#- him. I’m playing as Timothy too which makes it even better >:)

[fowlblue]

Borderlandsposting for a minute because I’m playing the Pre-Sequel as well as Borderlands 2 and like… oh my god the Pre-Sequel’s so fun? I mean I’ve died a lot more than I did in Borderlands 2 but the jump pads? Driving around in a moon rover? 10/10.

Also it’s so much fun to get a glimpse into Jack’s backstory but?? He starts out so nice?? Like I know his history in a general sense but I expected him to start as a nice-but-still-kind-of-an-ass guy?

I like programmer Jack I don’t want him to turn into an asshole :(

#like. i love handsome jack don’t get me wrong but pre-sequel Jack is such a different dude man. i just wanna jump around on the moon with #- him. I’m playing as Timothy too which makes it even better >:) #borderlands #borderlands the pre sequel #mighttt finish up my old borderlands oc now. and draw more Jack. if I can even find the freaking time

[aralana765]

A situation for your consideration: after Prentiss and the worms die, Martin still isn’t comfortable going back to his flat. Elias, however, isn’t going to just let an employee (who isn’t Jon) keep living in the institute. So Jon, fully exhausted and traumatized, accidentally offers to let Martin stay with him while he finds a new place.

So Jon is desperately digging into his coworkers’ lives, stalking them, digging through their trash, the whole shebang. And Martin’s in the kitchen watching him mutter “Supplemental” and stare at pictures of Tim’s house or talk about following Sasha to Madame Tussaud’s or even laugh about Elias’ history as a “pothead”. He’s complained at work with Tim, done the intervention, and then finally one day when Jon is getting all up in his head about one red herring or another, Martin just.

“That doesn’t even make sense, you know.”

Jon, who had completely forgotten he had a flat mate for the time being, desperately tries to hide his recorder and notes. “Sorry, no, what?”

“Tim suddenly leaving a good job and getting into paranormal research doesn’t make him suspicious. It means he probably had an encounter. Like almost anyone at the institute who wasn’t just desperate for any job. It’s not suspicion.”

Jon stares blankly. Martin shrugs and goes back to fixing up tea for them both. “Coming up with crackpot, paranoid theories for how all of are out to get you is all well and good, but context is important too. Tim and Sasha were your friends in research, right? What would they gain by killing Gertrude? You knew them at that time, right?”

“Uh.” Jon, still shocked, starting to lean towards defensive, “W-well. Sasha would have made an excellent Head Archivist. She easily could have been given the promotion. Which…which could lead to my death in turn. Al-although I can’t rule out outside influences, of course.”

Martin shrugs. “Of course.”

“And Tim… well. He’s trickier to nail down. Whatever sent him here… it could be anything. And- and he was missing in the tunnels for a good long while. He might have moved Gertrude’s body to a more easily findable location.”

Martin considers that, bringing out a mug to Jon. “…plausible, both. But, you know them. Sasha is dedicated and absolutely willing to go to far lengths to get what she wants, but I’ve never seen her actually hurt someone.”

“She killed Timothy Hodge.”

“The- the worm man?! Yeah, you would have too. That’s not the same thing and you know it.”

Jon purses his lips and takes the tea. “…okay, maybe, but. Still. But Tim still has a lot of unanswered questions.”

“So you ask him. /Politely/. Or, actually, don’t. Not now. That ship has sailed for you. He’s pretty angry with you. But. He’s your friend, Jon. We’re your friends.” He sighs. “Look, you’re scared. We all are. But I’m not about to let you take it out on us anymore. So. You are not allowed to keep your weird paranoid theories just to yourself and your recorder anymore.”

“My- my what? I don’t-“

“I’m home a lot more than you think I am, Jon.”

Silence for a moment, a defensive tension, then a slump. “That’s…that says something about how little prepared I am, I think.”

“Yeah, probably. But I want you to bring them to me. We’ll talk them through together, and you can have someone to pull you back from the edge when you’re going too far.” Martin sips his tea. “I mean, I already told you my big secret, and I’m living in your flat, so you’re keeping a constant eye on me anyway.”

“That’s…that’s true. And, I suppose, an extra investigative force wouldn’t go amiss…”

“Probably not.”

Jon sighed, examined his tea skeptically, then sipped it. “Fine, yes, alright. I’ll keep you in the loop, if I must.”

“Good. And I’ll try to calm the others down, so long as you play nice. I’m not having you lose your friends, Jon. We’re all in a rough place. But we can still get better.”

“Hm.” Jon took another sip, less tentative this time. “It would be nice to cross people off the list. I don’t like watching over my shoulder all the time.”

“And you’re not that great at it, honestly,” Martin joked. Jon smiled weakly. “It’ll be okay, Jon. We’ll figure it out, get things back on track. You and me, yeah?”

Jon was quiet for a moment, then hesitantly nodded. “…Yes. Yes, I hope so.”

#magnus archives #jonmartin #Magnus season 2 #man this fully got away from me #I started this post with the intent for a quick comedy joke post #and then I wrote a cute jonmartin mini-fic #I like where it ended but how did this happen???

[sinceileftyoublog]

Kendrick Lamar Album Review: Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers

(pgLang / Top Dawg Entertainment / Aftermath / Interscope)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“I choose me, I’m sorry,” Kendrick Lamar repeats on “Mirror”, the final track on his final album for Top Dawg Entertainment. By then, he doesn’t even need to say it. The Pulitzer Prize-winning rapper, who on his previous records advocated on behalf of his community, from his immediate family and friends to Black lives at-large, has spent the past five years feeling the weight bearing down on him. As much as he’s raised a family with his partner Whitney Alford, he’s suffered from sex addiction and subsequent infidelity, described throughout his songs as “lust.” He’s used both therapy and religion, describing his vices in Biblical terms, to help reign in and ultimately overcome his own trauma. Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers is a document of Lamar working on himself in real time. Each track is like a therapy session. As such, it’s the most difficult listen of his career, songs stunningly revealing the worst parts of himself before it gets better.

As Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers starts, Lamar immediately reminds you why he’s at the top of the game, unveiling spitfire rhymes over pulsating piano, garage-like drums, synth arpeggios, and generally minimal arrangements. His words, per usual, demand attention, which is why your eyebrows raise when he speaks bluntly about his troubles. “Next time I fucked a white bitch was out in Copenhagen / good kid, m.A.A.d city tour, I flourished on them stages / Whitney asked did I have a problem, I said, ‘I might be racist’ / Ancestors watchin’ me fuck was like retaliation,” he raps on “Worldwide Steppers”. It only gets more uncomfortable. On the Sampha-featuring “Father Time”, he unpacks his own toxic masculinity as a result of generational trauma and his father’s desire for him to reject emotions in favor of hardness. “When Kanye got back with Drake, I was slightly confused / Guess I’m not mature as I think, got some healin’ to do,” Lamar admits.

But just because untwisting his own mind is personally necessary, it’s not essential for Lamar to present it, unfiltered, as art. The deeply unsettling “We Cry Together” is a screaming match where actress Taylour Paige performatively plays the part of Lamar’s partner. As technically impressive as it is to hear her cry out her rhymes, the song comes closer to matching the pure anger of Eminem’s “Kim” than it does make deep points about hypocrisy in feminism. (He chides his partner for still listening to R. Kelly’s music.) He includes lazy thoughts about cancel culture and conspiracy theories on “N95″, and misguidedly wonders on “Mr. Morale” whether R. Kelly would still have committed his crimes if he hadn’t been sexually abused himself. He gives problematic figures like Kodak Black, who has faced charges of sexual assault, and Summer Walker, who has spread xenophobic information about COVID-19, large platforms. Most egregious is “Auntie Diaries”, where Lamar repeatedly misgenders a transgender relative and drops homophobic “f” bombs as a way to demonstrate his perception of ignorance in the Black community and how it must be overcome. These may be honest thoughts, and that’s okay, but for Lamar to present them as the endpoint on a high profile album is borderline irresponsible.

What’s most frustrating about Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers are its moments of brilliance where you wish Lamar had left it at recognizing the work he needed to do on himself rather than revealing it all. He sets up his journey well, declaring “I grieve different” repeatedly on opener “United In Grief” and cleverly revealing the stakes on “Count Me Out”: “Got six magazines that's aimed at me / Done every magazine, what's fame to me?” On “Crown”, one of many tracks to prominently feature South London artist Duval Timothy, he riffs on Shakespeare and the Bible: “Heavy is the head that chose to wear the crown / To whom is given much is required now.” Lamar’s texts, too, are viewed as sacred, studied in schools just as much as in music publications. But unlike William Shakespeare, Lamar is both popular and globally viewed as genius during his life, something someone imperfect, like all of us, is constantly wrestling. “I can’t please everybody,” he declares. But on Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, that’s a mission statement more than it is a caveat.

#album review #kendrick lamar #top dawg entertainment #mr. morale & the big steppers #pglang #aftermath #interscope #pulitzer prize #whitney alford #good kid m.a.a.d city #sampha #kanye west #drake #taylour paige #eminem #r. kelly #kodak black #summer walker #covid-19 #duval timothy #william shakespeare

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

You’ll Have To Come and Find Me - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Summary: Damian runs into someone on his way to the League of Lazarus’ tournament. The last person he wanted to see. The last person who should have been looking for him. A/N: Just a thought in my brain that wouldn’t quit. Dialogue heavy. Shittily written idk. ‘Polarize’ by TwentyOne Pilots is such a Damian song to me, and was in my head while writing this, so inspired the title. Might continue this idea a little bit as the Robin series continues, who knows.

~~

He was counting the money from his fight with King Snake as he walked into the café. That’s why he didn’t notice. That’s why he didn’t see.

That’s what he told himself.

But after he walked in the door, he found himself freezing as he looked up.

No.

He’d been so careful, so deliberate. He didn’t leave any traces. He knew he didn’t. There was no way they could find him.

And of course, he couldn’t even back out now. Couldn’t sneak back out of the restaurant, back into the darkness. Because Timothy Drake was already lowering his cup of tea and raising his head to look at him.

They stared at each other for a second. Two. Three. Four. Five. Faces blank, mouths shut.

Then Tim smiled, turned towards the café’s counter and waved. The barista nodded and started on a drink.

Nope. No turning back now.

“How did you find me?” Damian demanded as he stomped forward. Tim motioned to the empty, waiting, chair across from him. A glass of water was already there, as was an empty plate.

Tim shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

“Liar.” Damian spat. “I covered my tracks. I made sure-”

“You made sure Bruce couldn’t find you.” Tim countered, pulling his napkin onto his lap. “And I am not Bruce.”

“…Oracle is smarter than you.” Damian tried.

“Absolutely.” Tim took another sip of his tea. “But I know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all.” Damian crossed his arms. He nodded a thanks to the waiter as he brought Damian’s drink, and a basket of bread. It was tea, like Tim’s, and he could see two sugar cubes dissolving in the bottom.

…His preferred preparation.

He never told Tim how he liked his tea. He never told Tim he liked tea at all.

He glanced up to the elder. Tim smiled behind his own cup and raised his eyebrows. See?

Damian huffed, taking the drink. “What do you want?”

“To find you. Duh.”

“To what, mock me? Remind me of my failures? Rub it in my face that once again you prove you’re better than me?” Damian listed. But as he spoke, Tim’s amused face fell back into stoic, blank.

“No. I wouldn’t do that in the first place. Not…” He lowered his cup once more, stared into the liquid. “Not now, anyway.”

Damian narrowed his eyes, gaze bouncing around Tim’s face, trying to read it. Trying to figure his predecessor out.

“Really?” Damian drawled in disbelief. “So, you’re not here to gloat about how Father gave you Robin back?”

Damian was surprised to see Tim’s face darken, just a little. “I didn’t want it back. He forced it on me in a weird grief-fueled crusade after you disappeared.” Tim glanced up. “A lot’s happened since you left.”

“I’ve been back since I renounced Robin. All this tracking me and you didn’t know that?”

“No, I mean, even since then.” Tim sighed. “…Did you know Dick had regained his memories before you helped save him and the family?”

Damian pursed his lips, stared at the basket of bread. “…No.”

“…How are you feeling about that?” Tim asked softly.

“I don’t need your pathetic brand of therapy, Drake.” Damian snapped.

“I’m not trying to play therapist, I’m just trying to make sure my little brother is okay.” Tim shot back just as harshly. “Especially since he’s running off to some secret tournament that he could die in.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut then, and Damian watched him. “…How did you know about that?”

“That’s not important, here, okay, I just-”

“It is to me.” Damian countered. “Tell me or I’m leaving.”

Tim glowered back at him. “I’ll follow you.”

“Not if I break your leg.”

“Why do you…!” Tim cut himself off in a sigh, slumped back in his chair. “I got word Talia was in town, followed her tracks. Saw the security footage from her apartment when you went and met her. Heard about that League of Lazarus thing and looked into it.”

“How did you look into it?” Damian asked. “Even I didn’t know about it. And if Mother wasn’t forthcoming with me, I can’t see her being a source of information for you.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to cross his arms and look away.

Damian studied him for a moment, then let his eyes go wide. “…You didn’t.”

“Look, I said it didn’t matter-”

“You did not contact Grandfather for information.” Damian practically begged. “Drake!”

“You know as well as I do he’ll give me anything I want if I’m the one to reach out to him.” Tim reassured quickly. “And sorry if my brother’s safety is a good reason for me to contact an enemy!”

Damian glared at him for a moment before looking at the clean white plate. “…Stop calling me your brother.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Damian-”

“Because after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve the title.”

Tim paused then, stared right back. Sighed and leaned forward to grab his tea again.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Tim whispered. “Definitely not Dick, not Alfred…especially not Alfred…I know you think it is, and trust me, I get that. I felt the same back when my dad died. Bruce.” A moment. “…You.”

Damian glanced up at him.

“I get that you think it was. Because you were there, because you’re supposed to be a hero, that’s what the world thinks you are, but…It’s not, Damian. It never was. You’re just a kid. A kid in a shitty, traumatic situation.” Tim hesitated, and Damian watched as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “And we just want you to come home.”

“Why?” Damian asked quietly. “I’ll do nothing but hurt all of you.”

“Can I make a counterpoint to that?” Tim asked. “What do you think you’re doing to us now? Disappearing? We don’t know how you are, or if you’re even alive. Don’t you think that’s hurting us too?”

“…It shouldn’t.”

“Well. It does.” Tim sniffed. “That’s why I’m here. That’s part of why Babs became Oracle again. That’s why Dick wants to use the fortune Alfred left him to find you.”

“Forget about me.” Damian shook his head. “You’ll all be better off. Grayson especially.”

“A matter of personal opinion. An opinion I highly disagree with.” Tim shrugged. “And just because Dick, arguably, loves you the most, therefore is the most heartbroken with you not there, doesn’t mean he’ll be better off if you just…vanish from his life like you weren’t ever there in the first place.”

“He thrived without any memories of me as the cab driver, so we have proof that he would be.” Damian explained. “Besides. Time heals all wounds. Or whatever. You’ll all forget about me if you give yourself the chance to.”

“And I think you dying is proof that we won’t, and can’t.” Tim leaned forward more, reaching for Damian’s hand. Damian allowed him to take it. “Which is why I’m here.”

“I’m not going back to Gotham, Drake. I can’t.” Damian murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m not…I can’t be there. Right now.”

“I know. I know I said we want you home, but I never said I was taking you back. I told you I’m out here to find you.”

“Well. Congratulations.” Damian said bitterly. “You did.”

Tim smiled. “Great.” He squeezed Damian’s hand and released it. “So, where’s this island? For the tournament?”

Damian furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I’m not taking you home. I promise.” Tim let his grin widen, become just a little too shit-eating. “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you.”

“…You’re not serious.”

“My goal was to find you. And not lose you again. The only way to do that is to not leave you, in my deductions.” Tim winked. “Besides, you were right – this Lazarus Tournament sounds interesting. And concerning. You’re gonna need backup. More than the folks we know who are gonna be there already, anyway.”

“…How do you know who’s in the tournament?” Damian asked slowly. Tim just pursed his lips, blinked, and grinned. Damian sighed. “After this tournament, I’m making sure my grandfather never contacts you again.”

“Hey, sometimes it’s nice having a super-villain obsessed with you.” Tim shrugged. “Helped me get you back, after all.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to kill him.”

Tim laughed at that, took a piece of bread for himself. “…You okay with me tagging along?”

