#tim and the camcorder just there

[fancyfeathers]

Hey Fancy! Apologies if this is a wee bit long but it’s a random platonic yandere Batfam idea I’ve had for a long time. Adopted daughter who becomes an investigative journalist. (With Outlast crossover)

Darling was a product of one of Bruce’s affairs and he never really cared, he paid child support and that’s about it. Darling didn’t care as she and her mother were happy together until they weren’t. Darling’s mother starts to have to work longer hours, coming back more and more hollow until there’s nothing left but her corpse. Darling had a gut feeling her mom died because her mom’s boss was cutting corners in safety at some chemical plant and forcing long hours on workers. 

Of course darling has to go to her father’s house now and live with him (I imagine she was adopted a year before Jason died) after a week she’s asked if she wants to become Robin to which she refuses. She wants to fight the criminals who act as altruists, such as corrupt leaders and politicians, companies who have blood on their hands but hide it, because that’s the hero who could save her mom. Bruce accepts this but the family just seems to forget her. Not out of maliciousness, except for Damien, they just don’t have time for a non-vigilante sibling. She feels alone and when Tim and then Damien are welcomed into the family they neglect her too. Damien even mocks her for being useless. The only family she had there is Alfred, as he made sure to care for darling whenever s he could. 

When darling turns 18, she gets out of that house and goes to a university to study journalism. She becomes an investigative journalist who gained her reputation for going deep into the depths of corruption’s depravity and meets this one dude named Miles Upshur who she becomes partners with as they both are freelance journalists because they don’t censor the truth. They get an email one day telling them about messed up things happening at Mount Massive asylum.

They both go and cue the events of the game Outlast and Outlast Whistleblower. I’m not sure if you are comfortable with the contents of those games so I summarize it by saying the patients were being experimented on and broke free causing Miles to get trapped in the asylum with no way to fight back. He only has places to hide and a camera with night vision that drains his batteries. He gets very injured and Whistleblower is the same concept as it’s the same place but from the perspective of the one who sent the email. I imagine the darling was somehow separated from miles but ended up getting out of there with the whistleblower.

She took the footage and instead of letting the whistleblower release it, as the company begging the asylum would hunt him and his wife and kids down, she would be the one as her reputation precedes her. But after dropping the whistleblower off at his home she has no choice but to go to her old one, cause if the company couldn’t ruin her reputation, could just silence her like they did with everyone else. The batfam is going to be very confused when a freshly traumatized, bloody,and bruised darling shows up on their front porch, clutching camcorders to her chest like a lifeline. Who knows, they might just not let her out if this is how she ends up after being on her own.

again really sorry if this is weird or too long! It’s just been brewing in my brain and I needed to share it

God it’s been forever since I played Outlast, I don’t remember everything about the game cause I was screaming and crying for the most part and I literally could only watch Whistleblower and had to skip some stuff

This might not be entirely game accurate cause it has been a hot minute but I will do my best

I do not think Bruce would be exactly neglectful especially since this is yandere content and obsession starts when they normally meet their darling, like a root that takes hold and begins to grow after certain events. I imagine that her mom did not want her daughter to meet Bruce cause she thought he would not be a good influence, the whole billionaire playboy persona. She raised her daughter on her own until her death, her daughter can remember sitting in the hospital when the doctor told her that she was dead, died of radium poisoning, her body decaying while she was still alive.

She remembers sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting after the staff called her biological father to pick her up, a nurse sitting with her. She knew why her mother did not want her to meet her, but her mother was wrong to an extent. She honestly expected someone like Alfred to pick her up, who she knew because he would meet with her mother for fund related affairs since she did not want her daughter knowing her father…

But Bruce was the one who picked her up, in fact he practically came running when he got the call from the hospital when he was at a gala.

When Bruce came into the hospital waiting room, he kneeled down to her level and took her little hands in his, he felt so sorry for not knowing, he could have helped, but for now what he can tell her is…

“Everything will be okay, I’ll keep you safe.”

Bruce is not intentionally neglectful, he really does try his best, but between being Batman and handling his daily affairs as Bruce Wayne he just does not have the time besides to have meals with her. He does keep her safe, puts a tracker in her bag or jacket in case anything goes wrong, but as if something will go wrong while she is playing soccer after school.

Dick is also probably very busy as well to give her much attention but he is pretty similar to Bruce in the way that he cares but he just does not have the time to now that he is Nightwing. He occasionally takes her out to do things, and he apologizes for not being able to spend more time with her, but he is just so busy.

Her and Jason are probably the closest, he is her big brother in his eyes. He helps her transition into her new home the most, making pillow forts, playing video games, taking her out to play in the snow. Then one morning she comes downstairs to see Alfred looking so solemn and Bruce sitting in an armchair in the living room, his head in his hands and still in the Batman suit, but no sign of Jason…

“Dad?”

She knows something is wrong so she hugs Bruce and it is the first time she sees him cry, he hugs her back, as if scared to let her go… but that is because he is.

“Oh sweetheart… I am so sorry.”

He was going to ask her to be a Robin one day, Jason would not have the mantle forever since after all Dick didn’t, but now he can’t stand the idea of loosing her, so he’ll keep her safe, even if that means keeping her at an arms length.

I think after Jason’s death he would probably send her to boarding school in a safer city like Metropolis or boarding school in a small town with next to no crime rate. It breaks his heart to send her away like that, but it is what keeps her alive. She comes home on the holidays and breaks but there is just an aura about the house now that Jason is gone, a constant state of sadness and as if a hand is holding onto her, which is fair because when she is home she isn’t allowed off of the manor grounds, Gotham is just too dangerous. That doesn’t mean they make more time for her, no her summers and holidays are just as lonely as they were before, only this time she is isolated from the outside world and left lonely by her own family.

Tim is similar to Dick in the way that he feels bad but does not make much of an effort to spend more time with her, even less so than Dick does. He only texts her every now and then so show he somewhat cares and talks with her at family meals, but that’s it.

Then there is Damian, she cannot stand him. She knows he grew up entitled in the League of Assassins but he cannot even pretend to be nice. He talks to her as if she is beneath him, despite the fact that when he is brought into the manor she is a senior in high school.

“No wonder you never became Robin, why would father let the most useless child even-“

“Damian, that is enough!”

Luckily Bruce or Alfred normally intervenes and defuses the situation before Damian says something too extreme.

Then she graduates high school and moves on to university, which Bruce pays for in full without hesitation. It is there in university that she meets her partner in crime, Miles Upshur. They are practically joined at the hip and then when that first finals come around and their project is to do a mock investigation and article and they get to choose a topic to do it on and then Miles asked her…

“Hey, what do ya want to do this on? Lexcorp? Abuse in the ballet industry? Maybe-“

“The radium scandal in the Gotham City Chemical Plant.”

“That’s oddly specific, why?”

“It’s how my mom died.”

And that’s how everything started with their chosen path of investigation. They graduate and the two of them even get photos in their graduate robes and degrees together. Her family comes, which an empty seat to honor Jason, despite him watching from a back doorway, she does not need to know what happened to him in the Lazarus Pit and he certainly won’t be caught dead with Bruce at the time.

Bruce is only okay with her going into journalism because he thinks she’ll be working behind a desk at a paper, not what her and Miles plan on doing…

If he knew he certainly would not be happy and try to find a way to interfere…

But sadly he never remembered to ask exactly what she was going to do.

Her and Miles have done a number of stories together, after the first five or so Bruce found out the kind of work she was doing and repeatedly called her to try to talk her out of it, but she would ignore his calls every time.

It was just supposed to be another job, not whatever this was…

They got an email from an anonymous worker, asking to investigate the Murkoff Corporation and their actions at Mount Massive Asylum. The two even joked during their car ride over to the asylum, laughing about stories she shared about her life at the manor and their old college days, they had no idea what they would find inside.

The asylum even looked messed up from the outside, but the inside was a thousand times worse…

Patients who were experimented on, and now they were inhuman and trying to kill, disassemble, mutilate them, you get the idea…

An insane priest to put it lightly…

Dead bodies all over, murdered in horrible ways…

Everyone left alive in there was less than human, insane, or just about to go insane…

And when I say insane, I mean Joker levels of insane.

They get separated along the way, which is good for her, but not so good for Miles.

She makes it out alive thanks to their anonymous source who sent them the email in the first place, Waylon Park who is a software engineer. The two escape together and due to her shock she can’t remember much until long after she left Waylon at his home and she is pulled over at a rest stop half way between Lake County, Colorado and Gotham City, New Jersey, way to exhausted to continue on. She reaches for her phone and finally calls Bruce back.

“D-dad… are you there?”

“Yes, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“S-so much… I want to go home… please I…”

She passes out from exhaustion while on the phone…

But luckily, do you remember what I said about Bruce putting trackers on her things? He never stopped when she was an adult.

When she wakes up she is back home in the manor, in her old room. She is laying flat on her back with everyone around her, even Damian and…

“Jason?”

“Ya… I’m here, lovebug. Just rest, you certainly need it.”

“Need it? For fucks sake she is missing a finger!”

“Dick, shut up-“

Bruce yells them to shut up and he holds her bandaged and stitched hand in his…

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

She only points to the camera in her things as asks them not to play it in front of her. They all watch it together in the Batcave before patrol and…

“Oh my god.”

It is worse than what the Joker did to Jason.

When she finally recovers and is going to write the story and-

No she is not allowed to, Bruce will handle the situation, most likely bringing it to the attention of the Justice League.

In fact she is not allowed to write another story again, she is not leaving the manor again. She is not a hero, she is just a reporter, and Jason is unable to fully move on after what happened to him so how well will she fair out in the real world in her fragile mental state? What if something happens that triggers those memories? They are not letting her take that risk.

Most days she is kept in her room, a controlled environment to make her feel safe. Then most nights one of her brothers or Bruce sleeps beside her in bed after patrols in case nightmare come up and she wakes up screaming. If her mental state get too bad they’ll sedate her so at least her mind is calm and she is not getting flashbacks. Bruce eventually gets her a therapist to work through what happened to her so at least she can have some what of a normal life after what happened…

Well as normal as you can get when you are locked inside for the rest of your life.

[ngage2003]

Hey so, a lot of folks in the Marble Hornets fandom are varying shades of new to it, and so didn't experience it coming out unfortunately, but apparently there used to be a marblehornets website that has been down since 2016, and I actually didn't know about it but my friend (@straycalamities) did and found it on the Wayback Machine.

