#this took all day to write

[ioannemos]

a blouse

These important stories, we rehearse them for years in our head but never tell. These stories are ghosts, bringing people back from the dead. Just for a moment. For a visit. Every story is a ghost. Chuck Palahniuk

day four: miss missing you / grief

rating: g

words: 900

───────────────────────────

“I’m back,” Lucy sings out, kicking the door shut behind her. She expects Lockwood to appear to take the groceries and is mildly put out when he doesn’t. After a moment George emerges from the kitchen in full apron and gloves and her heart sinks. “Oh no. What happened? I was only gone an hour.”

“Mrs. Bishop came by with the survey,” George says gloomily.

Lucy blinks. “And?”

“And I don’t know!” George follows her into the kitchen. “Lockwood’s voice got all… brittle, though I don’t think she noticed. They talked about nothing, he thanked her, she left, and he just stood there staring at the closed door, totally silent.”

Lucy pauses in putting away the groceries. “What did the survey say?”

“Nothing they hadn’t told us. He left the survey on the side table and went upstairs.” George sheds the washing-up gloves to put away the spices she picked up for him. “I haven’t heard a sound since.”

Lucy bites her lip. “Well, maybe he’ll come down for dinner.”

Lockwood doesn’t appear all evening. George makes dinner and then starts cleaning the library when Lucy insists on doing the dishes. She turns on the radio to drown out the silence with limited success.

Once the dishes are done she puts the kettle on and steps out to stare up the stairs again. She goes to stand in the library doorway. “This isn’t… normal, is it?”

George pushes his glasses back up his nose with a forearm. “No, not really.”

“Should we check on him?” George’s eyes widen. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Lucy says with exasperation.

“Not really, no.”

“What, not even when he’s in there not making a sound, not eating?” George’s lips thin and he shrugs. “Boys,” Lucy mutters, shaking her head. In the kitchen, the kettle whistles. “Well, I’m making tea and I’m going to check on him. You’re welcome to join me,” she says as a parting shot, certain that he won’t.

While the tea brews she toasts bread and pulls one of the cutlets back out of the fridge. George comes in while she’s spreading mayonnaise on the toast. “Suppose he doesn’t want us to come in,” he says. She turns to him in surprise. “Suppose he wants to be left alone,” he adds, a bit pointedly.

“Then he’s welcome to tell us so,” she says, raising her chin. “I forgot the lettuce; hand me a leaf?”

She adds six biscuits along with the mugs and the impromptu sandwich and carries the tray up, George trailing behind her. When she nods for him to knock, he gives her another wide-eyed look and takes the tray instead. She rolls her eyes hard and reaches out to knock. Just before her knuckles make contact, she hesitates. George snorts softly. “Not so easy, is it?” he asks.

“Shut up,” she retorts, and clears her throat. “Lockwood?” No response. Having come this far, Lucy feels the only thing sillier would be to give up now, so instead of knocking she turns the doorknob.

It turns easily and she steps inside before she can second-guess her actions any more. It’s completely dark, which startles her. Every other time she’s had a glance inside, either the curtains were open, a light was on, or sometimes both. “Lockwood?” she says again, anxiously. She’s not sure what she’s afraid of, but… She feels for a lightswitch near the door and flips it on.

Lockwood is laying perpendicular on his bed with his legs off the side, fully clothed and on top of the covers, holding something made of silvery-purple fabric. His face scrunches up and one arm rises to cover his eyes. “Wha…?” he begins, and then yawns.

“Erm,” Lucy says. “You… disappeared.”

“Hmm?” Lockwood sits up by degrees, rubbing his eyes. The fabric slips out off his lap and he lunges for it, crashing to his knees next to the bed and clutching it protectively to his chest. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulls the fabric up to cover his nose and inhales, eyes closed.

None of them move for several seconds. She takes a deep breath and soldiers on. “You ought to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles into the fabric. It’s shimmery like silk and perhaps the size of a shirt.

“Even so.”

He lowers the fabric back onto his lap and feels it between his fingers. “It doesn’t smell like anything,” he says, almost matter-of-fact. “I don’t think it ever did.”

