#they definitely grew up together
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Cocos introduction is him interrupting telling someone’s fortune to gripe about toriko visiting
He is ALSO a punk
#toriko#toriko manga#coco (toriko)#coco’s a punk#look at his face he’s so annoyed#they definitely grew up together#that’s the face of a man who’s been dealing with Toriko’s nonsense since they were children#puffer whale arc
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being both the sensitive one and the baby?? Yowch.
........
I wouldn't have been able to live with myself without a followup
(★ my Ko-fi)
#my art#trolls band together#trolls fanart#trolls brozone#dreamworks trolls#trolls#argh I don't know how to articulate my thoughts on how floyd came to be ''the sensitive one''#definitely a hyper-sensitive kid but i imagine he grew out of it pretty quickly#but he was still empathetic and patient and always hyper-atuned to his brothers' emotions#so the moniker stuck#even when he grew up and had to start repressing his emotions to become the family mediator#or something idk it's 1am
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KINCADE PACK 🐺 (original works) — “The name goes back centuries, and all Miranda cares about is making sure it lasts for many more”
[template by @tommyarashikage]
tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @simonxriley @voidika @kyberinfinitygems @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @a-treides @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed @leviiackrman @strangefable @jacobseed
#insp: the lodge#too many ocs to tag here lmao#this is a little bit rushed because it’s like 2am#but I’ve been thinking about doing this template for them since I first saw it#FINALLY I get to talk about this fucked up rich werewolf family#Logan and Jayde’s dad were best friends and grew up together#so Jayde and Skye essentially grew up with Logan’s kids#there’s a lot of complicated feelings there between the kids for various reasons#they consider each other family to a degree (more like cousins)... but some of them would definitely straight up kill each other.#Miranda had her eye mostly on Jayde because she’s the same age as Garret and Miranda’s main goal is to strengthen her bloodline#and Jayde comes from a well known purebred bloodline#so Miranda’s golden boy Garret (massive douchebag) tried his darndest to rizz up Jayde for most of their childhood#Jayde fucking despises him. she beat his ass on more than one occasion. which massively bruised his fragile ego. but he still wants to hit#Amara and Mitchell are the designated chaos twins that Jayde has a love/hate relationship with. Skye gets along with them great of course#Jonas is the only mf that has his head on straight. He's mostly separated from the fam. removed at the 'heir' when he didn't want it.#now hes a werewolf therapist for werewolves with a small family of his own. he reminds Jayde of her dad. he's around the same age too#SCANDAL: Jonas is slightly older than Logan lmao#Declan is the other golden boy. the precious spoiled baby. Miranda's backup for the backup.#he's terrified of Garret so he tries to stay out of his way and mostly keeps to himself#tbh Declan is just Scared of Everything and desperately doesn't want any responsibility but tries to hide it#anyway before Jayde's dad was killed and she was captured they knew hunters were coming for them#so they went to the Kincades for help. Miranda would only accept the girls.#Jayde chose to stay with her parents and they left Skye with the family to keep her safe (she was 12)#that was the last time Skye saw her family intact :/ she didn’t see Jayde again for years.#so Miranda pampered her and groomed her to be in her family.#like she was this little jewel. the last living Thatcher.#now that Jayde is back and Skye is with her and they're living their own life#Miranda be scheming. she wants to claim their bloodline sooo bad.#anyway sorry for the massive lore dump there’s.... a lot of complicated shit going on here#edits
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((you don’t have to do both if you don’t want to, you can consider this one a back up / alt))
“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” 💞
From this writing prompt list i reblogged in...november lmao fljdsjfa
anyway this grew legs and sprinted away the second I picked it up yesterday - clearly it just needed some time to proof lmao. Thank you for the ask, tauria!! From *checks watch* almost 5 months ago fjdslafjsa I will be cross-posting it to Ao3 in my new oneshot collection fic :)
Warnings for: Vague allusions that Ra's Al Ghul is a creep (what else is new), threats of gun violence, canon-typical violence
15. “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”
When Tim arrived in Gotham this morning, he had no way of knowing that his day would end in Jason Todd’s bed.
Frankly, he wasn’t really sure what bed he’d end up in— because his own certainly wasn’t an option right now. But If he had to pick, Jason Todd’s was somewhere near the bottom of whatever list he’d make.
He didn’t exactly plan on this, okay?
But, uh. Let’s back up a little.
—
Tim knew his day was going to go to shit when he got back from the airport at 7 AM.
He had his driver drop him off two blocks away from his townhouse for the sake of caffeine at the hole in the wall place he likes. Wealthy CEO he may be, but a sixteen hour flight is still a sixteen hour flight and Tim is cursed with an inability to sleep in the air.
Don’t ask. He’s tried. It doesn’t work.
So he wants coffee, and he wants a shower, and he wants his own bed. In that order.
With the first thing on his list acquired and blessedly burning his tongue, he managed to tug his brain cells together enough to realize that the building they’d passed that had been shrouded in tents and canvas was his building.
"What's going on here?"
The worker outside his building looks up from her clipboard, her face wrinkling into apprehensive confusion.
"Hello, sir. Can I help you?”
He hasn’t slept in roughly seventy two hours. He is not awake or patient enough for this.
“My name is Tim Drake. I own this building. What’s going on here?” He repeats.
The woman raises her eyebrows and looks down at her clipboard again. “Mr. Drake?” She questions, clearly expecting him to look like a grown-ass man and not a sleep-deprived college student coming home from spring break or whatever.