I bring this up because while the images on the website are mostly broken now, it actually holds some really fascinating information on the characters that I have never seen talked about, like some of their majors in college!!

I am going to post snippets (as screenshots would get fucked up on mobile) and talk about them a little, but check it out here if you're curious.

Starting from the top and most passionate, we have Alex Kralie's description.

Director / Writer / Editor / Actor Alex Kralie, born April 4th 1986, has been into making films since his early childhood, when he would make short sketch comedy videos starring himself and his cousins with his parents camcorder. He would then show them at “premieres” to his friends and family. That love has since remained with Alex, where he has been involved in many different capacities in various filmmaking communities. He is a double major in both filmmaking and photography, with a minor in theatre. He originally wrote Marble Hornets during high school and has continuously tweaked and polished it throughout his time at the university. He’s very excited to finally see it all happening after years of work!

Likes: Film, Directing, Art, my dog rocky.  Dislikes: Fakery, creative bankruptcy, passionless people, 9 to 5 jobs, unambitiousness, bad movies and film.

Wow, ain't that a breath of fresh air? A BIRTH YEAR! In a slenderverse series! In a youtube horror series, honestly! You never see it.

Alex's description is by far the longest and most passionate, a fact which kind of kills me knowing what he becomes. Working on a project he started in highschool, if there is anything Alex is, I suppose it is dedicated, all devoted to idea he gets in his head which he just can't seem to shake, huh?

Finally though we have a major for our tragedian! Two majors! And a minor! Sorry but I am genuinely so enthused about this. This paragraph really knocks home what I have always said about how Alex thinks, with his confidence and slight pretentious nature with a genuine passion and undertone of insecurity—and through the lens of him talking about himself! Wow.

But moving on to the lead, Brian Thomas!

Actor Brian has been attending the university for three years, and is hoping to graduate after his next couple of semesters with a Bachelor’s degree in psychology and a minor in video production. He originally met Alex in Dr. Warren’s cinematography class where they collaborated on quite a few projects together. He’s very happy to be making his acting debut in Marble Hornets!

Depending on who you think wrote these, this description could be really funny. BUT WOW A CANONIZED WAY THESE CHARACTERS MET. I feel like I have won the lottery. Anyone else?

That is a really fascinating combination of major and minor too, [WHICH WE NOW HAVE FOR HIM, WOAH,] it really makes you wonder what Brian is doing though, and where his direction in life is, if he even knows. Its such a short and sweet and direct description, it is equal parts charming while hiding something under its surface you can't quite place and might even slip from your attention, which feels very emblematic of this character.

I'll leave you to read Sarah Reid and Tim Wright's bios on your own, but I want to point out that at the bottom of the page, there are two people who don't have them.

Both Seth Wilson and Jay Merrick are marked with a "coming soon" notice, with Seth listed as Camera/Co-Editor and Jay listened as... nothing. He is just slapped on there because. Why?

Probably because Alex wanted him there because he is his friend, but it is interesting to point out. Jay as I said before is a passive (though not meek) character, especially at the start of the series, and this just reminds me of that. He is here, but quiet and observing, not helping really as he trails after Alex because he is his friend, because they have a connection, because Alex can't imagine not having him here.

Food for thought :-)

[thediaryofaurora]

✩Kinktober - Day 4✩

Theme: Sex tape / double penetration

Pairing: Tim Wright x camgirl!reader x Brian Thomas

CW: NSFW, anal, riding, recording, toy use, f!reader

A/N: Sorry this is so short and late! Writers block is stomping on my brain and turning it into mush. I’m working on day 5 and day 6 tonight, ya girls trying to keep up 😪

✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

“Are we all set?”

“Yup, just trying to find a good angle.”

Brian continued to adjust the camcorder, moving it a few inches one way or another until he felt it was the right spot.

Tim had just gotten back after running a few errands, buying you all the equipment you needed for your little show. His patience to start the film wavering when he sees you laying on Brian’s bed propped up on your elbows behind you, wearing nothing but a lace bra and a thong.

It’s obvious from how you rub your thighs together while looking at Tim that you’re growing impatient as well, only God knows how long you’ve been sitting here while Brian gets the ‘perfect angle.’

Tim came over to the end of the bed, emptying a plastic bag from an adult toy store. A dildo and a wand vibrator, your eyes growing with desperation. Tim unpacked them for you, setting them neatly by you.

“Alright, you ready?” Brian smirked, looking at you and to Tim. You give him an affirmative nod, the red light on the camera clicking on. “Go on.” Brian smugs, standing behind the camera and palming himself though his jeans.

Your cheeks turn a light shade of red, growing more and more embarrassed yet aroused by the second. You slowly take off your panties, kicking them to the side before undoing your bra. Leaning up to the selection you grab the vibrator first, lying back down and pulling one of the pillows underneath you. Gently you set the head against your clit, pressing the on button.

The vibration is rapid, much more than you had expected. A winced moan escapes your lips, eyes screwing shut as you tilt your head back.

Your first orgasm is already coming on, the knot in your stomach unfamiliar this time. You press the wand down harder, your swollen bud so horribly sensitive as you reach your climax. Your body tenses, your legs shaking vigorously as you squirt onto Brian’s pillow.

You melt into the bed, your high continuing as the vibrator remains on your clit. Your eyes still screwed shut as you feel the dildo forced into you. Quickly you look up, a loud moan of pain and pleasure bouncing off the walls.

Tim stands at the end of the bed, a grin on his face while he watches you take on your second orgasm. He continued to thrust in the dildo, the abnormally lengthy girth abusing your g-spot and pushing you over the edge. You cum, the back to back sensations making you collapse into the sheets, completely helpless and worn out.

Brian takes the toys and sets them aside, giving Tim a nod before both of them begin to undress, Tim coming to the bed first and lying down. His hands firmly grip your hips, setting you on top of him. His cock was already hard, your heat growing wetter at the sight of him pumping it while staring at your almost bare form.

The bed shifts as Brian joins you, positioning himself between you and Tim’s legs, pulling your hips upwards to get your ass to his level. Eagerly he slightly lifted you up, forcing you down on his cock. He wanted to be gentle with you, but he just couldn’t help himself.

He kept his hands on your hips, lifting you up and pulling you back down repeatedly, his girth stretching you with every trust.

Your tensed as you felt Brian’s finger brush your asshole, begging for entry.

“Relax, hun.” He coos, leaning down and spitting on the hole before slowly putting in two of his fingers.

A sharp moan escapes your lips, but the feeling is euphoric.

He begins to curl his fingers, attempting to stretch you out while Tim continues to pump into you. Brian’s pulls his fingers out, his tip rubbing against your hole. Slowly he pushes it in further and further until he can’t.

“Bri-Brian it’s too much-“ Your words a babble as he starts to thrust into your tight hole, both of them pounding into you one after the other, no longer considering how rough they have gotten with their pace.

Your speed of riding Tim grew more and more sloppy, your third climax coming to a close. Your head is fuzzy, a ring echoing in your ears as both of them continue to fuck you, despite the fact that your body had gone limp and completely given out.

Tim was the first to cum, fucking into you harder and harder until his warm seed flooded into you. Finally he lets go of your hips, Brian’s high coming next. His thrusts grew more and more ragged, jolting in and out of you before filling your other hole.

All three of you panted, dog piled on top of each other. Brian got off, deeply breathing as he went to the cam corder and flicked it off.

✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

Creepypasta Masterlist

Kinktober Masterlist

[mortuary-maggots]

Mean

This is my first time writing smut so please be kind as I figure things out!

synopsis- Toby and reader do not get along in the slightest. What happens when they're forced to share a bed coming home from a mission?

TW: smut, mentions of blood, name calling (both sexual and non), mentions of murder, biting, reader is kind of a brat, reader is afab

Let me know if I've missed any warnings.

Thick silence clung to the air of the car, mixing with the stale smell of cigarette smoke and greasy fast food bags. Tim had one hand gripped firmly on the wheel, so tightly you would be shocked if he didn't leave behind imprints in the leather. His other hand rested outside the rolled down window, cigarette nestled between two fingers; his fourth one in the last hour. You knew the mission had gone poorly even if it had been completed, but his chain smoking in silence cemented that fact all the more. He was always the first to chastise the group when things went south, armed with harsh words and insults that you knew were out of a need to better you all. Silence from him when it came to matters of work was unsettling, it was only a matter of time before he exploded. 

Brian sat passenger, equally silent. That wasn't out of the ordinary, he was often a man of little words, even more so when he was sleep deprived. You all were at this point. Cleaning up loose ends for the Operator would often consist of many day missions, in which rest was a luxury. You all savored the ability to relax when you came back, even Tim, who never really slept much to begin with. Brian fiddled with the screen of his camcorder, opening and closing it in a repetitive motion, head focused on the road in front of him. Normally, he'd be hounding Tim to slow down on the cigarettes by his second one, not wanting to deal with the acrid fumes in such close proximity, but you knew even he felt the tension that seeped from the man in the driver's seat. 

Toby sat next to you in the back, eyes trained outside. His elbow rested on the armrest of the door, his cheek nestled into his gloved hand. You could tell he was still fuming from your earlier fight, the fight that had almost cost you the entire mission. You couldn't even remember the full context to why you had started fighting in the first place, you probably killed someone he had his sights trained on or something of the sort. It didn't matter what it was about either way, you both always found something to argue over. Drinking the rest of the milk in the cabin, him dumping your wet laundry on the floor to replace it with his, who sat shotgun when Brian wasn't in the car, just about any interaction you had with him ended in a screaming match that had to be broken up by Tim or Brian, sometimes both if it got too out of hand.

It's not like you tried to start something with him, it just kind of happened. He was disagreeable and snappy and you could tell there was something about you just existing in his general vicinity that pissed him off. You weren't quite sure what you had done to land yourself on his perpetual shit-list, but you also hadn't really asked. You craved the excitement that came with the explosion of vitriol you casted at each other, it was a much needed stress relief. He was an outlet to blow off steam. However, there was also a small part of you that enjoyed the attention from him, even if it was mostly negative.

