#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.

[euphoria-looney]

Thank you... for playing with me.

Pt.1

Bake No Hana (Nightcord at 25:00 ft. Kaito)

"It's finally come around, my punishment for having been born. In order to put an end to it, I stop breathing— Ah, I'm fed up with this."

I approached the girl who chose me last round, Penelope. I called her Penny though, and thought the name was cute.

It suits her.

Last round I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do, but she pulled me into her group, and even against the male group, we won!

It didn’t help that crunch that echoed across the room each time a team lost though, Astro has been colder than ever and the old guy got separated from me before I could follow him. I think it was fate that we all ended up on the same team.

I’m trying to sound positive because, at this moment in time, I have gone too far to give up now, whether that be hope or, the sick truth, for the money.

My mind is always racing and is looking for the truth that I’m hiding from myself. 

I’ve killed people intentionally or not, just to keep going for a cash prize that I’m not even sure I’ll win.

This isn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

I’ve said that line so many times.

When I was 5 and my mother ran away, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I kept getting neglected and abused in the manor, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I got kicked out at the mere age of 18, That wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

Getting into debt and sinking deeper into the amount needed to pay back, I bet you can think of the line I said next.

And now with all the corpses I’ve been near, the money dropping into the pig, the masked soldiers that looked upon you with their weapons, was this really how I was going to be free from debt? Was this the situation I wanted to be in?

“Hey!” Penny turned to look at me.

“Want to pair up?” I tilted my head at her.

“Why should I?”

“I don’t picture you going around here and begging these jerks.” I looked around at our options.

“Wouldn’t that bother you?” I raised an eyebrow to her.

“Bothering me or not isn’t the concern, winning or losing is.” Despite that, she didn’t make any plans to move away from me.

I cheered fondly at her.

“Then play with me, I’ll make sure you’ll win.”

“What will you do?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“... What do you see in me?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you that.”

“You were someone who looked like they would come with me.”

“I feel the same way.” I raised my hand offering a handshake.

She took my hand, so warm compared to how she acted, and I tightened the grip before releasing her hand.

I’m glad we got the teams out of the way before the timer ended.

—

Third POV

“Alright, there's a five-minute break before the games start, my good sirs. Do whatever you’d like before coming back to meet up and enjoy the show, they’ll be playing marble games.” The frontman announced before everyone dispersed.

“What was that imbecile thinking, joining a game like this? She even had the option to leave and she chose to come back?!” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes out of agitation.

“They did…” Duke murmured.

“No, they didn’t.” Damian looked at Duke as if he were mad.

“Yes, they did, a while back? You were there and berated them for acting like their mother…” Duke rebutted.

“That must’ve felt so humiliating…”

Dick rubbed his arm.

“... she was probably terrified to face you again, especially with how you treated her…”

Damian piped down after that.

“You’re not any better than us, Duke. You also shunned them away,” Tim said, defending himself and the others.

“I’m not saying I’m better than anyone and this doesn’t excuse what I did but all of you guys made it known through the whole manor that she was just like her mother, so greedy for money that even when she had too much she wanted more, is that what we’re seeing in front of us though?! A girl who's so loaded but still wants more?!” That left Tim speechless and guilty.

“I know what it’s like to be financially unstable, obviously after losing my parents and trying to find them it wasn’t easy, and it didn’t make it any easier with not even a penny in my pocket, so these people “killing themselves for a little money” even though it’s a life or death situation, that’s no different then being “free” out there, especially not in Gotham. So when Bruce rescued me and treated me with kindness and support, I thought that all his kids got this treatment, but now you guys want to berate her and call her an idiot but she was forced into this position…”

He turned to Bruce but was only met with the man looking away.

“Maybe when she left this game, she realized her life wasn’t meant enough and came back to this dehumanizing environment, she didn’t come for us to help her because of the memories of last time, she probably was so nervous always walking on eggshells around us that the moment we rejected her she knew that this was her only option.”

Jason knew it wasn’t targeted specifically at him, but at one point, he knew he had a bond with [name], that innocent kid with those cute bug eyes and that gummy smile. They had something special. Then he died and came back with the news. At that moment, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by [name]’s mom. With everything that had happened to him,, he had changed his character, so with no one to blame…

Well, you are your mother’s daughter.

Doesn’t the saying go ‘like mother, like daughter?’

Also, the situation didn’t help with him constantly not talking to her, you’d have understood the feeling he got when she came to the manor after being kicked out just to beg for money?

He seriously could not blame the situation on you, did he, or did he forget that he contributed to it too?

The ignoring, the sneering, the insults, how one looks from the person she trusted the most could shatter her heart.

And of course that would be the first conversation she had with you... You didn’t talk to her.

“Well, did you guys hear what she said to that other girl, seems she has no plans-”

A knock interrupted the chat.

“I’m sorry sirs, but the games are starting. May I have your bets?”

“240”

“Wow, all of you, just in case she ever loses, would you guys like to buy her body? I assume you’re family and had an interest in that girl?”

“You!-” Damian was stopped by Bruce, who also had his hands clenched in anger.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” Smiled Bruce.

“Of course, and I didn’t mean you lose the bet, it’s just that the odds are against some players and good for others.” The Frontman nodded before heading off.

“Don’t worry, guys. Just hang on. I’m finding the location as fast as I can,” Oracle said through the earpiece before they left for the lounge.

Their nice, comfortable lounge.

—

If I am ready to die, why not know a little bit more about the person I’m spending my last moments with?

“You know~ since the last Joker attack nothing has been this tragic…”

“What game are we playing?” No small talk then… but that’s okay.

“Dang, you’re cold as ice.”

“What game are we playing, girl?”

“You tell me. These games are probably only known to these oldies, tell you what let’s make our own game, ten marbles we could do anything with that.

“So let’s… end this game in a single round.” I looked down at my lap.

“All or nothing. A simple bet.” I looked back at her again with my stupid smile that showed my gums and tilted my head.

It was something I was used to doing a lot as a kid.

I don’t know why I’m acting like this, maybe it’s because my misery will finally end.

That took a dark turn. Let’s get back on track.

“Don’t tell me you’d… rather do what they’re doing?” 

We looked at the old guys behind Penny, throwing their marbles that hit against each other. What was the purpose of the game?

Get the other players' marbles out before they do.

“Okay. Playing what then?” 

I huffed in amusement. 

“What’s with the hurry?” 

“You’re just dying to kill me, huh?” I teased

That was a rhetorical question, we both knew it…

At least I knew it was.

