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#i’m in tim’s washing machine.
ellickalways · 2 years
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DO YOU WANT TO COME IN?? DO YOU WANT TO COME IN?!?!?!?! brain shortcircuited
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blackbirdi · 1 month
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Batfamily Incorrect Quotes #2
~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce: What are you doing?
Damian: Todd only likes the yellow M&Ms, so I’m separating them from the others.
Bruce: That’s sweet of you, Damian.
Damian: What? No. I plan to eat them in front of him and run off.
Bruce: *Internally* What the fuck?
———————————
Tim: What if instead of milk I put coffee in my cereal?
Literally everyone else: What if you didn’t?
———————————
Steph: Hey.
Bruce: *Narrows his eyes in suspicion* Hi…?
Steph: Can a person breathe in a washing machine?
Bruce: *Looking around*
Bruce:
Bruce: WHERE’S DUKE!?
———————————
Tim: Hold on! You died!
Jason: Yeah, well it didn’t fucking last!
———————————
Damian: *Holding a box* What would you say if I came home one day with six puppies?
Bruce:
Bruce: What’s in the box?
Damian:
Bruce: What’s in the box, Damian?
Damian: I think you know.
———————————
Bruce: Bad news, everyone… I know we just got the puppy, but Duke just found out he’s allergic to dogs.
The rest of the Batfam: Aw, that’s so sad.
Damian: *Holding the puppy* So where’s Thomas going to live now?
———————————
Bruce: *Explaining plan on how to take down the Riddler* With these types of plans it can be a hit or miss—
All the Batkids in unison: I guess they never miss, huh?
Bruce: *Pissed off deep breath*
———————————
Steph: *From across the room* Maybe I’ll be Tracer!
Duke: *Without missing a beat* I’m already Tracer.
Steph: What about Widowmaker?
Tim: I’m already —
Bruce, a Tired DadTM who doesn’t understand memes: I’ve asked you fourteen times already, and at this point I’m begging you to stop!
———————————
Bruce: *His arms crossed over his chest and glaring at Teen!Dick disapprovingly* I know you snuck out last night, Dick.
Teen!Dick’s inner voice: Play dumb.
Teen!Dick: Who’s Dick?
Teen!Dick’s inner voice: Not that dumb!
Bruce:
———————————
Tim: *Reasonably pissed* Did you snap my laptop in half?
Jason: what goes around, comes around.
Tim: *Rolling his eyes* Are you seriously still upset over that sandwich I ate last week?
Jason: *With tears in his eyes cause he’s a dramatic bitchTM* That was the best sandwich I ever made and you at it like it was nothing!
———————————
Dick: How do I know I can trust you?
Jason: Because I don’t care enough about you to lie.
———————————
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Dick Grayson V Gotham
Chapter 1 - AO3 - Constantine Jr. AU
There were a few minutes every morning, in the dark before dawn when his alarm hadn’t yet rung, where Dick Grayson felt most at peace. Despite the ache in his body the night out as Nightwing, he felt refreshed and content to just rest his eyes until his phone rang and it was time to get ready for the day. 
Unfortunately, peace was never meant to last. 
With a loud crash that definitely woke the neighbors, a little body kicked his door in. A switch was flipped and blinding light filled the room. Dick squinted in the general direction of the intruder. “Get up already!” Danny, his ward, snapped, rushing forward to rip the blankets off his bed. Dick let him. “There’s a case ready for us at the precinct!” 
Dick checked his phone. No missed calls, and Danny didn’t have a phone yet. “Is this another psychic thing?” he asked. 
Danny rolled his eyes. “If I say yes, will you get your ass out of bed already?”
“Language,” he chided absentmindedly, but still got out of bed. Danny glared up at him, still not satisfied, and dragged him to the bathroom with a surprising amount of strength for an 8-year-old. “Huh! You’re really in a hurry today.”
“No, you’re just super slow!”