“Yes. Timothy Drake-Wayne. Why are you—” he tries to gesture with the hand still holding his suitcase handle, walking towards the tarps and tents erected around his townhouse with increasing trepidation, “—here?”
“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in there. Not for at least forty-eight hours.”
Tim stops in his tracks.
“Forty-eight—?”
“We've been scheduled to fumigate the property today.” She says it like she’s reading it out of a handbook. “It won't be safe to enter the building for at least forty-eight hours. You should have received prior notice. Uh. Sir.”
Tim's jet-lagged brain kicks into overdrive.
Bruce hasn't made any disappointed noises about Tim’s perfectly normal work ethic lately so it probably wasn't a misguided attempt at benching him. And besides, rendering Tim’s apartment inaccessible is counterproductive on that front.
Dick wouldn’t. They haven’t been exactly— great, lately but he wouldn’t. Besides, if he wanted to get Tim out of the house more, he’d show up to drag Tim out into the daylight himself. This is a little too roundabout for him.
It’s too much work to be Steph. She would think it’s funny, but there’s no way she’d follow through.
Damian might, but this doesn’t quite fit his preferred methods for making Tim’s life hell. It could be some cloak and dagger maneuver to leave him vulnerable, faking a complaint to the city so he’ll—
And then Tim thinks about the call.
The call he’d brushed off at fuck o’clock in the morning somewhere over Europe, too busy with another project. The call his secretary took for him instead. He thinks about the distracted confirmation he’d given to whatever it was she’d asked him about five minutes later.
He also thinks about the form he signed about two weeks ago, before this last minute trip to Hong Kong had consumed his entire attention. The one with “Two Weeks Notice” stamped across the top. His stomach sinks.
“Today,” he repeats.
She looks apologetic. “Today,” she confirms. “And we just started about an hour ago. I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake-Wayne but—”
"No it's—" he says through gritted teeth, "fine. I'll just. Make other arrangements."
—
He does not make other arrangements. Though not for lack of trying.
Tim has a handful of safehouses scattered throughout the city. He has options. He gets a taxi to the closest neighborhood, and nearly falls asleep in the backseat. The cabby has to knock on the glass divider to get his attention when they come to a stop. He grumbles and hauls his suitcase out of the backseat, and tips the man excessively.
Shower. Bed. Sleep. He’s so close he could cry.
Except when he finally rolls around the block, coffee half gone and trying to remember if this safehouse is the one with in-unit laundry or if he’ll have to haul his shit down to the laundry room, his building is a blackened husk with police tape all around it.
He stops on the sidewalk. He peers up at the window of his unit, squinting at the peeling black wood and shattered glass. He ponders whether two is enough data points to be considered a pattern. And whether he could get away with napping in the alley on this street or if that’ll end with him stabbed and robbed.
As he’s pondering, he catches sight of a passerby and stops him.
“‘Scuse me,” he says apologetically. “What the hell happened here?”
The guy looks up from his phone and takes in his rumpled clothes, his suitcase, and the scorched remains of his apartment.
“Oh, uh. Yeah, there was a big fire about a week back? Bad fire. Took out, like, half the block. Cops are saying it’s arson.”
“A week ago,” Tim repeats. The guy’s eyes widen.
“Oh shit, bro, did you live here?”
“I’ve been out of town,” he explains numbly.
“Dude, that sucks. And right in the middle of con’ season. Good luck finding a hotel!”
“Yeah,” Tim sighs as the guy walks away. “Thanks.”
—
The next safehouse he tries isn’t in much better shape.
He remembers hearing about Freeze going on a rampage a few days into his trip, but he hadn’t realized another one of his places had been caught in the cross-fire. The cold burst the pipes, and now the whole place is undergoing renovation.
He hears all this from the crotchety old lady who lives in the next building over (her building needs renovation too, but will the city pay for it? Of course not, they weren’t ‘directly impacted by disaster’ so they won’t see a penny of relief funds even though their pipes are on the same line. Typical) and when he finally extricates himself from the conversation, it’s almost noon, his second cup of coffee is long-since empty and he’s at the end of his goddamn rope.
By the time he sees his next safehouse, he isn’t even surprised anymore.
“Does God hate me?” He asks the boarded up building. “Is this a punishment? What did I do? What the fuck did I do?”
He is 99% sure at this point that someone is burning his bolt holes. There’s a short list of people with the resources and the intel to do it, and while he’s not above ruling out the likes of Damian just yet, he seriously doubts anyone wearing a bat is behind this.
Besides, Dick would have noticed by now if Damian were sinking this many resources into convoluted covert ops designed to make Tim suffer. Definitely. Probably.
Fuck it.
He goes around the back and hops on top of his suitcase to reach the clunky camera watching the back entrance. This building is on the shittier side, closer to Crime Alley than his other haunts; cameras break all the time around here. He’ll have it replaced after he’s a functional human again.
Reportedly, this building was tagged for ‘high toxicity levels’— which is pretty typical for any building where fear toxin or Joker gas are found in any amount. They must have found a lot to condemn the whole building, but Tim is confident he’ll be fine. The airborne shit dissipates to safe levels within hours depending on the ventilation. If it was in the air, it’s long gone. Anything else needs to be injected to be effective.
Once the camera’s busted, he kicks out the boards and heads inside.
He drags his suitcase in after him, and mourns the shower he probably won’t be getting. The hall lights are out, and chances are the water’s been shut off along with the electricity. But at this point, he simply does not give a shit. All he wants are four walls and a mattress.
Leaning on the door to his floor to make it open, he stumbles out into the hallway—
And catches sight of the glistening curved dagger stabbed into the wall next to his door, the hilt gleaming green in the sinking sun.