Damian sipped his tea. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Tim glanced at his watch. “About an hour until your boat arrives. That’s enough time for you to rest a little while we figure out an outline of a plan to take out this League of Lazarus.”

At that, Tim turned, digging in the backpack he had hanging off his chair. Damian watched him as he pulled out papers and notebooks, dropping them on the table between them.

And he didn’t want it. Didn’t deserve it. His family deserved better. Drake deserved better. Drake had better things to do than chase him, a failure, across the world, and hardly for either of their own sakes. All for the sake of their family. Because Tim loved them. Because Damian loved them. Because Tim loved Damian too.

“…Drake?” Damian whispered. Tim glanced up. “…Thank you for finding me.”

Tim blinked, and let his face drop into a smile. “Any time, little brother.”

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake

[legends-live-in-memories]

Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation. 

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day. 

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No. 

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her. 

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public. 

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears? 

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off. 

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—” 

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking. 

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation. 

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him. 

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already. 

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity. 

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait. 

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl. 

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy. 

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

#timari #timinette #maribat #ml x dc #family-friendly content #who would have thought #tumblr dont fucking try me

[the-bat-collector]

SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 1

I love NO POWERS NO CAPES AUs but its been so hard to find them!! so decided to make this list to help y’all in your search  :D

The length varies, but I prefer long fics so most of these are 10-20k up to 200k 

Heart and Soul by Pandamomochan

E - 150,044

Clark Kent used to be a renowned composer who was said to be able to write masterpieces that were designed uniquely for each individual player. Famous musicians around the world would flock to him in hopes that he would write for them because his pieces were always said to bring out any player's crowning performance. That is, until one day Clark loses his wife in a tragic accident and decides never to write again.

Years later, Clark's son, Jon, gets admitted to the famous "Gotham School of Performing Arts". It is there that Clark meets Bruce Wayne, a strict, uptight, by the book piano instructor who is said to be able to craft the best musicians around the world.

this is one of my favorites. I'm not really into Hurt/Comfort but this is so beautiful!! highly recommended I'm biased cause I play the piano

Seeing Bruce Wayne by Evilpixie

E - 15,089

Clark Kent is the only male midwife working in Metropolis General. Bruce Wayne the residential pediatric surgeon.

I'm so into medicine/doctor AUs this is also one of my favorite fics!if you have to pick one from this list, pick this one!!!

On The Cusp by vesper_house

E - 47,378

Clark's life isn't going so well. He's in his thirties, he works at a coffee shop run by his old crush, his journalism career is going nowhere, and he's broke. It takes only one tall, dark and handsome stranger to change everything.

COFFE SHOP AU COFFESHOP AU!! We need more of these, the dynamic between Bruce and Clark is Great!!!!

A Game You Can't Win by NightFoliage

T - 78,328

Injustice is the hottest MMORPGs available to play! Set in a world where superpowers exist, players can become civilians, heroes, villains, and anybody in-between. Designed by Hiro “Toyman” Okamura, and Timothy Drake-Wayne, Injustice was created with the best Wayne Industries technology available and has the most human NPCs. The game is beyond it's time and is planned to be at the top of the charts for a while.

By accident, Clark finds himself pushed into the spotlight and new found fame. To him, Let’s Plays are a means to stay in touch with friends and to make money. He never got into LPing to become famous.

Bruce, who funded the game after Jason’s accident, is irritated (not jealous) that a video game player is such a big topic among the kids. After the nth time they mention him, Bruce decides to take matters into his own hands and see what all the fuss is about.

link to art

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SUPERBAT FICS OUT THERE!!!!!! this is great and fun and Clark is the best!

As We Grow by butterflyslinky

E - 23,451

Clark Kent is a farmer deep in debt to Lex Luthor.

Bruce Wayne is a billionaire with seven children and no luck in love.

But their families have a scheme to get them together and hopefully make life a little bit better.

Modern Medicine by BuckinghamAlice

G - 5,208

Pediatrician Dr. Clark Kent becomes beloved to his patients, the Wayne boys... as well as to their doting father Bruce.

ABSOLUTELY lovely and adorable, you get the feels!

Hellooooo, nurse! by weirdraccoon INCOMPLETE WIP

T - ?????

Clark enjoys his job at the Free Clinic. He loves helping people and tending injuries. Saving lives. But this man... Bruce Wayne is going to kill him if he doesn't get killed first.

Bruce is still Batman on this one but HERE ME OUT, Clark is a nurse! is incomplete but looking forward to the following chapters!!

Two Cities by EllenD

E - 96,152

Clark Kent, is simply Clark Kent, junior reporter for the Daily Planet who moved to Metropolis from Smallville with big dreams. Bruce Wayne is a billionaire playboy from Gotham, who also happens to be Batman. They meet, date, and fall in love, though not without hurdles because mild-mannered Clark is also socially awkward as heck. But when the most dangerous criminals in Gotham are gunning for Batman, Clark gets caught in the middle of it all. (He's basically Batman's Lois Lane) Meant to be set in the Dawn of Justice movie universe, but also draws inspiration from video games, comics, and those awesome Batman cartoons.

This is part of a series, but this is the main fic of it. Love this trope of Clark is just a civilian and Bruce is Batman. Warning this fic does contain disturbing topics so read the tags.

Here Comes the Sun by batsy_rocks

T - 18,815

Clark Kent is a kind-hearted reporter working in the big city. Bruce Wayne is a stressed dad of four with no idea of what he's doing.

Then they meet.

Seasons of Love by littlechinesedoll

G - 4,603

Clark Kent took over that farm at the edge of the Town of Smallville. He likes Smallville's resident doctor, Bruce Wayne.

The best gifts for Bruce are ginger ale, salad, coffee, and any kind of flowers. He hates gems, and bars of copper, silver, and gold.

Petals and Ink by drunkraiinbow

T - 12,976

With a new kid joining the family, Bruce tries a new tattoo artist to continue the tradition of adding them to his sleeve, but he won't trust just any artist. Clark manages to win him over with his incredible talent and his farm-boy friendly demeanor, and he may even have begun to win Bruce's heart. However, Clark might have a few things to learn first.

FLOWER SHOP TATTOO PARLOUR AU! what else is there to say, this is extremely cute and a fast read! :D

Faceless Killer by Batsymomma11

E - 51,519

Detective Bruce Wayne from the GCPD and detective Clark Kent from the MPD have been asked to create a joint task force in an effort to catch the John Doe Killer that has been ravaging their sister-cities. Aside from their long-standing animosity towards one another, it should be a breeze to work together. Besides, lives depend on them getting along.

They never expected they'd trip headlong into a romantic entanglement that feels a lot more serious than even the killer they're chasing.

The Tailor by maderi

E - 16,026

When Clark is assigned to cover the Wayne gala, he finds himself in need of a professionally tailored suit. His tailor though is drop dead gorgeous, which brings up a lot of awkward situations during their appointments.

Heroes of the Squared Circle by Mithen

M - 226,687

They've gone by many names: Billionaire Brucie, Country Clark, the Kryptonian, the Dark Knight. But no matter what their stage names are, one thing has always been true: Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are the world's finest wrestlers.

Six's a crowd by Untoward INCOMPLETE/ABANDONED

G - 10,133

When Alfred has to make an emergency trip back to England, Bruce soon finds out he can't manage running a business and taking care of six kids all alone.

He turns to a nanny agency for help, and is astonished when he finds Clark Kent, who seems like he can handle anything.

Clark not only can take care of the kids incredibly well but seems to be breaking Bruce's walls down rather well too.

After Hours by ????

E - 3,175

At the end of a long semester Clark can't hide his attraction to Professor Wayne any longer. Grad School AU.

This is practically a one-shot, not really my type of fic but worth adding!! Haven't come across this professor trope in Superbat so if you got any recs, send them my way!

Wings and Fangs by DanielleN3

E - 17,224

Clark thought he could never fall in love with anyone, especially not after being alone for such a long time… but all of that changes when he encounters a sexy vampire in Gotham.

TECHNICALLY they both have powers in this one but there are soooo different from cannon that I think this fic still qualifies for this list

thirteen by CapnWinghead

T - 22,890

Drowning in student loans, Clark Kent takes a summer job as the Wayne family nanny.

OKAY. so this is not entirely NO POWERS, but I mean Clark is a NANNY so this is great! TRUST ME

Kiss me, take my breath away by J_Jubilee

E - 37,934

There were legends about Gotham Reef. Legends that said it was haunted by a beast of foul temper. Stories told of a ravenous sea beast that feasted on the flesh of men, and was said to be more hideous than Satan himself. Others told of a woman with eyes that glowed like gold to lead sailors to their death. Some even spoke of a witch that cursed men and wreck their ships, taking all their treasures with it. When Clark’s catamaran is wrecked by a terrible storm, he learns that the stories were oh so far from true.

Baby Bats by AlmondRose

G - 4,003

this is a short series of adorable and simple domestic fluff

------

Haven't read this one but heeey the art is sooo pretty soo decided to add it anyways

Dragon Heart by Hells Angel 921

T - 27,660

Kal wants to make up for his past.

Bruce tries to move on with his future.

They eventually meet in the middle.

link to art

I didn't know that Dragon/DragonSlayer was a thing but hey... apparently it is, so here it is.

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

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hehe and so my rant ends here! let me know if you know fics that fit any of these tropes! I’m all ears

#superbat #rec #rec list #recs list #batman #superman #clark kent #bruce wayne #kal el #superbat rec list #fanfiction #fanfic #worlds finest #world's finest #ao3 #archive of our own #dc #dc rec list #fic recs #fics #but seriously we need more superbat coffeshop AUs #batfam #superbat fic rec

[jonspurpleskirt]

Sharing Comfort

A/N: This is for @archivalpride. Prompt was “Sharing Clothes” and “Pre-Canon” so I wrote a fluffy piece to celebrate the quiet moments of trust. 1.7k in word length. No warnings apply.

___

Jon did not make friends fast. Most people he found to be too intimidating, boring or exhausting and not many knew what to do with his sudden info dumps and sharp comments that shot out of his mouth seemingly at random.

He'd been alone in Research for a long while because of it and happily so. Things had changed when Tim had joined the Institute, though. Tim had come into the library and sat down opposite Jon with a thunder cloud hanging over his head and pain in his dark eyes. He'd been quiet and snappy in a fake cheerful way that screamed undealt trauma. At least to Jon, who seemed to be the only one to feel the vibes of "Leave me alone" and "I'm grieving" that Tim gave off in a constant stream.

Having Tim as his desk partner was an intense experience despite the way they only ever nodded to each other in greeting at first. But it was also intriguing. A mystery. Jon loved mysteries.

The instances he had ever willingly initiated a conversation with a stranger could be counted on one hand. Which marked the day he tapped Tims shoulder - after roughly two months of co-habiting - to tactfully ask him what he was groaning about as a very special day indeed. They steamrolled into friendship from there, both personalities clashing in the best ways possible.

Jon pulled Tim into nerve wracking research expeditions, Tim flirted them out of being arrested a few times, they went out for drinks and karaoke and movies and stayed late nights to crack nutty cases of supernatural bullshit together.

This went on for months. A nice, comfortable new routine. Jon wasn't alone anymore. And Tim broke out of whatever had pulled him down so much, becoming more cheerful and flirty by the day. Which didn't matter to Jon because Tim would always come to him the most, would always seek out to partner up with Jon and would defend his prickly personality to his dying breath.

And then Sasha joined them. She came from Artefact Storage, which made her a prime target for every curious researcher in a five mile radius. Tim and Jon included. Alright maybe they were the worst of the bunch.

Although Jon only thought of himself as a partner in crime in this one. He had been dragged along by Tim, after all. Sure in the end he had been the one to ask the most questions, but that wouldn't have been the case if he had just been left alone to be antisocial in front of his laptop.

Sasha and Tim, much to Jons chargin, hit it off within the first few seconds. And ever since then their cozy two-someness had turned into a group effort. With specially leverage put on the word "effort".

"Morning Jon!"

Jon let out a deep, rumbly hum, voice not up to the task of supporting words this late in the- He glanced at the little clock at the bottom of his screen. Ah... early in the morning.

With a laugh that was far too cheerful however you would describe the current hour, Sasha sat down next to him. She leaned in to look at what he was working. He leaned away to get her out of his personal bubble.

Her legs brushed his and the rustling drew his gaze downward. She wore a thick wool skirt, long enough not to go against the dress code. It was a somewhat dull navy blue and fell down in enticing waves around her crossed legs.

It looked very soft and comfortable. Jon itched to touch it. Instead he rubbed against the stiff fabric of his own cream coloured dress pants.

"Would you mind?" He snapped at her.

"No. You spelled 'aboriginal' wrong."

"Thank you for your insight. Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

"Don't you?" She shot back, light and quick as though they were just bantering and not fighting over the right to sit at this table.

Sasha huffed at his glare and slid a cup of something steaming over to him. "You keep staying so late that I can buy you a drink at the asscrack of dawn and be sure you're still here to consume it hot. I'm not usually one to judge anyone's sleep schedule. But I'm judging your sleep schedule."

"And yours is any better?" Jon muttered, taking the offering and peeking inside. Black tea with a bit of cream and hopefully enough sugar to rot his teeth out of his mouth. He needed both the coffein and the sweet energy source.

"I'm getting at least two more hours of sleep than you do on a daily basis, so I'm good."

"Tim would have both of our heads if he knew."

Sasha put her hand on the table and stretched out her pinky. "I swear secrecy if you do."

With a snort Jon linked their pinkies. "I'll hold you to that."

So... Maybe Sasha wasn't that bad. She was a little aggressive in her befriending techniques, Jon mused. At least he hoped the early morning chats and cups of tea and coffee were that and not an elaborate plan to get rid of him via slow poisoning. But she was about as curious as Tim and Jon and her skills with computers were very happily exploited by the both of them. So Jon eventually had to admit that she was actually a very nice addition to the group.

Not that he could have ever said no to their friendship. Tim and Sasha put together were a maelstorm of affection, sucking Jon in with a force he had no chance to defend against. And before he knew it they had successfully gotten him accostumed to friday nights at the pub and saturday mornings in their flats, smashed together on a couch or a bed or a mattress depending on who had had the misfortune of playing host that week.

Jon hadn't been this comfortable since Georgie. And that wasn't only the booze talking. It was one of those nights where they ended up leaving the pub early to lounge around Sashas massive sofa instead. Jons head was swimming within a blissful haze of tipsiness.

He was slouching over one end of the couch, head tilted just so that he could watch his two friends bicker. The words didn't really register, but the noise was nice and their expressions were funny.

Without his conscious saying so, his gaze slid down to Sashas leg area. She wore a very eye catching, fluttery red skirt this time around and the way the warm glow of the ceiling lamp was reflected in the material was mesmerizing.

"Oh Jonny boy, don't you know staring like that is rude?" Tim half-joked as he noticed.

Sasha slapped him on the shoulder. "Shush you there's like zero sexual longing in his gaze, Tim. You don't need to go all protective big brother on me. He just really likes my skirts."

"They look comfy." Jon muttered, sinking deeper into the couch.

"Awww. Jon. Jon my love. My friend. My buddy." Tim scooted over to him, nearly face planting on the floor in his eagerness to slide into Jons side. "Is this jealousy I hear?"

"No. Did you just degrade me from lover to lowest friendship tier?"

"Oh I beg to differ." Tim sang, ignoring the question and making Jon scowl harder.

An arm got thrown over his shoulder and Jon was tugged into Tims side, relaxing into the tight hold against his will.

"You know if you didn't make it a sport to buy the most uncomfortable clothing ever, you wouldn't need to glare at Sashas fashion choices all the time. Making other people think things about your intensions."

"Fuck other people."

Jon waited until the surprised laughter of his two friends ebbed down to speak again. "I wanna be comfortable too..."

"Say no more. Sasha to the rescue."

Tim and Jon both whined as she hopped off and darted away into her bedroom. She hadn't been part of the cuddle pile, but her presence was still dearly missed. Thankfully not for long because a few minutes later she reappeared with a long, purple skirt.

"Here you go mister. Go on try it on."

Trading places with her Jon didn't hesitate to shug his trousers off and slip the skirt on. Tim wolf whistled behind him and Jon dutifully showed him a finger. The yelp he heard shortly after told him that Sasha must have taken more direct approach to disciplining Tim.

"Bad boy. I picked that colour for a reason."

Jon flushed at the reminder that Tim and Sasha knew. That they knew and accepted him and even went out of their way to make him comfortable.