Lucy can’t think of anything to say to that, so she takes the tray back from George. “George made cutlets for dinner and all I did was put it between some toast, so really you ought to thank him.”

Lockwood still hasn’t looked up from the fabric. “Mum wore the same perfume,” he says. His voice isn’t matter-of-fact, she realizes, it’s detached in the same way as when someone’s been terribly hurt and they don’t feel it yet.

“Oh,” George says, voice dropping.

“I’d forgotten,” Lockwood says, sounding even more distant. He smooths the fabric across his knee.

Lucy’s resolve crumbles. “Do you… I could leave the tray?”

Lockwood looks up, his eyes dull, and there’s an awful moment of silence before he says, “Please stay.”

Lucy doesn’t wait; she climbs onto the far side of the bed and sets down the tray. “George, don’t get crumbs on the bed.”

───────────────────────────

@lco-angst-week

this one. this was a genuinely rough one, bc as soon as i saw grief and thought of lockwood i knew where this was going, like seeing a car crash coming

(in case it wasn't clear, mrs. bishop wore the same perfume as his mother and it bowled lockwood over. i've spent so long picking at this one that i'm not sure it's coherent anymore but i'm also forbidding myself to keep picking at it)

in my case it was a sweater, not a blouse, and i sat on my bed just holding it for a long, long time. i don't even know what emotions i was feeling. they were big, and they were tangled, so i just held her sweater to my chest and let them wash over me for a while. it didn't smell like anything, either. i do have a bottle of her perfume, tho, and i get a glimpse of her dressing up for a party every time i smell it

also i hate the title of this one but writing it wore me out so stupid title or no up it goes ¯\_(┬◡┬)_/¯

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Look what we've become.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[weevmo]

Good evening,

You'll never guess what I just posted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60479521/chapters/156202336#workskin

Enjoy 10k more words of content.

From,

Someone actually studding to become an engineer

I ENJOYED EVERY BIT OF IT AND CAINE ESPECIALLY BUT THIS -

THIS BIT MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD

[starry-bi-sky]

No.

No, no, no, no, NO!

He's shaking. His heart is burning in his chest, pounding like a jackhammer against his ribs, and there's a trembling, aching rage building beneath his tongue and pressing against his teeth.

In his hands, his fingers tense and wrists locked, the article reads in big, black font: JOKER LOCKED IN ARKHAM ASYLUM AGAIN!

Danny shouldn't feel so angry about this, this is a good thing. Gotham doesn't have to deal with him for another few months at the least. He should feel relieved, a little more at peace.

He is not.

He cannot swallow the fury thudding behind his eyes, the burning white heat searing a deeper hole in his chest. A searing green filling static in his ears in the way only the rage of the restless dead can have.

How is he going to kill him now?

Arkham may be the only asylum in America made entirely of tissue paper, but it's still an asylum. There are cameras, guards, other patients resting inside. Danny can think of a million different ways to sneak in and kill Joker, but someone will hear his screaming.

It'd have to be rushed.

He doesn't want it to be rushed.

It's a cruel thought. Cruel and cold and merciless, but Danny doesn't feel an ounce of shame, not an ounce of guilt, for it. He wants to be alone with the Joker when he kills him, that's all he wants. In Arkham, you are never alone.

He forces his anger to bubble back down into his chest, stuffing it between his heartstrings and his ribs like a blanket you're trying to bunch up into a corner. It sizzles and burbles. The static begins to fade out into a high-pitched ringing; it sounds like distant screaming.

Danny is still trembling, but he can think a little clearer now.

He can wait.

He can wait. He can wait. He can wait. He canwait. Hecanwait. Hecanwait.

He can wait.

He's waited five years for this. He can wait one more week. One more month. One more year. However long it takes for the Joker to break back out, Danny can wait.

And when the Joker does, inevitably, break out.

Danny uncrinkles his fingers around the edges of the newspaper, loosens his limbs just enough so he can pay for it.

He'll be waiting.

The dead, after all, have all the time in the world.