“Nope,” Tim says, spinning on his heel and going back down the stairwell double time. “Nope, nope, nope.”
He is now 100% certain that the League of Assassins has been burning his bolt holes. Ra’s al fucking Ghul can eat his whole ass.
—
Seven blocks away, Tim sits on the sidewalk in front of a bodega and contemplates a third cup of coffee. The shittiest one yet.
See, here’s the thing.
The thing is, he has options.
He could go to the Manor. Or the penthouse. Or to Steph’s place. He’d have to answer some unnecessary questions like ‘Master Timothy, you know you can’t sleep on aircraft, why didn’t you sleep before your flight’ or ‘Tim, why didn’t you come here first, you know you can still come to me if you’re in trouble, right’ or ‘why did you agree to fumigate your fucking house, you loser, lmao’. (Stephanie is not going to let him live this down).
He is absolutely certain that he would be welcomed in any of these places and after a completely undeserved amount of fussing, he could take a fucking nap and someone else would deal with the League bullshit for him.
And that’s the thing. There’s the rub.
No one should have to deal with the League bullshit for him. This is his problem. He’s not in a hurry to bring them down on anyone. Not even Damian.
With grim resignation, he reaches for his phone to try and find a hotel room (during a con’ weekend apparently, RIP) and maybe get a fucking handle on this whole stupid thing, when he hears:
“Hand over your wallet!”
He lifts his head slowly and finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun held by some guy wearing a ski mask in broad fucking daylight. There’s another guy next to him who’s watching the street. There’s a third guy somewhere behind him who he can’t see, but he can hear the scuff of his boots.
Sure. Why not. With the day he’s had, this might as well happen. He holds up his hands placatingly.
Tim contemplates his muggers. The guy with the gun is jittery, probably new to this, or hopped up on something. He keeps glancing between Tim and the bodega behind him, so they were probably planning a run on the till. Might have chickened out, or thought Tim was an easier target, an unexpected meal ticket plopped right in their path. Or they were already inside when Tim sat down, which wouldn’t bode well for his situational awareness seeing as he just came out of there himself.
The grinding gears of his tired brain keep getting caught on the fact that this is happening in the middle of the fucking day. Tim glances at the street corner and bites his cheek in frustration. Yeah, he’s smack dab in the middle of the Alley. Figures.
“Are you deaf or somethin’ man?” The guy with the gun is saying. “Hand over your fucking wallet!”
The other guy doesn’t seem as crazy-eyed. He’s nervous, though. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting Batman to materialize, to come whistling down the street like a beat cop.
“Dude, come on, it’s not fucking worth it,” he says, grabbing at the gunman’s shoulder. “We got the money, let’s fucking go.”
The third guy kicks over Tim’s suitcase. “Yeah, come on, Don, let’s just grab this shit and bounce.”
Tim can’t do anything. He’s not Red Robin right now. He’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he’s getting mugged in front of a bodega at two in the afternoon in a rumpled suit and tie and still toting his suitcase from his early morning flight.
His hands are trembling from unspent adrenaline, too much caffeine, and not enough sleep. His eyelids are the heaviest they’ve ever been in his godforsaken life. His ears are ringing. He could knock all three of them down in less time than it takes to tie his shoelaces. But he can’t.
“Shut up, Johnny, look at him shaking! What’s he gonna do? If he doesn’t wanna get shot, rich boy’s gonna hand over all his fucking shit!”
“Hey, let’s just—” Tim tries to say.
Stars explode across his vision as Tim takes a punch he genuinely wasn’t expecting. He stares up at the blue sky for about half a second, more confused than anything else, before the gunman grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him up to shout in his face.
“What’s it gonna be, pretty boy?!”
Caught on the exhausted edge between vigilante training and the preservation of his identity, Tim is frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to cry.
“Gee, Donny, what is it gonna be?” A fourth voice says, full of false cheer.
Tim blinks. So do the muggers.
He knows that voice.
“Who the fuck—?” The gunman drops Tim, spinning around and into a fist. He tumbles down to the ground, out cold.
Everything happens pretty quickly after that.
Jason Todd is in civvies. He’s sporting a worn out looking hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. But his heavy boots are the same ones he wears for his uniform, and the kick he delivers to Johnny’s face is all Red Hood.
Almost in a daze, Tim watches him fight with the usual mix of seething envy and raw desire that rears its ugly head any time he gets to see Jason in action. He’s fast, decisive. Efficient. Beautiful. Tim wishes he had Jason’s skill. And he wishes—
Well. He wishes a lot of things about Jason Todd.
Tim is pretty sure he and Jason are friends. Maybe. Probably. They’ve pretty much moved past the whole “replacement”, “zombie-dickhead” part of their relationship and have graduated to occasionally providing backup on ops that overlap in each other’s sectors, ganging up on Dick when they’re all in the same room, and maintaining a surprisingly steady stream of vigilante gossip to keep each other in the loop.
So, ok, yes, due to the aforementioned, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. And also because Jason wouldn’t have stuck his neck out for him otherwise. He would have just let him get mugged.
Watching Jason fight is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. But right now, Tim’s usual appreciation is soured by the gut-roiling embarrassment of being caught in this position by Jason of all people. His eyes itch. His cheek throbs. He’s so fucking tired.
“Hey, little stalker,” Jason says suddenly, holding out an expectant hand in Tim’s face. The muggers are groaning on the ground around them. Tim isn’t sure when that happened. He might have zoned out. “Did you know that you had a stalker for a change?”