“We’ve got a lot of time on our hands, and we’re playing one round. What’s the rush?”

“What are we gonna do before then?”

“Talk” It had been a while since I’d done that with somebody in this hellhole.

“About what?” 

“Things we never told anybody about I guess.”

“One of us is gonna die, so… it doesn't matter what we tell each other. No one can really embarrass themselves anymore. Okay?”

—

“How long have you been in Gotham? It isn’t a place where one would particularly reside.” We were both sitting at the stairsteps at this point.

I started with a question.

“Just been here since I was born, my mom found the “love of her life” here. She said we’d enjoy it”

“Did you?”

“...” She didn’t reply but rather stayed silent.

“Your family, are they still here with you?”

“My brother.”

“Any parents?”

“My father died getting shot in some back alleyway, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

“And your mom?”

“She got high off of drugs when she lost my dad, she overdosed not too long ago and her family took her away from us blaming us for the reason she suffers. I don’t know if she’s still alive and recovering or dead.”

“Where’s your brother now then?”

“In a shelter,” she hesitated. I was asking more than giving, but she still replied, and that was enough for both of us.

“If you win this and get the money, what will you spend it on?”

“Buy a house for me and my brother, then take us somewhere else, Gotham is no place for us, even if the top schools are here, there’s a price to pay for everything.” She was right about that.

I scoffed a little bored of that answer.

“Hey~ with this amount of money you could buy that and so much more- is there anywhere you’d like to travel?”

“Houma.”

“Houma?”

She nodded her head.

“It looked peaceful and had lower crime rates than most places. It didn’t look like Gotham at all.”

I couldn’t help but huff at that.

“Hey. Don’t you think you should dream bigger, huh? Do Keystone City. Hold on– Go to Metropolis instead. They even have lower crime rates than most.

Penny finally turned her head around and looked at me for once out of this entire conversation.

“Metropolis?”

“Yeah, the Superfam lives there. You know the Kryptonite versions of the Batfam in Gotham?”

It seems she didn’t care much about superheroes which made me giggle.

“Really?”

She shook her head.

“Oh no, then we have you fix that, we’ll have a girl’s night out every week in Metropolis and get to meet the Superfam in the flesh, okay?” 

She looked away at that.

“Oh, guess we can’t both leave here?”

…

“Back when my father was alive he was the perfect guy, he was too generous for his good, I was too naive as a kid rushed into the room where he laid to rest before he was covered and saw his gorey body,” Penny told me.

“The first body I saw was this poor kid on the side of the street abandoned just like me, he died inhaling too much of Scarecrow’s gas.”

“Abandoned?”

“Oh! I haven’t told you my backstory, it’s not as tragic as yours, no. My mother married a billionaire and took cash before running away without me when I was five. Everybody blamed her actions on me, making me feel too shameless to ever ask for cash, then I got kicked out at eighteen and took too much debt for regular supplies and school debt then landed here.”

“I wonder if I had money, what would I do… Go to Houma with you?”

A silence ensued between us making me look away.

“Sorry, I forgot again.”

As the timer started running out the sun kept going down even lower. Penny stood up.

“Let’s do this.” I smiled at that.

—

Third POV

By now, some VIPs were disappointed not because they had lost money but because they had lost the guessing game of lives.

Others were happy with the result.

But for our main characters well, can you guess how they’re feeling?

Unnerved, whatever [name] was planning. Are they going to win this game, or will they lose? Would the Wayne family see their dear family die with a bullet to the head?

Bruce never meant to treat you like that, but you’d have to understand your mother betrayed him, and you were there… and you didn’t do anything.

Oh, what could you have done? 

Alert the whole house of her leaving? Then what?

It was never your fault, you did everything you could to appease them, they just never forgive your mother.

—

We stood up passing a dead body and went to an “empty” land.

“Whoever can roll it farther than the other person wins, okay?”

I let Penny get the head start.

I held my marble in my hand.

Pondering.

I didn’t have much to live for, did I?

I had no friends, no family, and nothing to my name other than the daughter of a gold digger or the bastard child.

What’s the point?

I I guess this game was pointless after all.

I let the marble slide off my hands landing a few inches from my foot.

Straightening my posture I feel Penelope approach me.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed me by the collar of the tracksuit.

“You win, I lose.”

“Stop. Why the hell would you try to do that?” She still kept a firm hold on me.

“Butter fingers, what can I say?” I chuckled, scrunching my eyebrows at her.

“Making sure I won. Is that what this is?”

She slammed me into the wall again.

“Did you think I would be grateful? Throw it again.” She demanded.

“And I still wouldn’t be able to win.” I kept my smile on.

“Ugh, don’t be dramatic and let me die in style, hm?” 

This was the reality, and if one of us had something memorable to do once we had gotten out of there, it would be her. Wouldn’t it?

“[name], that’s bullshit! Stop acting cool and just do a real throw!”

I sighed no longer keeping my damn smile on my face.

“I have nothing.”

“What?” Penelope didn’t let go, though. It seemed like she would allow me to talk a bit more.

“You have a reason to get out of this place… I don’t.”

Penelope kept breathing shakily. 

“I thought hard about what I would do, over and over, nothing. It’s like a dead end.” I felt myself tearing up.

I didn’t want to burst out in tears, I hadn’t done that in a while. 

I’ve always hated getting emotional, but it feels like a relief to get it off my chest.

“If anybody has a reason to go back out still there, it’d be you.” I laughed despite tasting the salty tears that leaked from my eyes.

Penelope didn’t seem the type to get emotional either, though that didn’t stop her from letting a couple of tears flow.

“Don’t die here, go out there… and find a place where you and your brother can reside. Far from any crime preferably to Houma.” I chuckled.

…

As Penelope walked away, I didn’t want that to be how our interaction ended, no, not like this pathetic goodbye.

“Penny!” I wasn’t sure she’d respond to that nickname but to my surprise, she stopped.

It made me widen my eyes briefly before going into a somber expression.

I held in my tears at that moment, stabilizing my voice.

“Thank you… for playing with me.” I was glad the guard let me have my closure, you don’t think they’d have the heart with their roles.

BANG

Player 240, eliminated.

—

The blood sprayed out before her body collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud.

This wasn’t the situation anybody wanted to be in.

— 

That’s it for now. In the next part of this option, the Batfamily will suffer and have flashbacks, as one does. If anyone has any advice on how to write some scenes, that would be spectacular.