[hootyhoowoo]

A little 15 min doodle but first post of the year has to be Bingqiu!

[thatrandomartistjavi]

Hey I’m someone who really loved this episode when he first watched and is also from a Hispanic country(I’m from Puerto Rico) so I feel I can address your worries about whether or not this episode is cultural appropriation.

The short answer is that it isn’t.

I rewatched this episode since it’s been a while since I did watch it(and just the show in general) to see if maybe I wasn’t seeing smth. I’m usually critical of how Hispanic Latinos are portrayed in media but maybe I was too lost in the Cat canonically speaks fluent Spanish sauce that I didn’t notice.

The thing about this episode is that it’s not really about Hispanic culture as a whole but about our language. Like there’s obviously the Mexican traditions in the party which I’ll talk later but this episode is more about teaching people that you have to at least try to learn a few words in another person’s language when going to their country to understand each other better. Which is still smth(specifically Americans) struggle with comprehending.

I think the thing that you might be most concerned about is the traditions they do in the party. I’m not Mexican so while I can speak on some things, I’m not an expert. But from talking to friends and just watching Mexicans participate in their culture, I’m not seeing much wrong with it. Piñatas are already a wildly celebrated thing not only in Mexico but other countries then it’s not really a problem. The hat dance might be inappropriate but tbf they never actually do it at the party. I really like the costuming tho. It’s very accurate which I don’t see often with older series’ depicting traditional Mexican clothing.

If this were an episode about Mexican culture than yeah, this is oversimplifying it and it would be an ass depiction but like I said this episode really isn’t about culture. It’s not teaching you about the culture of Mexicans/Hispanic Latinos but about the language that we speak. So I really don’t mind that they don’t go too deep into the traditions of Mexico and other Hispanic countries cause it’s really not about that. This episode is all about learning new languages not culture.

As an episode that is dedicated to a sensitive subject, I honestly think that this one that aged well compared to others(On a Roll and I Am the Walrus aged significantly worse ESPECIALLY On a Roll. I Do Not Like That Episode). But yeah that is all I’ve got

55. Fiesta Time

Nothing against this episode, but this is one of the skippable ones for me. Like, it’s fine, but I’m not a huge fan of any of the songs or plot beats in this one. The highlight was definitely Queenie getting to get all dressed up. I love her to much. 😭❤️

I get the feeling I might not like this one as much because I get the tiniest cultural appropriation twinge with it. I’m not from a Spanish speaking country, nor do I have any family who are, but I feel like this one might have aged to be slightly poorly?? It's not that I feel like they're being disrespectful or treating it like a joke, but it feels like a huge oversimplification of the culture. Maybe I’m being too sensitive about it, idk. Someone else please tell me.

The part where Caterpillar covers Alice’s ears because he thinks Queenie is cussing in Spanish also gets a giggle out of me every time.

[quinseparable]

I know its not a lot for most writers, but y'all. I wrote the first 2200 words for an original story of mine. I haven't written much of anything (outside of roleplaying) in like 15 years. I could cry. I miss this so damn much.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter Warmers Day 31: NYE countdown. Maxiel. About 1.5k words.

"Max, Maxy, Maximum, Maximus Prime!"

Max turns away from his conversation with Alex just in time to catch Daniel around the waist as he stumbles into him, the drink in his cup sloshing over his wrist.

"Hello, Daniel," Max says, unable to stop himself from smiling, readjusting his grip so that he can hold Daniel more comfortably.

From the corner of his eye he catches Alex moving away, probably deciding that their conversation is over now that Daniel has Max's attention. Which is a very fair assumption, given that in all the years they've been friends, Max has always dropped anyone and anything to focus on Daniel.

Some might call it pathetic, to still be in love with his best friend after so long, but Max doesn't really care about what other people think. He just cares about Daniel's warm weight in his arms, and the fact that when all the people at this party will have left their house, Daniel will still be there, probably moving stuff around to pretend he's helping with the clean up.

"Are you having fun, Daniel?" he asks, trying to maneuver them towards the kitchen, both to clean up Daniel's wrist before he complains about the stickiness and to not feel like every single person is staring at them.