Tim flushes. “I resent that. I haven’t stalked anyone in years.” He takes the hand. It’s warm, and calloused, and big around his.
Jason laughs at him and yanks him to his feet. “Liar.”
Tim’s mouth twists into a scowl. He tries to glare at Jason, but he can feel himself swaying and Jason still hasn’t let go of him, and it’s ruining everything.
Also, lowkey, Jason is right. But in his defense, it is literally their job to stalk people, so.
“I haven’t stalked you in years then. Just other guys. Bad guys. Not non-bad guys. Fuck. You know what I mean. Whatever.” He pauses; recalibrates. “Had?” He asks.
Jason’s eyebrows inched higher and higher the longer Tim talked. Tim doesn’t blame him.
“Yeah. Had.”
So much for the League, Tim muses.
Jason gives him a once over before tugging decisively on Tim’s wrist, easily grabbing the handle of his suitcase and starting to walk with both in tow, to Tim’s rising horror.
“You’re coming with me, shortstack. What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? You look like shit.”
Tim tries to yank his wrist out of Jason’s grip, but the asshole doesn’t budge. “I’m not drunk,” Tim snaps. “I’m fine. I’m just. I’m just… really tired.”
Jason stops abruptly, and Tim stumbles into his shoulder.
“I can see that,” he says, steadying Tim with an amused but ultimately sympathetic look. He loads Tim’s suitcase onto the back of a motorcycle that Tim literally just now noticed.
God, he’s fucked. And not even in a fun way.
“C’mon,” Jason says. “Don’t fall asleep on the way over— road rash sucks ass.”
—
They don’t talk on the way to— wherever Jason is taking them, but once they’re parked in a random garage and walking towards the elevators, the game of twenty questions begins.
“So why’ve you got League assassins after you, anyway? Piss in a lazarus pit? Push over the baby brat on the playground?”
“Ra’s al Ghul wants my body,” Tim says, dejected but resigned to this bizarre fact of his life. “Since I was seventeen, I’m pretty sure.”
Jason wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”
“I don’t think it’s a sex thing? But it could also be a sex thing.”
“Again. Fucking ew.”
“Yeah. Also I blew up a bunch of his shit and I think he’s still salty I got away with it.”
“Is that why you weren’t at the Manor?” Jason asks, herding Tim out of the elevator and down a long hallway. “Or anywhere but a random street in Crime Alley?”
Tim nods. “Yeah. They found all my safehouses, but— my mess. My problem.”
Jason thwacks him upside the head.
“Ow! What the fuck?”
“You’re the dumbest person on the planet.”
“Am not. B is on-planet right now.”
“Then you’re pretty fucking close,” Jason snarks, fishing out some keys and opening one of the apartment doors.
Tim scoffs at him as he’s pushed inside. “Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you would let Dick swoop in and solve all your problems for you.”
Jason rolls his eyes, stepping into the side kitchen and popping open the freezer door of the fridge.
“Dickiebird can’t even solve his own problems,” he says as he rummages. “But maybe when I’m fucked up enough to let three nobodies robbing a fucking bodega get the jump on me, that’s a sign that, maybe, it might be time to call in the cavalry. Dick isn’t the only person who’s got your back.” He presses an ice pack to Tim’s face until he takes it himself, and keeps steering him through the apartment. “Just saying.”
Tim would protest with all of his very good reasons why Jason is definitely wrong here, but he’s too busy processing the fact that Jason has led him into a bedroom. With a bed. There’s a bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. Right there. Tim stares at it with lustful eyes.
Jason catches him staring. He rolls his eyes, but he’s sporting a small smile that Tim has the presence of mind to memorize. He walks over to a dresser and pulls out a big shirt and a pair of shorts that he hands to Tim.
“Look. If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. No guarantees I’ll be always around, but, yeah. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”
Tim eyes him up, clutching the bundle of Jason-smelling fabric in his hands. “And you’d do that for me because…why, exactly?”
Jason flicks his forehead, a stinging reprimand. Tim hisses.
“Because, dumbass, you need help and I feel like it. And you don’t actually suck to be around, so shut up and be grateful.”
“Oh, yes,” Tim deadpans, rubbing at his forehead. “So grateful to be allowed the privilege of squatting with you.”
The thing of it is, Tim is grateful. But Jason doesn’t need to know that.
Jason squawks, and before Tim can duck, he’s snatched Tim around the neck in a headlock. His arm is thick and doesn’t budge no matter how Tim shoves and kicks. The ice pack and the clothes go flying, and Tim just about dies. Jason is warm.
“Jason—!”
“Brat!” Jason crows, not giving an inch. “I paid for this place fair and square— you’re the only squatter here!”
“Blood money doesn’t count as square!”
“Tell that to half of Gotham, kid.”
“I’m trying to, thanks for noticing,” Tim says, finally wrenching himself free of Jason’s grip, stumbling into the bed and giving into its siren song. He sits down heavily on the edge, toppling over sideways and reaching pathetically for the fallen ice pack that’s just out of his reach.
“And don’t call me kid—” he complains, muffled by the pillow. It also smells like Jason. “You’re barely two years older than me.”
The cold ice pack is pressed into his fingers. He cracks an eye open to look, but Jason is just smirking at him, like he’s giving Tim the win. Ass.
“Coulda fooled me, shortstack.”
Tim rolls his eyes, and onto his back, toeing off his shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. He can’t tell if Jason’s bed is the best bed in the world, or if he’s just deliriously inventing things.