I’ll be working on a request and then my So Much More series before getting to Astro! And then maybe the next part of this, so don’t expect it anytime soon. That’s all from me!

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell any wrong and tag the wrong person.

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Sacred Guardian

Requested Here!

Pairing: (platonic) Tim Bradford x fem!Cybertronian!reader

Summary: Tim and Lucy experience a number of glitches with their new shop. When Tim loses control of the wheel, he and Lucy learn that they've become involved in a fight that is not their own. You save their lives and gain yourself a new position in the process.

Warnings: angst, fight scene, canon-typical stuff, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: Here's a list of Transformers anatomy terms (in case my fight scene is confusing)!

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Good morning,” Wade greets as he enters roll call. “Does anyone know what today is?”

“Another day in paradise,” Smitty answers, drawing chuckles from a few other officers.

“I’m not sure why you’re laughing,” Wade deadpans. “You signed up to do this job and to enjoy it.”

“Right, yeah,” Smitty agrees. “It’s great.”

Wade shakes his head and continues, “Today is the day patrol gets new shops.”

Several officers cheer, and Wade smiles as he moves behind the podium.

“Motor pool has your specific assignments,” Wade says. “The city spent a lot of money, a lot of tax dollars, on these new cars. Wreck one without a very good reason and it’s coming out of pay, and probably your pension.”

“Sir, I thought the budget committee only approved replacing half of the shops,” Nolan interjects.

“That’s correct. Patrol is our priority in this; improve response times, safety records, everything the public likes to see. So, if you’re in this room and going on patrol today, you’re getting a new ride.”

Aaron raises his hand, and Wade says, “It better be about protocol and not the make and model of the cars, Hollywood.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t care about that,” Aaron replies. “I just wanted to know if the speakers are stock.”

“You’re a cop, Thorsen,” Tim snaps. “Not going for a joy ride.”

“Who says patrol has to be boring?” he counters.

“Me,” Tim and Nyla say together.

Aaron lifts his hand in surrender but whispers to Lucy that they should play their shared playlist.

“Absolutely not,” Tim interrupts. “You’re rookies, you have no power.”

“Focus,” Wade says. “Enjoy the new shops but stay alert. You have a job to do; the cars are supposed to make it easier, not be a distraction.”

“Yes, sir,” the officers reply before standing and approaching the garage to find their new shops.

“Peace,” the radio crackles. “Through tyranny.”

“What?” Lucy asks, leaning forward to look through the front seat at Tim.

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies. “Hearing voices, Chen?”

“Ha, ha,” she deadpans, sliding into the brand-new passenger seat. “What do you think?”

“It’s a shop,” Tim says. “It hasn’t been puked in yet. I give it two days.”

“Is the glass ever half full?”

“The glass is going to get broken no matter how much is in it.”

“Wow,” Lucy murmurs.

Tim shifts into drive, and as he and Lucy leave in their new shop, they have no idea that their car is a clichéd bad cop.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Lucy recites. “Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights?”

“Yeah,” the handcuffed woman replies. “Silence is… metal. I don’t need it.”

“Is she too drunk to lawfully accept her rights, boot?” Tim asks from the curb.

“Intoxication doesn’t invalidate a Miranda waiver if it’s made knowingly, intelligently, and voluntarily,” she answers. “But her behavior can imply her waiver.”

“So, what’s the move in this situation?”

“She’s voluntarily responding, so her response is valid.”

Tim nods once but raises his hand to stop Lucy from placing the drunk driver in the shop. “Ask if she needs to puke.”

“What?” Lucy questions.

“She pukes in that shop and you’re cleaning it up.”

“Oh, right,” Lucy murmurs.

Tim opens the driver's door while she speaks to the woman about how she’s feeling. The radio lights up briefly, and a static noise reminiscent of someone speaking fills the car's interior before the light dims. Tim watches the radio for a moment, and after Lucy places the woman in the back and slides into the passenger seat, she follows his gaze.

“Want to listen to Make Da Noise?” she asks.

“What? No,” Tim replies, shaking his head. “Just thought I saw something.”

The noise was unintelligible to Tim, but he ensured the radio remained off the rest of the day. He didn’t anticipate being the one to find a problem with a new shop, yet as he leaves after riding in it all day, he hesitates to get in his own truck. There’s something wrong with that car, he thinks as he drives away from the station.

The following morning, Tim convinces himself that the radio coming on was a glitch. Maybe the motor pool guys jostled a wire, or the radio controls were somehow moved. Attempting to ignore the odd occurrences of the day before, he begins his shift with Lucy talking excitedly about her upcoming date.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“About what?” Tim replies.

“My date! Were you even listening?”

“No.”

Lucy sighs, and Tim slows to park against the curb. As he nears the sidewalk, the lights and sirens turn on. Lucy reaches forward to turn them off as Tim opens his door to apologize to the innocent civilians startled by the sudden noise.

“Sorry about that,” he calls. “Just a malfunction with the switch. Chen, turn it off.”

“I’m trying,” Lucy defends as she attempts to flip the switch. “It’s stuck.”

Tim reaches across the wheel and pushes the switch until it finally drops and the sirens silence. He then turns the lights off, sighing as he relaxes his arm.

“I hate this shop,” he mutters.

The driver seat slides forward, and Tim jerks back out of the door and into the road just before it slams into the driver’s seat.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asks, her eyes wide.

“We’re getting a new shop,” Tim says, stepping out of traffic. “Right now.”

“Did you lock the seat after you moved it?”

“Chen,” Tim snaps. “Seats don’t lurch forward while a car is parked. There is something wrong with this shop.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” she replies lightly. “It’s new. There are bound to be some glitches while we get used to it.”

Tim grumbles under his breath, but she’s right. Not that he’ll say it aloud. He’s a few glitches away from demanding his old shop back. As he slides the seat back into place, Tim decides to ask Nyla if her shop has had any glitches.

“Any plans this weekend?” Angela asks.

“I’m going on a date,” Lucy replies. “Tim’s going to a game.”

“How’s the new shop?” Tim inquires.

Angela shrugs and says, “It’s a car.”

Lucy looks at Tim as she raises her cup to take a drink. Tim hasn’t complained about the car over the last two days, but with only a few more hours left before their scheduled time off, he seems to be thinking about it again.

“Why?” Aaron wonders. “Your car got a little Christine thing goin’ on?”

“Of course not,” Tim replies, shaking his head.

“Wait, you know what Christine is?” Lucy asks.

Tim glances at Lucy with a look she knows means stop talking. He then adds, “Just a few little glitches at first. I’m sure they’ll work themselves out.”