Well, every single person other than Charles and Carlos, who seem to be trying to get acquainted with each other's tonsils.

"Yes," Daniel answers, letting himself be dragged away, stumbling unhelpfully on his own feet.

Once they're in the kitchen, occupied only by Logan and Oscar, heads bent over a phone, a half empty bottle of wine next to them, Max hoists Daniel on the counter, right next to the sink, swiping away a few empty paper plates.

"Stay still, please," he tells Daniel, grateful he doesn't have to shout as much over the music anymore. They should probably start lowering that actually, if they don't want the cops called on them again, but it's new year's eve, for sure old Meredith could let it slide this once.

He plucks Daniel's cup from his hand, something of not clear nature inside it, and wets a couple paper towels, gently wiping at his wrist and hand.

"Maxy," Daniel says, dropping his head forward to rest it on Max's shoulder. He's making Max's job harder like this, but Max is not going to complain. He just hums, showing Daniel he's listening.

"I have decided on my resolutions list," Daniel tells him, sounding slightly more sober than he did before.

Max drops the paper towels and grabs an empty cup, filling it with water from the sink and handing it to Daniel, coaxing him to raise his head to drink it.

Daniel had been talking about his resolutions list for more than a week. Max is not sure why he's so set on having new year's resolutions, since in the past eight years he's known him not once Daniel has been the kind of person who follows a plan, but he's been listening anyway every time he brought the topic up.

Max doesn't understand why he's having so much trouble creating the list either. Sure, Daniel does have his moments of perfectionism, but seeing him actually get stressed about this had been puzzling.

"Yeah? Can I know it?" he asks, dropping the now empty cup when Daniel hands it to him before opening his arms, letting Daniel comfortably slump into him again.

Somewhere on his left, Logan and Oscar leave the kitchen, closing the door behind them, cutting off a little more of the noises of the party, making Max feel like he's in his private Daniel bubble for the first time this evening.

He's not ashamed of saying that he's a bit possessive, greedy about having his fair share of Daniel's time, but he's gotten better with the years. The last time Daniel had been in a relationship, Max hadn't even tried to scare them off, but they had gone anyway after a couple of months, leaving a very mopey Daniel behind. Max had keyed their car.

"First thing, I want to learn how to play the banjo," Daniel says, way too loud way too close to Max's ear.

It makes Max smile anyway, knowing this point will be abandoned in a few months at most, just like every other instrument Daniel had tried to learn, getting bored with each one of them.

"Good start," he encourages anyway, because he's nothing but disgustingly soft when it comes to Daniel, even worse when he's tipsy like tonight.

He gets rewarded by Daniel pulling back to beam at him, before going back to Max's shoulder.

Sometimes holding himself back from kissing him takes all of Max's strength.

"Then, I want to improve my handwriting."

Yep, just as Max had thought. Another task that will be abandoned, like all the other times Daniel had tried before.

"I can read your handwriting," Max tells him, because it's true. No matter the kind of drunken chicken scratch he finds on the grocery list, Max has learned to interpret it all. It's not that hard really, when you manage to recognise the subtle differences between the squiggles. Part of the game is actually learning what is supposed to be a word and what is a doodle.

"You can, because you're great," Daniel mumbles against his shirt, as Max tries to pretend he can't feel himself blushing, "but I am so tired of people complaining about it."

"People should just learn how to read," Max tells him, unhappy with someone making Daniel feel like he should change. Which is very stupid, because Daniel is perfect, chicken scratches included.

It makes Daniel laugh, waist moving under Max's hands, his wet bottom lip dragging against the exposed part of Max's shoulder.

"Do you have any more?" he rushes to ask, trying to distract himself from the feeling of it.

In the other room, the music gets lowered, and for a second Max thinks it's the cops again, until he hears someone scream two minutes!

They should probably rejoin their friends, celebrate midnight with them, but Max is quite comfortable where he is, and he doesn't want to see Daniel grab someone to kiss, even if just to laugh about it afterwards.