Dick pulled back against Danny, slowing their progress considerably. “Oh, it’s the age!” Dick bemoaned, draping himself dramatically against the wall. “Now that I have a kid of my own to look after, the years have started to take their toll—Ow!”
Danny glared up at him like he hadn’t just kicked Dick in the shin. Brat. “Be dramatic in your own time! We have a case, Dick, we need to go!”
“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Dick complied and got in the bathroom, saying just before he closed the door, “Make sure you’re dressed in clothes you can afford to lose! I don’t want you to get blood on your favorite jeans again!” Danny shouted back his agreement and finally, Dick was alone. 
As Dick washed his face and did his business, he contemplated how he got there. Honestly, he didn’t get what Bruce was always complaining about; this guardianship thing was going great! It was three weeks since he’d wrangled Danny home, but he’d been preparing for this for months, ever since he learned that the little brat trying to solve murders was homeless. It took months of classes, meetings with CPS, and interviews with friends and family, but Dick was now the proud foster parent of Danny Smith!
Fortunately, Dick had managed to convince Bruce that the foster license was precautionary, like if he needed to protect a minor. Which was what he was doing! So not technically a lie!
Although, Bruce had his hands full already. Some new crime lord had taken up the Joker’s old alias and it was driving the old man up the wall. Bruce had even asked Dick for help on the case last night! He’d said no, of course; he wasn’t just going to abandon Danny in Bludhaven for days while they hunted down Red Hood, and he wasn’t going to spring Danny on Bruce, nor Bruce on Danny. Danny was a flight risk and had expressed disdain for millionaires in the past, and Bruce was… worse than he used to be. Tim had managed to resurrect some of the dad Bruce used to be, but ever since Jason… 
Well, it was good that they wouldn’t be seeing each other any time soon. Maybe by then Tim will have convinced Bruce to go to therapy!
Coming out of the bathroom, Dick started at Danny, dressed in jeans and a Digimon t-shirt, standing on the counter and getting Dick’s lunch bag off the shelf. He cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Packing breakfast to-go!” Danny said, jumping off the counter. Dick’s heart skipped a beat and he lunged forward, but Danny landed before Dick could reach him. He glared at Dick. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” He straightened up, playing it cool. He observed what Danny had laid out for breakfast as he started the coffee machine. A banana, two yogurts, and a handful of granola just poured out onto the table. “You know, you absorb more nutrients when you sit down and actually enjoy your food. And we don’t need lunch to-go. Remember, we talked about this? We have to wait for someone to report the crime first.”
“How do you know no one hasn’t yet?” Danny challenged. 
“Have they?”
“...No. We could report the crime though,” Danny grumbled, but opened a yogurt cup. 
They really couldn’t. If they reported the crime, they’d still have to wait for other officers and CSI before investigating, and that’s even if they were given the case! But more importantly… Dick was the only officer in the department who believed Danny could see ghosts. 
Sure, Commissioner Gonzalez believed Danny, but that was just one woman. As much as he appreciated the Commissioner’s work helping get Danny off the streets and processing the paperwork to ensure the boy got recognition as an official BPD consultant… well, Dick knew she had ties to the gangs in town, he just couldn’t prove it. Just because she liked him and Danny doesn’t make her good. 
The fact that she promoted him to detective was evidence enough. Dick was an amazing detective—like everyone trained by Batman—but normally you’d need a certain number of years and successful cases for that level of promotion, both of which Dick didn’t have. Hell, he’d only been working as a cop for two years! But Danny was only willing to work with Dick… so Dick became the youngest detective in the city. 
The coffee machine sang a little robotic song and Dick placed a Nightwing mug under the spout just in time to catch the stream. As Danny finished his breakfast, Dick shooed him off to go brush his teeth and turned on the TV. He still had thirty minutes before they had to leave for work—
“—taking after his father!” Jack Rider’s voice rang through the apartment. Dick frowned; why was this trash on? “Although I have to say, I don’t think anyone ever expected Richard Grayson to adopt a child of his own!”