Angela is about to inquire what kind of glitches they’ve experienced, but she’s interrupted by a speeding car swerving in and out of traffic as it passes.

“Let’s go, boot!” Tim demands as he stands.

Lucy says, “Bye!” and follows Tim to the shop. She slides into the passenger seat and buckles her seatbelt as Tim hits the lights and sirens. He catches up to the incredibly conspicuous purple Lamborghini and requests that she run the plate.

“Stolen,” she reads. “From a customization shop in Thousand Oaks.”

Tim speeds up, following the Lamborghini around a corner. He slams on the brakes, stopping mere inches behind the now-parked car. It’s still running, but the driver is escaping down an alley. Tim swings his door open and sprints down the alley, failing to notice Lucy isn’t behind him.

She pulls her door handle, but the door doesn’t budge. Knocking her shoulder against the side of the door frame proves pointless, too. Looking out the windshield, she sees Tim has caught up with the suspect and is attempting to get him on the ground.

“Come on,” she mutters, trying to hold the lock up and open the door simultaneously.

With no other choice, she pushes up into her seat and carefully climbs over the console to exit through Tim’s door. She’s out of breath from fighting with the door, and Tim pulls the cuffed man onto his feet when she reaches them.

“Thanks for the assist, boot!” Tim exclaims. “What was that?”

“The door wouldn’t open,” Lucy defends. She exhales and amends, “I’m sorry, Officer Bradford. I couldn’t get out of the shop quick enough to assist. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right about that. Get this guy in the back.”

Lucy takes the man’s arm and recites his Miranda rights as she leads him to the shop. The back door opens without problem, and she places the man in the backseat. Rounding the front of the car, she stops.

“What now?” Tim sighs.

“I thought I heard someone talking,” she answers, stepping closer to the hood.

“It’s our perp,” Tim says. “He’s singing. Again.”

Looking up, she sees the man in the car singing. Loudly. But that’s not what she heard. Granted, she doesn’t know what she heard.

Tim walks past Lucy and pulls the passenger side door open effortlessly. “Find a better excuse next time.”

Sliding into her seat, Lucy looks at the dash and thinks, Why do you hate us?

In an abandoned warehouse, a yellow Camaro and a Mustang so red it looks black sit parked together. A small light on their dashboards is the only sign that the cars run. But no one is close enough to worry about them, even think about them. And certainly not near enough to hear them speak to one another.

“You don’t need proof when you have instinct,” Bumblebee quotes.

“We need something, Bee,” you answer over the radio. “I heard Decepticons. I’ve felt them.”

Bumblebee doesn’t reply, listening to every soundwave in the city for a sign that what you’re saying is true. Not because he doesn’t believe you, but because if there’s a Decepticon invasion, he needs to call in reinforcements.

“Nada,” he says.

“Thanks for trying, Bee,” you respond. “I’m going for a drive. Be safe.”

He answers in Cybertronian, and you laugh as you spin your rear tires. With a sharp squeal of your wheels, you lurch forward and drive out of the warehouse and onto the crowded streets of Los Angeles. Earth is much different than your home, and the traffic that keeps you from embracing the open road is your least favourite part of waiting here, amongst the stars.

You pass a car with several children screaming in the backseat, not bothering to slow as you move back over. In your time on this planet, you’ve learned to understand the nuances of humans and the cars they make. One thing that took you a while to notice was the difference between humans being silly and a Decepticon invasion. Now, you can glide in and out of traffic as if you’re on rails without worrying about every person you see or the vehicles they’re in.

Slowing as you approach a yield sign, you hear the same buzzing sound you heard earlier this week. Now, it’s closer, and getting louder.

“There aren’t any calls right now,” Lucy says. “This is weird.”

“It’s a lull,” Tim replies. “When they start again, you’ll miss this.”

“Bradford,” Wade says over the radio. It cuts out before he continues.

“Grey, 7-Adam-100 responding,” Tim replies.

Nothing happens, and Tim passes the radio to Lucy. The light ahead turns yellow, but Tim is too close to the intersection to stop safely. He goes through before the light turns red. Down a side street, a dark Mustang is waiting to turn, and as they pass it, Tim loses control of the shop.

You tune out the Decepticon frequency and try to forget about your worries. Bumblebee checked and didn’t find anything, so you must be picking something else up. A police car approaches, and you prepare to turn behind them once the road clears. Then, time seems to slow as it drives past. You can see through the paint job on the alt form to the true colors beneath.

The motto, “To Punish and Enslave,” is written on the door, and you recognize Barricade even without hearing his Decepticon radio transmission. Accelerating, you turn behind him, your rear tires spinning out before you pull into the lane directly behind him.

Barricade swerves into the oncoming lane to pass another car, and you go into the lane on the right to keep up with him. As you try to get beside him, you see not one but two humans sitting in his front seat. Barricade would never work with the police, or upstanding humans of any occupation, so your assumption that the officers are hostages seems justifiable.

“Autobots,” you radio. “I’m pursing Decepticon Barricade.” You add your current location and request your friends do what they can.

Barricade moves toward you, and you hit the brakes long enough to drift behind him and pull to his other side. You can see the driver desperately attempting to regain control of the car. It’s pointless, so as you pursue Barricade, you hatch a plan to save the humans within.

“Tim!” Lucy yells, clutching her seat as the car slides around a corner.

“I’m trying!” Tim replies, his voice strained as he pulls the steering wheel to the left and steps repeatedly on the brake. “I can’t do anything!”

“Then maybe stop trying!”

Tim glances at Lucy, who looks as scared as he feels. Taking her advice – for once – he lets go of the wheel. It continues spinning as the car stays on the road, fleeing from the Mustang they passed nearly three miles ago.

“What is happening?” Lucy asks, leaning away from the dash.

“It’s the car,” Tim answers, shifting his hips to retrieve his phone. “Those weren’t glitches.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Christine is fiction!”

“Look around, Chen!” Tim snaps.

His phone lights up, but the screen is covered in gray and purple streaks, unusable for calling for help. With the radio out, they have no choice but to find their own way out of this.

“What is the other car doing?” he asks, looking in the rearview.

“Chasing us, I think,” Lucy answers.

“I think- I think they’re trying to help,” Tim adds quietly.

