20.

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Another one-year ficiversary piece, rewriting Carried from Dick's POV instead of Tim's.

It was the first time in Dick didn’t know how long that his hand itched to throw something and it wasn’t Bruce’s fault.

I was still playing around with the arc of Dick and Bruce's relationship. I still am, really. Some canon and fanon paths have them viciously at odds during Dick's teen years and/or immediately after Jason's death, while others less so. I do think there has to be some friction, because that's part of the uncomfortable stretching of independence, but I haven't settled on a consistent tone or tenor yet. I tend to have to write a fic specifically about a thing to figure out that thing and I haven't done that yet.

Here their relationship could be described as tetchy.

Dick felt like he was being punished. Screw up one brother, shame on you; screw up two... He had failed Jason, miserably and completely, he knew that, but shouldn’t that knowledge be punishment enough?

POV musings seem to confuse people, for whatever reason. They take the character's words or thoughts as the author's. When writing from Dick's POV, Dick in my fics will state that he failed Jason, that he was a bad big brother, that he was too distant, too unavailable, too disconnected. Dick is not an unbiased observer.

Bruce was dressed in the Armani suit that worked like a pressuring lean on a shoulder.

I panic any time I have to describe a rich-person thing. Yes, sure, I can google, but I would imagine the true rich-person things are not available to the average googler!! Whatever, celebrities wear Armani on the red carpet, it's probably fine.

Not ostentatious, not aggressive, just the understated but deliberate expression of I am richer than you that would do more to steamroll anyone he met today than a tight handshake or a punch to the jaw ever could. Alfred stood at the door of today’s car, a stately, almost old-fashioned limousine Dick had seen Bruce use only once or twice before.

Bruce Wayne is clever, and he is subtle, and he knows how to wield wealth and legacy like a weapon as deftly as any blade. And that's that on that.

“You should have called,” Dick muttered once he reached Bruce. Bruce’s chin rose infinitesimally. “You told me—” Dick held up a hand. They wouldn’t get on this ride today, this whirling teacup of you told me not to call and why are you always so pigheadedly literal.

They're both so stupid and I love them so much. (Bruce is Team Say What You Mean and Dick is Team I Know You're Just Making A Point You Jerk.)

“Can I ride with you?” Better to go as a united front, even if they risked picking another quarrel on the ride over. Bruce, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

To his credit—Dick you proud teenage hothead, that's your dad of course he's going to let you ride with him, short of a BOMB strapped to your chest with five seconds left he'll say yes and even then I'm not sure he would do any differently.

They didn’t talk on the ride over. Dick fidgeted with his cuffs until he caught Bruce looking, then stopped. When they arrived at the cemetery, Bruce held out a hand, blocking Dick’s exit. Dick braced for whatever thought Bruce had been chewing on, but instead, two large, calloused hands reached out and gently straightened his tie.

nananananananananananananana DADMAAAAAAAAN

Dick met Bruce’s eye. On the other side of the car door awaited a funeral with a minister, mourners, and an open grave. They both knew what to expect, both would likely pay for it in their own ways later. A united front. For Tim. Dick nodded, once, and Bruce returned the gesture before letting Alfred open the door.

These are two people who love each other very much and love a third person equally as much and I love it so much.

Tim sat at the front, shoulder to shoulder with his father.

The one thing I can't do in these notes that I could in a printed book is pointedly underline and/or circle things with no other comment.

He could remember being where Tim was now, at the edge of a grave looking down into incomprehensible loss and an uncertain future. He remembered leaning into Bruce, then a virtual stranger, and being grateful that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone whose side he could cry into, whose arm could circle around his shoulders, firm and warm.

They're fighting and Dick still knows Bruce will always be there for him. 🥺 Write me a fam like that or I don't want it.

And then Bruce was there, shrugging on his Brucie persona like an old coat just before stepping into Jack’s path.

Dick had forgotten what a relief it could be to have Bruce take charge. He’d forgotten what a marvel it could be to watch his grunting, reclusive guardian oil the gears of Gotham society to get exactly what he wanted.

A magic trick doesn't become less impressive when you know how it's done. If anything, you get the magic of the illusion and the awe of the sleight of hand skill.

He wanted to throw something. He wanted to break something. “You have to do something.”

parallellllllllllllls. It's not the prettiest but I still enjoy them.

“That’s today,” Dick argued. “And tomorrow, if Jack doesn’t care, which he won’t. What a măgar.” His mother would’ve washed his mouth out for that one, but it felt good, to throw venom at Jack Drake with his words at least.

I've backed off Romani Dick because it's a line of fanon that I don't feel any particular way about (and "ah the traveling circus people are wandering Romani, of course" feels not great from me, someone with zero Romani heritage), but I was still parsing through the heaps of fanfic I'd devoured and trying to figure out what I ascribed to as a writer, so there it is. (I was also still desperately trying not to swear in English in my fics.)

“He can’t go back there. He’s just a kid, and he shouldn’t be alone in an empty house. Who’s going to look after him, the cleaning lady?” Bruce’s reply was little more than a mumble, “Turned out okay for me.” “Because you’re the picture of mental health,” Dick snapped. 

Richard. Apologize to Bruce AND Alfred.

He stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” “You did,” Bruce countered, his voice placid.

Let me tell you, that response, without malice or heat? A power move.

Dick knelt in front of Bruce’s chair so he could look up into Bruce’s eyes. This was something he knew well, a sensation as ingrained into him as somersaults and backflips. He would always look up to Bruce, one way or another.

THAT'S HIS DAAAAAAAAAAD

“He needs Jack Drake.” Bruce sighed, and Dick, still on his knees, noticed the lines around his eyes, the silvery hair twinkling at his temples. When had they changed? When had they both grown up and apart?

Noticing your own parents age hurts. It's lowkey terrifying. And then add being fresh off a funeral for someone else's parent...

Bruce held out a hand, and Dick let him help him to his feet. “I’ll be better,” Bruce promised quietly, Dick’s hand still in his. “He’s welcome here. He’s been... welcome. I’ll be better about making that clear, from now on.”

Double meaning maybe?? Who's to say????

Dick tightened his hand around Bruce’s, a hug between two people who had fallen out of practice. Wuss. The sneer had an Alley cant to it.

As Dick says in the very next time, they have to be better. Together. Because brothers die and parents die, too.

Dick leaned in and wrapped his arms around his... his Bruce. 

Sometimes I use this kind of language as a character-specific hesitation. Here, I think it was meant to be because I'd only written Mother Bruce the year before and I liked the emotional uncertainty of Bruce as legal guardian but not necessarily parent. However, another, more heartwarming way to read this is that for Dick specifically, Bruce isn't a step less than a parent, he's more. He is legal guardian and big brother figure and mentor and friend and dad. He is not one of those things, he is all of those things, and so he is Dick's Bruce.