#beautiful menace

[timmydraker]

Tim who can and will sleep anywhere.

It’s not just a matter of falling asleep at his desk or while at the dinner table, though those things do happen.

No, he’s fallen asleep in the middle of a sparring. He had a tired look on his face while going agasint Dick and then shrugged and said, “we’ll finish later.” Then laid down right there and went to sleep.

He’s been found in some odd places, most of which are not at all comfortable.

Some examples being:

The floor of the kitchen, with a packet of chips gripped in his hand like a lifeline and his legs tucked up under him like a frog.

Under Bruce’s bed and he was only found before sometimes he snores like a little kitten.

In the trunk of Dick’s car after he made it back to Blud. He even had a line of drool coming from his mouth as his brother promptly freaked out.

On top of the fridge during a big heat wave, half dangling off with his arms and legs over the side and head tilted at an off angle.

In the shower’s of the cave with the water running over his head as he curled into a ball, leaving Jason to go in and be faced with Tim’s pale ass staring at him. (He panicked and instead of Turing away he kicked Tim in the ass and was not sorry for even a second. He’s traumatised.)

In Barbara’s chair. She didn’t even notice him come into the tower until he was crawling into her lap and gave her a mumbled greeting before conking out instantly, somehow bypassing her security which he genuinely cannot do normally.

In the pool room with his feet in the water and socks on his hands for some unknown reason.

He doesn’t do it unless he feels safe, and he’s easy to wake up in cases of an emergency, and so everyone feels sort of proud when he chooses them. It’s not always he seeks someone out, but most members of the family start checking under their bed and in their closest (he got quite a few jokes after that one) just in case they have been Chosen.

Most people think it’s not often he sleeps without being exhausted, but he’s a power napper and will take any chance he has free to do so.

You must be careful moving him because he tends to smack people. He will push and whine at you if you try, grumbling like a petulant teenager about needing out ‘five more minutes’. Damian learnt this the hard way when he tried to move Tim from his bedroom doorway and Tim kicked him in the shin.

He can be calmed down if you put chamomile tea under his nose but this might wake him up in a mood as he demands more tea for being disturbed.

Bruce made it a rule that Tim must be checked on if he hasn’t said or done anything for a while after he was found under the Batmobile in a plank position.

[neo--queen--serenity]

Maomao’s opinions on Gaoshun:

Maomao’s opinions on Jinshi:

[tsty-brry]

*taps mic* co head disciples au

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 8: How met your mother (CSSR design by @qourmet!)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[coldemergency]

Harry: This is so weird

Tom: I assure you this is much weirder for me

Voldemort:

Voldemort: How the fuck did this happen?

Voldemort: and how did you get into my house-

Harry: It’s a long story

Tom: You really weren’t joking about the nose thing

Voldemort: I will kill the both of you

[fyllophobia]

[fizzy-dizz]

Accompanying the prince,,,,

[ruinme-please]

Ivy Ivy Ivy...

[slippinninque]

🎄A Small Exchange 🎁

Terry Richmond x blackfemreader

In which Terry hopes for the best

Warnings: Fluff!! Self indulgent fic, soft!Terry, may need some edits

It’s been a nearly half a year since Terry has joined this club and he’s never been as unprepared to face you as he was now. This went beyond tangled yarn and nonsensical stitch counts...

The gift bag hung from his fingers. Pretty and heavy and decorated with a festive scene staring field mice having a lovely dinner. Aside from the main attraction that he made with his own two hands–Terry threw in a few other festive trinkets. Christmas socks, a candle, a box of chocolates is as far as he got before his cousin took a away his shopping basket.

Across the small room he watched you help a youngster with their tangled hook. You had little wreaths as earrings, antlers, and a painted nose that went perfectly with your chunky knit sweater and fleece leggings. Dressed perfectly for both the low temperatures and incoming holiday–Terry was nearly on his knees from every adorable jingle-jangle that came from you.

All too soon it was his turn. Facing your encouraging smile as he waved him closer, wondering aloud who the lucky person was before the bag was nearly shoved into your hands. Terry stood at attention and two near by regular attendees crowded close as well.

The blanket was made to Terry’s size. He wanted to be sure that you remained warm. This made the blanket queen-sized–he realized the scale when you unfurled it and oop-ed at the plop of fabric onto the carpeted floor.

The others in their circle ooh-ed and Oh, Terry!-ed when you held up the blanket he’s spent the last two months crocheting just for you. Terry’s hands locked tighter before him as he felt his face heat up at the praise.

It was just like the picture you shared to the group nearly half a year ago. More or less. A soft, blushy middle circle fading into a solid, square frames. Instead of the light blues and pinks, Terry went with a soft purples of varying shades that he imagined would be beautiful against your skin. 

Terry realized that you were staring at him now, mouth agape. 

“Erm, I may have been a bit heavy handed with the increases…” he cleared his throat and you snickered, coming out of your speechlessness.

“I–Terry–this…”

He took a step towards you but turned to the rest of the crochet circle you lead. Eyes, bespectacled and otherwise, moved away as enthusiastic gift exchanging continued around the both of you. You looked at him and laughed again, embarrassed. Gathering the blanket back, you nodded towards two chairs and a small popup table pulled a little bit away from the group’s main spot.

Terry exhaled deliberately through his nose then followed. Terry laid his life on his iron sights more than once but never had he felt the energy coursing through him now. Wanting your approval, torn between not wanting to get his hopes too high but craving your thoughts on his work. 

Ever since you made him pay for not moving from a reserved seat for one of your students, you shoved a hook in his hand and dared him to put it down. Literally.

“I mean, unless you want to be the scary-frown man to the incoming grannies?” 