At that, the car speeds up, racing toward a brick wall. Lucy yells, but Tim is transfixed by the Mustang moving behind them. He can’t see a driver, although that’s not the foremost thought in his mind. As they near the end of the road, the Mustang accelerates, pulling to the passenger side of the shop. It rams into the shop, hitting beside the rear wheel to execute a nearly perfect PIT manoeuvre. The Mustang falls back as the shop spins, but Tim’s relief is short-lived.

You slow after knocking Barricade off his course. As he spins, he transforms, pulling his wheels and doors into place as chest plates around his human hostages as he lunges toward you. Transforming, you stay close to the ground and reach for his cadulens. Attempting to be mindful of the scared people inside, you fight Barricade. Swinging your arm, you knock him off balance. Bumblebee speaks to another Autobot through your radio, but you switch to a different frequency.

“10-13,” a dispatcher says. “Officers Bradford and Chen last reported at…”

You can see the officers clinging to the metal around them, and something like relief flashes in their eyes at the sound of the radio before you are pushed to the ground by Barricade.

“Give up, Barricade!” you demand.

He drives a metal shard into your side plating and you grunt before raising your leg and flipping him.

“Die, Autobot!” he replies gruffly.

You rip a metal spike from a nearby fence and drag it across his exposed chassis beneath his chest plate, pinning his right arm to the pavement as you damage his paint and mar the metal beneath.

“For your sake,” he seethes, pushing against you, “I hope that was an accident.”

“Let the humans go,” you demand.

Barricade pushes you up, and you barely catch yourself as he surges toward you again. Clasping your servos together, you twist your entire body, aiming for his helm. He attempts to drive his digits into your optics, but you move faster, and the momentum of your movement knocks him off balance. Barricade crashes to the ground, and you watch his face plate for any sign that he’s faking being down.

You approach Barricade, knocking your heel strut against his skirt plates. He doesn’t react, so you lower onto the asphalt and rip his chest plate apart. The officers jump out without hesitation, panting. The female officer lays her hands on the ground as the male officer looks up at you.

You smile behind your face plate and ask, “Need a ride?”

“I… I don’t know,” the woman replies.

“What’s your name?” the man asks.

You hesitate, then offer, “You can call me Sparks.”

Turning slowly, you show the sparkles in your paint reflect the sun - the origin of your nickname. That, and how quickly you’ve been known to shove a sharp metal instrument into your foes in the heat of battle.

“I’m Tim,” he says. “This is Lucy.”

“Why did you help us?” Lucy inquires, standing.

“That’s Barricade,” you respond, pointing to your unconscious foe. “He’s a Decepticon. They’re from the same place as I am, but they conquered my planet. Their goal is universal domination.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m an Autobot. We’re constantly at war with them. Have been since the Cybertronian war.”

“Okay,” Lucy murmurs slowly. “So, what now?”

“I have a radio. Alert your commander that you’re safe,” you answer. “And then you’re free.”

“Thank you,” Tim says.

You transform back into your alt mode, letting the driver’s door swing open. Tim sits in the seat and uses your radio.

“This is Officer Tim Bradford, badge number 3483,” he says. “Officer Chen and I are safe.”

You offer Lucy a place to rest by opening the passenger door. She hesitates, then sits with her feet firmly on the ground outside.

“We’ll be back at the station in a few minutes,” Tim concludes.

“Should you get a ride for your partner?” you ask.

“I am not his partner,” Lucy corrects. “I’m his rookie.”

“My apologies,” you offer.

Lucy shifts to sit rightly, buckles the seatbelt, and closes the door. Tim closes the driver’s door, too, and you hum. They trust you, and you don’t want to jeopardize that.

“Who’s driving?” Tim asks.

“Up to you,” you reply.

“Okay,” he mutters, shifting into drive.

It’s unusual for you to not be in control. As your pistons fire and the wind rushes along your frame, you begin feeling the damage Barricade did. Tim passes a blue and red semi heading toward the road where you left Barricade, and you flash your headlights. He honks in reply, and you chuckle.

“Friend of yours?” Lucy asks, looking over her shoulder to see the semi.

“Yeah,” you answer. “A very good friend.”

Tim turns left, and your T-cog grinds painfully. He slows, but you don’t say anything.

“So, how do you like earth?” Lucy asks.

“It’s nice,” you say. “Much different than Cybertron.”

“How many robots are in LA?”

“More than I know of. Several of my kind.”

“You’ve been fighting an unseen war,” Lucy muses. “That’s terrifying and awesome.”

“I’ve heard Barricade’s radio communications,” you begin.

“The radio was working, talking,” Tim interjects.

“Yes. He was communicating with the other Decepticons.”

“There’s more?” Lucy exclaims. “In the department?”

“I can’t be sure of that without seeing them.”

“Would you?” Tim inquires. “See if there are more?”

“Of course. I can identify any others, and offer any information you may need about Barricade.”

“How do we file a report for this?” Lucy asks Tim.

“This is the one time in your policing career that I am going to say this,” he prefaces. “We lie.”

Lucy nods in understanding as Tim parks in a visitor’s spot. He closes the door carefully, then runs a finger along a deep scratch in your paint. Black and white paint chips are embedded in a few new dents along your hood, and he surveys them carefully.

“Are you okay?” Tim whispers.

You hum, rattling softly beneath his touch. He nods, pats your side mirror, and walks into the station. Lucy rushes back a moment later and says, “Stay. Please.”

Tim exits the station a few hours later, dressed in civvies and carrying a bag. You’ve spoken to Bumblebee and a few other Autobots about what happened but haven’t heard Barricade’s fate or condition yet. Tim lowers into your passenger seat, carefully setting his bag on the floorboard.

“There’s an auto shop off Wilshire, south of here,” he says. “Can you drive there?”

“Sure,” you reply. “I found no other signs of Decepticons in your garage.”

“Thank you.”

You drive to the auto shop in a comfortable silence. Once there, Tim tells the mechanic – clearly a friend of his by the way they greet one another – that he needs a few touch-ups. Within two hours, your paint job looks brand new, your axles are realigned, and your T-cog has been repaired. He avoided touching your Energon lines or your spark, seeming to understand that the parts you held out of reach were there for a reason.

As you drive out of the garage and thank Tim, your radio alights. Tim notices that the symbol differs from the one he saw in the shop. It’s the same badge you wear on your arm plate when you turn into a giant robot. He shakes his head at how strange this is and how unbelievable it would sound if he hadn’t witnessed it himself.

“The warehouse,” someone says through your radio.

“Of course,” you reply. “Let me drop off-”

“Bring the human.”

“Do you have plans?” you ask Tim.

“Now I do.”