He had long learned his lesson, after one year he had tried to angle himself in Daniel's line of view, just for him to reach around him and grab Charles instead. Max had gotten way too drunk that night.

"One more," Daniel says, voice even lower now that the music is off and they're so close. He sounds more hesitant suddenly, nervous fingers fidgeting with the hem of Max's shirt.

"Do you want to tell me?" Max asks, just to be sure. Sometimes Daniel needs a little push before he opens up, but it's always a very thin line between getting an answer and being shut out with a joke instead. This time Daniel nods.

"I want to suck your dick."

Max chokes on his spit, trying to push back Daniel to be able to see his face, feeling his eyes go wide.

It wouldn't be the first time they joke about it, but Daniel doesn't sound like he's joking, and if this is a prank Max is going to get very drunk again and probably go cry in the bathroom, but...

But when he manages to push Daniel's head up, he's blushing and he's looking at Max from underneath his lashes, fear and determination mixing on his face.

"You mean it?" Max forces himself to ask, sounding breathless. His heart is beating too fast, so loud he's sure Daniel can hear it too.

Daniel nods, one corner of his mouth turning up in a shadow of his usual smile.

"My last resolution is to stop lying to myself about my feelings for you," he says.

It echoes around his brain, bouncing around and amplifying: feelings for you feelings for you feelings for you feelings for you.

In the other room someone starts the countdown, and Max reaches forward, cupping Daniel's jaw with his hands.

"Are you gonna buy me dinner first?" he asks, just to see Daniel smile properly.

"Can I do it next year?"

Max rolls his eyes, but he still chuckles, weak for Daniel always, even when it's his bad jokes.

Three, two, one...

On the other side of the door sound explodes, their friends cheering and screaming, but Max barely hears it as he presses his lips against Daniel's.

(George screams when he opens the door to come grab the champagne chilling in the fridge and finds them making out against the counter, Max's thigh between Daniel's. The new wave of cheers that follows it is so loud Max starts mentally preparing his apologies for old Meredith and the cops, even as he copies Daniel in flipping them all off.)

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[rebrandedbard]

How does the great Sandpiper successfully smuggle 130 children out of the Nilfgaard-occupied territory of Hamm? With the power of a forgotten story, a traditional song, and a masterful lie.

A piece for my upcoming fic, The Piper of Hamm, based on The Pied Piper of Hamelin, next in my fairy tale series.

[myokk]

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

Oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

from my oneshot💘

[hyperballart]

something something premature ejaculation something something art donaldson

seeing this as best friend art. you’ve been attached to the hip since childhood, his grandma is very fond of you and you practically live at their house based on how much you’re over. it’s the summer before college and you’re hanging out with art in his attic. he sits with his legs crossed in front of you sipping on a can of sprite. you joke and banter until it leads to a playful wrestling match.

this isn’t abnormal, you both tussle on the floor until he’s got you pinned down digging his fingers into your sides. you squeal and try to push him off while he mocks your cries. your pleas aren’t taken seriously as loud laughs escape you with tears running down your eyes. in an attempt to make him stop, you weakly kick under him until one of your thighs accidentally brushes upwards between his own. he groans and hunches over you panting and letting out a quiet, oh fuck.

you quickly regain composure and ask him if you hurt him to which he replies with a curt, no m’fine. things get quiet for a beat but you find your chance to build up strength and flip you both over once again, this time his back thumps against the floor and you’re straddling him. you pin his hands above his head and for a moment he’s got a drunk look in his eye until he swallows, “heyyy, that’s not fair.”

your grip on his hands tighten and you smile breathlessly, “c’mon artie, don’t be a sore loser.”

he breaks out of that grip and starts his tickling again, this time with you on top of him beginning to squirm around and accidentally swiveling down on his lap. this snaps him out of it and makes him let out a whine, “oh my god, what—“

you feel he has grown hard under his shorts and stop. the air feels a bit awkward now, which is an unusual occurrence with you two. you know neither of you have much sexual experience, maybe a kiss or two at a school dance but not much beyond that. you suppose it’s normal for him to grow aroused at contact from a girl, you don’t want him to be embarrassed. and in all honesty, you’re curious about how good he can make you feel.