When you had first become a proxy, you had mentally latched onto him, developing a little proximity crush in the process. Falling for someone was something you were sure would never happen to you, especially after all the trauma that led you to where you were now. Yet, here he was, infectious laugh and messy curls making you feel smitten. Back then, you’d be able to have a conversation without it devolving, his energetic ramblings about things he loved were endearing, but somewhere along the way that had rapidly changed to a demeaning attitude. It wasn't gradual, it came overnight, like a switch had been flipped. You didn't reciprocate his jabs at first, but the longer it went on the more it lit a fire in you. The crush hadn't really gone away either, instead twisting into an unhealthy obsession with how easy you got under his skin, how much you lived rent free in his head even if he was dousing his mind version of you in gasoline and striking a match. There was something so enticing about pushing his buttons until he lost control.

The most recent fight had almost resulted in a survivor escaping, both of you far too enthralled in verbally ripping each other apart to notice someone trying to slip away. Brian had finished her off while Tim forcefully led you and Toby back to the car, hands gripped on the backs of your necks. It was like breaking up a dogfight by separating them by their scruff, though it didn't stop you two from continuing the tirade back and forth until Tim threatened to leave you both to walk. You had shut up instantly, but you knew it wasn't the end; you always seemed to pick up right where you left off.

“You two need to get your shit together.” Tim's gruff voice pierced through the smog that had yet to escape through his open window. “You're going to get yourselves fucking killed because you can't get along for longer than five minutes.” 

“I'll do that w-when she stops being a cunt.” Toby mumbled under his breath, kicking at one of the discarded food bags that had consisted of tonight's dinner.

It didn't stop Tim from hearing it clearly, letting out a disgruntled sigh that told you he was trying his best to not stop the car completely and chew you both out. 

“You're right, I'm sorry Tim.” You ignored Toby's nasty comment in favor of keeping your head attached to your body. Toby's anger was easy enough to deal with, you had been for a while, but Tim's anger was a whole other beast you didn't want to be on the other end of. Even if you desperately wanted to say something snarky to piss off Toby further. 

Toby just scoffed at your apology, obviously expecting one pointed towards him as well. Tim only shook his head, letting another sigh fall from his lips, though this one sounded decidedly more exhausted. It was still hours back to the cabin and you knew you needed to stop at a motel before he crashed the car from sleep deprivation. Normally on missions Brian drove, but he had relinquished the keys to Tim, not trusting himself to stay awake on the long drive back. An insomniac in the driver's seat had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the longer the drive went on, the more it became harder for him not to nod off as well. 

Thankfully, Brian seemed to be on the same wavelength as you. “We should find somewhere to stay for the night before you fall asleep at the wheel.” 

“I want to g-go home.” Toby sat up, more alert. His hazy brown eyes glanced toward you for a moment and you felt a tug at your heart strings. You almost resented the feelings for him that refused to go away, almost hated the giddiness that flipped in your stomach when he spoke to you. Almost.

“Kid, we need sleep. Everyone is tired and cranky and I'm sick of listening to you two go at it.” Tim agreed with Brian's sentiment. Brian snorted at the end of Tim's sentence, delighted at the accidental innuendo.

Toby didn't seem to notice Brian's implications, and if he did he didn't say anything about it. “You're just g-going to make me share a room with her.” 

“You both are going to have to learn how to get along at some point.” Brain responded. 

Tim's eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror to look at you both in the backseat. “He's right, we can't afford a failed mission.” 

Toby didn't respond, instead opting to dramatically slump back in his seat, arms crossed like a child who just got told he can't get a toy at the store. It was amusing to see a grown man act like this because of you, but you knew Brian and Tim were right, even though you had a feeling if you tried genuinely being open with Toby, it wouldn't go the way you intended. You wished you could pry open his brunette head and peer inside his skull to see what went on in that confusing brain of his. If you actually could see thoughts that way, it would be decidedly easier than trying to get him to calmly talk to you on his own. You ran over ways to approach him about, at the very least, pretending to get along on missions the entire way to the seedy motel Tim had chosen. You were no closer to having a good idea though. 

“Alright wait here.” Tim stretched with a groan as soon as he got out of the driver's side, a cacophony of cracking joints sounding as he did. Man needed to see a chiropractor or get a stretching rack before his bones disintegrated or something. The car was practically vibrating from the intensity that settled over the remaining inhabitants. You could feel Toby's gaze burn holes into your head, but you refused to meet his gaze, hoping to save whatever storm was brewing for when you were both in your room for the night. It didn't take long for Tim to return, two keycards in hand and another cigarette in the other. He stopped in front of the car and waved the keycards in the air, a silent signal for them all to get out. 

Brian made a beeline for the trunk to retrieve your duffle bags as Tim handed Toby the card for your room. “They only have two, one bed rooms left, so I just got those.” 

“Are you f-fucking kidding m-me.” Toby's twitches got closer together in length as he spat out his shock. You could feel the anxiety fall off him in waves, his full eyebrows furrowed in rage. You tried your best to keep a poker face, but you still felt a blush dust across your cheeks because you didn't necessarily mind sharing a bed with him, it was just an excuse to be closer. It was not lost on you how pathetic that made you sound but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Tim only grunted a simple, “you'll live,” in response and stamped the cigarette butt out on the ground with his foot. He shoved one of the key cards into Toby’s hand, ignoring the death glare he received in return. 

Despite yourself you couldn't help but poke the bear. “It's just a bed.”

“That I have to s-share with a dumb slut.” He growled. “W-what if she bites me in my sleep and I get rabies.” 

“Can you two just fuck already.” Brian came to stand next to Tim, tossing the duffle bags on the ground in the middle of the group. 

Toby let out an exasperated noise and wordlessly snatched his dark green bag from off the pavement before stomping off in the perceived direction of your room. You were quick to follow, knowing fully if you didn't, he'd leave you to find your own way there, maybe even lock you out of the room. Tim and Brian were a few paces behind, walking leisurely and chatting about breakfast plans for the morning. The small motel looked to be on the verge of condemnation, run down and empty save for the few cars that dotted the parking lot. You had a sneaking suspicion that Tim was lying about the room situation to get you and Toby to finally talk things out. You knew that if this didn't work, Tim and Brian would stop at nothing to remedy the problem, maybe even going as far as to get you both one giant sweater with the words “this is our get along shirt” printed across the front. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

Your rooms were right next to each other, the doors around it proudly boasting closed for cleaning. It was usually the case for you all to get rooms far away from the general public when you had to stay somewhere for the night, none of you really wanted to get caught by the police. Toby tore through the door after unlocking it, the sheer force of the swing causing it to slam into the wall inside. The compact room had very little furniture, only a bed that barely fit two, two nightstands on either side, and a dresser, and the bathroom was equally as small, narrowly fitting all of its amenities. You closed the door softly behind you after calling goodnight to the other two. The clock that sat on one of the bedside tables read the witching hour and yet there was a frenetic energy coming from Toby as he ripped open his bag on the bed. 

“You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor.” You had decided to wait to talk to him until morning, desperately trying to avoid another argument for Tim and Brian's sake. You were hoping he'd be a little more agreeable with a full rest.

He had other plans, however. “W-why? So you can complain to them about h-how I made you sleep on the floor?” 

“Fine, then you sleep on the floor.” You could feel the familiar venom bubble to the surface, you needed to redirect this fast before you lost it yourself. 

“Oh that's real nice, make me s-sleep on the floor.” 

“There's no fucking winning with you, is there?” You spat. “Do whatever the hell you want.”

He pulled his clothes from his bag and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. It was going to be a long night. You quickly changed into your own pajamas while he was locked in there, it becoming abundantly clear that he had no interest in even trying to head Tim and Brian’s word. You tried to think back to before it all started, micro-analyzing every single thing you had done or said to him that could make him hate you as much as he did, but you couldn't come up with a single answer. You hadn't done a damn thing except treat him with kindness and it was driving you up the wall that this is how he chose to repay it. Toby stormed out not long after you had finished changing and ignored you completely as you swapped places to do your night routine, which was done hastily in favor of getting to bed faster. 

The room was dark when you returned, Toby already under the covers and staring at the ceiling. You mirrored him, your bodies almost touching from how small the bed was, and you made sure to scoot as close to the edge as possible to stave off a complaint from him. 

That effort was in vain. “Turn towards the wall, I don't want y-your face to be the first thing I s-see when I wake up.” 

That was it. You felt something snap in you as you raised your voice at him. “What is your fucking damage? Why do you always have to have an attitude.”

“Take a look in the m-mirror.” His voice raised in response to yours. “Maybe you'll figure it out.”

“Real mature. I busted my ass to get along with you when I first joined, went out of my way to get to know you. Why do you have such a problem with me? I-”

He cut you off. “Because I fucking like you okay?” Your eyes widened and you whipped your head to look at him. The concern etched onto his face told you he was just as surprised as you were that it came out of his mouth. You could only stare at him, face hot, your own mouth agape as your brain ran a mile a minute and your heart matched its pace.

He made a move to leave the bed, but you wouldn’t let him run away from his confession. “Toby, wait, why didn't you just tell me?” Your voice was soft and shaky, wanting to diffuse the situation, astonished he reciprocated your feelings. 

“So what? I’ll get rejected, l-laughed at?” His voice wavered, unsure of everything that was unfolding between you. 

“How do you know I’d do that?” You couldn’t believe what you were saying, couldn’t believe this was even happening. “I don’t understand why you felt the need to push me away, instead of being a dick, you could have just said something.”

He furrowed his brows, taking a minute to respond. You could almost see the gears in his head turning, tired eyes scanning the ceiling for some kind of answer to his problems. “Y-you kind of deserved it.” 

You let out a discontented noise, moving to get out of the bed. You had to get some air. “What the fuck ever Toby, I give up.” 

Before you could get up fully, his hands were on you, pulling you back into the bed until you were on your back under him, wrists pinned. “I’m f-fucking right, you come in here with those stupid d-doe eyes and pretty smile and act so sickeningly nice to me. It pisses me off, I thought I could f-fix it by starting fights but that just made it s-so much fucking worse because now I’m just thinking about putting you in y-your place.”

All you can do is stare at him, astonished at his confessions. He was inches from your face, breathing labored and eyes unblinking, hands in a vice grip around your poor wrists. It was a struggle to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. “Toby, I-”

You don’t get much out before he interrupted you. “S-shut the fuck up, stop talking. I don’t want to hear it.”