"I may not be allowed to touch, but I can still appreciate beauty when I see it."

"Do you need glasses, Tim?" Jon couldn't help but ask while he settled back down.

It was his turn to be slapped on the shoulder. "Nu-uh! No self depricating jokes in my household!"

"Yes ma'am." He scooted over to Sashas side, marveling at the slide of the soft material against his legs. "Anyway. Touching yes. But no sex, only cuddles."

Sasha laughed in delight as she pulled him closer so he could stretch out, the two of them nearly shoving Tim off the couch.

"Wait, wait, wait Jon you're definitely not comfortable yet!"

"Hm?" He frowned at the renewed shifting, jeez everyone was being so squirmy today.

"Dress shirt? Really? Wait a sec."

Tim ended up finding a truly attrocious night shirt he had stored in one of Sashas cupboards. It was rainbow coloured, but at least it was made of a soft cotton and about a size too big on Jon.

"Awww Jon you're adorable!"

"Timothy Stoker don't you dare take a photo."

"Fine, fine. But I will remember this day forever."

It turned out that he didn't need to. The next time they were over at Sashas Jon asked to borrow their clothes again and the next time after, and the next time after that, too. It kind of escalated from there, clothes mixed together until it was hard to remember who owned what.

And that was perfect. Because the most comfortable clothes were always the ones that belonged to his friends.

#tma #archivalpride #my writing #jontimsasha #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #week one #prompt: sharing clothes #hope i'm doing this right #can be read as friendship #or platonic polycule #i honestly have no clue where to draw the line #fanfic

[24-guy]

Voltz wars one-shot.

So. Brief history. Saw someone wanting this. So I contacted them and made it. Hope it's to your liking, man.

This is of the researchers family dynamic, as well, by the way.

(Takes place like... I dunno, man. It's somewhere in a time pocket within the universe. Semi AU though, considering we don't see these events and probably never will, but some of the canon events have happened.)

To say that Sparklez was tired now this, seemingly child, had wandered through the portal would be an understatement. Ranboo was curious about everything almost to a fault. It, evidently, put them in a bit of trouble. But, Sparklez put it to the memory loss and it having brought back childish innocence he couldn't help but hide a smile at from time to time. If only he could find a way to get the kid to stop pressing levers all the time.

Finishing off what felt like his fifth coffee of the day, the man stood up and smoothed out his shirt. He should probably find the kid again. He had made sure no more levers were in eye shot, after the first two explosions he wasn't going to risk another, but he could never be too certain.

"Ranboo? Where are you?" The Captain yelled. He received a quiet hum from above him and sighed, heading up to find Ranboo laying on his front, swaying his leg and tilting his head to the side as he played with the arms, which worked as tiny small levers.

"Look! He has levers on his body!" Sparklez sighed and smiled with a chuckle, sitting next to the pair. "Oh yeah. It appears he does. Huh."

Ranboo let out a small warble of a noise that Sparklez couldn't quite remember if he'd heard it before or not.

"What was that?" He inquired.

"What?" Ranboo's gaze was now on Sparklez furrowed his brow. "That... Warble. Is it the language of your people?"

Ranboo shrugged, picking up Timothy and sitting up. "I dunno. It just happens when I'm happy." His attention was put back on Timothy and his little lever arms, a grin working it's well back onto his face.

And Sparklez supposed that was enough of a reason for it to be good.

----------

They were out again, Timothy following Ranboo from behind. His inventory had long been filled with various things that Ranboo's eye had caught on; things like flowers, the occasional pretty leaf, on exceptional cases levers that, instead of flicking, he'd been told to mine and then place away from any potential redstone to click.

A development had also been made. Sparklez had found a small cube that had a mini lever on it. He'd given it to Ranboo to stop him from flicking bigger, potentially more dangerous levers.

The pair had been walking for a while, so they had decided to take a break. Timothy sat beside Ranboo and the kid had started doing something with the flowers. The Captain had turned his attention away before he got to pay attention. Looking around, there wasn't any of those strange pillars, nor the towers. Just empty lush forests that had a lot of clearings in. Another happy warble had let itself out of Ranboo's mouth. Which drew Sparklez's attention over.

Timothy was now wearing a, slightly too big, lopsided flower crown. Ranboo also appeared to make happy human noises too, such as pleased giggling. He clapped softly, glow up sketchers flashing orange against the grass as he tapped his feet. He got out more flowers from Timothy's inventory and began to weave another. Sparklez, this time, watched. It appeared like he'd known how to do it for a long time.

"How do you know how to make those?"

It sat in the air, going unanswered, and Sparklez figured that the kid was focused, so he stood up and began to have a little bit of a better look around. Nothing around the clusters of trees, only the occasional clump of mushrooms. So he returned back to Ranboo and Timothy, regaining his seat and going into his thoughts.

He needed to figure out what those pillars were. Same with whatever Ranboo was. And what he was going to do with the pillars.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft weight on his head. Looking to Ranboo proceeded to give him his answer. He rose a hand to touch it to make sure. And yes. He was wearing a flower crown. Soft petals creasing in his hair but he couldn't bring himself to care. At the least, the kid was happy.

----------

After their wandering, they had been brought to a small wreckage. It appeared to be a ship of sorts, but neither could say officially. Looking around inside proved to be of no help either. Everything seemed completely broken.

"Oo! Lever!"

"Wait no-!" And before Sparklez's could finish his sentence, a gunshot was fired and landed right beside him. Barely missing him.

"You have GOT to be kidding me, Tubbo! You're supposed to HIT them!"

"Look, I'm sorry, man. It's my second mission after all." Tubbo, it seemed, defended himself.

Sparklez looked to Ranboo, who was now holding Timothy protectively. Two people walked into the ship. Some tall bald dude and a shorter brunette.

"Who are you and what do you want." It was phrased more like a demand.

"Sorry we had to intrude, we were just looking around. My associate was only going to flick the lever because he has a strange fixation on them. We can get out of your hair now if you-"

The taller held up his gun, aimed directly at him. This was clearly not the one who missed. His hold didn't waver at all.

"Who are you, I asked."

"Oh. Uh. I am Captain Sparklez, though I commonly go by one or the other."

The bald man gestured to Ranboo with his gun. Currently, he appeared to be holding himself back from pressing the lever. He was learning, it would seem. But at the attention, he looked over. "And you?" The bald man asked.

"I am Ranboo. This is my friend Timothy. Can I flip that lever?" The tall man blanked for a moment.

"Wha- uh- no! Of course not! For all we know you could've attached tnt to this ship!" Ranboo's face fell with a quiet "aw..."

Tubbo looked over to his friend. "Jack. Look at them. I really doubt they did anything. This place is a wreck. How would they expect anyone to come here?"

Jack lowered his gun. "Fine. We're removing you, though."

Sparklez nodded and put his hand on Ranboo's shoulder.

"Come on. We're going now, okay?"

Ranboo pouted. "but the lever..."

"We have plenty of levers at home, okay?"

Ranboo nodded slowly.

But instead of leaving freely, the two were directed to a cave and put inside.

"Uh? Why are we here?" Sparklez asked.

"We're gonna need to do more inspections on you two before we can let you leave, okay?" Jack's voice came from the other side of the wood.

Sparklez groaned.

"At least Timothy is here." Ranboo smiled, sitting on the cold stone.

Sparklez sat beside him with a sigh.

"What do you even keep in his inventory anyway?"

Ranboo hummed, looking in Timothy's inventory and pulled out a juice box. He offered it to Sparklez who, with a sigh and a quiet thanks, took it and began to drink.

"Guess we'll be in here for a while, then..."

#voltz wars #vw captain sparklez #vw ranboo #vw tubbo #vw jack Manifold #the researchers family dynamic #i guess #i just love them #oh #and how could i forget #vw timothy

[mylifeincinema]

My Best of 2021: Non-2021 Films

My Best of 2021 is a series of annual lists in which I pick the best of the best from 2021, all leading up to my official picks for My Top 10 Films of 2021.

I saw a lot fewer new non-2021 films as I would have liked. Less than 15, I think. So it was tough making this list, but only because several on here don’t really belong on any ‘best of’ lists. Oh, well... here they are.

1. A Mighty Wind (Chistopher Guest, 2003)

A hilarious mockumentary about folk music that dismantles and pokes fun at the genre and the artists therein without ever becoming callous. And the original songs are fantastic.

2. The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (Powell & Pressburger, 1943)

Powell & Pressburger really could direct a movie, couldn’t they? Some of the narrative stuff doesn’t quite work for me, but the character work is phenomenal, and the performances behind them are so full of heart and dedication and loyalty that they fill in the parts that didn’t work and help create a whole that packs a punch.

3. Another Round (Thomas Vinterberg, 2020)

A film about alcohol… both its positives and its negatives. How it brings out the best in us and how it brings out the worst in us. This is a fascinating film about four friends stuck in a painfully boring rut who bust out of it in gloriously drunken fashion; a study of walking a line and finding that said line is quickly beginning to blur. Mads is a powerhouse, here. And that ending is every bit as wonderful as you’ve heard.

4. The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (Joseph Sargent, 1974)

Matthau and Shaw are incredible, here. Just so pitch-perfect.

I love how bare-bones it all is. Just a simple heist/hostage film that doesn’t feel the need to overwrite its characters.

This is so, so much more effective than the remake, overall. And I actually really like the remake, too.

5. Best in Show (Christopher Guest, 2000)

It’s really funny. Guest and gang know what they’re doing, they know how to do it, and they milk it for every single available laugh.

6. Let Him Go (Thomas Bezucha, 2020)

This is NOT the film I thought it was going to be. Wow. This is such an effective slow burn of a film, with great performances from both Lane and Costner, a thematically rich, emotionally resonant screenplay and an explosive third act.

7. The War of the Worlds (Byron Haskin, 1953)

I loved the design of the Martians, and the VFX in general is just a ton of fun. There’s some really creative shit going on, here. Yeah, the ending is painfully anti-climactic. And sure, it’s Wells’ fault. But I’m still surprised no adaptation has managed to make it even a little more exciting/thrilling/interesting... and that’s a shame.

8. Greenland (Rick Roman Wuagh, 2020)

Significantly better than expected.

Butler puts a lot of his goofy machismo aside to accentuate his character’s desperation, here, and it pays off. They opt to tell this story with a greater focus on the human angle than the always crowd-pleasing ‘disaster porn’ angle, and that also pays off.

Also, most of this plays out very similar to Spielberg’s War of the Worlds without the aliens. That’s a compliment.

9. The Hunger (Tony Scott, 1983)

Not Scott’s best, but it does manage to captivate occasionally. Bowie is phenomenal in an all-too-small role. And Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon’s chemistry is equally natural and completely intoxicating.

10. Honest Thief (Mark Williams, 2020)

It’s at the lower end of the Liam Neeson action vehicles, but even that still makes for an entertaining ride. Neeson’s fantastic in this type of role, and it’s very hard not to cheer for him. The writing and directing here could have been better, but they do their job well enough for the type of film it is.

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

Next Up: Assorted (Animated Feature, Foreign Film, Editing, Screenplay, Etc.)

More of My Best of 2021...  

#film #movies #movie #cinema #best of 2021 #mybestof2021 #non-2021 movies #honest thief #the hunger #greenland #the war of the worlds #let him go #best in show #the taking of pelham one two three #the life and death of colonel blimp #another round #a mighty wind

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 9

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

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She opened the window and picked a pencil. With deadly precision she tossed it. The wooden tool sailed through the air until it hit the binoculars and broke one side of them. She huffed and closed the window before pulling the curtains closed. How rude.

Jason cursed under his breath. Any other day he would probably avoid the projectile, but it caught him completely by surprise. By all accounts, it was physically impossible to use a pencil with such precision and force to destroy military-grade night-vision binoculars. At least the memory card was safe so he could give it to replacement later on for analysis.

Still in bad mood after having his gear ruined, Jason zipped to Dupain-Cheng’s window and gave a light knock. No response. Another knock. Still no response. Finally, after the third knock, the blinders opened and the window itself followed, revealing a very angry girl. Jason finally had a chance to get a better look at her. She did, in fact, have blue hair and now that he’d seen it close, he would bet half his paycheque that it was somehow a natural color. The purple too. She must have had her hair dyed for the first day of work. Her eyes were another part that he memorized. They were blue and iridescent green at the same time, giving a slight unnatural aura. Or maybe it was just that she looked ready to murder him.

“Are you done staring?” She asked, clearly annoyed. “You are not my type and much too old. And the stalker routine is plain creepy. Get lost old guy.”

She was about to close the window when he started speaking.

“I actually came to apologize. I did not ‘stalk’ you, thank you very much. I was just checking on you, miss. You do realize that you single-handedly kicked Riddler’s ass and got quite a bit of publicity.”

“Suuure. You do that for every brave citizen?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and a small grin. “You would be really short-staffed. I hope that overgrown furry does pay you for the overtime.” Any traces of amusement disappeared from her face. “Now get lost before I sic Chloe on you. She recently started dating Damian Wayne and the two seem to bond over ruining people. I’m sure you would make a decent target.” Without further ado, Mari closed the window and put the blinders back in place, completely cutting him off. 

Jason didn’t protest. He was too busy processing the fact that Demon Spawn apparently started dating someone. Oh, he would have so much fun teasing the little menace. 

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

When the motorbike entered the Batcave, Jason expected to meet perhaps the Replacement or Demon Spawn. He definitely did not expect to see the entire family sans B and Alfred. 

“Do you want to perhaps explain why dad received an angry call about ‘some idiot in red bucket’ stalking her through the window?” Barbara asked. frowning deeply. 

“Or at least why were you stalking her?” Dick added.

“Or where you hid my coffee?” Tim joined.

“Timothy!” Several of them shouted.

“What? It’s important!”

“Back to the matter at hand.” Dick turned back to Jason. “What exactly were you thinking?!” He screamed.

“Geez. You thought about joining some opera?”

“Tt. Answer the question.” Damian interrupted.

“That reminds me. Did you know Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend?” Jason asked, trying to deflect. He really did not like how they jumped at him.

“Not… important.” Cass stared daggers at him. “Talk.”

“Fine!” he threw hands in the air. “I followed a hunch. And I was right. She is a meta!” He procured his destroyed binoculars. “There is no human way to destroy military-grade equipment like that with just a pencil.”

Tim picked it up and quickly tossed it onto the table nearby. A blue light scanned the products and the bat-computer started to display the scan plus introductory analysis.

“Well, he is right. There is no way that a simple pencil could destroy it.” He pressed some buttons and recording from the last seconds of the item’s life played. They could clearly see her throw a pencil at it and then everything went black. “Or I was wrong.” Tim started to do a series of calculations. 

“Bucket-head might be onto something. With her muscle mass, it would be impossible to throw a pen with enough force. Actually, it’s almost impossible to make that throw. Not with human muscle density…”

Barbara rolled over to him and the two started to work side by side. “But that’s also not probable since the body is not…” 

“She would probably…” 

“Plant fibers have a similar structure, but she would…” 

“Maybe… Unless she is not strong and instead…”

“Um… earth to nerd corner. Can you explain?”

“Jason might have hit the bullseye.” Tim grinned and several groans could’ve been heard. “She is definitely a meta. It still doesn’t explain why you stalked her.”

“Is that not reason enough?” Red Hood asked. He immediately regretted it when Duke stared daggers at him. 

“You do realize, that metahumans are not as rare as it was believed at the beginning?” Tim asked.

“What?”

“Roughly ten percent of humans are born with dormant meta-gene and the number is increasing each year. And about one in twenty people have an active meta-gene. They just don’t go around wrecking everything or don a cape and run around beating people.” Tim spoke in a matter-of-factly tone. 

“What?”

“Yeah. Eidetic memory, or perfect recall for our uneducated bucket-head,” Tim snickered while Jason grumbled.

“I hate that name.”

“I think it will stay for a while.” Stephanie was smiling. “She does have a way with nicknames. First an overgrown furry, then red Buckethead…” She was on the verge of laughing. “I wonder what she does next?”

“As I was saying,” Tim regained the control of the conversation, “eidetic memory is actually one of the earliest forms of registered active meta-ability.”

“What?”

“The gene tends to activate under extreme duress, but, as we learned, the definition of extreme duress varies from person to person.”

“So what? A guy afraid of failing an exam might accidentally unlock super memory?” Jason dismissed it.