He realized how childish he was being by refusing to move from the seat, but he was too deep in enjoying your wit. Dry as ice can be when annoyed, warm as smiling cheeks when happy. It’s what kept him coming back to your Crochet Club every chance he got, until he had a lopsided scarf all of his own.

It was then time for another project and once the idea for a gift for you appeared–Terry couldn’t shake it. 

“I can’t believe you did this…I am…'thank you’ isn’t enough.” You said to him, placing the fluffy monstrosity onto the table, “It’s going directly to my bed when I get home.”

“It’s only a compliment to your teaching.”

“Oh no, this is something about that stubbornness of yours–” You trailed off and your eyes squinted at him. Terry returned the squint, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“What?”

“...Were you pretending to be that bad in the beginning or were you playing with me this whole time?”

“What would you say? Do I seem the type to play helpless?” 

“Okay Mr. Ergomatic grip. You know no one else in the group uses one–

“Yes. I kno–

“Not even  Ms. Sheila…”

Terry rose a brow at you and put a hand warningly onto the blanket, face cool but his eyes crinkled at the corners. Undeterred by his impressive poker face, you held onto the plush corners and pleaded for his forgiveness.

“No, no! Okay, I’m sorry–your old-man hook is the coolest, I swear!”

“Mhm. I don’t think I believe you.” 

“Wait, here–maybe this can buy me back my Christmas miracle…”

Terry rose a brow as he watched you crouch down to grab a polar bear printed bag from beneath the table. You cleared your throat a bit, glancing over your shoulder a bit before offering it to him with two hands.

He…honestly wasn’t expecting you to have a gift for him. The group exchanged gifts at different points of the month and he's seen you give out something to just about everyone that you could catch attending.

Money being funny, deals being too good to pass up, or even a novelty item that reminded you of your favorite weirdo. It’s led to Terry getting an assortment of things from the others that leaves warmth in his chest when glances one in his home.

Terry barely looked into the bag stuffed with tissue paper before diving in, pulling out a luxurious cardigan. Dark olive and made of what Terry would guess is cashmere, he was at a loss for words when he held it to the light. Were the stitches sparkling? Or was that just his excitement?

As you went on about how it was cashmere and it took a lot of guessing of his size, Terry only wanted one thing…

He shrugged out of the jacket he still wore. Down to only a long sleeve, the cardigan settled on his form nicely. Terry didn’t feel himself smiling as he smoothed down the length of the cardigan, then held out his arms to note the sleeves ended right here he preferred. Rising his arms next, Terry could not feel a draft as he normally would have if wearing the standard fit.

Your voice was shy as you asked, “How’s it feeling?” 

“It fits perfectly.” Terry had to stop himself from rubbing along the sides of the cardigan, only to discover–

“It has pockets!” He looked down in surprise as his hands slipped into the squares and you laughed, delighted as you confirmed that it indeed had pockets. 

Now it was Terry’s turn to be speechless. He could picture your hook flying through the yarn, your glasses perched low on your nose as you either listened to a friend or podcast. Hundreds and hundreds of stitches done by you personally, all because you had Terry in mind. 

He was sure that, at some point, you both probably had a spool of yarn in your laps as you thought about each other. Terry knew he had you in mind with every step--all the way to hoping and praying the yarn wouldn't be too stressed up against his callouses.

He wondered what you were thinking of when sewing those pockets at the perfect height to meet his hands.

The two of you watched each other now, touched but unable to find the words. It was a sweet tension that Terry has never felt before and from the way you’re looking at him–Terry wanted to know what you were thinking. Surrounded by the sounds of merriment of the others and the Christmas music playing, it made him feel bold.

“Not sure what you have planned after this,” Terry said, “But I…was considering Ms.Sheila’s suggestion on seeing the Christmas lights on 3rd avenue."

“There’s a pretty spot there that’s 24/7 that does breakfast-for-dinner like no other.”

“Hm. Sounds just fine to me.”

The smile on your space begged to be kissed but Terry settled for reaching out and tweaking an antler, it's bright ringing matching the twinkle in your eyes.

You startled at remembering the rest of the world when the playlist went from a slow and jazzy to a startling pop rendition of O, Holy Nights. Terry smiled to himself as he watched you hurry over to the group that has loosely started twisting yarn without the two of you, the knowing glances and cheeky grins following after your flustered motions. 

Terry looked down at the gift in his hands and with the thought of what was to come–he entered the circle after you.

------------

⭐ending notes:⭐ it was a bit hard to feel festive this year, so sorry for being MIA for a bit! 🥹Here is my first Terry Richmond fic as a gift that I hope you all enjoy! I couldnt get the image of this big beautiful menace with yarn and a hook in his hands 🤣 please comment and reblog! Would y'all like more about him from me?

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings

@thickeeparker @mcondance @blowmymbackout

(I'm sorry, Im not exactly sure who to list 🫣)

[zegalba]

‘Star Wars Couture' for Vogue Magazine (1999) Audrey Marnay photographed by Irving Penn

[sisaloofafump]

(Click for better resolution)

Remember how Nightwing was first invented as Clark’s Kryptonian “Batman” disguise (with Jimmy Olsen as the Robin-esque Flamebird)? Imagine if they got to interact like that. Just imagine.

Original comic panels from Superman #158 below (and the drawing variants).

And various background variants bc I am indecisive

[saryasy]

new oliver quote starterpack

[callmekamel]

Im watching Taskmaster series 5 and Sally Phillips absolutely STRESSED ME OUT

[torbins-braid]

Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (1999) / Padmé Amidala's Handmaiden Disguise

[fizzyphan]

dontcha just love how in one second dan can go from "beautiful gorgeous wife in japan" to "waddup sluts it's 5 am" ? cuz I know I do .

[cherriesandsulphur]

That one scene where Raphael's eyes start to glow before he snaps his fingers...