It felt like your brain short circuited a moment, realizing he’s set you up perfectly to push back. “Then make me.” 

He just stared in confusion a moment before it finally clicked. He threw caution into the wind, slamming his lips onto yours in a frenzy. It was sloppy and rushed, like he’d been dreaming of this moment for a while and he couldn’t wait to finally claim you. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on the thin skin until it started to bubble with blood, the metallic taste filling your mouth. The pain caused you to inhale sharply, only rewarding you with his knee moving to separate your thighs, a low groan erupting from his throat as he slid his tongue across the bleeding lip. Your mind is clouded and your clit tingled with excitement as he moved to leave messy kisses down your neck, biting down when he found the spot that caused the biggest reaction. He abused the skin, sucking and biting until a bruise blossomed, causing pitiful whimpers to fall from your mouth. 

“L-look at you.” He breathed, pulling back to admire your disheveled form. Your eyes were half-lidded, lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath from the whirlwind of his rapidly shifting attitude. “So much fight in you before, but I was right wasn’t I? Y-you are a slut.” 

“I am not!” You protested, though your words quickly turned into a gasp when he shoved his knee further up your thighs, rubbing against the fabric of your pajama shorts. 

“O-oh good, you still have some fight left.” Toby shifted, letting go of your wrists and pushing your legs open enough that he could kneel between them. “I’m looking forward to b-breaking you.” 

He moved his hands down the curves of your body, obviously intent on taking off your shirt. You let a coy smile fall across your face, he wanted a fight and historically, you were glad to give that to him. You grabbed at his wrists, stopping him from getting what he wanted, making him growl in frustration and rip the thin material in half. 

“What the fuck.” You ignored the cool air that hit your bare chest in favor of riling him up further. 

His gaze was predatory as he took in the sight of your breasts, exposed just for him. He spoke with a wolfish grin. “If you’re going to act like a brat, I’m g-going to treat you like one.” He dipped to leave marks all over the expanse of skin, relishing in the way it made you buck under him. Pressing down on your clit with his clothed erection, he ground into you roughly, sending chills down your spine. Once he was satisfied with the bruising, he latched onto one of your nipples, nipping at it every so often. His fingers pinched roughly at the other, the dichotomy of pain and pleasure leaving you reeling.

“I think I like you better when you’re using your mouth for this.” You said between pants, ignoring how your voice wavered.

He pulled away from your nipple with an obnoxious pop. “A-and I think I like you b-better when you’re a d-desperate mess.” Hands tugged your pajama shorts down, discarding them somewhere off the bed, leaving you in just your panties.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“P-planning on it.” He ran a finger up your clothed folds, pressing a little harder when he ghosted over your clit. You could tell he was admiring the green lace of the garment, admiring how soaked you were from his actions. “All t-this for me?” 

Instinctively, you pressed your legs together, giving him the perfect opportunity to pull the underwear off and stuff it into the pocket of his pajama pants. Before you could protest, Toby’s hands gripped harshly into your thighs, prying them apart. You tried to stifle a gasp, though you were unsuccessful as you watched him lick his lips. Wordlessly, he dove to lick a stripe up the slick folds, swirling his tongue around the clit when he reached it. His hands still held firm on your thighs, his fingers were gripping so tightly you knew they wouldn’t escape unmarked. Your back arched off the bed, moans tumbling from your lips in a hushed tone, your own hands grasping the thin bed sheets. 

He pulled back after a moment and clicked his tongue. “Oh c-come on, I know you c-can be louder than that, you run your mouth too much to be q-quiet now.” 

You opened your mouth to protest with furrowed brows, but he quickly returned his tongue to your clit, this time sucking it roughly into his mouth. You let the moans and whimpers spill, unashamed of whoever may hear it, your hands coming to find purchase in his brown curls. Your light tugging urged him to slip two long fingers into your sopping entrance. The surprise caused you to squeak, hips bucking as he curled them into the spot that made your walls contract around him. His pace sped up, each harsh suck of your clit building pressure in you until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your head was thrown back, eyes screwed shut as the coil snapped, your walls threatening to keep his fingers from escaping with how much they squeezed. 

He didn’t stop until your breathing calmed and you pitifully pushed his head away, babbling about how you were sensitive. Slowly, teasingly, he pulled his fingers out, maintaining perfect eye contact, and put them in his mouth, licking them clean. He swiftly took off his clothes and swiped the tip of his hard cock against your folds, collecting your cum on his head before lining it up with your hole. He was big, not too wide but definitely made up for it in length. You had a feeling it would take a minute to get used to, but judging by the impatient lust swirling in Toby’s eyes, you wouldn’t get much time to adjust. 

“Look at you.” He breathed. “S-so high and mighty before and now here you are, l-learning what you’re good for.”

“I d-” You were cut off by your own gasp when he pressed into you, burying the head in your plush walls. 

“Sorry, w-what was that?” His voice was mocking and snide as he moved your legs to rest your calves on his shoulders. He lowered his body, manhandling you into a mating press so he could hover above your face. 

“You’re an asshole.” Each word was punctuated by heavy breathing and was rewarded with him swiftly bottoming out inside you. A strangled noise of shock came from you, hands flying to push back on his shoulders.

He lowered his head to your ear to deliver a dangerous whisper. “I don’t think you’re in a position to t-talk back to me.” He pulled out, agonizingly slow before slamming back into you, forming a quick and painful pace. You felt so full, like you would split in half, unable to form anything but piteous cries with every hit to your gspot. Eventually, the pain began to subside as you grew accustomed to his length and the brutal pace he set, every roll of his hips a shot of electricity straight to your core. He brought one hand down to play with your clit, the other snaking to grip roughly around your throat, cutting off your air supply. His thumb pressed into one of the spots he left on your neck, causing a dull ache to greet you. Your head spun, dizzily clenching around him with every deep thrust and every labored pant that he let out into your ear. 

You felt your second orgasm start to build from his relentless actions, clit throbbing from his abuse. It was like he could sense you were close, somehow speeding up his thrusting until you saw stars, vision growing hazy from air loss. Your hand pulled weakly on his wrist, lungs begging for relief but he refused to let up. It only seemed to make the pressure in your core burn more, only made the pleasure of his cock more intense, only made his sultry growls more arousing. You felt like you could explode. Your nails dug into the skin of his wrist as you threatened to do just that, eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Toby, I’m gonna-” You struggled out the best you could with him still depriving you of oxygen. 

“Cum for me slut, cum around my cock.” Was all he said, and much to your dismay you obeyed. You let your orgasm wash over you, milking his cock. He fucked you through it, letting off your clit and neck to rest his hands on either side of your head. You heaved, thankful to finally be able to breathe properly again. He kept pounding you over and over, until without warning, he buried himself to the base, spilling his own release into you as deep as he could and pressing a surprisingly soft and loving kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, you both stayed there a moment, foreheads pressed together, your legs shaking. 

“I’m s-sorry,” He mumbled. “F-for being so rude to you lately.” 

You could only smile as he slowly pulled out of you, gently lowering your legs back onto the bed. “You can make it up to me by not pushing me away anymore. I really like you Toby, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.” You watched him admire the way his cum slipped out of you and onto the mattress.

He returned your smile after a moment and pressed another gentle kiss to your lips. “C-can you stand?” He asked, getting off the bed.

You struggled to push yourself up, swinging your wobbly legs over the side and almost crumbling to the ground as soon as your feet hit the floor. Almost like he was expecting it, he caught you and threw your arm over his shoulder to hoist you up. 

“Let's get you cleaned up.” He said, leading you into the little bathroom, triumph coating his voice. Tim and Brian would never let either of you hear the end of this.

Support this story on AO3! username- rosesandropeburns

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63019126

[mrmanbat]

Okay so I’ve seen the “Tim Drake is a changeling” AU float around once or twice, and I wanna toss my two cents in:

If you’re building a changeling AU for Tim, please feel free to play around with the mythology. Don’t just stop at “he’s a fairy swap baby”—make his parents actual fae. Like, full-on, glamour-weaving, iron-allergic, vibes-over-substance kind of creatures. Suddenly Jack and Janet Drake being emotionally distant, globe-trotting, vaguely neglectful semi-rich people makes way more sense. Fae don’t do “parenting,” most of the time they are depicted as unable of love.

Now imagine fairy-Tim, quietly stalking the Gotham through a camcorder lens, trying to understand what makes the Bats tick—where does the ‘love’ come from? And then Jason Todd dies. Tragic loss, right? But to Tim, it’s an opening. A vacancy. A role.

So he inserts himself into the family like an invasive species. Bruce is grieving, confused, and suddenly there’s this eerily competent, unsettlingly intense kid showing up with murder boards and a homemade Robin costume—but Bruce just can’t turn him away for whatever reason.

And here’s where the changeling angle really hits: Bruce doesn’t notice how weird it is. Because Tim’s using every inch of magic and mimicry in his uncanny little arsenal to seem just enough like Jason to slide into the role.

But then Jason comes back. And now Tim’s left spiraling. Because this wasn’t just a game. This was his purpose. He finally thought he was beginning to understood what love was, and it was being Robin. Being needed. Being part of something.

But now? His human counterpart is back and angry. So what are his options?

— Remove Jason. Permanently.

— Admit that he failed at the one thing he was literally born (or swapped) to do.

And look. He’s a changeling. The moral compass is more of a sundial on a cloudy day.

[whistlewritesforfun]

Bruce Needs Prom Pictures!

Based on silliness that occurred with @hollybrooke where they came up with this idea.

Incident Number One

Bruce while awkwardly holding a camcorder: Turn- no no- turn to the LEFT, Dick. Ok, now put your arm on-

Dick: You know that's for videos right?

Bruce: Yes. I'm well aware. I'm going to have the batcomputer systematically find the best shots out of the footage and-

Dick, who really wants to hurry this up so he doesn't actually miss prom despite the fact originally he was having a great time posing: Ok forget I asked.

Bruce, tearing up a bit: I remember when you were still climbing up the stair banisters and back flipping off of them.

Dick: B, please, Roy just texted me they're playing gangnam style right now and I've been posing for 30 minutes! Even I have my limits.

Incident Number Two

Jason: Did Dick actually wear THAT to prom?