“More like if someone lived in years under pressure and is about to crack.” Dick pointed. “I mean there was even this large awareness campaign about four years ago led by Beast Boy. Where were you?”

“Dead.” Jason deadpanned. “I was dead.”

“Oh… I guess you didn’t see Garfield’s movies then?” Steph asked, being the first to break through the heavy atmosphere.

“She is still a meta.” Jason tried to fight, but his arguments were wavering. 

“Which changes nothing. You will go to her tomorrow and apologize.” Tim said categorically. 

“Ugh! Fine. But I got one more interesting fact: Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend.” He grinned and turned to Damian. Everyone followed his gaze.

“Tt. I have no idea what you are talking about Todd.” 

“That blonde! Charlie saw you two sitting and eating pastries together! She is the new intern!” Dick had a big fat smile on his face and his eyes were almost glittering. “Who is she? How did you two meet?”

“Blonde?” Tim suddenly paled considerably. “There is only one blonde intern. Please tell me you aren’t dating Chloe Bourgeoise of all people!” He squeaked.

Damian wanted to deny it further, but seeing the Replacement’s reaction he changed his mind. The grin that formed on his face was borderline malicious before turning back to the emotionless mask he wore every day. “Yes. She finally admitted that I was not at fault for the cake incident. She is actually tolerable now.” 

“What cake incident?” Steph asked, smelling some juicy story about her ex. That kind of story was the best.

“Tt. When we were at this gala in Paris two years ago, Replacement attacked me and we fell into the birthday cake.”

“It doesn’t sound…” Dick started, but Damian interrupted him.

“The cake had six levels and was about as tall as I am now. Mayor Bourgeoise was not happy that we ruined his precious princess’s birthday.”

“So that’s why we no longer go to Paris?”

“Tt. No. That’s because Jason almost trashed the Louvre.” 

“Right…” Tim mumbled while his eyes closed. In just a moment, he was snoring away on the chair.

“Damn. I thought it would work faster.” Barbara complained while peeling the near-invisible sticker away from his neck. 

-----

Thursday actually passed without any trouble for Marinette. The class finally got it through their collective single brain cell that she had the power to end their trip with two words. She was slowly getting the grip on the work and after some talk with Penny, where the woman practically forced Mari to listen to some additional advice. She was actually offended that the girl didn’t call her immediately. 

She did have to practically drag her barely conscious boss to a meeting in the afternoon, but he didn’t put up much of a fight after she gave him a Tikki Special Coffee. The small goddess giggled inside her pocket the entire time as the boy begged on his knees.

After work, she and Chloe went to the Gotham Zoological Garden. At first, she wanted to go to the Botanic Garden first, but their class was supposed to visit there after work, so the girls went to Zoo instead. Gotham had a much broader collection of birds than Paris did. And the less chance of running into their classmates, the better.

“...He did what?” Chloe asked louder than necessary, but nobody paid the two girls in smart outfits any attention.

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I gave him a piece of my mind.” Mari dismissed it.

“It’s still creepy.”

“I know. That’s why I sicced the police at him.”

“That’s my girl!” 

“Well, I threatened to send you and Damian after him, but I decided it would be too cruel.” She smiled. “Besides, I’ve seen that Red Buckethead is trending already.” She pulled out her phone and showed a post there was a picture of Red Hood next to a reversed red bucket.

FashionMari @QueenGoldie Someone in a red bucket was stalking me. I was torn between calling the police and criticizing their fashion choice. In the end, I did both. 

“Only you Goldie. Only you…”

--------

Friday was press conference day. For once, Mari woke up earlier and got dressed in record time. Chloe watched from the side-lines as the girl moved around like a tornado, preparing everything and triple-checking all arrangements. She changed outfits four times before finally the blonde grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to sit down. 

“Goldie! You know I love you and I would kill for you,” She started, “but if you don’t calm down I will tie you up and leave you here for the day.”

“But…!” Bluenette tried to protest, but Chloe cut her off.

“No buts. We are only sixteen. I for one came here to learn a bit and maybe meet someone. You are supposed to be learning. Nobody said anything about getting a full-time job.”

“The deal…”

“So what if they fire you?” Chloe raised her hands over her head. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! You have Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeoise fighting over who will get you while Jagged Stone is willing to fly over half the world just to give your references in person. You run a very successful flower shop and even more successful boutique.”

“But…” She tried to muster a weak protest, but Chloe’s angry gaze made her wither. 

“I will not let you run yourself dry!” The blonde stated firmly. “So either you take a step back and breathe or I will call your uncle.”

“Not uncle Jagged! he already banned me from drinking coffee!”

“So you will behave?” Chloe asked with a smirk. 

“Fiiiinneee!” Mari couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Queenie. I needed this. I’m glad I have you as my friend. And sister.” 

“Well of course you needed me! Everyone needs me!” She huffed before her expression became more gentle and she pulled Mari into a hug. 

Downstairs the class was waiting for them. Probably they finally gathered the courage to confront her about Alya’s fate. The girl shouldn’t have lied while filing for promotion. Mari and Chloe stormed past them not even sparing them a glance. Outside, Adrien was already waiting inside the limousine with Gerard at the driver’s seat. 

“I’m glad your driver is finally here.”

“Me too!” The blond boy was practically beaming. “I’m free from Lila’s clutches.”

“Could you drop us at… No. 2 Twine Street?” Mari asked the gorilla, who only grunted in response.

“Um… We should be going to Wayne Tower.”

“Nope.” Mari popped the ‘p’. “You,” she pointed at Adrien, “are an intern in PR. I asked for you to be present at the press conference to help move stuff around and so on.” 

“And me?” Chloe asked. “If you expect me to…” 

“You’re there to support your boyfriend. He was the one that practically demanded that I get you there. He hates publicity.”

“Oh… Good then. Let’s go.”

“Boyfriend?” Adrien asked curiously. “You mean Wayne?”

“Yeah. Apparently Chloe found herself a partner in scheming.”

“I bet that their dates are filled with planning to take over the world.”

“We could’ve taken the world over by lunch if we wanted.” Chloe looked almost offended. “The question is what way would be the most suitable one.” 

All three of them broke into laughter as the car rode through the city of crime.

----

About fifteen minutes before the press conference was scheduled to start, Tim Drake was still not there. None of the Waynes were there in fact. She sent about fifteen angry messages to Mr. Drake and he was still not here, which only fueled her stress and anger. 

The press had no idea so far and they were eagerly awaiting whatever news the company wanted to present. She bit her lower lips. Chloe was on the phone, trying to reach her boyfriend.

“If that idiot doesn’t get here in the next ten minutes, I’m going to consider stabbing him.” 

“Damian?!” Chloe shouted into her phone. 

“Tt. What do you want?”

“First of all, that’s not how you talk to your girlfriend. Second of all, where in the world is your excuse of a brother?! Mari is an inch from going ballistic!”

“Tt. He’s asleep.” Damian answered in an impassionate tone.

Mari leaped over and wrestled the phone from Chloe. “You go to him right this moment or I swear to all that’s holy and…”

“I get it.” He interrupted her, showing signs of irritation. There were some static and the camera blurred for a moment from the fast motion. When it returned, she saw barely awake Tim Drake wearing blue onesies. 

“wah…”

“Get yourself cleaned up and into a suit in the next three minutes!” She shouted. God bless the soundproof backstage.

“Um… But I will never make…”

“I’m certain you have a great webcam somewhere in this big mansion of yours. Set it in the library and call me in the next few minutes. I so hope you were not supposed to be the model because gods help me…” She took a look at his terrified face. “Of course you were…” 

“In my defense…”

“Shut up. Get going!” She hanged up and turned to Adrien and Chloe, who were looking at her with a mixture of fear and awe. “What are you waiting for?!” She tossed a package to the boy. “You get dressed in the new product.” She pushed him outside and into the janitor’s closet on the other side. “And you’re coming with me!” She dragged Chloe toward the main room. The blonde was sent to the technics room to get the feed started while Mari stepped on the scene. The chatter died quickly and all reporters turned to her.

“Hi. Please forgive us for the slight delay. We have minor technical difficulties that are being solved as we speak. In the meantime, you are free to take the seats. The conference is about to start.” 

Behind her, a screen slowly descended. She saw Adrien leaning from the doors leading backstage and smiling at her. 

“Without further ado, I present you Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

The image of the teen with black hair appeared on the screen and he waved everyone. He was holding a red cup of coffee with black polka dots, the same Tikki summoned for him the first time. 

Satisfied with herself, Marinette allowed herself a moment of rest. The conference was going well and after a minute of silence for the dead in the recent attack, the presentation began. Adrien was a natural model so it all went great. Wayne Tech in co-operation with Gabriel brand was introducing a new line of ‘smart’ fabric that could withstand medium stress and was almost impossible to dirty or stain. She had to admit it was quite amazing. Apparently, it was partially how Mr. Agreste got her class internship. Granted, Adrien was not supposed to be the model but you don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. 

Everything was going great until the doors to the room were kicked open and several goons barged in, followed by none other than Two-face. Everyone immediately fell onto the floor. Mari couldn’t help but sigh exasperatedly. Why did it have to go wrong at every turn?

Ignoring the terrified stares, she stormed toward the intruders. “Excuse me, sir?” She asked with an emotionless face.

“What?” The man looked clearly irritated.

“I don’t see your name on the guest list. Did you remember to call in advance?”

“Of course not! Do I look like…” The criminal was clearly angry. 

“Then I apologize, but I must ask you to leave now.” 

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Two-face pulled his gun.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you are not on on the list, I can’t let you stay.” She said in an emotionless voice. Mari was honestly too tired to care at this point. Maybe at least the evening would be better.

“I’m not sure you get the situation, miss. I’m not here for the interviews. Everyone pull out your wallets and drop them in the sacks!” He shouted while his men started to walk around.

“Hm… That won’t do.” She said. After muttering something under her breath, Mari tossed her clipboard. The spinning board hit one of the mooks in the head, knocking him cold, before bouncing and hitting the next one. After that, it returned to her hand. 

That was enough for Two-Face. He aimed his gun at her, but she moved faster than he anticipated. Within seconds, she grabbed his wrist and pushed it up so he was aiming at the ceiling. She squeezed it hard enough to make him drop the gun right into her other waiting hand. The girl let go of his wrist and disassembled the gun into pieces in what could become record time. 

Now irritated, Mari grabbed Two-face by his tie and pulled him down until they were at the same eye-level. 

“I was trying to do it peacefully sir. I am now ordering you to leave. Otherwise, I will actually have to hurt you.” She leaned closer until she was able to whisper. “And don’t make mistakes, Dent. I can and will hurt you.” For a moment her eyes lost the blue coloring and became entirely iridescent green, glowing slightly. 

Harvey Dent rarely felt fear. His life was more often than not guided by the toss of a coin. Now though, he stared in the eyes of Poison Ivy, except ten times scarier. He was already afraid of that woman after she almost fed him to her ‘precious’.

“I… I am deeply sorry madame.” He spoke carefully. “Men! We are moving out. Leave the bags!” And with that, they were all gone. 

Most of the reporters gave Mari big applause. There was only one angry old man that stared daggers at the girl. 

“You let that scum go away!” He shouted. “He was a criminal.”

“Sir. You are free to go after him if that’s your wish. I’m at work and my job description never included chasing after criminals.”

“But… But…” 

“Anyway, we were in the middle of the press conference if I’m not mistaken.”

-------

NEXT

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #batman #BatFam #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #BAMF Marinette #Mother!Ivy #redeemed!chloe #Good!Adrien Agreste #dc #MLB #mlb x dc

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 2

I promise I’m not this fast at writing, I’ve just had the first few chapters laying around for a while lmao. Reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje 

Previous | Next​

Chapter 2: u guys r moding my night :(

There was chaos in the Wayne Manor. This was nothing unusual, of course, and today it even seemed to be surprisingly tame. But it was chaos nonetheless.

Timothy Drake-Wayne careened down the spiral staircase, catching himself with a well-timed front flip handspring, and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Alfred briefly paused to look up from where he was preparing dough for a batch of homemade pasta, then offered the boy a smile and a greeting.

“Good evening, Master Drake. Dinner won’t be ready for another half-hour, I’m afraid.” Tim had opened his mouth to reply when a growl echoed from the nearby ballroom.

Jason Todd-Wayne sprinted into the kitchen brandishing a nerf gun. “There you are, replacement. You won’t get away with beating me this time.” He pulled back the reloader of the play-gun, making a threatening click ring through the kitchen.

“I’m afraid you are both late to the party,” Alfred calmly announced as he mixed ingredients together. “Miss Cain has been here for the past five minutes.”

Cass Cain-Wayne indeed poked her head out from where she had been perched beneath the bar. She gave her brothers a shit-eating grin and wiggled her fingers as way of a cheeky greeting.

Tim gave a groan as he and Jason begrudgingly handed some money over to their sister. “She cheats.” Cass stuck her tongue out at that. “Besides, racing you here was just an excuse to get my mind off waiting for midnight.”

“And because Alfred is the only one polite enough to actually listen to you rave about that stupid game,” Jason scoffed, sitting down at the bar to watch Alfred work.

“--thought I heard voices in the kitchen, oh there you are, little wing!” Dick Grayson-Wayne’s cheery voice came from the foyer, increasing in pitch as he spotted Jason and swept him up into a tight hug.

Barbara Gordon wheeled herself in not too long after, chuckling at the squirming Jason and delighted older brother.

Meanwhile Tim, who had taken offense to Jason’s insinuation, was reassuring Alfred that if he wanted the boys to leave him be he only ever had to ask. “It’s just that I’m so excited for the launch tonight, and you know B is too busy to hear about it.”

Jason had finally muscled his way out of Dick’s embrace as the latter’s attention focused on his youngest brother. “What launch are you talking about?” Dick asked, giving Cass a side hug.

“Oh, tonight is the release of this new VRMMORPG game called Mindscape!” Tim practically bounced as Dick came over to give him his hug too.

Dick gave Barbara a confused glance. “I know some of those words,” he nodded slowly. “So what’s got you so excited? Video games come out all the time.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Jason on the barstools. “Well yeah, but this game has groundbreaking virtual reality tech. Supposedly, the textures took five years and a team of almost 1000 artists.”

Jason put Tim into a headlock and said casually, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard replacement talking about this yet. He kinda won’t shut up about it.”

Cass nodded her head in solemn agreement while Tim struggled to get out of Jason’s grasp.

“Such are the woes of moving out.” Dick shrugged. “Sounds crash though, got room for one more?”

Tim finally shoved Jason off. “I actually bought enough passes that we can all play if you want,” he gave each of his siblings the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

Barbara snorted even as Dick pumped his fist in the air beside her. She wheeled herself up to the bar to pinch Jason, who was poised to jab his fingers into Tim’s sides. Jason yelped and glared at her as she said, “Sorry Timmy, I’d rather let someone else be the guinea pig for this new kind of tech. Besides, Dad will worry if I let myself get sucked into pouring too many hours into this.”

“Papa Gordon is a force to be reckoned with,” Dick attested earnestly. “Jay?” he prompted.

“Absolutely not,” Jason answered immediately. Tim was quick to protest. “But why? We could spend more time together! It’ll be good team-building.” Jason’s face soured at that.

Dick leaned in and stage-whispered, “Do I have to tell B to force you into family bonding? You know he’ll make you do it.”

Cass covered her silently laughing mouth with one hand as Jason threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, don’t get Bruce involved. I’ll play your stupid game,” he finally relented. Tim grinned at his win, then cast a hopeful look at Cass.

She pulled a face and signed No thank you. Better things to do than watch VR pornos.

Tim’s face blushed profusely as he opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Jason’s cackling. Even Alfred cracked a smile while he rolled the dough onto the ravioli press.

Once Jason quieted down, Tim crossed his arms and said, “Suit yourself. Looks like it’ll be no-girls-allowed anyway.”

“Guess we’d better tell Cassie that, Timbo,” Dick wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which Tim elected to ignore.

“Speaking of suits,” Alfred said while seamlessly spreading filling in the ravioli and placing another sheet on top of the press, “aren’t you boys going to miss the premiere if it is indeed at midnight?”

Tim looked imploringly at the two girls. “You wouldn’t be willing to trade shifts for your favorite brother, would you?”