Frankly, Jason Todd’s bed is the last place he ever thought he’d end up, this morning or otherwise, so he’s never bothered to speculate. He does not have a contingency plan for this.
“Is there a reason you keep calling me short,” he complains, “Or will I just need to fill in the blanks myself?”
“Can’t help it. You’re just so small,” Jason coos. Tim props himself up on an elbow at that, raising a disgusted eyebrow.
“You don’t hear me constantly talking about how big you are.”
Jason grins like he just won the lottery; Tim shuts his eyes the second it’s out of his mouth.
“Baby, you don’t know how big I am.”
He does, actually. Not in a creepy stalker way, just— there was this one time. A big rogue breakout at Arkham, all-hands on deck type of situation; Tim, Cass, and Jason were covering Poison Ivy in the park. Acid-spitting pitcher plants were involved.
And look, Jason’s tactical gear is fine in the day to day, but it’s not like any of them had time to prep a neutralizing agent, so when Jason needed his pants off, stat…uh. Well. Tim was right there.
He knows, okay?
“Alright,” he rallies, trying desperately not to replay the memory of Jason adjusting himself through his boxers. All of himself. “I walked right into that one.”
“Oh, trust me. You’ll know if you’ve walked into it.”
Tim scoffs, but he can feel how red his face is.
And the thing is. He says it without really meaning to.
But he still means it.
“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, big guy?”
The change is immediate. Jason had been halfway out the door, but now he turns to Tim, giving him his full, undivided attention. He looks at Tim, laid out in Jason's bed, giving him a very slow once over. The scrutiny is at once nerve-wracking and thrilling.
“Thought you didn’t want my money,” Jason murmurs.
The temperature in the room spikes. If it weren’t for the slow throb of his bruised cheek, Tim would think that he’s already asleep and dreaming.
But he isn’t. He’s very much aware that he’s wide awake.
Tim swallows. “Well. It’s not your money I want.”
Jason’s grin is electric.
He stalks over to the bed, and Tim is frozen like a rabbit, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Jason settles a knee on the sheets between Tim’s legs, looming over Tim and boxing him in against the mattress. Tim’s free hand reaches up of its own accord to tangle in the collar of Jason’s hoodie, and the cotton is softer than he expected.
Jason’s eyes rove over his face, dark and heavy. He catches Tim’s face in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across the bruising hot ache of his cheekbone. He leans in deliberate and slow and—
—and stops about an inch away from Tim’s mouth.
“Get some sleep, babybird,” Jason teases, his breath puffing gently over the skin of Tim’s lips. “You can proposition me again tomorrow.”
“It’s, like, 3:30 in the afternoon,” Tim argues, breathless.
“Yeah, and your body thinks it’s 3:30 in the morning. You’re dead on your feet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and go the fuck to sleep.”
Jason moves to rise. But Tim hooks a stubborn arm around his neck and pulls him down that last remaining inch.
The kiss is— bad. At first.
Tim basically smashed their mouths together to prove a point, and Jason muffles a surprised sound against Tim’s teeth. He lands heavily on top of Tim at an awkward angle, and he’s kind of crushing him. Tim refuses to let go, but— Jason doesn’t pull away.
Jason gentles the kiss instead, and Tim thrills. He levers himself up onto his elbow, wrapping an anchoring arm around Tim’s back. He finds a home between Tim’s legs, and he lets Tim kiss him until Tim's lips are tingling and his fingers go slack; until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.
Somewhere between fifteen minutes and a small eternity later, Jason presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. He curls around Tim on his side, and Tim turns his face into Jason’s neck with a soft wondering sigh.
“I’ll keep it. Promise. Wait n’ see,” Tim mumbles. Jason snorts, but doesn’t budge, and Tim can hear his smile in his voice, lilted and lulling.
“Sure, babybird. I’ll wait. I got nowhere else to be.”
Tim is already asleep.
#one hundred thousand years have passed#i creak up out of the soil gasping and hacking and coughing#'i lived bitch'#'have some jaytim that grew legs on me'#my writing#asked and answered#jaytim#ladytauria#hurt/comfort#this one is sillier and more light-hearted than the other ones#the hurt is more like 'near tears travel exhaustion' than your typical aftermath of violence lol but it so definitely counts#i held a gun to the head of the muse that said 'this is way too short' and pulled the fucking trigger#i KNOW it's a very fast get together but i did Not want this to become my next 5 digit wordcount fic okay. okay. oka#the bones of a long 'tim and jason vs the league of assassins' fic is hiding here#and if i actually wrote that this would have ended much differently#but i am Not Writing That okay I am Writing Cowboys and also Werewolves Right Now. I Do Not Have Time For This!!!!!!#prompt fill
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Let me know your thoughts/reasoning in the tags!
#VERY torn between words and quality time#Arthur seems so struck whenever Merlin tells him how good he is#but also Arthur wants Merlin around basically 24/7#but also quality time doesn’t just mean any time spent together#it’s specifically time that’s meaningful/intentional#soooo idk#arthur doesn’t care too much about gifts#he grew up rich so he could have anything#definitely not acts of service#as prince he basically expects people to do things for him#which is blatantly pointed out in 2x02#and I do believe Arthur is touch starved#but that doesn’t mean it’s what makes him feel most loved#everyone needs some degree of physical touch and Arthur gets so little#though I do think it makes him feel loved when he allows it#bbc merlin#merlin#merlin bbc#arthur pendragon#Merlin polls#Arthur pendragon poll#arthur meta#my polls
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you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.
There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.