Bruce, who was taking pictures at first, but got sucked into talking about Dick: Yes, and he looked adorable. I regret giving him that freedom though... you saw what he went around in for a while. I think I might have emboldened that decision inadvertently.

Jason, an hour late, but NEEDS to see these pictures: How long did it take you to get all of these? There's so many...

Bruce: 45 minutes or so, it couldn't of- *checks his watch.*

Bruce:...

Jason: How long am I gonna be here taking pictures for?

Bruce: Is a 15 minute long prom something you'd be interested in?

Incident Number Three

Alfred, before the photoshoot: Master Bruce, you must let him depart for the prom at a reasonable time. We cannot make a family tradition of being tardy for this event. As well as the fact that Master Drake has a date to go with, a variable neither Master Todd nor Master Grayson had to worry about.

Bruce: Don't worry Alfred, I've already planned everything out. I already know exactly what poses I want him to strike.

An hour and a half later

Tim: We have to go! In case you forgot, I'm kind of their ride??

Bruce: You aren't doing it right! I said give me Vogue, and you are giving me Vanity Fair.

Tim: BRUCE PLEASE!

Bruce: Just ONE MORE TRY-

Tim: I will call Alfred.

Bruce: Fine. Lets go.

Incident Number Four

Damian: Father, I do not see how me participating in this... ridiculous photo shoot is so necessary.

Bruce: Its family tradition that you get your Prom photos. Now, smile.

Damian: Father-

Bruce: Smile, the sooner you do it, the sooner this is over with. I know you're meeting Jon there.

Damian: *putting on a smile that is borderline unsettling in its forced nature*

Bruce: On second thought? I'll just... edit a smile on you... it might freak me out less.

Damian: Is your hunger for nostalgia satiated?

Bruce: I think its gonna have to be, Alfred might kill me if I make you late like with every previous incident.

Damian: Excellent.

[bigdvmnhero]

relationships: dick & tim

word count: 6,019

summary:

“I—” Tim recalibrated. Desperately, he scanned Dick’s face—his features blurred over, a wall of nothing; Tim chipped away: “You were a kid, who’ll blame a kid? They won’t hurt anyone again. If you want to, to, to talk to anyone—but it was a long time ago, you’re Nightwing now—”

Tuesday morning: a video was uploaded to one of the deep web black markets. The footage, shot on those grainy vintage camcorders. But Tim knew that boy in the thumbnail; his eyes had memorized him, the heft and shape and dazzle of him, imprinting like an afterimage.

Or: a brother is a witness; there's your tragedy.

::

The apartment had that new-in-town smell: mothballs and desperation. Boxes upon boxes were strewn on the floor. One of them had a dirty plate forgotten on top of it. Old pad thai grease. Armed to the teeth in his full Robin regalia, Tim felt vaguely underdressed in Dick’s kitchen—like there was a speech to do, and he was already forgetting the words.

“Did I lose you again?” Dick said, through a mouthful of his second demolished mango. He was eating them fatherless-style. Dick had been talking about—insurance, maybe. “What’s up?”

Across him, Tim straightened. “Nothing, just.” Mortified, thinking about how I almost spritzed myself with cologne before coming here. What was this, prom? Tim just needed this to go better than last time, was all.

Last time: Tim’s absolute trashfire of a Bludhaven visit; Dick’s rictus of a smile; Dick’s face going bloodless in the half-dark as Tim mentioned Bruce’s adoption offer, absolute god-tier cringe; why’d he do that? It was the same look Dick wore, that first time Tim brandished the original Robin suit from its glass case. Of course Dick disappeared then, all dark and brooding into the night, seeyanara, or never; Tim never could stomach a Never.

He wanted to tell Dick he was working hard to learn it, too—the Bat’s art of Sheer Presence. The way its silhouette inspired awe, stillness. That lately Dick spooked easy, like an animal trying not to be seen. That on nights Tim was almost catatonic with grief, his first half-formed thought was, I want my brother.

Tim said, “It’s not every day you eat scrambled mangoes in Richard Grayson’s apartment.”

“Ever since I saw one of our knife-throwers eat it like this, I always wanted to try it.” Dick picked up a comically large knife and bisected the mango, carving the hairy seed out, before scraping its insides silly. He handed one of the halves to Tim, anointing it with a too-big spoon. Where was this man’s cutlery? “It’s supposed to look like a bowl, then you can walk around eating like that. Neat, huh?”

“Guess so.” Tim accepted Dick’s mango concoction with a smile. Maybe a spoonful, to be polite. Watch and weep, Alfred. “You know, I always wanted to try eating a mango like an apple.”

“Well, we got two left,” Dick snorted, digging into the plastic bag. “Make your dreams come true?”

Do, please. Truth was, Tim daydreamed of it often—no capes, no mission, the solace of a brother only a nightmare-city away, and his quiet balcony. If Tim was lucky, a heart-to-heart. Namely, about the No Good, Very Bad Year he was having.

Same one he was sure Dick was going through now, if only Dick deigned to tell him anything.

“Let’s try it together,” Tim said, conspiratory. “Skin and everything. Sprinkle some seasoning. Alfred would call it… positively diabolical.”

“Oh, I’d move heaven and earth to see that look on that man’s face again.” Dick tipped the mango-bowl into his mouth, then licked his lips with sticky satisfaction. “God. This stuff is top-shelf. Which sunny, tropical island did you pick them from, Tim—the Philippines?”

“Just a freebie. From a grateful citizen.”

Wow, and he was starting to lie to Dick the way he lied to Bruce: with alarmingly little remorse!

The truth: Tim had seen the streetcam footage. Dick Grayson liked to linger longer than normal by that market stall on Hammerstone; stuff was always overpriced, but he stayed for the small talk, exchanging recipes and turning over spotted fruit, face soft with a small secret joy until some goon on busted tires screeched by, or the disembodied voice in his comm summoned him back into the fold—exit Richard Grayson, bereft of mangoes.

“A freebie, huh?” Dick said.

Tim shrugged. “Stopped a mugging on my way here.”

“‘Course you did.”

Tim looked up to see a secret smile on Dick’s face, the dimple deepening. Tim ducked his head—it was always intense when Dick did that, holding your eyes to wait for his words to land. When Dick pushed himself away from the table, Tim was glad to look without being seen.

The scrape on Dick’s elbow matched Batman’s data: Nightwing smashed himself free from a plexiglass wall when it came down on him; there was that wispy patch of petrified-looking hair near his left ear where the flames nearly singed his scalp off. Take a few drunk accidental teenage arsons, a rice cooker, and a wall outlet that hadn’t been maintained since the 80s, and you get a nice, toasty residential building that collapsed in forty minutes. With their training, Nightwing should’ve been in and out in five, tops.

Dick coughed as he groped inside the cupboard. Lung irritation, Tim noted. Possible airway inflammation. Shoddy haircut. Dick must’ve tried to trim the charred split ends. If Tim was there. If Tim had covered his blind spot. If Tim was someone Dick could count on from time to time, maybe.

Maybe.

If, if, if.

“Sorry, haven’t stocked the fridge yet,” Dick said. “Water fine?”

“Yep,” Tim says, popping the P, and looked at the carpet the moment Dick’s stagelight-eyes turned his way. His gaze had scanned Tim with that same cataloging sweep earlier. If Dick noticed the weight of Tim’s Mission, paling him like some kind of sepsis, he said nothing. Tim knew what Dick was trying to do. This polite distance, not quite cold, not quite warm, was a dead sea any man could drown in. Bruce currently was. Dick intended to leave Tim here too, in the rolling distance, where no eyes could follow. Fat fucking chance.

Watch me on the trapeze, Tim, said Dick from the memory; staring from a boy’s impish face; those torch-bright eyes, holding his frightened ones. I’m going to do my act—’specially for you. And Tim had watched. And Tim had never stopped, how could he ever stop?

“So, this friendly visit…” Dick slid him a chipped mug of water. “B asked you to check in, or is this gonna be a regular thing from now?”

“Naw, I was just,” Tim waved vaguely. “around.”

“And you got free mangoes.”

Tim sipped. “Thought I’d share my spoils of war.”

The cold hard truth: Tim needed a reason to see his brother now. A work reason. No one wasted Nightwing’s time. While dodging stilted dinners at the manor and Bruce’s guilt-marred face, Tim had spent the better part of his days turning the adoption offer in his head, plugging a fake uncle into his stage-life, not calling Dick, and tracking transactions in the deep web black markets. He had a lead to a CP ring tied to Gotham’s cluster of orphanages—just more children slipping through Her fingers, with no one to come looking. But Tim was looking now. Ten years too late, maybe, but looking all the same.

Bless Barbara and her detailed surveillance notes. He’d set up the alert as instructed and lost himself in the Styx waters of rote work, wading deep, the world submerged into the dull clack of fingers on a keyboard.

Tuesday morning, a new video was uploaded—the price tag: half a million in crypto.

The preview was fifteen seconds long. The footage, cast in near-darkness, had grain matching those recorded on a point-and-shoot that hadn’t been in the market for at least eight years. JVC VHS-C Camcorder, that was how old it was. But Tim knew that figure in the thumbnail. Canary-yellow cape, bloodied knees and pixie boots. A costume for someone ten apples tall.

Only one Robin was fighting against the affliction that was Gotham in single digits. And Tim would know him; his eyes had memorized him, the heft and shape and dazzle of him, imprinting like an afterimage.

Watch me on the trapeze, Tim.

“Get a visual,” was all Batman said, when he called an hour before. This was a case he didn’t think Batman was even supposed to know about, but Tim didn’t press; that voice, floundering in the undercurrent, was all Bruce. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Lung irritation, Tim thought. Grainy footage. Bruce’s cryptic-as-hell phone call. Charred split ends. Nightwing’s casual suicidal patrols? Yeah, Tim was going to dry-heave across Dick’s apartment floor; the inside of his mouth was all sour, like something gone bad overnight. Dick knew about the leak, but not that Batman and his underperforming Robin were on the case, too. Tim was gonna have to do it again—like his first day at the Cave, digging up the memory of Dick’s ghosts, not letting the damn dead stay dead.

Dick threw a hand towel at Tim’s face with a laugh. “Wipe your mouth, Timmy.”

Nicknames, huh.