* * *

Wally West strolled out of the zeta tube and into the Justice League’s satellite, known to himself and the other heroes as The Watchtower. He was dressed in a casual NASA t-shirt and jeans, slurping a smoothie, and playing a game on his phone.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up. He was greeted with the sight of his old team, Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian, Rocket, Zatanna, and Artemis, waiting impatiently. They were dressed in full hero attire-- he didn’t even realize Artemis still had her costume-- and looked to him expectantly.

“Hey guys, what’s poppin’?” Wally grinned and gave his friends a lazy chin jerk.

“‘What’s poppin’?’ Babe, are you serious? You told us to meet here ASAP for an emergency. So you can tell us what exactly is ‘poppin’.” Ah yes, his Spitfire. Artemis Crock still wasn’t afraid to give him a piece of her mind. But this time it looked like everyone else was on her side too, as they nodded in agreement with her emphatic air quotes.

“Oh, uh yeah, Mindscape is coming out tonight!” He set his smoothie down on the table. “I got us all passes and I’m super stoked for the launch. It’s got this super cool new VR tech that’s basically being released for the first time ever. I got the equipment through my internship, so we’re all set! You guys are totally coming right?” He made finger guns at his increasingly exasperated friends.

Artemis facepalmed. Kaldur’ahm raised his eyebrows in that I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say it way of his and said, “Wally, with you and Artemis retired from the life, understand that we took this to be a literal emergency and rushed to your aid. Do not abuse our good intentions.”

“Seriously West, I have a lot on my plate right now!” Rochelle Ervin was also, apparently, a little upset with him. “You could’ve said it was about a dumb game.”

The speedster tried to do damage control with some lighthearted humor. “Hey guys, stay whelmed. I get it, I probably should have given a few more deets about this very-much-not-dumb game, but do you know how many candy bars I had to eat to win these passes?”

“This is why you’ve been spending so much on junk food?” Oh, he was in big trouble with Artemis now. “You probably didn’t have to eat all of them, babe.”

M’gann M’orzz, Connor Kent, and Zatanna Zatara looked similarly annoyed. Well, the girls did. Connor just looked like his usual brand of annoyed, which was honestly a small victory.

“So...” Wally felt a little sheepish now, “who wants in?”

The rest of the group exchanged a look. Artemis was the first to speak up. “Well, you’ve already invested too much of our money in this to turn back now.” She walked up to him and poked a finger at his chest. “But you owe me so many dinners for this.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal!”

Rochelle spoke up next. “Me and my plate don’t need any more helpings, thank you very much. I’ll see y’all at the next team reunion!” She flew out through the zeta tube.

Kaldur clapped him on the shoulder. “If you need any assistance, I will be there. But for now I am running Atlantis in Aquaman’s stead while he is off-world, and I must return to my duties.” He then bid the rest of the team farewell and stepped through the zeta tube.

“Haha, he said ‘duties.’” Wally said once he’d left, then winced as Artemis smacked his arm lightly. Lightly for her. Rubbing his arm, he looked imploringly at his other friends.

M’gann and Conner looked deep in a telepathic conversation, which was just awkwardly intense eye contact for onlookers. Zatanna crossed her arms and sighed, “Fine, why not. I didn’t have plans for the weekend anyway. Lead the way to your chocolate factory, Charlie.”

Connor, having caught the tail end of the conversation, looked confused at the reference. He shrugged and said, “I’m in, could be fun.”

M’gann gave her friends an apologetic smile. “Sorry guys, my uncle needs help back on Mars. There’s tensions between the white and green martians again, and he really needs me there to get it under control.”

She gave Connor a peck on the cheek and left to board the nearby Bioship.

“And then there were four,” Wally said with a smile. “Now let’s go make you guys some avatars!”

* * *

Bart Allen could hardly contain his excitement. Scratch that, he couldn’t contain his excitement! “Bouncing off the walls” may be an exaggeration for most people, but he was not most people. Being the grandson of The Flash certainly had its perks, and being able to literally bounce off the walls was one of them.

The cause of his excitement, his friends Timothy Drake-Wayne and Wally West, had just called to ask if Bart wanted extra passes to the premiere of the biggest video game of the decade. And uh, yeah duh he wanted them! He already had one he’d bought for himself, but bringing four extra friends? So totally crash.

He opened up his phone and pulled up the group chat titled Badass Babes.

CrashBandicoot: hey bitchez n babez (u kno who u r), u ready 4 the best videogame of the yr to drop?!

BlueMenace: ese, do you HAVE to type like that?

WonderBabe: yea it’s super annoying

CrashBandicoot: gtta go fast babez

CrashBandicoot: now answer the question

GreenMenace: oh i heard about that! mindscape, right? isn’t it some vr game

CrashBandicoot: yes! nd i got extra tix, so come ovr to cave

GirlBoss: No can do, got research tomorrow!

MaleWife: you always have research bae. sorry little speedster, gotta drive the lady to work

CrashBandicoot: u guys r moding my night :(

BlueMenace: totally not a word but I’ve got you cariño, be there in an hour

WonderBabe: ah what the heck, I’ve got nothing better to do

GreenMenace: always down to whoop ur ass in video games

CrashBandicoot: u wish

CrashBandicoot: roy?

Ginger1 is typing...

WonderBabe: it’ll be fun! more ~mingling~ with kids our age

Ginger2: Hold on, give him some time

Ginger1 is typing...

BlueMenace: Roy, I can pick you up on my way in if you want

Ginger1 has stopped typing.

Ginger2: Um, he says he’ll meet you guys there

Ginger2: He may have destroyed his phone with his “non-typing” hand

GreenMenace: pog

WonderBabe: see u guys soon!

Bart pumped his fist, then ran at top speed to his boyfriend Jaime’s house, where it looked like he was doing homework. Seriously, on a Friday night? Bart had absolutely no qualms about whisking him into his arms and making for the nearest zeta tube.

“Woah Bart, I said I needed an hour!” Jaime protested.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you definitely don’t have anything due tonight, and we have to make your character online before the launch!”

Jaime just looked resigned as they sped into the zeta tube. He knew what he had signed up for.

#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Play me like a violin...

For the wonderful @marilynmonroefanfics​ 👄👄​

Hope you’ll like it!

TW: Smut in the area!

I wanna be loved by you, just you

And nobody else but you

I wanna be loved by you, alone! 

Boop-boop-a-doop!

I wanna be kissed by you, just you

And nobody else but you

I wanna be kissed by you, alone

Marylin Monroe - I Wanna Be Loved By You (1959)

Bruce can't believe it. Even if it was days ago, he still can't believe what happened to him: he married him. He married this wonderful and handsome angel named Peter. 

He feels like it was yesterday they start dating. He, Bruce Wayne, the renowned playboy of Gotham, finally settled with the young man he met during a gala two years ago.

He remembered well the night when he introduced his lover as his boyfriend to his family: they were astonished that someone managed to get his hands on Bruce Wayne. 

Alfred exclaimed: "Finally! He found someone!" while Stephanie, Cassandra, and Barbara cheered gleefully. As for the boys, Dick was amazed, whereas Jason was taken aback, yelled: "WHAT THE HELL?". 

Tim was happy for his mentor, and Damian stayed calm, as usual, but expressed his respects towards Peter.

Overall, he can say that the Bat-family accepted Peter as its new member.

He was glad to find him: his husband is loving, caring, understanding, patient, and funny. The embodiment of perfection, at least.

Speaking of the angel, Peter appears in the room, dressed casually and with a genuine smile on his face.

"Hello, beloved husband. What are you doing?"

And this voice, my God: it sounds like an angel.

The billionaire smiles:

"I just wondering how lucky I am..."

"Lucky?"

He holds the hand of Peter.

"I mean, I am grateful to have you with me!"

"Til death do us apart if I remember well..."

"Correct."

"It's been six days since we get married if you don't forget?"

"How could I even dare to forget the best day of my life?" chuckles Bruce as he gently kisses Peter's knuckles.

The young man beams at the lovely gesture. And to think that he was a bit worried when he caught the interest of Bruce Wayne...

He was so scared to be just a one-night stand of the notorious Gotham Don Giovanni that he rejected his advances first. Slowly, he discovered what hides behind the seductive façade.

He saw a tortured soul, wounded by personal tragedies, who tried to give meaning to his life as the Dark Knight of Gotham named Batman. 

He also noticed the other side of Bruce's personality: a caring and loving man who have compassion. How not fall in love with this man?

Peter leans his head on his husband's shoulder while enjoying the view in front of him. Currently, they fancy their honeymoon in California, where Bruce rents a mansion with a look of the sea.

"I'm happy that we manage to have a moment for the two of us... I know you have a turbulent life and that we won't have a lot of quality times. But at least, you try to give me the best of you!"

"Because you deserve the best, love!" answers Bruce as he looks at the ebony eyes of his beloved.

They are shining like two black pearls of innocence. Something that amazes Bruce... and also turns him on.

While smiling, the billionaire holds his young husband against him as he lets his hands linger over this body he worships every day.

Suddenly, his phone rings:

"Oh, what again?"

"Let's see... Ah, it's Alfred!" says Peter as he answers the phone.

"Hello, Peter Wayne's on the phone!"

"**Hello, Master Peter. I'm calling to check if everything is fine!**"

"Oh, Alfred, it's a living daydream! California is a lovely place, especially when I am with my dear husband!"

"**I'm glad to hear that. May I speak to Master Bruce?**"

"Sure! Wait a minute, I turn the speakers on!"

Once it's done, Bruce speaks:

"Hello, Alfred."

"**Hello, Master Bruce. According to Master Peter, you enjoy your vacation in California?**"

"Exactly. Everything went smooth."

"**I'm relieved to know that both of you are satisfied with your honeymoon.**"

"And you, Alfred, how are you?"

"**I'm fine, thank you. And your protégés are fine, too. They expect your return on Saturday with great impatience!**"

"They missed us that much?" smirks Bruce.

"**You had no idea, Master Bruce. But, as a picture is worth a thousand words, why don't you hear it by yourself?**"

Half a second later, the couple hears the voices of all the young members of the Batfamily saying hello.

"**Hello, Californian lovebirds. You're alright?**"

"Hello, Dick. Yes, everything is perfect!"

"**Aw, you are so lucky! Can't wait to hear your stories!**"

"Don't worry, Stephanie: I'll tell you the best when we will come back!"

"**Does Bruce treat you like a prince?**," asks Tim.

"Not like a prince, Timothy, but like a king!" states Bruce with a smile.

"**You better do: he marries you, so you have to respect and cherish him!**" reminds him Damian.

"Don't worry, Dami: he is the best husband ever!" says Peter as he glances tenderly towards Bruce.

"**We hope so. Well, as long as you say everything is cool, we are happy for you! Enjoy your honeymoon!**" kindly replies Barbara. 

"**Yeah, sure. Especially Bruce, who wants to satisfy his hunger for Mama Peter!**" snickers Jason.

Bruce facepalms while Peter brightly blushes.

"**Master Jason, are you sure it was necessary?**" sighs Alfred.

"**Todd, you pervert jerk!**" snarls Damian.

"**Boys, calm down! Anyway, we are delighted to hear from you. Especially with good news!**"

"So are we, Cass."

"**Well, we leave you alone. See you on Saturday, Masters Bruce and Peter!**"

"Goodbye, Alfred! Thank you for the call!"

After he hung up the phone, Bruce sighs:

"Those kids, I swear to God they are going to kill me!"

"But you love them!" Peter smiles.

His husband returns the smile and holds him again.

"Yes, but I love you more than anything in the world!"

"Oh, really?" innocently asks Peter.

"Of course... Let me prove it!"

And with a mischievous smile, Bruce kisses his partner with passion. The latter, amused, answered the kiss with the same intensity.

Without interrupting the kiss, Bruce slid his large callused hands under his husband's shirt, greedily stroking his soft skin.

This gesture surprised Peter, who asks:

"But what are you doing again?"

"I take care of my husband, this is what I do!"

"Don't be innocent, honey. You've got an idea in your head, and I'd like to know which one!"

"Very well, since you insist ..."

Bruce leaned over his lover's neck and kissed it several times.

"Since we are on our honeymoon, I said to myself that we could take the opportunity to consummate the marriage ..."

At these words, Peter began to blush. So far, they had never had sex and the thought of having his first time with his husband scared him: what if it turned into a fiasco?

"Are you all right, Peter?"

"Yeah, it's just that ..."

"What?"

The young man lowered his head, a little ashamed.

"It's just that I'm scared!"

"Afraid of what?"

"Let's say I'm apprehensive because it's my first time ..."

Bruce strokes his husband's cheek:

"You don't have to worry, Peter: I'll be careful! I'll make it unforgettable!"

"I don't doubt it, but ..."

"But what? What can you worry about so much?"

"The two of us! I mean, look at yourself: you look like a Greek God, while I look like a bun next to you!"

Bruce rolls his eyes, a slight smile on his lips, before stroking his husband's hips.

"You should stop putting yourself down, honey. Of course, we're different, so what? That's what I liked about you: your playfulness, your zest for life, your kindness ... You are the light that was missing in my life! "

He takes Peter by the waist before adding:

"As far as your body is concerned, know that I find it perfect. Besides, comparing it to a bun is not completely inappropriate ... since I find you delicious!"

And without warning, he lifts his husband off the ground and takes him to their room.

"Bruce, stop!" laughs Peter.

"Definitely not! I'm hanging on to you forever!" the latter jokes.

Once in their room, he gently set Peter down on the bed before closing the door behind him.

Then, he comes back and positions himself above his lover, who gives him an innocent smile.

"I guess it's time to get down to business!"

"Exactly, my little prince! Now let me do it and enjoy!"

With that, Bruce again captures Peter's lips in a passionate kiss.

The newlyweds hasten to get rid of their clothes, and they find themselves naked as on the first day.

Bruce is dumbfounded at his husband's naked body: for him, it is the most beautiful thing he had ever admired in his life.

As for Peter, he is amazed by the impressive musculature of his lover, but not only. It must be said that Bruce is well fitted, especially at the level of the private parts.

He swallows: he wonders how something so huge would be able to penetrate him? Nothing to think about it makes him uncomfortable ...

"If you don't want us to do this right now, I would understand. It might be going a little too fast for you ..."

Peter shakes his head:

"No, Bruce, it's going to be fine. I trust you."

Reassured, the latter kisses his husband again before letting his lips slide down Peter's neck and chest, making the young man moan with pleasure.

This reaction amuses the millionaire, who continues his little game, lingering on his husband's hips before descending to his penis.

"Bruce ..." Peter moans, bracing himself under his lover's expert licks.

His cries of pleasure grows louder when he feels Bruce's mouth tickle his cock. He thought his brain would not stand the shock of the sensations that seizes him.

"Oh my god, Bruce!"

"Good boy, so responsive!" his husband whispers as he continues to explore the young man's privacy with his tongue. While doing so, he lets his large hands caress and pinch his nipples.

Quickly, Peter becomes a moaning mess, clutching at the sheets as if his life depended on it.

He's used to Bruce's hugs, but this is different: it is addicting, and he always needs more.

"Tell me, Peter, do you want to go further?"

"Oh yes, Bruce."

"Tell me what you want, Peter."

Catching his breath, his husband answers:

"I want you to take me, Bruce. I want to offer you my innocence!"

A hungry smile appears on Bruce's face:

"It's a beautiful gift you are giving me, beautiful boy! And it deserves a reward!"

He lays down on top of Peter, tucking himself between his legs, and position himself close to his privacy. Before doing anything, he glances at Peter and asks:

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," the young man whispers.

Bruce kisses his lover before slowly penetrating him so that the latter gets used to his presence.

Peter gasps when he feels his husband's cock inside him. The pain is so unbearable that he sheds a tear that slid down his cheek.

Seeing this, Bruce feels guilty: he wanted this moment to be magical for them, not to make his husband suffer. Gently, he brushes the tear away from Peter's cheek.

"Excuse me if I was brutal."

"No, no. It's not your fault. It's just that I'm not used to ... It's my first time, after all!"

"Don't apologize; you'll be fine. Take your time, and when you're ready, we'll continue!"

"Okay!"

Peter took his time to calm down and get used to Bruce's presence.

He mentally told himself that he does not have to worry, that everything would be fine. Besides, Bruce is patient and understanding: with him, he is in good hands.

Gradually, he relaxes and let his husband understand that he was ready. The latter understands, and he begins his thrusts so as not to rush Peter.

Once he is more at ease, the young man lets himself go and quickly takes pleasure in feeling the kidney strokes of his husband as he moans louder.