“hey it’s okay, it’s normal,” his eyes are glossy and his cheeks burn pink. he mumbles out a sorry and is about to push you off until you sit fully on his lap again. “what are you—hnngh,” you give a slow grind of your hips and feel him slide through your folds through your tiny shorts.

he falls back on the floor, his eyes close and he’s whining out chopped sentences while you start humping him in a frenzy pace. “artie, oh my god, it feels good,” he nods dumbly up at you and you watch as he’s shoving a hand down his boxers to fix his cock to lay straight. you notice that he did this so you’re able to glide yourself up and down easier and moan out.

you’re going at it for about five minutes, art’s hands rub shakily in a trail from your waist to your thighs. he sounds like he’s crying, you’d be more worried if it weren’t for the occasional twitches of his dick underneath you. “let’s take pants off, feels good but i need more,” and art bites down on his lip hard before doing so. you’re amazed at how natural this feels, this was here for you all these years to take and that thought alone is enough to gush out more in your panties.

the sounds of slick are loud paired with hard breathing and soft mewls, you only get to about two more minutes of humping each other in your underwear before art groans, “wait—fuck please wait, i’m sorry—feels too good,” his back arches from the ground and he looks down to where youre connected, “you’re so wet baby, oh please—“

in a bold decision, you slide your panties to the side just to show how much. his eyes go cross and you press your bare pussy on his clothed head a milisecond before he bursts. he’s shaking and soaking his boxers fully, tons of cum bleeding through the fabric and darkening it. all throughout his orgasm he apologized i’m sorry, i’m sorry i can’t help it it’s so good and you helped him come down while his body fell limp. if ten minutes was what it took to have him like this, you’d keep getting more.

[catgrandpa]

I started this post with the intention of asking for fic recs where Bruce gets his kids early, but then I ended up just writing some ficlets

_(:3 」∠)_

I still really just want recs I swear but I wrote these anyway and am incapable of doing more with them so here

☆彡

Dick Grayson is 8 years old when he watches his parents die. Bruce is 24 years old when he sees a young boy’s life fall to pieces. He’s far too young to be a single father. But he sees too much of himself in the child, and he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to walk away from him.

He talks to Alfred about his fears of only furthering Dick’s trauma by failing him as a guardian. It takes some time, but Alfred is able to convince Bruce to find a therapist and take some discreet parenting classes. He’s still Batman, and I don’t think he’s capable of Gentle Parenting™ but he does do better. Plus, Dick is young enough to learn to read Bruce before the teenage hormones kick in so they manage to communicate much more effectively with each other.

☆彡

Bruce meets Catherine Todd by chance because there was a cool park Dick wanted to stop at. She’s trying to deal with her hungry and fussy 3 year old step son, but she’s young and stressed out and hungry herself and she just doesn’t know what to do. Bruce offers to take them out for lunch. He asks Dick to take Jason to the play area in the corner while they talk.

She breaks down and tells him of her struggles with addiction. She does her best to keep Jason fed, but it’s so hard. Feeding him means she goes hungry most of the time because she can’t quit using. Jason wouldn’t survive if she had to go through withdrawals with him.

He’s not even her kid! Not really. Her husband is just an abusive deadbeat so she doesn’t have a choice. She does love him, but she never wanted kids, and she can’t just let a child die when she can do something.

Bruce fills their fridge and cabinets to the brim (he offers to do much more for them but that’s all she will budge on. She has too much pride to accept outright charity, but she will do what she can to keep her kid safe) and he makes it clear to her that he is willing to take care of Jason for however long is necessary when she decides to take the first step to get clean.

Two months later, Willis gets arrested and Catherine shows up at Wayne Manor and tells Bruce she signed up for inpatient, but she thinks it would be best for Jason and for herself if Bruce would be willing to take permanent custody. She stays in Jason’s life, just not as a mother figure.

☆彡

A year or so later, Bruce gifts Alfred with a vacation as an early birthday present. Things have been hectic with the sudden acquisition of two sons, and Alfred has done so much, he deserves a break. Bruce promises he’ll be able to handle two kids on his own.