If Dick hated him, he was hiding it well. Like a child, Tim obediently cleaned the pulp from his mouth. Then, like a coward: “Could I—bathroom?”

read the rest on ao3

[razbotz]

ramble attack

talk about jam angst

-jaydove

QPP WOKE UP OH BOY OH BOY!!!! JAM!!!

okay uh uh uh ih

tim probably thinks about jay post mh and the awkward romance he had with him and he just. cries. you can hear the fear in his voice in entry 80 when he discovers the camcorder and in 83 when he sees jays corpse. heeehssshsheheeheheheeheehheehehehdHEEEEDE i cant think too much rn since im not In The Zone but god i love jam angst

[spectral-honey]

-bruce Wayne isn't at the circus when dicks parents are killed, and the court of owls take him and he becomes a talon.

-timmy sees him one night, out in the garden of a party looking up at a sky when dick is killing some guy on the roof. Watches him quadruple somersault kick some guy so hard his neck snaps.

-dick talon, sees Tim seeing him. And stalks the kid home, because he might need to get rid of the witness. Or at least report back to the owls about him.

-talon is in Tim's kitchen and he's going to kill him and Tim sees him, gets excited that for some inexplicable reason a gnarly looking dick Grayson is in his house, and offers him a Popsicle.

-talon, for reasons unknown to him, ends up eating a Popsicle.

-somehow, even though it means nothing to him, should mean nothing to him, being called dick Grayson makes talon not kill him.

-somehow, it doesn't get told to the owls.

-somehow, talon finds a way to see Tim again. Made easier when Tim realizes they could meet in the middle and starts hanging out on dark rooftops.

-tim brings him the picture of the two of them and dicks parents two adults, and dick talon looks at the picture for hours.

-the next time, Tim brings him a handful of camcorder videos pilfered from across the internet. Of the flying Graysons. Of dick, and of his... Parents.

-tim also brings him fruit snacks.

-tim doesn't get why Dick doesn't know this, doesn't get why Dick looks different, doesnt get or think too much about the guy he saw dick kill. He doesn't get why he doesnt speak much or know much or acts weird. He's just happy to see dick again, cause he still remembers the kind boy who offered to do a special trick for him, who cried over his parents bodies, who Tim cried over when his parents read in the paper that he'd disappeared.

-somehow (Batman), the owls are taken down, or at least scattered so talon dick doesn't go back there anymore. He shows up at Tim's door and Tim is happy to have him in the house when his parents are away, and shows dick the treehouse Tim and his dad built, told him he could stay there when his parents were home because no one went there because his dad had a business trip that he had to go to before they finished the ladder and now it was too hard for anyone to get up to.

-dick gets found out by Batman, eventually.

-cause an undead kid is living in his city. A talon type of undead kid. In a little boys treehouse.

-jason found him, actually.

-Jason's Bruce's sidekick, his first one and his first kid, but he isn't a robin, because that name came from dick.

-he stopped for a quick breather in some nice neighborhood with actual yards, saw a treehouse and thought "cool, a treehouse", went in and thought "oh, uncool, a talon with a tiny civilian hostage", saw shitty pictures taped to the wall of the kid looking silly and the talon disarmed and confused, and shitty drawings with colored pencils and crayons, and the talon and kid were sitting close to each other with a kid-proof tablet shared on their laps playing a matching game and thought "weird possibly cool turn of events. A tamed talon", and called Bruce.

-batman comes, and now the talon, the civilian kid, and Jason have made a circle and Jason's reading something to them from the tablet.

-its the Wikipedia page for robins, btw. Tim is a weird kid and talon apparently likes robins.

-batman sees danger, first, because the talons body is shaped by it. The talon is tensed, scanning Bruce for an opening to kill. The talon is too close to Jason, to the civilian, Batman sees so many different ways the talon end them before Batman could take a step.

-but the talon hasn't, is waiting. Waiting for Batman to move. For Batman to attack first.

-and Jason briefed Batman, said he didn't think the talon was a threat. Batman couldn't take his word on it, but he could investigate himself.

-he saw the pictures. The drawings, the tablet and the way the civilian and the talon lean close to each other, how talon has set himself between the civilian and jason and batman.

-he also sees the bedding tucked into a corner. The stack of nonperishable foods tucked behind it. The little scraps of paper with simple words- no, yes, food, tired, game. The gray of talons skin, the hollowness settled deeper than bones. That talon became-was forced to become what he is when he was young. little. precious.

-bruce makes a decision.

-dick argues with Jason about who was really older. He was born first, and just because he couldn't grow for a long time, bruce helped fix that, didn't mean anything. Jason's genetics were freaky, letting him grow taller than dick anyway.

-eventually, when much of his growth and healing is done, he does regain his legal identity and legal age.

-dick loves calling jason his little brother in public, where Jason can only object so much.

-dick also takes extreme joy telling society folk that he just ages well, when they fawn over how youthful and pretty he is.

-tim and dick were introduced to Jason's teen titan friends, using the same costume and codename, around the time dick was the same height as Tim. All the titans are convinced the two are some kind of bat-cloned devil twins until dick finally finishes growing and is like over a foot taller than Timmy.

-it becomes an inside joke for the Titans to confuse their mentors by introducing Tim and dick as twins still anyways.

-when Damian comes he tries to stab dick once and dick is literally like wow. Your form was so bad try being a better child assassin <3 jk tho maybe try defeating me without maiming or killing. As a little challenge. Bet u can't. I could do it and look at me I was an awesome child assassin.

-and so Damian embarks on a journey of learning that he doesn't even know is learning

So the rest of this was supposed to be in the tags but apparently Tumblr only lets you have 30 tags. Boo u whore :/ so here's a bunch of shit that was meant to be in the tags & therefore is formatted weird and not at all like the stuff above:

This all came from 1) the idea of Tim figuring out dicks identity as talon rather than as Robin and 2) the image of talon dick living like in a treehouse like. Like a birdhouse.

I imagine Tim is like, little, maybe 6 or 7 or something when he meets talon dick the first time

And then maybe dick escapes the court when Tim's 9 and Jason finds them when Jason's 13 and Tim's 10

And dick was stuck in an undead talon body at the age of like 9 so he's a little shorter than both of them for a while before Bruce is able to get help to let him age normally again

And they get him a couple growth spurts before they let his body work out the rest

And he ends up like 5'10 and he's like I swear I would've been taller if I hadn't been talon

But no dick actually you were always destined to be a short king <3

For reference I usually hc Jason as 6'0 or taller, dick as 5'10, and Tim as like 5'5

Jason is a behemoth and dick and Tim are short kings. Damian is the tallest when he grows up tho

I also imagine that dick is sort of figuring out who he is and isn't totally there for a long time with Tim, and some time after the court of owls falls he remembers enough about his parents that he tracks down and kills Tony zucco

And Tim's like why did you do that killing is bad :( and dick is like he's why my parents died and Tim is like oh okay :) but dick is like internally going killing is bad? 🤔 I'll have to think on this.

Also like in general I was thinking about a little Tim trying his best to work with dick who is traumatized and not used to expressing himself in regular or healthy ways and Tim being just a little kid so it's not like he knows a lot of things or how to do that so they end up with a modge podge of strange coping skills and communication styles

Hence when I mentioned the papers with words on it .. idk if that was clear lol

Also tho Tim teaching him things that dick take as like. Facts but they're just things Tim does

Like if you whisper in someone's ear it's a secret and you can't tell anyone

And one time dick whispers something in Jason's ear and Jason immediately turns and shouts it to Alfred

And dick is so betrayed

Also Tim telling his parents about his grey friend who lives in his treehouse and can bend his bones and they're like that's nice you have an imaginary friend Tim

I also started writing a version of this post where Timmy like figures out dick is talon and like sleuths after him but it was too unclear how Tim would uncover the fuckin court of owls best agent so I scrapped that

But like fanon Tim probably could

I think its closer to canon Tim that its just something that kind of happens to him tho lol

'i found out the bats secret identities because I happened to see Robin do a trick a boy once told me specifically only he and his family could do'

'i found out Jason was alive because he showed up at me and my friends clubhouse and tried to beat me to death'

[pumpkinsy0]

This one could get a bit chaotic but papercut going on a road trip? (And maybe some Pony trying to convince Darry to let him go??) Your headcanons keep me alive, i live and breathe papercut, so please keep up the good work or else I will die 💖

papercut road trip?? aw yeaaa baybeeee comin right up 🤵🏽‍♀️🍜

•it was def a spontaneous idea from curly, he was thinking one night and just wanted to drive somewhere, nowhere in particular just go around, he told tim and tim wasnt gonna fight him on it, if thats what curly wants thats his life, all he can hope is that he comes back in one piece (monkey d. luffy refrence⁉️)

•ik when he brought up the idea to pony it took a bit of convincing, not THAT much, but he still had to do it cause like, just a RANDOM road trip?????? pony joked that curly was trynna kill him, but curly did say they’d prolly pass the country side and he could take some pics as a remembrance so pony was down

•not gonna lie, ion know HOW, ponys ass is gonna convince darry to go, pony might be 18/19 but he is PUSHING his freedom here, ill tell u what tho it took a team effort from tim and buck (somehow), and darry probably slapped an airtag on pony or somethin so he knew where he was

•they were not taking curlys car, ill tell u that much, if u drove that thing for more than an hour i promise u theyre so dead before they even get to the 10th block out of ponys neighborhood, REGARDLESS OF HOW, pony kissed darry n soda goodbye (YES thats important to know)

•SKIPPING BORING DETAILS SO WE CAN ACTUALLY GET THE ON THE ROADTRIP, but they r STACKED w literally just snacks, no actual food, just chips, candy, juice and some water, lord help these two, they gonna crash on the highway🤦🏽‍♀️

•wether its a camcorder or just a regular ole camera, ponys documenting this, he also has a journal to write down his thoughts and draw, hes a man of many talents

•for every stop, when he can, he calls darry to let him know hes alive, even sends over post cards from the different places he’s at, stocks up on small lil knickknacks too!!curly also called to check in w tim and angela and pony made him send over letters too (curly HATESSSS writing letters)

•would it REALLY b papercut if i didnt say that one of em got them lost??? curly def cant read a map for shit and fucked up while pony was driving, that argument had ppl in other cars looking over

•they would take turns on who was driving but honestly just never let curly behind the wheel, be nearly missed an exit and pretty much drifted in the highway, curly would do WONDERS in a racing game, he did a “emergency” stop and almost catapulted pony out his seat when he was sleeping, hes such a lil asshole

•sometimes tho, they would just pull over completley and get in the back seat just to sleep, they had a blanket and like one pillow but its ok the one of em would just lay on the other, they had some pretty nice talks in there and pony wrote about it in his journal

•when they get to the country side, i could see pony having one of those nature books and finding what he could just to cross em off, hes a nerd like that, curly was way too fascinated by the insects to rlly make fun of him for too long

•took some good nature pics too, some silly ones as well, curly took some too!!