As for Bruce, he gives a slow and sensual rhythm to this particular dance. With his old one-night stands, he was content to have a good shag and nothing more. But there, with Peter in his arms, he is taking his time and experiencing a pleasure he had never reached.

But above all, he loves Peter, and he wants to give him that pleasure he currently feels. And the latter's cries of desire confirm that he is doing it well ...

"B-Bruce ..."

"Yes, my angel?"

"G-Go faster!" Peter moans, wrapping his legs around Bruce's waist.

"Your wish is my command!"

And with that, the millionaire picks up the tempo, thrusting faster.

Overwhelmed with pleasure, Peter feels his sanity give up, and he latches onto Bruce's back, scratching him lightly at the shoulders.

This action excites his partner, who continues his thrusts between the hips of his lover rhythmed by their sighs and cries of pleasure.

"B-Bruce, I ... I'm going to cum!"

"Yeah, me too, babe! Just wait for me, darling!"

After several thrusts, the two newlyweds reached seventh heaven with a final moan of pleasure.

Then Bruce slowly withdraws from Peter's privacy before laying down next to his husband.

The latter is still under the effect of adrenaline and does not realize what had just happened. But for sure, the young man loved it!

"So, honey, this first time?" Bruce demands, slightly panting.

"It was perfect. Yes, really perfect!" Peter replies, settling in the strong arms of his husband.

"Good, that's what I wanted for you."

"And I thank you for that."

Chuckling, Bruce kisses his husband's forehead before hugging him and settling down to sleep.

"Come on, I think we have the right to a well-deserved rest!"

"Yes, my body is numb for now!"

"Tomorrow, you will probably be in pain."

"I will hold you personally responsible!" jokes the young man.

"What if I offer you a bath tomorrow to make amends?"

"There, I accept."

The two men laugh and take advantage of the calm, embraced. Then, won over by sleep, they let themselves go in the arms of Morpheus.

"I love you, Bruce Wayne."

"I love you, Peter Wayne."

And with these words of love, the two lovers fell asleep with serenity, far from the tumult of Gotham.

Must be love on the brain

That’s got me feeling this way

It beats me black and blue but it fucks me good

And I can’t get enough

Must be love on the brain yeah

Rihanna - Love on the Brain (2016)

Thanks for the reading!

Hope you enjoy the story!

See you later! 🥰😘😍

#requests #dceu #bruce wayne #ben affleck #noah centineo #tw: smut

[handsome-john]

Community Gardens

Guess who’s finally dragged themselves out of writer’s block hell and is using this energy to fix the terrible lack of Hanahaki fics in this fandom! Check reblogs for ao3 link if you prefer reading that way

Relationships: Rhack, with some Timoxxi in the back ground

Words: 3621

Warnings: Blood, vomit, strong language, and sexual humor 

Summary:  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood.

Handsome Jack did not fall in love. Sure he slept around, maybe had a few candle lit dates, once even playfully kissed a co-worker on the cheek while a little tipsy. But he did not fall in love. 

  Sure Jack fell in love plenty of times. Even married twice and almost got married a third time before Nisha had the common sense to walk out the door. But Jack died long ago, in a godforsaken vault on that godforsaken moon. 

  All that was left was Handsome Jack. Powerful, rich, and sexy CEO of Hyperion. Who did not fall in love with anyone! No one at all. 

  Handsome Jack told himself that every night. But that did not stop the soreness in his throat or the tightness in his lungs. It didn’t stop the constant flow of rose petals he coughed up each night.

  Handsome Jack did not fall in love. He plunged head first into it, just like Jack plunged into that vault all those years ago. And just like that vault, the only thing Jack would gain from love is disappointment and permanent scars. 

  He didn’t realize he’d been zoned out for the past half-hour until the hot piece of ass Jack called his PA snapped him out of it.   “Your coffee, sir.” Rhys said, handing him a mug with Jack’s face on it. “I made it as sweet as you, sir.” 

  The coffee was black, just how Jack liked it. He gave him a smile that was all teeth. “You’re lucky I’m too lazy to find another personal assistant as good as you, pumpkin. Anyone else would be getting an up close and personal look at my airlock for that kind of sass.”

  “I know sir,” Rhys said with the tone of someone who knew exactly how important they were, and the smirk to match. 

  Do you really? Jack wanted to ask. Do you have any idea how important you are to me?

  Rhys made Jack feel vulnerable, and he had the charm and personality to make Jack not even mind. He had Handsome freakin’ Jack wrapped around his little cybernetic finger and there was nothing Jack could do about it. 

  Well there was one thing. But Handsome Jack didn’t do that. Even if he wanted to. 

  He was snapped out of his thoughts once again by another coughing fit. His throat had been killing him all morning. It’s the worst it’s ever been and the strangest part was that there hadn’t even been any petals yet. Sure he was grateful, wouldn’t want to spit bloody sunflower petals all over Rhys’s stupid asymmetrical shirt, but it was odd. 

  “Are you alright sir?” Rhys said with concern so genuine it made Jack’s stomach twist into a knot. 

  “I’m freakin’ fine-” He wheezed, sounding like a dying dog. He gripped his desk for support, coughing his throat raw. 

  “I’ll go get some cough medicine!” Jack didn’t want to be alone at the moment, but he’d rather Rhys not see what happened next. 

  Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, definitely seeping under his mask and splattering across the desk. The burning in his throat made his eyes water, like he ate a cup full of razor blades. No scratch that, a cup full of razor blades would be preferable to this.

  He jolted forward, retching when he felt something tickling the back of his tongue. It was soft, like a tissue. It was also very good at hitting every single one of his gag triggers. 

  He knelt over his trash can and shoved two fingers into his mouth. He was desperate to get whatever the fuck that was out of him. 

  The pain intensified tenfold as he tugged. Black spots danced in his vision. God he was pathetic.

  Finally there was a soft snap and Jack threw the wet thing onto the floor with a soft splat. He grabbed the bin and hacked up petals and whatever he ate for breakfast. With his stomach emptied, Jack laid down on the floor, the cool tile nice against his burning face, and examined whatever the hell he just coughed up. 

  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood. 

  Of course it was a fucking rose. 

  The door opened with a whoosh, alerting Jack that Rhys was back. He quickly threw away the rose and whipped his face. Hopefully Rhys wouldn’t notice all the blood on his desk, or floor, or in the garbage can, or leaking out the side of his mask, or…

  Okay so he was screwed.

  “What the hell happened!? Jack! Jack, do I need to call anyone!?” Rhys knelt by his side, gently shaking the man on the floor.

  “I’m fucking fine kiddo.” He grimaced, his body screaming at him to shut the hell up. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him. 

  “You should lay down. Rest your head. What happened? Is there a doctor I can call?” 

  “No!” Jack growled. He hated doctor’s. Last time he went to a doctor for anything more than a shot or a regular check up was when he was getting a mask grafted to his face. He hated their pitying looks and how they treated him like glass. He could never trust a doctor. 

  But he trusted Rhys. Rhys had only worked for Jack a little over five years. But in those five years Rhys had gotten closer to him than anyone else. Jack trusted Rhys enough to open up about his daughter, his sweet Angel that was off with another pair of sirens learning to use her Phaseshift powers. 

  Could he trust Rhys with this? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice because the more he thought about Rhys, the itchier his throat felt, until he was sputtering out sunflower petals. 

  Rhys’s expression was hard to read. A mix of horror, realization, and sympathy. “Oh… Oh no.” 

  Oh no was a pretty good way to describe hanahaki. It wasn’t contagious, but it was extremely easy to catch. There was no cure, at least no cure that was worth it, but with advances in modern medicine it wasn’t deadly. 

  There were three levels of severity. Tier one which was common in kids with schoolyard crushes that would really go anywhere. It usually only involved petals. Tier two is what you had to worry about, coming from the kind of crushes you could actually see yourself marrying. Sore throats, difficulty breathing, and small flowers.

  Tier three was the worst kind. While the flowers and vines themselves won’t kill you, suffocation and blood loss will. There were medicines that could get rid of the stems, and small surgeries to help the lungs, but completely removing the flowers could be extremely detrimental to both your physical and mental health. 

  Tier three hanahaki came from deep love that was surly unrequited. But that’s just what the ECHOnet told him. And what did the ECHOnet know. Handsome Jack did not fall in love.

  Sure his doppelgänger fell in love, but Tim wasn’t Jack, even though Jack was paying him to be. Tim was actually where he learned about hanahaki. It happened after they met Moxxi on Concordia. 

***

“Does anyone have a bottle of bubbly I can smash against this thing?” Jack asked as they prepared to launch the Meriff’s statue-head into Pandora’s asshole. “Ah nevermind. Go ahead and fire!” 

  Nisha cackled as she slammed her hand onto the launch button. The remix played as it zoomed off. 

  Jack glanced around, noticing one of his vault hunter’s missing. “Say have any of you seen Timmy around? He was supposed to be here for this!?” 

  “Lost track of him after we spoke to Moxxi.” Wilhelm said, which was probably one of the longer sentences he’s said yet. 

  “I think I saw him run to the bathroom. Probably to deal with a ‘little problem’ of it,” Nisha said with an exaggerated wink. 

  “He’s going to have bigger problems in a minute.” 

  Jack made his way over to the bathrooms, fully ready to chew Timothy out. “Tim! You better not be Jacking-off in here!” 

  He heard Tim groan in pain and ran over to his stall. He found the doppelgänger kneeled by the toilet, face first in it. Jack let out a low whistle, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

  “Moxxi rope you into having one too many drinks?” He paused, noticing a trial of magnolia petals. 

  Tim looked at Jack and coughed, spraying petals across the floor. 

  It wasn’t hard to figure out it was hanahaki. Looking up “coughing up flowers” really only has one result, not including weird fetish porn. 

  “It better not be Moxxi.” Jack said, threat emanating from his voice.

  Tim had a bashful look on his face that Jack would never be caught dead with. “She’s just so pretty. And smart! She’s a mechanic and she looks cute even witho-” he whimpered as more petals filled his mouth.

  It only seemed to be a tier two case, still it would be annoying if Tim was kept from work just because of some flower petals. Though it would also be annoying to watch his ex and his doppelgänger get all mushy and gross together. 

  Somehow the tiny little piece of him that felt bad for the doppelgänger won out. 

  “Okay fine. Go for it.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve got my charm and good looks. You can win her back no problem.” 

  Tim smiled, wiping the drool and petals off his face. “Thank you sir! I won’t disappoint you sir!” 

  That night Tim fell in love. But Jack was not Tim. Handsome Jack did not love. 

***

After Jack refused to see a doctor, Rhys decided to assign himself the role of caretaker, starting with getting Jack home. Handsome Jack wasn’t sure why Rhys insisted on supporting him as they made their way up to Jack’s penthouse. It wasn’t like his legs were broken. 

  Rhys laid Jack onto the couch. “Stay here and rest. I’ll make tea, it'll help with your throat.” 

  “Fine fine.” Jack wasn’t even sure if he had tea. He was more of a coffee man. 

  He didn’t usually bring people up to his penthouse for social calls, if you could call whatever this is a social call. Actually he never let anyone in here that he wasn’t planning on fucking or killing. The more he thought about it, the more likely he would probably end up doing one of those things to Rhys. 

  Rhys returned, handing him a teacup. “This will taste bitter, but it helps with the sore throats and the thorns.” He smiled at him. A soft smile that made Jack feel weirdly vulnerable, like Rhys could see right through him and still wanted him.

  Jack shuttered, his throat burning when he thought of Rhys. It was coincidence of course, Jack was not in love with Rhys. 

  He took a slow sip of the tea and forced back a gag. “God you weren’t kidding when you said bitter!” 

  Rhys winced. “Normally people add a bit of honey to help with the taste, but I couldn’t find any and I was in a hurry.” 

  Jack stared at the swirling grey-green liquid and decided a bad taste was better than a sore throat. 

  “How do you know so much about this shit anyway?” 

  Rhys sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a friend that had a chronic case of it. I learned a lot helping them out.” 

  “Oh… How long did your friend have it?” 

  “Five years.”

  “Damn. How does someone live that way.”

  Rhys shrugged. “You get used to it. Eventually taking pain meds and hiding flower petals in your shirt becomes as normal as waking up every morning and going to work. You adapt.” 

  Jack wasn’t sure what to say, which was probably a good thing since it was killing him to hold a conversation this long. Rhys stood up, signifying that this conversation was probably over anyway. 

  “I’ll make dinner. Something soft. Do you have ice cream? I guess obviously you probably do. I’m going to walk away now.” 

  Jack pretended he wasn’t staring right at Rhys’s ass as he left. Rhys always seemed confident at work, when he was making phone calls and chewing someone out for Jack. But the few times Jack had caught Rhys outside of work he was a whole different person. Jack could certainly understand putting on a mask.

  Speaking of masks, god his was itchy. He trusted Rhys, but he didn’t want to take his mask off around him. Rhys would be disgusted, probably be asked to be transferred to a different part of Helios. Jack would probably have to kill Rhys in case he tried to use his secret against him. 

     No, the reasonable side of Jack protested. Rhys never once tried to manipulate Jack. Sure sometimes he would hackle Jack about a raise, but he never once used Angel against him, or slipped a little alcohol in his drink so he’d be more agreeable. Hell the kid hasn’t even tried to get in bed with Jack. And at this point, shooting your shot with the Handsome Jack, might as well be in the job description. 

  Jack wheezed as he coughed up hyacinth petals into his now empty glass. Why hadn’t Rhys ever made a move on him? It wasn’t like Rhys was afraid of Jack. Is it possible Rhys just doesn’t see Jack that way?

  No that’s impossible, Jack’s vanity said. Everyone in the ship, no matter the sexuality, wanted a piece of Jack. And Rhys’s feelings didn’t matter either way, because Handsome Jack did not fall in love. 

  Rhys, the pure angel, returned with a bucket and a tub of chocolate ice cream just in time to catch the hyacinths Jack puked up. 

***

“You know this would be easier if you took off your mask,” Rhys said softly. 

  “You’ve said.” Jack growled, plucking petals out of his drink. Jack didn’t remember when Rhys dragged him over to his bed but that’s where he’s been the past couple of days.  

  “I just want to help you. I promise I won’t tell a soul. It just can’t be good for you to wear it this long.” 

  Rhys had been up in Jack’s penthouse for a week. Jack refused to see a doctor and his condition was slowly getting worse. Rhys did what he could, but what Jack really needed was a doctor or to confess his feelings. 

  It hurt watching his boss and friend, at least Rhys hoped they were friends, in so much pain. For many reasons. His most selfish reason was that he was sure that whoever Jack loved, it definitely wasn’t him. 

  Jack gave him a cold look that made Rhys’s stomach twist for many reasons. 

  “Fine I understand. I’m going to go make dinner.” Rhys got up and made his way over to the bathroom instead. He kneeled over the toilet, jacarandas spilling out of his mouth. At least they aren’t roses, he thought bitterly. 

  Jack insisted that he could eat solid foods just fine, but Rhys knew from experience that probably wouldn’t be a good idea without proper medication. 

  Proper medication that Rhys hadn’t had access to in a week because he’s been at his boss's beck and call ever since he watched Jack hack up three bloody roses on the floor. 

  His condition was getting worse, he could feel it. He’s had to step out more and more to deal with his problem. And just being around Jack in itself made his condition worse enough. 

  It was only a matter of time before it slipped out and Jack threw him out. God if only he could just get over his stupid crush. 

  Rhys was careful not to get kalmias in the smoothie he was making. He’d have to go shopping soon too, they were running out of supplies. Though Jack probably got everything delivered. 

  Jack glared at the cup in Rhys’s hand. He was tired of eating out of a straw. But at least Rhys seemed to know what he was doing. 

  He was running out of time and he knew it. It was only a matter of time before he suffocated on petals, or the roses and sunflowers fucked up his throat beyond repair, or worst of all, he accidentally confesses his feelings and scares Rhys off. 

  Why was Rhys staying with him anyway? It wasn’t like Jack asked him too, and Rhys wasn’t getting paid for any of this. Is it possible Rhys could like him back?

  Jack immediately regretted letting himself go down that train of thought. He could feel a sunflower pushing his way up his throat. Sunflowers were the worst. Sure less thorns, but god were they huge and seemed to come up the most. 

  Rhys frowned sympathetically, reaching out to massage his throat. Normally Jack would murder someone for getting so handsy, but he wasn’t in any position to snap at him. Besides it was helping. Has been helping for the past few days.  