Dick froze. What? No, he’d worked so hard to ensure that no one would find out—
A picture flashed on screen of Dick and Danny. Dick recognized it immediately; he’d taken Danny out to eat to celebrate Danny officially becoming his foster child. But that was weeks ago! They’d been sitting on the story for that long?
They didn’t even bother to blur Danny’s face. 
“Now, Jack,” the co-host chided, “Let’s not get too hasty. Our source at Bludhaven PD—who will be unnamed to protect their privacy—said it was only a foster, not an adoption.”
Jack waved her concern away. “Yes, a foster. For now. Don’t you remember how long Richard was Brucie’s ward? Sure, the kid might only be a foster for now, but with this family, adoption is always on the table!”
Turning away from the TV, Dick checked their security cameras on his phone. When he’d first moved in, Babs had hacked into all the cameras in the apartment, piggy-backing off their feeds. There, outside the building’s main entrance, were multiple reporters. Some had even gotten into the building, although their aimless wandering told him that their apartment number hadn’t been leaked yet. 
“Still, another street kid in the family,” Jack continued to muse. “That’s two now for the Waynes, right? Are they going to take off with an entire orphanage next?”
“Dick?”
He locked eyes with Danny, who gave the TV a worried look. But Danny didn’t get worried; he was a cocky, grumpy brat who’d given Dick a heart attack when he dared a gang member to shoot him in the face. But a news story scared him?
Smart kid. Dick was feeling scared too. So, he made the executive decision. 
Dick knelt down to Danny’s height, gently grasping his shoulders. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call out of work—”
“But Mrs. Bennett’s murder!” came the immediate protest. 
Dick took note of the name, but held up a hand to stop him. “I know, I know. But it’s not safe for us to go to the precinct right now.” Someone at BPD had told the reporters about them. One of his colleagues, pissed that he’d gotten his promotion unfairly? Someone who hated that a little kid solved murders better than them? Or anyone looking to make a quick buck? The possibilities were endless. 
He continued, “Commissioner Gonzalez will understand and help us consult with the case from online, okay? We’ll get sent pictures of the crime scene and you can talk to Mrs. Bennett and we’ll consult from Gotham just to be safe.” He had some PTO he could use, right? If not… Gonzalez could just fire him. He’d already known his co-workers were corrupt assholes, but to willingly put a child in danger was a step too far. If Gonzalez wanted to keep Dick—and therefore, Danny—she’d better clean house. 
Danny made a face. “Why Gotham?”
“That’s where my family lives! While we wait for the story to die down, I’ll introduce you to my grandfather, Alfred, and my brother Tim, and my friend, Barbra! I’ll show you around to all the fun spots, it’ll be fun! So go get packed, buddy.”
Hesitating in the doorway, Danny said, “They won’t listen to me. The other officers aren’t like you.”
“They will listen to you. I’ll make them,” Dick promised. He’d gathered enough blackmail on his fellow detectives to force the issue, if needs be. He ruffled Danny’s hair. “Don’t worry, Danny. It’ll just be for a week or two and then everything will be back to normal. I promise.”
Danny glared at him, batting his hand away. “I’ll keep you to that promise, old man.”
As Danny retreated to his room—Dick’s former workout room—to pack, Dick went to his own, closing and locking the door behind him. The call to Gonzalez went about as well as he was expecting: first her anger at him taking time off, then his anger about being sold out to the media, then Gonzalez swearing as she found the news online, until finally agreement. 
As they talked, Dick methodically packed away his Nightwing gear. After last night, where a slime meta had unceremoniously caked his suit in gunk that would not come out, he had two functioning suits: his back-up and his original that he kept for sentimental value. He packed all three, along with his gear. Maybe Alfred would be able to get the gunk out? But he couldn’t leave his things here. Their location was already compromised. If reporters decided the risk was worth it, they could break into his apartment and turn the whole place upside down looking for a story. 