#like so much of their dynamic (esp but not exclusively in S3) has been about showing the ways that carmy's trauma and dysfunctional#attitude in the kitchen impacts other people and how even though he cares about syd and wants their partnership to work he keeps self#sabotaging and setting himself and by extension her and the restaurant up to fail and replicating the same toxic environments that#he grew up and trained in and this is very much consistent with his character and a natural continuation of the conflicts they've been#having since S1 but because him being shitty with her runs contrary to them getting together suddenly its 'ruining the story' and#out of character and only happening bc the writers just hate to see this ship winning and like. if you really think that i genuinely don't#know what show you've been watching bc it sure as shit wasn't this one. like it hurts to see him do this because you know#they could do something genuinely great together and that he's ruining a really good thing but this is also the reality of where he is rn#if he was just a good and supporting business partner and not deeply dysfunctional it would be wildly out of character#the problem w S3 wasn't that it 'ruined' their relationship it's that it had no clear focus overemphasized carmy's arc at the expense#of the other leads deprioritized the supporting cast while failing to give them their own arcs gave more screen time to#unecessary and uninteresting new 'comic relief' characters and let conflicts stagnate without resolving them or#letting them evolve over the course of the season.#this isn't exclusive to the bear this is a general trend ive noticed where as soon as the 'shipper' part of people's brains get activated#it's like they lose the ability to read the story any other way and it stops being about what's good for the narrative and starts being#about whether or not these two people kiss and anything that gets in the way of that is bad and anything that brings it closer is good#and it's usually whatever but it's really frustrating when the story ppl are doing that to is this good#it also makes people fundamentally incapable of treating any 'obstacle' to that romance in a way that isn't wildly meanspirited and#gross (esp bc those characters are usually women) which is exhausting. like no claire isn't evil or a 'pick me' or 'bad' for carmy#or a useless addition to the story or whatever other nonsense you guys have decided must be true to feel okay. she's a perfectly normal#character and their relationship is exploring some of the ways that carmy's inability to deal with or actually address his trauma#impacts the various relationships in his life. she doesn't even have to be a monster or a narrative mistake for him and syd to be#'destined' for each other or whatever. this isn't a middle school wattpad fic.#im definitely gonna get killed in the street for this but ive been looking for a good reason to spend less time on here so might as well#the bear#sydcarmy#sydney adamu#carmy berzatto
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Does Jay sometimes tell Kaida stories to help her fall asleep? Did he ever tell her the story of Jack the Rabbit that Wu Lloyd told, where the moral was never to trust a snake and Kaida then thought the book was freaking racist? xD How would Kaida react to flying on a real dragon? :D How would Jay react if he ever met Kaida's biological parents?
thanks for the asks :D
Kaida actually asked Jay to read her bedtime stories quite often under the excuse that she needed to improve her Ninjargon reading, but it was because she found it entertaining to have Jay read in such different voices and doing bad, exaggerated accents to make her laugh. Plus he often changed parts of the story and the names of the characters even when re-reading the same book.
ahsjs ah yes, definitely Jay, who probably still has prejudices against snakes just like in s1, would read that story to Kaida only for her to point out confused at the end: ... Wait, don't you have fangs and a snake hiss? (and so Jay came to the conclusion that a snake must have bitten him in those years that he doesn't remember.) I think that eventually there are snakes working in the Administration would change his view of them a bit, but I see him still having this deep-rooted distrust.
Can't say; spoilers :)
I've left everything regarding Kaida's biological parents ambiguous, except for the fact that it's obvious that they didn't care about Kaida's condition once they left her, and knowing how impulsive Jay is, he'd probably be awfully hostile towards them, and his first reaction would be to tell them to fuck off. I don't see him being able to exchange a word with them without yelling/swearing at them. ALTHOUGH on some level he would understand if Kaida wanted to confront them directly, so he'd offer her the chance to have closure with them if they ever showed up, even if he's against them seeing her again.
#I don't know when I'm going to explore Kaida's feelings with her biological parents btw#because the girl grew up without any traditional family model and now she's quite indifferent towards them#also something about how another of the reasons that brought her and Jay together the most as the outsiders of the administration#was that they had powers#and in this LP arc it's quite notable that her notion of being an elemental master is being a weapon#and how she thinks of herself and Jay on multiple occasions about how truly deadly her powers are#and how that has kept her alive many times but also kept her from having a normal life#so that would definitely increase the disconnection she feels regarding these people who abandoned her for no apparent reason#Yeah she has a lot of things to work on#ninjago#kaida walker#dad jay au#jay ninjago#ninjago dragons rising#ninjago oc
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okay but in practical magic when sally and the aunt’s call women from all across town to help. the way they all come rushing, even the one sally never would have expected—they bring their brooms as asked, one brings her vacuum because it’s all she’s got.
“apparently her sister just got out of a bad relationship and the guy just will not leave her alone.”
the way they’re bright and laughing in the kitchen, sharing moments where they could have sworn they guessed the answer, where they knew something they shouldn’t have, FELT something they shouldn’t have, isn’t that odd? but the MOMENT they step foot into the room where gillian is and they see her they become quiet and they focus and they do what the owens family asks because they’re here to save this poor women they’re here to do what they can
“there’s a little bit of witch in all of us”
#the way they all grab hands and come together while sally and gilly’s love as sisters saves her!!!!#‘come on ladies! let’s clean house!’ AND THEY SWEEP JIMMY UP#idk if there’s shit wrong w this movie or the books behind it#it’s definitely not a diverse cast which is shitty but it was made in ‘98 so unfortunately not shocking either#but i grew up with this movie and i love films showing the bond between women and the way they’ll step up for each other#and also witches. do i need to say more.#practical magic#ariwatches
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Is it wrong to still have a voltron oc in the year 2023?