Turns out, he was mostly right, but only just barely. The kids are fine, the manor not so much. He ends up hiring a few services to help out with general housekeeping. A couple of those workers also happen to be regular hires for the Drakes.

Bruce overhears them talking about how sad it is that those awful people treat their toddler more like a doll than a child. He learns that not only do they leave for long periods at a time while not hiring a proper nanny to watch over their son, just expecting the help to take care of him, but they also lock him away on his own whenever it’s ’not fashionable’ to have a 2 year old around.

Alfred comes back to the manor on August 15th, just in time to celebrate his and Master Jason’s birthdays together. He opens the door and dodged around a very excited 4 year old jumping up and down in the entry hall.

“ALFIE! ALFIE! BOOSE GOT ME A BABY BWOTHER FOR MY BIRFDAY! LOOK! LOOK! HIMS NAME IS TIMMY AND HE’S THE BESTEST!”

Alfred leans over to peak behind the boy, and sees a very quiet, very small child standing behind him.

“Oh, dear.”

☆彡

The day Bruce got the call from Talia telling him she was pregnant with his child was one of the best days of Bruce’s life. The day she called to tell him she miscarried was one of the worst.

The only blessing was that he didn’t need to explain it to his kids. Talia was going to move in once she was in her second trimester, and they planned to reveal her pregnancy together.

He got the call two weeks before her flight out. He begged her to come anyway, he loved her, they could still be a family. She refused.

Six and a half months later, he walks into his bedroom to find Talia standing by the window with a squirming bundle in her arms. With equal measures steel and sorrow in her eyes she tells Bruce she is sorry for what she put him through, but it was the only way to keep their son safe. He gathers them both in his arms and holds them tight as she explains.

Her father had planned to raise an heir to be the Demon Head. He would be kept a secret from Batman until the very end. But when Talia gave the final push to birth their son, he came out quiet. She panicked for a moment until her midwife quietly leaned down to listen to the baby’s breathing and then looked up with a soft smile, she bundled up the small thing and handed Talia her baby. Big beautiful green eyes blinked up at her. The midwife leaned closer to Talia and whispered, “Sadly, your son was stillborn. I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but surely The Great Head of the Demon would be willing to allow you some time away from your duties while you recover.” Talia allowed the woman to cover her beautiful cooing baby gently with soft linen and silk and carry him from the room. Later that night she left her home with her son and boarded the first flight to Gotham.

Tears gather on Bruce’s lashes and he tells her everything will be alright because now they can finally be together as a family. Once more, she refuses. She tells him Damian and his boys are far too precious for her to bring the danger of the league of assassins to their door. Bruce closes his eyes in sorrow, but nods his acceptance. He asks her to at least stay the night together. They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms with their baby boy safely bundled between them. Talia is gone when he wakes.

☆彡

It’s been one week since Talia left and, while still beyond upset, Bruce feels like he’s starting to have a decent handle on things. He is sitting with his boys at the breakfast table, Dick and Jason to his left, Tim to his right, Damian in his arms, and Alfred across from him. They’re finally able to have a relaxing breakfast. No babies crying, no food fights, no arguing, just the sounds of eating and gentle chatter.

He feels a small hand grab his right sleeve and give a gentle tug.

“Boo?” Tim asks, quietly. Bruce feels his heart warm at his son finally feeling like he can speak up without permission.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why isn’t Big Sister sitting with us?”

Alfred is the only person in the room other than Tim to not startle at the sudden appearance of a 5 year old girl standing next to Bruce at the dining table. He simply sighs, stands up, and grabs another place setting for her at the table.

[piowasthere]

so imma be honest

i don't like this.

but imma post it anyway bc... well- it's kinda already made-

and ik there's gonna be someone out there that's gonna turnsie over it so might as well

[wolfatemybaby]

Only posting these on here because I want to redo their sheets sometime in the future

CW: OLD ART EWWWW

Eurylochus - 6'5

Odysseus - 5'5

Polites - 6'3

Ctimene - 5'6

Telemachus - 5'8

Penelope - 6'1

————— EURYLOCHUS ODYSSEUS POLITES —————

The EuryOdyPoli were designed by Saxon (TWINN!) I just added a few twists here and there.