  “Jack! Please let me remove your mask.” Rhys said, trying to be soft. This felt big and it would certainly help if there wasn’t a mask in the way. 

  Jack glared, trying to push Rhys away against his better judgement. In his defense he was loopy from oxygen deprivation. 

  Rhys sighed, future him could deal with the consequences of reaching out and undoing the latches and throwing the mask onto the floor. Rhys tried not to let his gaze dwell on the deep scar running down Jack’s face. He focused on soothing Jack and keeping him calm. He could feel his own throat tightening with petals. 

  Slowly he helped Jack up, bringing him down the hall to the bathroom. Petals were already seeping from Jack’s scarred lips. 

  Jack could feel the sunflower’s head hit the back of his mouth, making him gag. Rhys brought him into a kneeling position over the bowl. Jack shoved his hand into his mouth, trying to yank it out, also against any logic. 

  Rhys winced as he pulled out a sunflower the size of his head. It would be beautiful if it weren’t covered in blood.  

  “Remember to breathe through your nose. Doesn’t try and force anything out. Just relax your throat and let it all fall out.” Rhys kept his voice calm, an emotion he absolutely did not feel. He grabbed his stomach, suddenly going into a coughing fit. Shit not right now. 

  Jack wasn’t sure what he felt as he watched Rhys spit out kalmias. Well he didn’t know what he felt besides pain and envy. 

  “Shit!” Rhys said, once he got it out of his system. “I’m sorry!” 

  Jack grabbed the front of Rhys’s shirt and pulled him in, locking their lips together. Rhys froze, his brain lagging behind everything else. Was Jack kissing him or was he finally dying and his brain was making him happy before he goes. 

  Jack wasn’t thinking at all. It wasn’t a kiss out of love, Handsome Jack did not love.

  Okay fuck it, Jack was stupidly in love. Stupid, stupid, stupid feelings! Rhys already loved someone else and was probably going to run off as soon as Jack let go. 

  So just never let go, Jack’s possessive side said. Jack hugged Rhys tighter, kissing him harder.

  So this was real. Rhys melted, having trouble keeping up with the kiss. Tears spilled down his cheeks, he wasn’t sure if they were his or Jack’s. He felt his lungs twist and he shoved Jack back.

  Five years of roots were coming up all at once. Rhys braced himself, grabbing Jack’s hand hard enough to hurt.

  Jack was about to say something but was interrupted by a sudden lurch as his own roots forced their way out. They weren’t as deep, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

  After several minutes of hacking up repressed feelings, they both collapsed on the floor. 

  “So…” Rhys said, cringing at how his voice sounded. “How’d you get that scar?” 

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Jack said, voice squally scratchy. “I don’t want to talk at all.” Jack cupped Rhys’s cheek and pulled him into a kiss, and Rhys happily let him. 

  Maybe Handsome Jack could love, just this once. 

***

“There you two are! I’ve been trying to contact you for days!” Timothy said, glaring at his boss. “You can’t just say you need me to take charge of Helio’s for a while and then not give me any information! And where have you been!?” He points at Rhys. “You’re supposed to fill me in on what’s going on. I’ve been winging it for a week!”

  Rhys gave him a nervous smile, taking Jack’s hand. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Tim who was starting to deflate. 

  “I told you I was sick.” Jack said. “Rhys was taking care of me.”

  “Whatever. Just don’t complain to me about all the work you have left over. And don’t forget to pay me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll ECHO you later. Don’t you have a girlfriend to run home too?” Jack really just wanted some alone time. Well alone with Rhys time. 

  “Fiancée.” Tim corrected. Jack could tell his dopplegӓnger was blushing slightly under his identical mask. “I’ll see myself out. Congrats on finally getting together.” 

  “Finally?” Rhys asked, but Tim had already skipped out. 

  “Don’t mind him.” Jack said, kissing his cheek in an oddly gentle way. “We have work to catch up on.”

  Rhys smiled, pulling Jack into a kiss. “I’ll get your coffee then, sir.”

  Jack shamelessly stared at Rhys’s ass as he walked off. Yeah this could work out. 

#borderlands #tales from the borderlands #rhack #handsome jack #rhys strongfork #rhys the company man #rhys x jack #my fic #hanahaki #hanahaki disease

[batbirdies]

Asymmetric Replies

AO3 link

It was late, and the gala was only about half over but Tim was maybe a little exhausted and not wanting to admit that he might not be 100% over his most recent illness. He was perfectly fine, but the residual phlegm, throat clearing, and coughing that was mild during the day tended to get more prominent at night. So he’d slipped out of the ballroom earlier than he might normally allow himself and retreated to his room, where he took off his tux and put on a hoodie and sweats and decided to just veg for the rest of the night.

The den was quiet and watching mind numbing television sounded like the best way to waste some time in the place of schmoozing the rich and famous. 

He must have drifted off, leaned back against the armrest with his eyes drooping. The next thing he was aware of was faint shuffling sounds coming from behind the couch. He figured it was Alfred, taking a short break from the event himself and checking in when he didn’t see Tim in the ballroom anymore. However, when he took a deep breath and shuffled himself to an upright position what he found was not Alfred, but Damian.

Tim blinked at the image before him, because the kid was still in his mini tux, red bow-tie in place, and he was methodically arranging a chess board that hovered near the back wall between two bookshelves. Tim stared for a bit, the voices from the tv behind him sounding more like low buzzing than words. 

It had been louder before, someone - he supposed Damian - must have turned it down.

“What are you-” Of course his voice came out in phlegm and gravel and he had to pause, clearing his throat before he finished. “What are you doing in here?”

“I have grown tired of the Gotham elite. Father excused me for an early ‘bedtime’.” While Damian didn’t look up, he still put air quotes around ‘bedtime’ and glared at the chess board with all of his derisive might. 

“Care for a game of chess, Timothy?” At this, he did finally look up.

He stiffened though when he saw Tim’s no-doubt dumbfounded look.

He quickly schooled his expression, grimacing internally at the awkward silence that followed before Tim watched whatever openness had been on Damian’s face quickly shutter away. “Sure,” he tried after a too-long pause, a twinge of guilt in his stomach at the forced blankness on Damian’s face as he turned back to the board.

“You do not have to,” he spat back, shoulders high and tense, “I am only bored and do not wish to indulge in your trash tv, as you so call it.” 

“No, it - uh, it’s a good idea. I’m bored too.” It took a moment to untangle himself from the blanket he’d wrapped up in on the couch. He left it draped over the armrest, shuffling over to the chess table. Sliding into the seat opposite Damian always felt a little bit like sitting on the other side of a police interview, with how intensely he stared, but it no longer held the underlying edge Tim used to expect. 

He’d called him Timothy, even. Which was...not entirely new, but something Tim had been noticing more and more. It wasn’t his favorite but it was definitely better than Drake, and didn’t hold any of the old animosity he was once accustomed to either.   

That didn’t mean Tim still wasn’t a little bit cautious as he watched him finish arranging the pieces. Nor did Damian’s shoulders completely lower as he set the last one in place. 

“You have first move,” he gestured lightly to Tim’s pieces as he leaned back in his chair, surveying the board. 

Tim looked down, mildly surprised to see he indeed had the white set in front of him, meaning Damian purposefully gave him the first move. It was definitely odd, he thought, as he moved his first piece, not putting that much thought into it. 

Damian normally stayed at those events until the very last one of them was finally heading back up to the private areas of the manor (usually Bruce), refusing to “give in” or something, Tim didn’t know. But it was a pattern. And here he was, taking an ‘early bedtime’ to come in here and play chess with him. The very implication of a bedtime was normally grating to Damian, as it would be to Tim.

There weren’t a lot of reasons Tim could think of that would send him up early, unless something had upset him, enough that Bruce told him to leave. Or, it was something he didn’t want the others to know about. 

“So,” he started, watching as Damian confidently made his first counter move. “These things are the worst, right?” Tim could cringe at himself. Of all the ice breakers…

Damian, however, didn’t give him a disdainful look or make a snide comment, he only sniffed haughtily and nodded. “Indeed. Father’s peers are insufferable.”

Tim glanced down at the board, doing his best to actually concentrate, knowing Damian wouldn’t take it well if he thought he wasn’t trying. Three moves later they already had two pawns in deadlock and Tim was still trying to wrap his head around how to ask without getting his head bitten off. 

Maybe it was none of his business. And Tim wondered, a little, why he was suddenly concerned; but for how Damian’s shoulders were still high and tight and he knew how the people at these things could be. He probably saw the least of it of all of them, really. Most of the sycophants who tried to talk to them instead of either ignoring them or just existing in the peripheral already knew Tim from when he was small. He’d existed in these circles for years. And not to mention he was white, and “well bred” by most of their standards. Damian had no such advantages. 

But Tim wasn’t good at the older brother thing, really, if he even considered himself one. Dick seemed to think so, though, and Cass. Even Jason sometimes made offhand comments about ‘little brothers - right Tim?’ when he was in a good enough mood. 

So maybe.

Quietly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. He opened his text window and scanned the conversations there. No new messages.

“Dick’s asking if I’ve seen you.” He glanced up, gauging Damian’s reaction, but he only looked up in mild surprise, eyebrows raised. “Should I tell him no? Or does it matter?” Tim knew that if Damian was upset, and he hadn’t gone to find Dick, he either didn’t want to see him for some reason, or he felt like he couldn’t interrupt whatever he was in the middle of in the ballroom. Maybe he was dancing, or charming some reporter into writing the right article. 

“You may tell him whatever you wish,” was the cryptic response, as Damian looked back down, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. Tim frowned, locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. 

“He’s probably just surprised you headed up early. It’s a little out of the norm, I mean.” 

Damian’s hand paused where his fingers rested just on top of his knight. “Yes well,” he said quietly, “even I grow tired of acting.”  

Tim hesitated briefly, before sucking it up and asking directly, hoping this shift in dynamic might stick. “Did somebody say something rude? Because if they were being -” He didn’t want to outright ask if someone was being racist, but it had happened before. “Bruce puts on a show but he honestly doesn’t put up with that stuff. If you tell him who it was, he’ll make sure they don’t get invited to these things anymore.” 

Damian pulled his hand away after making his move and finally looked up, expression unchanged, though the tension in his shoulders seemed to lessen. “What, exactly, do you assume was said?”

“I...I don’t know.” Tim shrugged, feeling mildly wary, like this could be a trap he hadn’t seen coming. “Most of the people at these things just suck.” He had to clear his throat at the end, residual phlegm taking that moment to come up and mangle his last word, following up with a short round of wet coughs he tried to smother into his elbow. 

Damian was frowning at him when he looked back up. “I am fine,” he said, voice a little more forceful than necessary. “I’m not sure the same can be said for you, however.” 

There was a curl of distaste to his mouth as he watched Tim make his next move, sniffling loudly and glancing around for his water that he’d left on the coffee table. Tim almost snapped something defensive back but just then there was noise outside the room

They both looked up to find Jason swinging around the doorway, tie undone and hanging loose around his neck. “This where you made off to, Gremlin?” He asked, glancing between them as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe. 

“I do not see why that is any of your business.” Damian grumbled, reaching across the board and taking Tim’s bishop. Tim stared at it for a moment, the move computing in his head before he swore under his breath and Damian smirked. 

Jason’s heavy footsteps padded across the carpet until they stopped just next to the board. 

“This is priceless, you didn’t even change your clothes.” 

Damian looked up with a glare, eyebrows drawn low, “And I see you must have chosen to change into a second tux then.” 

Jason snorted, hiking his pant legs up before he squatted down to stared at the board at eye level, scrutinizing their game. “Nah, B sent me to find Tim and make sure he wasn’t hacking up a lung in secret. I’ll take any excuse to leave these things early. Dames, he’s gonna take your knight.” 

“Jason,” Tim held no compunction about reaching over and shoving Jason in the shoulder, knocking him off balance enough that he fell sideways, landing on his hip and holding himself up with one hand.

“I do not need your help.” Damian added for good measure, though his expression when he looked back at the board was distinctly unhappy. 

Instead of getting back up, Jason shifted until he sat cross legged on the floor. “You two are a picture.” He slipped his phone out from somewhere, Tim noticed when he glanced away from the board, and held it up, “Damian in a tux, Timmers in his pajamas, I feel like it’s a real representation of who you are as people.” 

Tim looked down, mildly concerned at the phone pointed his direction. “Are you drunk?” 

“That would explain it,” Damian mumbled under his breath. Tim let out a huff of unexpected laughter, having to suppress another cough when Jason dropped his phone back in his lap. 

“Hey, it’s the only way to get through these things. I’m sending those to Dick, by the way.” 

Tim made eye contact with Damian over the board and they both rolled their eyes. 

“So in sending you to come find me, Bruce was actually just trying to get you out of there before you embarrassed yourself.” 

Damian snickered, stifling a grin as he curled over the board a little more closely. 

“Hey now, I am not drunk, just a little tipsy, I don’t overdo it at these things, ok?” Jason pointed a finger at both of them in turn and then smirked as he leaned back on his hands. “It may have been a fool’s errand though, since Damian was already on duty.” 

Tim was ready to roll his eyes again but Damian sent a glare toward Jason and hissed, “I was merely bored.” 

“Sure you were,” Jason grinned, “no way you were concerned about recovering-little Timmy, vanishing out from under our noses.” 

Tim blinked while Damian sputtered, face going slightly red, “I am not under the impression that Drake needs a babysitter,” he finally managed to snap, glancing at Tim just in time to make fleeting eye contact before his gaze darted away again. 

“Jay,” Tim said under his breath, a warning tone to it before the other man raised a hand in surrender, picking his phone up to look at and summarily dropping the subject. 

Damian looked tense again, jaw and eyes hard as he glared at the board, refusing to look up when Tim didn’t make his next move right away. 

He almost brushed it off, letting his gaze fall back to the match...but it did make sense. It would explain why Damian left the party early, why he didn’t seem to care if Dick knew, and why he might be willing to play the part of a tired little kid to get out of there for the night. And why he was suddenly so defensive when Jason implied it. 

Tim was utterly blank for a moment, processing that. He glanced up for a second as he reached toward the board and found Damian staring at him again, before his eyes flitted back to the game between them, the tips of his ears going bright red. 

Tim was about to push his rook forward, putting Damian in check, but he veered his hand toward the other side of the board at the last second, moving his second bishop to take a pawn instead. Jason was watching again, sitting up just straight enough to see over the top of the board and when Tim looked over, he winked.

Tim felt his own face heat as he rolled his eyes a second time, leaning over the game board and swiping a wrist under his nose briefly as he let Damian take his Queen, resting his chin in his hand. 

Damian won, which was no surprise. “Ah well,” he said as he stretched over the back of his chair. Jason had eventually retreated to change out of his tux and returned in sweats and a t-shirt. He was currently lounging across the couch on his phone. 

Dick appeared just as the match was ending, clearly having showered, hair wet and a damp ring around the neck of his shirt. “Good game,” Tim said as their oldest brother wandered into the room.

“Yes,” Damian agreed with a short nod, beginning to put the pieces away in their respective boxes. “It is unfortunate you are at a disadvantage while you recover. We will be on more even footing next time.” Tim cleared his throat, suppressing a smile as Damian stood up. “I will go change.” 

He spun around in time to almost run into Dick, who quickly veered out of his path, brushing a hand over his head as Damian ducked away and out of the room. Jason peered over the edge of the couch and Tim stifled another cough as Dick fell into the chair Damian had just vacated. 

“Having fun?” He asked, obviously suppressing a smirk. 

“Shut up,” Tim went to kick him under the table and he laughed, grin spreading over his face. Tim looked away the minute it turned to something softer, fiddling with the top of the one of the game piece boxes and thinking he could probably do this if things kept on the way they were...make the whole older brother thing work.

@lilan-norah

#fanfiction #Batman #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #fluff #sibling relationships #JUST BE HONESTY WITH EACH OTHER #ITS OK TO BE CONCERNED #idk #this is from a super old prompt I was sent back in August #but I needed a break from my Nano project #so decided to go back through them #don't ask me when this is supposed to take place #sometime between when Damian and Tim hated each other and now lol #They do love each other #Batbirdies writes

[karliahs]

please leave a light on when you go

oneshot - jontim - 2k words

written for @jontim-week day 2, prompts: night out / touch / secret

 “I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

 And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that.

read on ao3! or below the cut:

There’s no reason for Tim to be here. The Institute has some weird policies, including a truly esoteric dress code, but it doesn’t have mandatory team-building night-outs. Tim has no reason to get to know his coworkers, no need to ingratiate himself to them beyond what he can get by smiling, making bland comments about his weekend plans and never microwaving fish in the breakroom. 