So, Dick had to take the story with him. 
With all his gear packed, there was little room for personal belongings, so he did the best he could and only took the important things. His room at the manor still had a few changes of clothes. Fortunately Danny wasn’t a nosy kid, otherwise he’d never be able to get away with carrying his Nightwing gear in a normal duffel bag like this. 
Now, the hard part. 
The phone rang three times before it was picked up. “Master Richard.” Alfred’s icy tone made him wince. Oh, he already knew. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hey, Alfie…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say that I decided I can help Bruce on that Red Hood case after all?”
“I see.” No matter how angry Alfred was, he was frighteningly polite. “And shall I prepare a second bedroom for your ward?”
Dick winced. “That would be great, Alfred. Thank you.”
“Then I will see you soon. And please inform the young master that I look forward to meeting him when you both arrive.”
“I’ll tell him. He’s been looking forward to meeting you; I’ve been talking up your cooking for months now.”
“Months?” Oh no. “How kind of you, Master Grayson.” It got worse. Alfred was pissed now. Why did he have to say months? It wasn’t like Dick had intentionally hidden Danny from his family; he was just hiding him from Bruce! He wanted some privacy and to figure things out himself! But now Alfie was mad and suddenly that privacy didn’t seem so important anymore. “Shall I assume you’ll be arriving soon then?”
“In around an hour.” Leaving his room, he checked on Danny. He was trying to back everything he owned into the suitcase Dick had bought him. “Maybe a little longer? I’ll call when we’re ten minutes away.” 
“Then I will see you soon, Master Grayson.”
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on-leatheredwings · 11 days
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House Arrest
Yandere! Batfam / Bruce Wayne x (Fem!) Reader
For a request, Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with Bruce? Like, he keeps reader sick so she can't leave him or interact with someone outside the family. And maybe the rest of the batfam is in on it?
> [a/n: Didn’t know if you wanted this platonic or not so I didn’t specify! In my head its romantic with bruce though lmao] > word count: 1581 > Tw: gaslighting, munchausen’s syndrome by proxy, yandere-typical behaviors!
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You sit in anticipation, foot tapping against the stone floor. There’s an entire miniature hospital set up for you down here in the Batcave. Respirators, diagnostics machines, and other expensive medical equipment that would be better served in Gotham General. 
Helping people recover. 
So patients could some day leave. 
You used to love being in the Batcave. It was the family’s little secret. When you officially joined the family, the Batcave was now your secret as well. But ever since falling ill months ago, bedridden with a sickness whose cause continues to elude everyone… being here is depressing. You now notice it’s damp down here. Dark. Lifeless.
Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, the screen’s light painting over his face in a green wash. You watch his eyes scan line after line of your results. Reminds you of a typewriter. Methodical. Orderly. Nearly inhuman. When he sighs, your heart stops. 
Fuck.
He turns to you, face grave. “You’re still ill.” 
Your eyes start stinging with an onset of tears that you furiously try to blink back. 
“... H-How ill? How bad? Am I any better?” you ask, as if bartering with him will make the situation any different. As if bartering with God ever made any difference for mere mortals such as yourself.
Bruce’s face is still. 
“You haven’t improved.” 
Your hopes crash down around you like glass. You aren’t better at all? Even though you haven’t had a fever in weeks? Even though you’ve been working out with enough energy to keep up with Damian? He was exerting perhaps only 10% of his effort, but still. Your lymph nodes aren’t even swollen anymore. Tim had told you as much, accidentally contradicting Bruce’s insistence that they had been earlier that morning. 
“But I feel better,” you croak. You hear footsteps behind you approach and you swallow drily, nearly hissing at the offender. It’s Dick, and damn him. You don’t want to be placated right now.
“Are you experiencing any headaches? Shortness of breath?” Bruce asks, eyes still trained on you. You try to recall. 
“... I may have had a migraine this morning…” At Bruce’s weary shake of the head, you blurt, “But it’s passed. I’m perfectly fine. And no shortness of breath.”