Tim leans toward the wheel as you pull into a dark warehouse. Inside, there’s a yellow Camaro, a shiny motorcycle, and the red and blue semi he and Lucy saw earlier. You open the door, and he exits your alt mode before you transform, towering above him.

Tim’s eyes widen as the other vehicles follow suit, and when the red and blue semi transforms into a standing form that makes you look tiny, he steps back. The large robot lowers to look into Tim’s eyes.

“You are of stout heart,” he says.

“Thank you,” Tim murmurs.

“Sparks,” he says, standing to face you. “It seems you have found a human in need of a guardian.”

You glance at Tim. In the last few hours, you’ve grown to care about him and Lucy. But… “He can take care of himself, Optimus,” you point out.

Tim hesitates before he speaks. He would never admit it to his human friends, even Lucy, but he isn’t opposed to the idea. You saved his life today, and although you’re a sentient robot, and he still isn’t entirely convinced he isn’t dreaming, Tim interjects, “I couldn’t today. You said it yourself, there’s a war going on that we don’t even know about.”

“It’s an unofficial position,” Optimus explains. “She won’t always be there.”

“She seems to have a knack for knowing when to be.”

You smile, and Tim nods in reply.

“If you’ll have me, I’d be glad to be your guardian,” you agree. “It’s a sacred duty, and one I do not take lightly.”

“Any more questions you wanna ask?” Bumblebee quotes.

“Uh, no, sir,” Tim replies. “I’m Tim, by the way.”

“I am Optimus Prime, this is Bumblebee, Arcee, you know Sparks, and Ironhide is around here somewhere,” Optimus introduces.

“You’re going to love him,” you whisper.

“Where’s my backup?!” Tim demands, ducking behind his new shop as a bullet flies past.

“Two minutes out,” dispatch replies.

Tim looks up just as the armed man runs toward him. He pulls his gun up, but the man fires first. Tim drops his head, readying himself to be hit. The bullet collides with something metal before it can reach him. Moving forward, Tim takes cover behind the Good Samaritan who drove between him and a bullet. He fires over the trunk and takes down the armed suspect.

Rounding the Mustang, he glances at the new bullet hole and shakes his head. Another officer pulls in with their lights on, and Tim directs them to take the shooter into custody.

“That’s an inch away from your gas tank,” Tim whispers.

“As long as my Energon isn’t leaking, it’s fine,” you reply softly. “You alright?”

“Thanks to you.”

“Kinda my job.”

Tim pats your trunk, and you pull away. Your right blinker turns on once before you go straight, and Tim shakes his head as he smiles. Lucy never should’ve taught you to wink.

[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.”

[mamawasatesttube]

Janet lives au my beloved, I love the difference in the Janet lives vs the Jack lives au :)

Happy holidays! :D

thanks, happy holidays to you too!!!

also aughgh right??? there is so much to ponder wrt janet our collective beloved janet... i think often about this. like. his issues with jack would both shrink and grow because on the one hand jack is no longer actively around to do shit to feed into tim's many complexes. on the other hand, he now has jack up on the Perfect Dad pedestal in his mind because he's dead. can't criticize your dead dad that's fucked up and horrible. right?

and on the other hand. man. so lets posit he has a better relationship with janet than he would with jack (because janet is a better parent than jack, and let's be real, that isn't really a high bar. but given jack's... everything, i just kinda really get the vibe that he left most of the actual parenting to janet). now at first you'd think this is solely a good thing! ...but can you imagine how much more agonized tim is about having to lie to his beloved mommy???? all the time??? he's even more torn between The Mission and his filial piety this time around!!! augh!!!

like all those times jack didnt notice tim hiding bruises with makeup ? if janet's around it is sooo possible that tim steals HER makeup for this specifically at least once and She. Notices. deeply possible that she puts together "tim showing up with mysterious injuries he keeps trying to hide and also lying to me about it" with "tim getting closer with dick grayson and bruce wayne while i was away" and deduces that she doesn't know WHAT they've gotten her little baby boy into, but she IS going to kill those guys. tim keeps insisting that they're very nice to him but that really isn't helping anything. but just the entire concept of janet actually paying attention to tim's injuries - noticing if he steals her makeup!!! - or paying attention to things like. *checks notes* one of his classmates being SHOT DEAD at their SCHOOL ???? hey jack how did you not even check on him once after this. whats wrong with you. i just wanna talk jack

so i think she'd find out tim's robin way faster than jack. he probably would agonize about wanting her to know but The Mission and the need for secrecy, etc. but notably, when she finds out, i don't think she'd force him to quit - she'd really really want him to, because this is so dangerous and he's her baby and she doesn't want him to get hurt!!! but if he pushed back and tried to explain his side of it, she'd actually be willing to at least hear him out (unlike jack).

but also. not to be predictable but. i think it would be really funny if at some point during this drama kon-el shows up on the front doorstep looking for robin, and eavesdrops just enough to understand that janet knows now. because. hear me out. this is how we once again arrive at tim walking into his own house and home and just balking because kon is at the kitchen table hanging out with his mother. mom why the heck are you giving superboy my oreos!!!!

(also, calling back a little to the concept of baby kon somehow befriending janet, but. very specific vision in my mind of "janet lives past identity crisis too au" where at some point baby kon mentions to tim in her earshot that hes never had a mom and wonders whats it like?? and she doesnt say anything but this strikes her to the heart. several years down the line when timkon are established at some point she's like conner sweetie i know a long time back you said you don't have a mother, and i understand that completely and don't mean to try and take any place in your life you don't want me in, but if you ever would like to have a mother-in-law… and tim is just like. MOM. ARE YOU TRYING TO PROPOSE TO KON FOR ME??? THIS IS SO CRINGE. UGH MOM STOP)

[flowery-mess]

nowhere to go

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / physical violence / punching / knife threat / blood, bruises and other injuries / harassment / I think that's it, let me know if there's anything else

Words: 3,1k

Author's note: grab your tissues everyone. So far the hardest one I wrote for frat Noah❤️‍🩹

frat boy Noah masterlist

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“Thanks for coming man, next time we should start earlier.” Matt said to Noah as he watched him put his shoes and jacket on.

“Yeah, I hate doing projects at the last minute.” him and Matt had a project for a finance class together, they wanted to work on it on the weekend, but Matt’s plans had changed and he needed to finish it on Friday night before he left to see his parents.

“Sorry again man, will never happen again.” Matt apologized one more time, him and Noah did their weird handshake and then Noah left.