•one of em touched poison ivy, whoops

•how have i gone this long without mentioning that curly would def b the one blasting music, hes not the passenger princess, hes the passenger pain in the ass (pony doesnt wanna admit but video evidence proves other wise, he was singing too)

•pony is a pretty good driver i aint gonna lie, but maybe a lil too good, his eyes will NOT be leaving that road, curlys just gotta feed pony himself from the passenger

•they didnt pack enough clothes, they were def clothes shopping as they went, whoever car they took is a MESS by now

•at some point pony got sunburnt and curly was laughing at him bc it wasnt even all over his body, the sunburn just covered parts that his clothes didnt cover, had to make a stop at a gas station for sunscreen and aloe vera (if we r assuming curly packed enough money)

•they dont rlly go home for a while, they got too homesick

i need to stop here before i get anymore ideas,,,

[its-a-ducky-mess]

Speculation: NarraDad Theory

I've personally seen the assumption that the Narrator is Sarah's dad/caretaker quite a few times around the Sarah & Duck fandom. The question of if he's Sarah's dad is also common enough to be an autofilled Google question, akin to the question about Sarah's potential autism.

So we're going to take a little look into this theory. Admittedly it's not one with a whole lot of things to talk about, but it is a very present idea within certain fans.

Supporting Evidence

Obviously, Sarah, Duck, and the Narrator are never far apart throughout the entire show. The Narrator is never seen, but always there by their sides. This gives the impression that the Narrator keeps a close eye on Sarah and Duck, making sure they're safe, akin to a parent/guardian. In addition, they all share the same house, as both Sarah and the Narrator use "our" when referring to their home.

In addition, the Narrator has some of his possessions in the attic. Most prominently is the box of old toys in, well, Old Toys. Which judging from Sarah's shocked reaction of calling the Narrator's toys "really old", she at least has somewhat of a frame of reference for the Narrator's age despite him never making a physical appearance.

The Narrator is also of course kind and supporting of Sarah and whatever she decides to do in her day to day life.

The Narrator is proven further to have a physical presence despite never appearing once. He comments about waiting on his own after Sarah and Duck play while Cake is baking during Cake Bake. Also in Cake Bake, the Narrator is shown to have purchased the roller skates to gift to Duck. When the timer is done, Cake is already taken out and placed on the countertop, assuredly by the Narrator, as allowing Sarah, a seven year old child, to do so would be seen irresponsible. And during Constable Quack, Sarah and Duck look suspiciously towards the Narrator when they find their biscuits missing, indicated that he can in fact eat.

From a couple of perspectives, I've heard people propose the idea of the Narrator recording home movies with a camcorder in-universe, which is what we see as the episodes in real life. This would make sense, as the cameraperson wouldn't be seen under most circumstances. I personally remember watching some of my family's recordings on an old camera, and my parents manning the camera never panned to themselves. (My word is not gospel, however.) On a stranger note, fun fact: The Narrator isn't shown buying a movie ticket during Cinema Scoot, yet is present throughout the episode. It may be possible that he lagged behind the kids and bought a ticket of his own, before catching up to them a minute or so later.

Contrary Evidence

Sarah never refers to the Narrator by any sort of proper title, such as Dad, Pa, etc. In fact, she never refers to the Narrator in conversation at all. She never initiates conversation with him with any sort of greeting or sentence starter; No "hey", "hi", not even a "you there" or the like. Sarah only listens to him for as long as she needs to before talking to other people nearby. She also only directly asks the Narrator questions without any aforementioned sentence starters.

And perhaps most dismantling is an interview with series director and co-creator Tim O'Sullivan. One question and its response from this interview is directly as follows:

"Sarah and her friends live alone, parent and family free. The children are as mature as the adults; Scarf Lady and Sarah are equals. The narrator (voiced by actor Roger Allam) will often give Sarah advice, but just as often he watches as Sarah solves problems on her own. It’s a brilliant approach that feels a bit risky – kids living alone, no parents around. Was that an easy decision to make early on? Did Sarah have parents in early drafts of the show?

Thinking back we never even considered the parents. As a kid, I remember that feeling of living in a world of your own outside of parents; when you played that was the universe and the parents only broke the illusion when the fish fingers were getting cold. So when focusing on the imaginative adventures of child and her friend they weren’t deemed a necessary presence.

However, Narrator is always there, not to get in the way, but essentially play along like a parent behind a video camera and provide that sense of security that allows our characters to explore freely."

[Source: https://eviltender.com/2016/11/22/talking-sarah-duck-with-director-tim-osullivan/]

Of note is that Tim O'Sullivan says "like a parent" when describing the Narrator, even off-handedly using the video camera line as well.

Closing Thoughts

While the Narrator isn't and never was considered to have a parental role, I think it's a sweet interpretation of the character, hence why I said I was a "NarraDad truther" in another post. Depending on how you read between the lines, you could say Tim O'Sullivan never outright explicitly said "the Narrator isn't Sarah's dad". To be fair, it was kind of close to what he said.

This post is not intended to sway anyone to either side, as I believe fans should be free to interpret characters however they want so long as it's not problematic. I simply wanted to talk about the theory.

[fre4kshqw]

Swap AU

Brian sat staring at his computer screen, he's been like this for hours. Desperately waiting on a phone call from Tim about what to do next and waiting for a time when Alex is not working so they could explore more.

Of course Alex doesn't know that yet, Brian made him think he needs him because he wants to finish Tim's movie. That's the only way he knew Alex would agree, or so he thought.

While Brian was trapped in his own thoughts he finally got a phone call from Tim, he grabbed his phone quickly and pressed the answer button "Hello" Brian said quickly.

"Meet me at Rosswood tomorrow at 1pm, oh and bring that blonde girl too" Tim spoke quietly yet firmly, he could never remember Amy's name, to Tim she meant nothing, just another victim to the operator who needed to be killed.

In the blink of an eye the call was over before it even started, Brian was told where to go at what time and that's all that mattered. Brian eventually turned off his computer and went to bed, there wasn't much he could do but wait, he looked through every tape Alex gave him and Alex is in all of them. He was starting to think Alex was tied with the operator in some way.

As the sun rose and shone through the curtains, Brian was already awake and preparing for the day ahead, he still had a few hours before he had to meet Tim but he still needed to call Amy and pick her up. He pulled up his jeans and kept them up with a belt, he always wore jeans 2 sizes too big, it was his 'style' in reality he just didn't have enough money to buy new jeans once he grew out the old ones.

Once he was dressed and ready he called Amy, who answered quicker than expected. "Hello? Brian?" She said quickly, almost like she was waiting for him to call her, weird, Brian thought to himself but who was he to judge. He did it himself.

Brian nodded "uh yeah it is, I was wondering if you could meet me at Rosswood around 1pm?" he asked quickly, hoping she'd say yes. God knows what Tim would do to him if he didn't bring her.

Amy smiled to herself "yes of course, I'll be there!" before Brian could thank her she hung up. As time passed more Brian finally grabbed his car keys, camcorder and got into his car. He quickly drove to Rosswood with the camcorder on the dashboard on film. Once he got there he parked in between Tim and Amy's car then got out, discreetly holding the camcorder so Tim didn't get annoyed.

Brian held Amy back as Tim led them down many of the winding trails of Rosswood. “I want to keep a fair distance between us,” Brian whispered quietly to her. Amy subtly nodded and walked slowly with Brian, leaving a huge gap in between them and Tim. As they walked more Tim led them to an old abandoned building, Brian tried to get as much footage as possible. Amy gave Brian an uneasy look before walking inside after Tim.

Tim pointed to a corner “over there.” he said quickly “Just, check over there I don’t want to see it again.” As Brian and Amy turned their backs from Tim to check they heard a click. As Brian turned back around he saw a gun pointing at the two of them, Amy screamed and hid behind Brian for coverage. “Tim, what are you doing?” Brian tried to stay calm but on the inside he was freaking out, was he going to die right here? Is it his fault for also getting an innocent woman killed?

“Just shut up!” Tim shouted “You’re the reason this all happened…” As Tim trailed off on his monologue, a masked figure appeared behind him. The figure had a blue hood and its mask had skeletal features. It tackled Tim to the ground causing the gun to go off, Brian grabbed Amy’s hand quickly and they ran out………

[lemondoddle]

y'know that barbie that had a camcorder inside her? yeah. anyways marble hornets au where brian gets one as a gag gift for the shoot and it somehow survives the entire series

[I.D. four sets of pencil drawings of marble hornets. the first image is a two panel comic of brian and alex during the shooting of marble hornets. panel one has a distant brian walking up with a box tucked under one arm and saying "i brought somethin' to help film!" while a quizzical alex looks at him in the foreground. in panel two they stand together while alex holds up a barbie doll with a camera in her chest with a concerned look. he flatly asks "what is this". brian wears an easygoing expression and answers "it's a camera! (smiley)", alex responds "it's an abomination." image two is a small panel and a larger drawing. the small panel shows jay and tim fighting, jay grabbing at tim and tim pushing him back with one fist raised. tim shouts "jay i will punch you again-" jay interjects with "c'mon just put it on!" tim yells "no". an arrow next to the panel points to a larger image of tim wearing the barbie on a chest mount, making a displeased and embarrassed face as he says "i can't believe i let you do this." jay films him with a smile and says "you look like a dad." tim responds "don't say that." image three shows hoody running in the foreground with the doll raised triumphantly in his fist while a background jay chases after him shouting "give her back!" hoody emotes an evil smiley face. the final drawing is jay filming jessica with the barbie. jessica smiles uncomfortably, visibly weirded out as jay films with a blank expression, an arrow pointing to him labeled "fully oblivious". end I.D.]

also here's the doll under the cut for a better visual representation

[I.D. a product image of the barbie video girl doll from the front and back. she's a blonde barbie with side parted hair and ponytail, she wears a sweetheart neckline hot pink corset top with a shiny pink and zebra print hooded cropped jacket along with dark wash denim capris and pink high heels. she has a necklace chain painted on her to make the camera lens on her chest resemble part of the necklace. on her back is a square screen with three buttons. end I.D.]