#it definitely feels weird bc why am I still thinking about this show so many years later#her name is Delia and she's Coran's daughter who was also asleep for 10k years#her and allura grew up together#I loved allura but not as a paladin and def not as blue paladin#instead Lance gets to keep blue and Keith becomes black paladin#Delia fills in the empty spot as red paladin and shiro retires like he deserves to do#she also Lowkey gets corrupted by Haggar#anyways#I don't post in months and return with a new style yet again#my art#voltron#vld allura#vld lance#voltron legendary defender
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3:23AM, time to post Hatamori fankid and retreat back into my hiding hole
#this is what i was referring to in my last post#sometimes ideas will just pop into my head and i will be unable to resist the urge#i missed sprite editing. it had been a while since i last made a person's sprite#anyways her name is Akira and I haven't decided if it's Akira Tomori or Akira Hatano yet#i like both of their surnames a bunch#thinking of her from a scenario where Ayame and Kizuna survive the kg and get together a while afterwards#Akira is adopted. obviously. Her biological parents died in the tragedy she was adopted at around 4-6 years old#doesn't remember how her bio parents where because she was like? 1-2 years old when they died?#being with them in whatever happened that led to their deaths she may have some form of memory problem from the accident(?)#Akira is pretty forgetful and slow on the uptakes. but it's nothing too worrisome#she doesn't actually care that she can't remember her bio parents because the family she has now is much more important to her#she takes more after Kizuna especially in tems of personality (tho definitely not as bad as she used to be in Dra if you know what i mean)#put them in a room together and they will gossip and talk about random shit for hours#she loves Ayame too! they just don't talk a much? Akira used to follow her everywhere when she was a kid but now that she grew up#Ayame being the awkward-ish person she is struggles a bit on how to talk/interact with her#they work out together sometimes and Ayame will always volunteer to listen to Akira play some new song she's writing#and give her opinions on it#as you can see she is a musician. aspiring rockstar specifically#this came to her as a way to vent about the tragedy and all that mess sorta#may ramble more some other time i am getting sleepy#dra#danganronpa another#fankid#hatamori#sprite edit#edit#hyena scribbles#Akira Tomori Hatano
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can you elaborate on how yata and fushimi and sukuna are foils I see a lot of simularities between the three of them. Sukuna is put there to show how much fushimi and yata has grown
I do think Sukuna is definitely intended to be something of a foil for both Fushimi and Yata, a ‘what could have been’ if the two of them never grew up and changed. Obviously Sukuna being an actual kid he’s going to be childish but both Yata and Fushimi have a lot of childish elements to their characters (Gora once referred to Fushimi as ‘someone who stopped maturing in middle school’ and Yata and Fushimi were literally created to be a ‘personal and childish’ conflict over the Slate), and for Yata in particular a lot of his growth is tied to him becoming less impulsive and more mature. Yata and Fushimi both as middle schoolers are a little chuuni, talking about how they’re going to take on the world and don’t need any adults, and Sukuna himself seems a lot like that — it’s just that in his case he found a King rather than a friend, and believes he really can take on the world because Nagare’s there.
There’s also the way Sukuna sees a lot of things through a childish worldview, that you’re with jungle or against, that points are most important and winning is a must, that everything is just a game and he’s the best player. This actually lines up nicely with certain parts of Yata and Fushimi’s characters: Sukuna sees people as either part of jungle or an enemy, just as Yata used to see things in the black and white of Homra or enemy, and Yata’s growth is that he begins to see the nuance even to the point that he tries to understand what Fushimi sees in the Blue clan. Sukuna’s focus on winning points reminds me a lot of how Fushimi quantifies things (0 or 100, and I think it’s not just Yata that Fushimi necessarily sees in terms of positive or negative and no on between), and Fushimi’s growth is to stop seeing that black and white of pleasing or not. Similarly Sukuna only focuses on winning, much like Fushimi puts a lot of self worth on what he can do and where he can succeed (LSW, the way he takes the loss to jungle so hard because if he doesn’t bring results than to Fushimi it means he’s a failure and has no place to belong), but Fushimi’s whole final stand in jungle before Yata comes for him is Fushimi realizing that sometimes you need to fight even when you can’t win.
There’s also really the way Yata and Fushimi both decided they didn’t need adults and didn’t want to grow up, and Sukuna who looks down on all adults except Nagare and the jungle members. Fushimi in particular says a couple times in LSW that he doesn’t want to be a worthless adult and even that it’s okay if he dies young, because after all his only experience with adults is his trash family. But when faced with Sukuna’s attitude I think Fushimi sees really how childishness isn’t any better, and by growing up and working with Yata properly the two of them are able to overcome Sukuna’s single-minded childishness. I feel like having the two of them face Sukuna was definitely a purposeful decision, showing how only through their growth can Fushimi and Yata overcome that childishness that keeps them apart and finally move forward.