It was Friday night, but most of the students were back home at their parents, so there was no party that night.

Noah crossed the main area of the college campus to finally get in his car, do some grocery shopping and go home. He was more than ready to eat some frozen pizza, take a shower and then go to bed.

Due to the spring break the parking lot was weirdly empty, aside from Noah’s black car there were just a few more. He didn’t pay any attention to those other cars, didn’t feel like he needed to.

When his body slid behind the steering wheel, he let out a deep groan. His back hurt from sitting on Matt’s bed the whole day and his brain was tired from all the thinking he had to do to finish the project. He let his head rest for a while, closing his eyes, but he knew if he let himself doze off he’s going to wake in the morning and that was painful to imagine.

He started the engine and made his way to the closest grocery store that wasn’t closed yet. The streets were mostly empty, probably due to the area usually being full of students. It was 10PM already, so he had to drive a bit far for his liking.

His radio was on, but he didn’t really pay any attention to the songs, he was focused on the road.

He checked his rear mirror before he changed lines and noticed only one red car behind him. His attention was back on the road, cursing himself for not using GPS, because he didn’t recognise this part of town.

He turned left, then right and was expecting the shop to already be in sight, but he could swear he got lost and was again on the same main street, changing lines again. Before he did he checked his rear mirror again, noticing the same red car still behind him. He didn’t think much of it, maybe they got lost too.

Taking a few more turns he finally saw the lights “open 24/7”, only one traffic light between him and his target. When he stopped and the red light he looked back in the mirror, nothing else to look at with the empty streets. He noticed two men sitting in the red car, talking and waiting for the light to turn green just like him. When it did, Noah started driving again, not looking back in the mirror or at the red car anymore.

He took the closest parking spot to the shop, took his wallet and left the car. The street was silent, you could only hear cars from a far.

There were two homeless men in front of the shop who didn’t waste any time asking Noah for money. He gave them some change he had in his back pockets and thought of buying them some beer for a minute.

“Hello sir.” the older cashier welcomed Noah with a smile on her face, he did the same and grabbed a cart to start his short shopping list.

Frozen pizza, eggs, bread and milk. Things for dinner and breakfast before he can go to his regular shop to do bigger weekly shopping.

The nice lady packed him the small purchase in a bag, making small talk while doing so. She looked like the type of a woman who lives alone and has a part time job to socialize and talk with people. Noah didn't mind, because he knew how spending time alone can be, so he nodded along and occasionally gave her some answer.

He wished her a safe shift and made his way back to his car. When he reached for his keys he noticed two people next to his black Range Rover. He stopped walking and scanned the parking lot. He noticed the red car still there, but left empty with no passengers.

He really wanted to go home, so he decided to just go and not think twice about it.

“Hey, can I help you?” he asked the two men he saw in his mirror earlier at the red light.

One of them had a cigarette in his hand, the smell hit Noah’s nose immediately. The other one looked at Noah and his face turned into a satisfied smirk.

“Actually yes. You’re Noah right?” the man made a step towards Noah who started feeling uneasy in their company. How the fuck did he knew his name?

“Who are you?” Noah tried to stay calm, maybe it was a misunderstanding.

“Your daddy says you owe us some money.” and then it hit him. I’ll tell them to go after you. His father’s words replayed in his head and he didn’t know what to do.

“He’s not my father, whatever he told you is a lie. I don’t know what he did or why he owes the money, fuck I don’t even know how much money it is! He’s a stranger to me.”

“That’s not what he told us. He owes us money and he told us you’ll pay. We don’t care about your sad story, we want the money and we don’t care how we’ll get it.”

“How much?”

“800 dollars.” Fuck, Noah thought. He expected more, but it was still a lot of money.

“Yeah I don’t have that, so go ask him again.” Noah thought he made it clear, but before he could unlock his car and leave, fist landed on his face. His bag of groceries fell on the ground and his hand immediately went to touch his nose. He tasted blood in his mouth.

“Listen you son of a bitch, you either give us some money or it will not end well for you.” the man pushed him on the side of his own car and his disgusting hands made it around Noah’s throat. He didn’t choke him, but added a fair amount of pressure to make breathing harder for Noah.

“I don’t have the money.” Noah whispered as loud as he could. Another punch followed, this time to his abdomen. Two against one, that couldn’t end well for him. One of them continued holding Noah by his neck while the other was ready to land another fist.

“He said you’ll pay.” of course he said that, father of the year.

Before Noah could argue with him, he felt those hands move from his neck to his shoulders, pulling him down and then knee of the stranger in his face. He gasped for air and saw blood dripping on the concrete under him. He was fucked. Who’s going to help him? That sweet lady from the shop or those two homeless guys? Sure not.

He stood back up, ready to face another hit to wherever they felt good next. He didn’t fight back, that was pointless.

Another punch, this time next to his eye, slitting his eyebrow. He hissed in pain, not sure he could take any more before colapsing on the ground under his feet.

Blood started dripping down his face, blurring his vision in his left eye. He was tired. Tired from all this beating, tired from his father’s actions.

“Do you need more or will you give us the money?” that man yelled in Noah’s face.

He understood him in a way. That man helped his father out in some way, either with drugs, alcohol or actual money and just wanted it back. The thing is, people like his father will never give the money back and that’s something people like those two strangers should know.

Noah’s mind was thinking of how he could escape this situation, but before he could think of something, he heard the sound of opening a pocket knife. The other man put the knife to Noah’s jaw and started running the blade across his cheek.

“I’ll give you everything I have on me, okay?” Noah blurted out in a rush, scared of where this would go if he let them continue.

“Now that’s something I like to hear.” the stranger said happily.

Noah took out his wallet and took out all of his cash and handed it to them. He didn’t know how much it was, but prayed to God that it was enough for him to get rid of them.

“That’s only 200 dollars.” they told him after they counted the money.

“I don’t have any more.”

He saw them look at each other, like they were silently communicating with their minds.

“Listen, we know how stuff like this works and we also know your dad is a piece of shit. We’ll take this and take care of the rest in our way. With your father, not you. But tell your old man this is his warning and he better have the money next time we see him, or he can say his goodbye to you.” Noah didn’t know how to answer that so he just kept staring at them, waiting for their next move.

When they scanned his body, obviously satisfied with the damage they'd done, they turned around, got in their car and left the parking lot.

Noah couldn’t move, he was leaning against his car and trying to stabilize his breathing.