[fictionkinfessions]

Someone just gave me a camcorder.

Jokes on them I'm a Tim Wright kin and they just supplied me with unholy amounts of dopamine, nostalgia and will to exist.

Internally I'm like: (Stop looking at me weird. You've just given me back a piece of my soul, that's why I almost cried when I said thank you.)

But externally I'm just like: ghghnnfh- thank you. :'> *holds camcorder like it's my precious child and I've been searching for it all my life and will never let it go (seriously. I'm gonna get buried with this thing [/nsrs but ghfhfjjgg??!] )*

Aughhhh- the mems are hitting me so hard and ghfhfkktgh- I have a camcorder now???

I can die happy.

– A "Masky" aka Tim Wright [Marble Hornets/Creepypasta] kin 🚬🍂

x

[your-oddities]

╭─────────.★..─╮

Detour

╰─..★.─────────╯

Caution: Spoilers for Entry #61, violence (no stabbing or gun wounds), language, and uhhh that’s basically it. :3 !!

Word count: ~1.3k

• — — • — — • — — • — — • — — • — — • — — •

His gloved hand reaches for the bottom of the window and slowly, cautiously lifts up. It slides open with little to no resistance. He feels slightly confused as to why Tim didn’t bother lock his window, but with how his life is being flipped upside down, a small latch might be easy to overlook. Either way this bodes well for Hoody. He pushes the blinds out of the way just enough to set his camcorder down on the carpeted floor of Tim’s room. As much as he’d like to collect his loot and hide as quickly as possible, Hoody also recognizes that he must be quiet in order for this to pay off. So going slow would be in his best interest.

He slips into the room ever so carefully, picking up his camcorder as he steps inside. Tim’s room is quite the eyesore. The bed is messy and unmade. If Hoody hadn’t been keeping a close eye on Tim, he’d assume he just woke up from a night of heavy drinking. The unnecessarily high pitched buzzing of the overhead light adds a layer to the depressing feel in here. He holds the camera to catch every detail of Tim’s sad excuse of a bedroom. His gaze travels to his floor, where the beige carpet is decorated with miscellaneous colors thanks to the surprising amount of shirts and pants Tim never seemed to bother to put away. Or he just never had the motivation to. Tim’s never been a particularly organized man, though this place looks like it’s been robbed. Which is somewhat humorous to Hoody considering why he’s there. He didn’t come over just to pay his old friend a visit.

He treads quietly as he checks out the layout of Tim’s room. He first inspects the closet. He pushes some clothes aside to see just how much free space is in there. Seems to be just enough for Hoody to squeeze his way in if and when Tim makes his way back towards his room. Hoody makes sure to listen out for footsteps other than his own. He’d be royally screwed if he were caught.

Next Hoody creeps over to the nightstand beside the bed. On top sits a small, rectangular wooden box that looks to be conveniently out of place. The top comes off nice and easy, setting it down beside the container. He takes a look inside and near immediately snatches the orange tinted bottle. But his excitement quickly turns into disappointment as he realizes the small problem: it’s completely empty. Tossing the bottle back into its container out of pure anger, he looks around the room once more. Hoody knows Tim better than anyone. Surely he can find where he keeps his goddamn pills. It’s not like he hasn’t before.

He pans the camera around the room as his eyes look for every possibility as to what crevice a small orange bottle could possibly fit in. It’s not two seconds later he spots a tan wicker basket on top of the dark dresser in the corner of his room. The white of the bottle cap sticks out like a sore thumb against the muted color of the wall. Calling that hiding would be a stretch. They’ve both been in this same situation countless times. Hoody has managed to scout out his bottles in far more unusual places. But he doesn’t linger on the thought. All he needs is the pills and then leaving. So he trudges over to the basket and there they are. The white pills seem to have a warm hue to them due to the transparent color of the bottle itself. Now with the pills in sight, all he has to do is pocket it and hide. Holding the camera steady as possible, he films everything as his other hand grabs the pill bottle. It’s about half empty, though something is better than nothing. The rattling of the bottle is just enough to cover up the sound of a door creaking open behind him.

Hoody can’t help but feel satisfied while looking at the bottle in his hand. Though he doesn’t really have the time to relish in his pride. His fingers fiddle with the pocket of his jeans as he attempts to put the pills away. Though he’s soon cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him. He whips his head around, though it’s all a blur. Not a second later does a fist swiftly meet his cheek. His body follows his head and he stumbles to the side. He’s in so much shock he doesn’t react quite yet. Leaving Tim an open opportunity to have at it again.

A hand grasps at his mustard yellow hoodie and he’s yanked backwards, the pills and camcorder flying from his hands. He guesses Tim moved out of the way because next thing he knows his back meets the floor, knocking the air out of his lungs. He feels Tim getting on top of his body and holding him down with his weight. The combination of both leaves Hoody desperate for a breath. His hand flies to Tim’s neck while managing to only catch a shallow breath of air. He squeezes harder and harder until Tim can only let out a few pathetic gasps as he struggles to breathe. Tim’s own hands meet Hoody’s as he claws at the material of the glove. Though it’s in vain.

Hoody watches as Tim squirms with his hands around his neck. The sound of his own quickening heartbeat fills his ears, though it does little to cover his ragged breathing. Tim’s hand slips off only for his to ball it in a fist and his hand to collide with Hoody’s face, yelling weakly “Bastard!” he shouts as he, too, attempts to breathe again, drawing in quick gulps of air as he begs for oxygen.

Hoody’s quick to release Tim and lets out a pained groan. His free hand holds his nose due to the sharp burn. His mask starts to wet from the tears forming in his eyes. His vision blurs as he blinks away the tears. Soon the taste of copper covers his tastebuds. Hoody can feel his nose start to drip like a faucet.

Hoody can feel hands grab at his collar, glaring into his red, poorly bleached eyes. Hoody’s never considered him to be a violent man. But this scares the hell out of him. “Who the hell are you?” Tim yells — louder this time — at the man underneath him. All Hoody can do is muster some more strained groans.

Though not for long. Hoody’s other hand grasps Tim’s shirt and tugs him roughly to the side. Tim lands on the ground beside Hoody, a huff of air leaving him. Hoody scrambles to his feet as he tries to find the quickest way out of here. One that involves getting away from Tim. But Tim swiftly grabs his sleeve and tries to tug him back. However he’s cut off by coughs.

Loud, obnoxious coughs.

His grip loosens on Hoody’s sleeve as he covers his mouth, coughing like he’s on his death bed.

Hoody freezes for a moment. But just a moment. He’s left breathing heavily as Tim coughs like a chain smoker. Tim’s hand falls to the floor and his curls into a ball as the coughing becomes rougher. Like he’ll cough up a hairball. It doesn’t take half a second for the situation to click in Hoody’s head. Hoody frantically looks around before finding the pills lying a few feet away from him. He reaches out and pockets them. Glancing to Tim one last time, he just about books it to the window. He snags the camcorder that’s lying on the ground, catching one last shot of Tim as he writhes in pure agony. Hastily Hoody pushes the blinds out of his way. Near stumbling out of the room, he leaves Tim to deal with this himself. For now.

• . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . •

Thank you for reading! ヾ(^_^)

Is it obvious I’ve never written a fighting scene before? lol

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm in TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (TOMORROW, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

out of atrocity photos https://www.salon.com/2007/07/23/torture/

#20yrsago Floppy RAID https://web.archive.org/web/20040202110812/http://ohlssonvox.8k.com/fdd_raid.htm

#15yrsago Chinese provincial government orders local officials to smoke more https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/5271376/Chinese-ordered-to-smoke-more-to-boost-economy.html

#15yrsago San Francisco Muni begins to enforce imaginary no-photos policy https://web.archive.org/web/20090510023205/http://www.whatimseeing.com/2009/05/06/what-is-munis-photography-policy/

#15yrsago MPAA to teachers: don’t rip DVDs, just record your television with a camcorder https://vimeo.com/4520463

#15yrsago End of Overeating: the science of junk-food cravings https://memex.craphound.com/2009/05/07/end-of-overeating-the-science-of-junk-food-cravings/

#10yrsago Imagineer Rolly Crump on the 1964 NY World’s Fair: audio memoir https://itskindofacutestory.com/?p=135

#10yrsago Vi Hart explains Net Neutrality https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAxMyTwmu_M

#10yrsago Kids are mostly sexually solicited online by classmates, peers, teens https://www.zephoria.org/thoughts/archives/2014/05/05/sexual-predators.html

#5yrsago danah boyd explains the connection between the epistemological crisis and the rise of far-right conspiratorial thinking https://web.archive.org/web/20190427233128/https://points.datasociety.net/agnotology-and-epistemological-fragmentation-56aa3c509c6b

#5yrsago “Steering With the Windshield Wipers”: why nothing we’re doing to fix Big Tech is working https://locusmag.com/2019/05/cory-doctorow-steering-with-the-windshield-wipers/

#5yrsago Facebook hands hundreds of contractors in India access to its users’ private messages and private Instagram posts in order to help train an AI https://www.reuters.com/article/us-facebook-ai/facebook-labels-posts-by-hand-posing-privacy-questions-idUSKCN1SC01T/

#5yrsago People with diabetes are scouring the internet for a discontinued insulin pump that can be reprogrammed as an “artificial pancreas” https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2019/04/looping-created-insulin-pump-underground-market/588091/

#5yrsago App lets you auction your San Francisco parking spot https://web.archive.org/web/20140506133800/http://blog.sfgate.com/techchron/2014/05/05/sell-your-s-f-street-parking-spot-for-20/

#5yrsago How the diverse internet became a monoculture https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/276-20-years-after-napster-cory-doctorow-on-what-went-wrong-2/

#5yrsago Apple’s growth strategy is a textbook case of antitrust abuse https://www.theverge.com/2019/5/6/18531570/apple-company-purchases-startups-tim-cook-buy-rate

#1yrago Don’t Curb Your Enthusiasm https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/07/dont-curb-your-enthusiasm/