I struggled a lot with Eurylochus' pose. It was originally going to be him unsheathing his sword from his back but it would’ve been out of place for only him to have a weapon. I much prefer this shy-ish pose anyways. Also the usual hand on hip was not working so he’s cunty w it.

Odysseus is a small man. He’s below everyone he faces in the musical in some way.

Polites has a sleeper build made for scouting. He absolutely abuses his natural strength for suffocating hugs.

—— Hair headcanons

Eurylochus buzzes it all off over the summer after everyone gets used to it

Odysseus' hair is as soft as feathers

No one knows how Polites dyed/bleached his hair ginger, he just did one day and never stopped

—— Scars

Odysseus was the one to give Eurylochus the eye scar. When they were younger, they were having a heated battle and Athena offered Odysseus some power, (similar to in Little Wolf) but it nearly caused Odysseus to fatally injure Eurylochus. Since then Odysseus has been trying his hardest to make amends for it (not really), but all Eurylochus can see is the boy who nearly killed him.

About Eury’s top scars + Mini BG: Eury’s family kept trying for a son but gave up after five daughters. But in still wanting a son they made Eury take responsibility as one, and it helped him figure out who he was. Coming out in his mid teens then transitioning when he was of age.

Odysseus' thigh scar is as faded as the ones from the war. That’s how long it’s been. A scar that cut so deep when he was young, couldn’t be differentiated from war.

—— Clothing

Like most transmen, Eury prefers the baggiest of clothes known to man. He and Ctimene have a matching set of earrings that he fiddles with them when nervous. It was a wedding gift from Ody and Pen.

Ody's clothes have an inverted colour pattern, to tell apart the king from the rest of the crew. He was given a red cape and owl pin by Athena before going off to war. He also shared his ankle strap with Polites because Poli uses his as sleeve garters.

My clone told me to give Polites a green headband instead of the red, but do not worry! It’ll be stained red right after I make some panacakes. When Polites’ glasses are hit at the right angle his hazel eyes look red

————— CTIMENE TELEMACHUS PENELOPE —————

Ctimene’s feathers usually grow at the base of her head. She used to have more but they were clipped, literally, from the drawing and in the story. She had to clip her feathers so she doesn't get outcasted + they're itchy.

Telemachus got his vitiligo from Penelope and she got it from her dad. I made Telemachus’ vitiligo go around his chin to look like a beard because, (if I remember correctly) I heard in the Odyssey, Odysseus said that Telemachus will become king when he gets his beard. Tele's vitiligo is reminiscent of a wolf's spotted fur. Telemachus has luscious hair for no reason, all he uses is coconut oil. He’s also trans because we say so. It took me ages to find a good pose for him.

Penelope's skin is very translucent at some parts to showing off the blue undertones. Her vitiligo is supposed to represent fish scales. AND HER FUCKING POSE OH MY DAYS I CANT DRAW STAGNANT FRONT VIEW CHARACTERS FOR THE LIFE OF ME

—— Clothes

Ctimene has the matching earrings and a red shawl given to her by Ares. She’s barefoot because she doesn't like shoes since her feathers get caught in the straps. Also she has a toe ring like Zeus. She gave one her bangles to Telemachus and even pierced his ears.

Penelope is elegant as always and her outfit drops to the floor. You’d imagine the white being on the lower half would turn muddy from being dragged along but she’s not going anywhere. She’s cooped up in her room, weaving.

Ctimene’s and Penelope’s head wraps are the blue the soldiers wore to war, to honour them in some way.

[ithilien-writes]

ended up writing a little buck pov coda for home is not a place - just wanted a little bit of buck & chris to round out the eddie & buck, eddie & chris of the original fic. enjoy!

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not-so-perfect family

9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie | G | 4.5k words

The morning after the Diaz boys get home from Texas, Buck makes breakfast with Chris.

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