“Are you alright?” he heard another voice and when he turned his head he saw one of the homeless men standing close to his car. He didn’t have the energy to answer, he just opened his car, started the engine and took off.

He didn’t drive in the direction of his apartment, he went back to the campus. His drive was messy and he was glad there were no other cars, because he was sure his driving would’ve caused an accident.

He sat in the parking lot for a good hour, thinking of what to do. His head was hurting and the blood finally stopped running down his face a few minutes ago. It was tears running down his cheeks now, mixing with the dried blood he could taste in his mouth.

He gave up punching the steering wheel or tugging at his hair, the physical pain couldn’t stop the hurt he felt in his heart.

Instead the car was filled with sobs and cries from a boy who just wanted peace in his life. He was better off alone, he just wanted his devil of a father out of his life.

His body worked on autopilot when he got out of his car and started walking in the direction of your dorm. He was glad no one could see him, beaten up with blood all over him. He couldn’t look in the mirror so he took the stairs instead of an elevator.

When he reached your floor he saw the big old clock on the wall and saw it was just a bit after midnight. You’re probably asleep, he should go home, he thought. He actually ran down the stairs just to turn around on the ground floor and run up again. He couldn’t be alone.

—

“Yes mom, I’ll come visit you next month, I’m just busy with school work so I wanted to stay here.” you were on the phone with your mom who just finished her glass of wine and decided it was “I miss my daughter hours.” and called you. You were two hours ahead of her, so it wasn’t unusual for her to call you this late.

“I just saw Jake come home today and felt sad that you decided to stay.” Jake was your neighbour who grew up across the road.

“I know mom, but I’ll come soon. Okay?” you didn’t hear her answer, because there was a loud knock on your door. You checked the time on your phone and furrowed your brows, who could be knocking at your door at midnight. “Wait mom.” you told her and walked to open your door.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight when you opened your door. There was Noah, covered in blood with red eyes, looking like he would collapse every second.

“I have to go mom, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.” you hung up on her before she could say bye, but you didn’t care.

“Noah what the fuck?” you continued to stare at him, not sure what to do. “What the hell happened?” you whispered.

“I, I-” he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, his words got lost between his sobs and quick breathing.

“Come inside.” you pulled him in by his hand and he immediately went to wrap his arms around you, and you let him.

You continued standing there with crying Noah in your arms. You gave him all the time he needed to calm down. When you felt his breath slow down a little, you pulled away from him to look at the mess his face was.

“Oh God Noah, who did this to you?” looking at him was painful. When he didn’t answer you led him in your bathroom and sat him on the closed toilet.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay? You don’t have to say anything until you want to, yeah?” you cupped his face in your hands to make sure he heard you. He gave you only a small nod.

You took a small towel and dipped it into warm water, then took Noah’s face in one of your hands and held the towel in the other one. You slowly and gently wiped all the dried blood from his face. Then you sprayed the disinfection on white cotton pads and said “This is gonna sting.” As you dabbed the pad over the cuts on Noah’s eyebrow and then around his bloody nose, you couldn’t miss the tears forming in his eyes again, then slowly cascading down his cheeks. You tried to wipe them all with your fingers, but there were too many of them.

You put a small butterfly plaster on his eyebrow, but that was all you could do. The rest of his face started to bruise and swell already, you noted to get him something frozen later when you’re done.

“All done.” you grabbed his chin and made him look up at you and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” you asked, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Instead of answering you, Noah took off his t-shirt and you saw a red bruise on his abdomen. You had to calm yourself down so you wouldn’t swear again.

There wasn’t much you could do with that one, so you at least sprayed some disinfection on it.

“Do you want to take a shower?” you then asked Noah who still hasn’t said a word. He was communicating only in nods, but you didn’t mind.

“Here’s a towel, you can leave your clothes here, I’ll wash it for you. Call me if you need anything else, I’ll wait in my room.” you wanted to give him space and privacy, but when you turned to walk out of the small bathroom of yours, he reached for your hand and stopped you.

“Stay.” he finally spoke, it was more of a question, a plea.

You got in the shower with him, taking care of him again. You used your shampoo on his bruised body, being careful with your touch to not hurt him any more. You wanted to wash all of his pain away, if only it was possible.

You let him hug you again, only to hear his silent cries again. You had to hold your own tears at this point. Who did this to him?

After the shower you sat Noah in your bed and gave him a pack of frozen peas to stop the swelling of his pretty face.

You sat next to him, not sure what to do now. “Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked him.

There was a silence before he took a breath and started talking.

“He actually sent someone to beat me up and get money from me.” he muttered under his breath, “Who does that to their own kid?” his breath got caught in his throat, before he let out another sob. You immediately knew what he was talking about. His father was always full of promises he never managed to keep, so after that accident you both didn’t take his words seriously. What a mistake.

You laid both of you down on your bed, not big enough for both of you, but you managed. You held him and gave him time to process what he wanted to tell you.

“They followed me from here after I left Matt’s place, then they waited for me in front of a fucking grocery store. He owes them 800 dollars and sent them to get it from me. They beat me up and then pulled out a knife, so I gave them all the cash I had with me.” at the mention of the knife you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying what was on your mind. You were thankful he got to you in one piece.

“They told me he’s a piece of shit and that beating me up was a warning for him. Only if they knew he doesn’t give a fuck about what they did to me. They said they’ll finish it with him, so I hope I’ll never see their fucking faces again.”

“That’s not okay Noah, they can’t do that.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” he sat up to look at you, despair in his eyes. “What do you want me to do? Call the cops? Call him?”

“I don’t know.” you admitted. You wanted to get him out of this situation, but didn’t have a clue on how to do it.

He laid back down and continued talking after a while. “I’m gonna change my number. I was thinking about moving too. He knows where I live, I’ll never get rid of him.”

“Yeah, we can think of something tomorrow.” those weren’t bad ideas, it could help to cut his father off completely. “I’m glad you came here, hate the idea of you being alone in this state.” you admitted and planted few more kisses to his forehead and in his hair.

He laid in your arms, occasionally letting out a hiss when your fingers slid too close to his bruised face.

You felt his body grow heavier and heavier with sleep taking over him. His cries finally calmed down and his breathing became even.

“Thank you.” he whispered in the crook of your neck.

“You don’t have to thank me.” you whispered back. You thought of all the nights when he held you, because you needed it.

You held him until he fell asleep, preparing yourself for round 2 in the morning when the pain of his injuries will become worse.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

Taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls

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[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.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[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

[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.

[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.”

[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........

[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

[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.

[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

[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).