The pub they’re in, somehow identical to every workplace-night-out pub he’s ever been to, seems to be having some sort of throwback night. Early-nineties hits play just loud enough to grate, and Tim eyes his new coworkers, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for striking up a conversation. He imagines what they might say if he told the truth. <i>Hi, I’m Timothy. I left behind a career in publishing to be a junior researcher so that I can hunt monsters like fucking Scooby Doo. If you need me, I’ll be chasing answers I’ll never find, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about them even if I did! Another round?</i>

Maybe that’s why he came tonight. To have these thoughts somewhere other than his flat. His little studio can only hold so much brooding. 

He’s interrupted from his current round of brooding, first by an unsteady grab at his shoulder, then by a cascade of beer, then by a glass clattering onto the floor followed by a hush in the surrounding buzz of conversation. A quiet, posh voice swears, and Tim recognises one of his coworkers bending down to try and clean up the mess, though it takes him a moment to place the name.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, glancing up at Tim before sheepishly looking back at the mess on the floor. Off to the side, a few tables give a sarcastic cheer and a round of applause. Tim worked food service long enough to instinctively dislike anyone who does this. He grabs some napkins and bends down to help Jon.

“Hey, no harm done,” Tim says, trying to remember how to sound friendly. He scoops up the somehow still-intact glass. “They’re wise enough to make them sturdy around here.”

Jon huffs, somewhat ineffectually blotting at the spreading puddle on the ground. “Did - your clothes, I didn’t, ah-”

“Only a glancing blow,” Tim answers, brushing at the damp spots by his hip. “And after I went to all this trouble to dress up for the occasion.”

Jon looks up in alarm, before registering that Tim hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. He gives a small, reluctant smile; one of the first expressions Tim’s seen from him that wasn’t some variant of thoughtful frown. 

He’s seen Jon around a bit, in his few weeks at the Institute - about Tim’s age, relatively nondescript, tonight clad in a surprisingly lush leather jacket. Tim had made the mistake of asking him a couple of questions on his first day, when the person actually training him was on lunch. Jon had blustered and prevaricated for a few minutes before admitting it was only his second week in the job, so he didn’t actually know.

That was about the only time they’d interacted, though Tim had noticed a few other things. There were a few loose groups of friendships in Research, and Jon didn’t seem to be a part of any of them. He never seemed that steady on his feet, and he tended to avoid eating in public. He rarely asked for help, unless he needed something that would require him to use one of the library ladders, which he seemed determined to avoid. Tim had wondered idly about vertigo, or mobility issues, before reminding himself these weren’t the questions he was here to answer. 

Tim had always noticed people, collected little details about them in his head whether he intended to or not, but he thinks his observations used to be about happier things, though it’s hard to remember exactly how he was, how he felt, before - it wasn’t the kind of thing he ever tried to memorise, the kind of thing he ever thought he could lose. Now he finds himself taking note of the coworker who comes back from their lunch break with faint puffy red marks around their eyes, or the older guy who checks his phone with something like dread in his eyes. Danny would have called it his older brother instincts (but what good did those instincts do him?).

Tim blinks back to the present, realising he’s been pushing a napkin over the same spot of floor for a while now. Jon offers him a hand up, though he braces himself on the bar with his other hand before he does. Tim takes care not to let Jon take too much of his weight as he’s hauled back up. 

“Ah, thank you. And apologies, again,” Jon murmurs, gesturing awkwardly at Tim’s lightly-beered clothes. 

“Happens to everyone,” Tim says easily. Jon still looks lightly anguished, and Tim silently wishes this could have happened to someone else, someone with the confidence to laugh it off. “I’m always convinced I’m going to drop something when I go in the silent study bit of the library,” Tim offers. 

“Ah...that worry hadn’t actually occurred to me,” Jon replies, solemn enough that Tim can’t really tell if he’s joking. 

Tim finger-guns. “Any other anxieties I can stir up while you’re over here?”

“I’m quite capable of stoking my own neuroses, thank you.”

Jon glances over his shoulder at the tables the rest of the department are occupying, perhaps doing the same thing as Tim and trying to psyche himself up for some more hollow smalltalk. Tim notes that his jacket seems slightly large on him, but in a way that kind of works. The collar of his shirt is slightly out of place beneath it. There’s a lump forming in Tim’s throat, even though nothing is happening - nothing but standing close to someone, noticing the little signs that they’re real and alive entirely independent from him. He’s aware, as he always is, of the hollow pit in his stomach, pain ebbing and flowing but never gone, new flares thrown off from a familiar wound, now pulsing with a kind of loneliness. All this, just from standing close to someone and trying to make them feel better about a mistake that didn’t matter.  

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that. 

They duck outside to find dark clouds have given way to an anticlimactic drizzle. They stay close to the pub, shielded from the rain by the slight overhang of the roof. Jon fumbles with a lighter and Tim finds his gaze drifting over the rain-slick streets. It’s been a while since he’s been...anywhere, really, other than work and his flat. Longer than he can remember since he was outside in the never-quite-dark of the city. 

Despite himself, Tim finds himself admiring the buildings across the way, modern painted shop-fronts on the ground floor giving way to weathered brick and occasional stone carvings above. It was the first thing he’d loved about London, how you only had to look up to catch a glimpse of its history, and it almost wounds him all over again, that that love isn’t gone too. It would be easier if he was just one thing, all the way lost. It would be easier if he didn’t still love the world that killed Danny.

Jon lights his cigarette, and silently holds the lighter out to Tim. Tim shakes his head, and Jon doesn’t question him about why he’s come out here if he doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t press about the way Tim must be looking; he knows he’s never had much of a poker face. Danny tried to teach him poker, on a visit home from uni; Tim left for six weeks and came back to playing cards and strategy guides everywhere - his brother, who never sit still even in his own head -

“Where were you, before this?” Jon asks. Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for a smoker, but he looks immediately more relaxed with a cigarette in his hands. Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-

“Publishing,” Tim answers, before he can drift again. He wants to say more, to make sure this undemanding presence isn’t going to leave his side, but his throat is still tight. “You?” 

Jon frowns, as if debating something to himself, then gives a tiny rueful smile. “Tesco.”

Tim grins. “Was it a haunted Tesco?”

“Only by customers,” Jon replies, dry as bone. 

The rain is picking up slightly, and both of them silently tuck further into their little alcove, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. The air tastes of smoke. Tim is watching moths in the streetlights above, partly out of fear that if he looks directly at Jon, he’ll realise how close they are and pull back. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Jon asks, voice hushed. He gestures and Tim follows the point of light with his eyes. “The smell, I mean?”

“Always kind of liked it,” Tim answers, matching Jon’s tone. Jon scoffs in disbelief. “What? You’re the one who inhales the things.”

“Exactly,” Jon says. “I have a biochemical justification for finding the smell tolerable. What’s your excuse?”

Tim spreads his hands, little spots of rain landing on his sleeve. “I never claimed to make sense.”

In the corner of his eye, Tim catches Jon hiding a smile with his next drag. It’s a good smile, one he wants to get a proper look at sometime. It’s as if now that he’s noticed one beautiful thing, he can’t stop seeing them: the buildings; the rain; the passing pair of drunk students across the way, walking arm in arm, holding each other up. There’s a curl of anger in his chest, that these things still get to exist, but for the moment it coexists with a kind of quiet warmth.

“You want to know a secret?” Tim asks, finally turning to look directly at Jon. Jon doesn’t speak, doesn’t nod, but he stares and waits, lights reflecting in his dark eyes, and for a moment Tim feels as though he must already know what Tim is going to say, that he can look into Tim’s eyes and learn everything he’s ever tried to hide. He can’t decide if it’s peaceful or terrifying. 

Then Jon blinks and the feeling is gone, as quickly as it had come. “I like this party better,” Tim finishes, gesturing to the two of them. The things he could have said hang in the air between them.

Jon doesn’t quite manage to hide his smile this time, and yeah, that’s something Tim needs to see more of, all slow and crooked. 

“Well,” Jon says, still in the same hushed voice, as if they’re sharing secrets. “If you ever need to borrow my smoking habit, get you out of an unpleasant social situation…”

“Knew that was why people smoked,” Tim says, nudging Jon’s shoulder with his own. “I’m not normally…” He trails off, unsure how to explain himself. Normally I’d care at least a bit, about all those people in there. Normally I’d at least have the energy to pretend.

Jon considers this half-finished thought for a long moment. “Abnormality is...rather the Institute’s specialty,” he offers eventually. Tim feels a kind of gratitude he can’t name or voice, so he doesn’t, just stands there listening to the rain while Jon finishes his cigarette, and for a long time after.

Not a bad night out, after all. 

#jontimweek #the magnus archives #tma fic #jontim #new! thing!

[wordsfromthesol]

Summoning Ritual (2/3)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @malfoys-demigod  @pricetagofficial  @zphilophobiaz @queencommonsense @edenspolaroids @bonzhur @silverw19 @sleepingwithsirensfangirl1 @red-for-harleen Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You try a summoning ritual, optimistically hoping to be reunited with your parents, but somehow end up in Gotham. At Wayne Manor. Doesn't this stuff only exist in comic books and television? Word Count: 1.5k

Part One   Part Three

It'd been a week and you heard nothing. A week running around the Wayne Manor – okay it could be worse, this was like a dream – but you just wanted answers. You wanted to be home. How could the spell have gone so wrong? You stumbled down the stairs and wandered into the kitchen to see Alfred making breakfast.

"Good morning Miss Y/N. I'm afraid you won't have company this early. It was a rather late night for our caped crusaders."

You gave a faint smile, still forcing the sleep from your eyes. "No worries Alfred. You're all the company I need." Your eyes shot down to the cup of coffee placed before you. "They haven't found out anything, have they?" Cradling the mug, you looked up at him, hope bursting through your eyes.

"I would not know miss." That wasn’t the answer you wanted.

"They would tell me though…right?" The question was pointless, you knew them well enough to know the answer, but you asked anyway.

"I am sure they will tell you what they can."

You let out a deep sigh, the diplomatic answer. You weren't really sure what you were expecting, but that didn’t help. An awkward amount of time passed before you decided to speak up again.

"Do you think I could get out of here for a bit? Go to a coffee shop or something? It's 9 am. Gotham can't be that bad at 9 am." You were trying to reason with Alfred as much as you were trying to reason with yourself. You've read the stories.

"I do not wish you to feel a prisoner, Miss Y/N. You may take whichever vehicle you like. But please also take this, it is equipped with a distress signal." Your eyes lit up as Alfred handed you the cellphone. Eagerly, you grabbed the device and headed for the garage. "Oh, and don't be gone too long. I fear Master Timothy would have my head."

"We wouldn't want that!" You called out behind you as you raced down the hallway.

**

Barely an hour had passed before Tim traipsed downstairs and into the kitchen. Alfred jumped at the sight of his half-asleep form rummaging through the cupboard. "Master Timothy, I did not expect you awake so soon. You only retired a few hours ago."

"Hm…unfortunately Wayne Enterprises doesn't acknowledge my nightly escapades." Tim shuffled towards the coffee machine, mug in hand. "And my presence is required on a conference call in 10 minutes." Tim's eyes shifted around the kitchen, "Where is Y/N?"

"She decided to get her coffee elsewhere this morning." Alfred's calm demeanor made it difficult to get angry, but Tim managed it anyway.

"SHE WHAT?! And you let her?!" His voice echoed through the room.

"She is not being held captive Master Timothy. We must let her forge her own way, especially when the answers she seeks are sparse."

"Do you know where she went?" Tim tried to regain his composure, after all, Alfred did have a point.

"I do not. I did, however, send her with a phone." Tim jumped out of his seat just as Alfred finished the sentence and raced to the nearest computer. It was only a matter of seconds before he had your location.

"She's standing in an abandoned building…" Unsure of the unusual results, he double-checked the information. When the same location appeared on the screen, Tim sat back in the chair with a puzzled look plastered across his face.

"Perhaps she is at a nearby intersection?" Alfred suggested upon seeing Tim's distress.

"Maybe…I'm going to check it out."

"Sir, your conference --" Tim was gone before Alfred could finish his sentence.

**

Tim found you standing in the middle of the abandoned building staring blankly into space. You seemed to be in a trance. "Y/N…" He whispered as he approached you. As Tim gently placed his hand on your shoulder, your vision went black. You slumped down, losing all feeling in your body as a scene played in your mind.

"Fuck Z, what are we going to do?! I can't…she can't --" He looked down, staring at the tiny hand wrapped around his finger.

"I know. We have to let her go."

"And what? Just hope and pray that that fucking demon doesn't find her?!"

"No. We send her somewhere else. A world where he is just a scary story. A myth." The raven-haired girl looked down at the child with an overwhelming sorrow in her eyes.

"A barrier even he can't break…" The scruffy blonde man mumbled, realizing what had to be done.

"We have to say goodbye. It's the only way." A dark void appeared behind them.

"Y/N…" the voice just barely broke through the scene which had begun replaying in your mind. "You're going to be okay." The next sentence came through clearly as the features of the abandoned warehouse formed around you.

"Tt…Tim?" Your voice cracked.

"Y/N!" Hope beamed through his voice. "An ambulance is on its way. Just stay still." Tim urged as he grasped at your hands.

"No…no. I'm fine." You weren't entirely sure how you got here or how long you had been there. Did Tim come with you? "I just want to go home. Can we go home?" You closed your eyes as you pulled yourself into his chest. The motion was instinctive, you didn't realize what you had done until you felt him pick you up.

The solemn silence lingered in the air the entire ride back to the manor. Neither one of you could bring yourself to say anything. What was there to say? As the car pulled into the driveway, you let out a long sigh, bracing yourself to move again. Only as the car stopped, your feet stopped working as well. As much as your mind willed it, your body didn't budge from the seat. Relief flooded over your body as Tim opened the car door and gathered you in his arms.

**

You woke up a few hours later, only vaguely aware of this morning's escapades. You turned on your side, trying to piece together the events and shook at the sight of someone else in the bed. The momentary fright subsided as you recognized Tim typing away on his computer.

"Uh…what happened?" You figured it must have been something bad since Tim apparently had left your side since.

"You're awake, how do you feel?"

"Dizzy and confused," you sat up and stared down at your hands, intertwining your fingers over and over again. "I remember an abandoned building. I don't even know how I got there, or what compelled me to go inside. "Then I heard your voice, and I woke up here."

"I got there, and you were just standing there. In the middle of the building. You looked as if the life had been drained out of you." Tim's voice hitched at the recollection. "As soon as I touched you, you collapsed. I was able to catch you just before you hit the ground."

"Was there…uh…was there anyone else in the room?" You urged him to continue, as two distinct faces plagued your memories.

"No…it was abandoned…" Tim furrowed his brows and shut his computer as he turned to face you. "Do you remember someone else?"

"I don’t know. I keep seeing these faces. They seem so familiar –"

Tim cut you off before you could continue. "Y/N, there's something you should know." Without thinking, he took your hands in his. "About your parents." He watched as a confused stare settled on your features. "They are from this world. My world.” He let out a sigh, preparing himself for your anger. “Zatanna and Constantine." Tim didn't need to say anymore, you knew those names. You knew those people.

"How long have you known?" You dreaded his answer, but you had to know.

"Since the day you got here." Your breathing grew heavy at his response, but before you could react, Tim continued. "I didn't want to tell you until we found them. We've put everyone on notice, and no one has seen them…well since you got here."

"And you didn't think that was important?!" You got up from the bed, unable to sit still any longer. "Did you think it was some coincidence?" You scoffed at your own question. "Of course, you didn't. You're better than that. We both know you're better than that so don't insult me."

"I didn't want to present you with another problem, okay!" Tim screamed back at you as he joined you in the center of the room. His voice sombered, "I wanted to give you answers. You deserve answers. And I don't have them." You could tell he was just as mad at himself. Then, as if almost on cue, Dick raced into the room.

"Enough with the lover's squabble! We found them." Apparently, your argument could be heard throughout the Manor. Dick motioned for you to follow him. All your emotions soured, and you didn't know how you were supposed to react. You stood there, like a deer in headlights, until you felt Tim's hand intertwine with yours.

"Whatever happens I'll be right here." He whispered to you before tugging you out of the room.  

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