#k project#Fushimi Saruhiko#Yata Misaki#Talking K#I think it's definitely deliberate that Sukuna ends up fighting them twice#it shows the way the two of them grew and matured#and how Sukuna didn't so together Yata and Fushimi can win#because they've become adults
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Why is the reason greens suck at communicating overall? they never express love through words. What's more they rarely talk about feelings. Their talks are straight to the point. I believe they never open up to each other. Why is that?
i think it’s because they didn’t grow up in an environment that encouraged talking about their feelings and emotions/being openly affectionate with their words or in general, it’s not something that comes easily to them, it’s unfamiliar..
alicent really only had otto growing up, i don’t think he’s very good at being open with his emotions, and she was still a child when she was forced to have her children, who were neglected by viserys. the greens all have deep, unresolved trauma that definitely plays a part in them being closed off. aegon probably thinks no one would care, helaena seems to almost constantly be burdened by her dreams, and i think ever since the night at driftmark aemond prefers to keep everything bottled up, not wanting to be vulnerable. though, it’s evident that they love each other. they have their own love language…it’s difficult for them to use their words but they wouldn’t hesitate to protect and defend each other with their lives if it came to it. i think they tend to be more openly affectionate in more intense, vulnerable situations.
#olivia has also said that alicent finds it hard to connect with her children since the age gap is so narrow#they pretty much grew up together so it’s a strained relationship#i don’t have a good read on helaena but i think the fact that on some level she knows her family’s fate definitely affects her#and i think bc her family doesn’t understand her peculiar behavior it’s hard for them to connect#to me the greens’ love language seems to mainly be physical touch there’s many instances of this#also i think bc the threat of war is always looming over them it’s a whole other stressor that interferes
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Thinking of a steddie au. Saw this post by thorniest-rose (cause I love her brain) and started thinking of Faith: the Unholy Trinity. Naturally, my mind said "crossover fic."
So the proposal:
Steve is John Ward and Eddie is Gary Miller (forgive me if I'm remembering Gary's last name wrong lol). Chrissy gets to be Amy and Robin is Lisa. Hopper is most likely Father Garcia.
I have a few events laid out in my head. Like Eddie's mom and the Hellfire club becoming the cult since that's all game events and stuff. But it would definitely diverge from game events after the botched exorcism of Chrissy. Maybe Eddie gets involved sooner in plans to get his hands on Steve.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#faith: the unholy trinity#yeah eddie definitely had his sights on steve before steve was even an adult#steve and robin grew up together and are siblings#im most likely never going to write a full fledged fic of this#but the mind worm is there#its eating my brain rn
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i better NOT catch his lil ass walking around 😭🙏
HE’S SO CUTEEE I CAN’T TAKE IT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I NEED TO LIKE. KILL HIM
*BLOWS UP*
#he would definitely get hospitalized if he went outside like bro look at him#HE GREW UP SO MUCH#S3 TO S4 IS SO INSANE#trust we met each other when we were 15 and it took 4 years to get together#because who wants to be gay right#FRIENDS TO LOVERS ARMIN FRIENDS TO LOVERS ARMIN FRIENDS TO LOVERS ARMIN 💗💗💗💗#asks
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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 195
Adjective: Cloistered
Noun: Crown
Definitions for those who need/want them:
Cloistered: having or enclosed by a cloister, as in a monastery; kept away from the outside world; sheltered
Crown: a circular ornamental headdress worn by a monarch as a symbol of authority, usually made of or decorated with precious metals and jewels; the reigning monarch, representing a country's government; an ornament, emblem, or badge shaped like a crown; a wreath of leaves or flowers, especially that worn as an emblem of victory in ancient Greece or Rome; an award or distinction gained by a victory or achievement, especially in sports; the top or highest part of something; the top part of a person's head or a hat; the part of a plant just above and below the ground from which the roots and shoots branch out; the upper branching or spreading part of a tree or other plant; the upper part of a cut gem, above the girdle; the point of an anchor at which the arms reach the shaft; the part of a tooth projecting from the gum; an artificial replacement or covering for the upper part of a tooth; a British coin with a face value of five shillings or 25 pence, now minted only for commemorative purposes; a foreign coin with a name meaning ‘crown,’ especially the krona or krone; a paper size, now standardized at 384 × 504 mm; a book size, now standardized at 186 × 123 mm; a book size, now standardized at 246 × 189 mm
#i quite literally kept falling asleep while putting this prompt together#so i apologise for being 8 and a half hours late and for any typos i may have missed due to that#im just glad this week is over cos work was stressful and exhausting to say the least#anyway there are some very interesting directions this prompt can go#i initially thought about writing about a royal person who grow up locked away from the outside world#and being manipulated by their parents to ensure they helped the wealthy and not the commonfolk when they had to rule#but i didnt know about the nature/plant definitions of 'crown' prior to googling so i may do something with that instead#or i could perhaps combine those definitions for my poem#im definitely not going to work with the teeth definitions of 'crown'#i can tell you that much#thanks for reading#writing#writer#creative writing#writing prompt#writeblr#trying to be a writeblr at least#*grew
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sunday morning lie in having dorothy and felix childhood revelations that make me want to jump into an active cement mixer
#the fact that in the og story they were always a part of the fundamentalist christian community they grew up in#but now they entered it as children after Backstory Things happened...so they have normal childhood memories#vague but there...still a conservative christian upbringing but it didn't get Fucked Up yet#ages 0-5 are the normal years i need dorothy to see the moon landing on a television so it can influence her entire character + thematic ar#literally summer of 1969 is when it all went wrong lol#this makes the fact that in a beaulix argument felix is like WELL i didn't GET a childhood so interesting....they feel like they got robbed#and they're right!#on a lighter note i think a 4 year old felix definitely loved bugs bunny#also this now means the chance of a very young felix and dorothy seeing the felix the cat cartoon LOL#if i think too much about them as children i scream and turn to dust its too much#they used to be children they used to be small they were best friends that played together....#felix was probably excited when they first moved to the rural fundamentalist community they grew up in bc they had rabbits...
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