“... I’m sorry. But if you’ve been having symptoms like that, along with your being immunocompromised…” Bruce doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. You won’t be leaving the Wayne Manor grounds for a long time. 
Fuck. 
Fuck. 
You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Dick, whose face is somber but offers an encouraging smile. 
“Well, I’m back in town for the time being. We can hang out all the time.” His expression brightens as an idea pops into his head. “And I can call Tim, Jason, Duke–! Maybe even Cass and Steph… We can have a board game night tonight!” He sounds as chipper as you are miserable.
Damian approaches from behind, leaving the shadows. His arms are folded. “If that’s the case, I’ll humor Grayson and let him capture some of my fleet for once.” A popular choice was Risk, perfect for the family who’s entire lives revolved around combat and strategy. But you didn’t want to play Risk again. You didn’t want to have a board game night, no matter how many of the family came. You wanted to see people. 
Other people. Everyone here is your family. 
You want fucking friends again. You wanted a job again – a sentiment you would’ve laughed at even just five months ago. You wanted any semblance of a life again.
Bruce’s eyes haven’t left your trembling form once, two chips of slate-gray peering over steepled hands.
“Thank you, Dick. Damian. But I think she could use some time alone.”
Dick’s hand releases your shoulder, retracting as if burned. None of them are the boss here. It’s Bruce who is my warden, your mind whispers darkly. 
“Right! Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” Dick sees himself out, taking Damian with him. “See you tonight.” And that feels like a sentencing to your fate.
Now the two of you alone, Bruce stands, offering his arm wordlessly. You know what this means. You take it, linking yours with his without thought or protest. Bruce liked to ensure you were always within his reach, as if you were prone to fainting spells. This was less humiliating for you than him carrying you through the estate, you suppose. 
“Why, yes, let’s take a turn around the grounds!” you used to exclaim, making your voice posh and British, mimicking the regency romance movies you had been watching all the time. 
Now, months later, you just sullenly allow him to lead you. Your surroundings pass by and you vaguely recognize that you are exiting the Batcave, walking through the manor, and out into the never-ending expanse of a well-kept lawn. 
It’s a sunny, idyllic spring day after months of overcast winter. 
And thank god you could still traipse outside when you wanted, even if fenced in. Bruce told you when you had first fallen ill that he had installed some high-tech, anti-air pollution gadget. Wayne Manor was effectively your own personal bubble. Fresh air was the only thing keeping you sane, lately. 
You two pass by the garden, a labor of love Alfred started. You and Damian tend to it now… and mainly the latter, these days. You haven’t had any energy for gardening as of late. Fatigue is a symptom, you hear Bruce’s voice whisper in the back of your mind. But you don’t feel fatigue… rather, just depressed. But of course, isn’t fatigue a symptom of being depressed…? A familiar brain fog crawls into your mind. Your head was starting to hurt.
You look across the lawn, onto the horizon. Gotham’s dark skyline sits there, enticing. When night falls, it’ll glimmer and twinkle with light. There is a whole world out there. And, God, you love the Waynes, but they aren’t the world. You need to distract yourself. Bruce, ever the lover of pleasant silences, is going to have to distract you from thoughts that make you want to leap off the second story balcony of your bedroom.
Should you ask, “How’s work?” No. You find you don’t care. 
“How’s Jason?” you say instead, feeling Bruce stiffen at the mention of his most tenuous relation.
He wasn’t around as much, but when he was, he was always relaxing with you in your room. You have a whole shelf for the knick knacks he brings. “Don’t worry. They’re clean,” he’d snort at his former mentor, because Bruce required everything to be thrice sanitized before coming into your possession.
“... Better.”
You’re glad. That’s one good thing, you guess. 
“Bruce,” you croak. 
He looks at you, face alight in expectation. 
“Maybe I should just go,” you say, small and weak. Your eyes don’t leave the sight of Gotham skyscrapers, stretching to the sky. Bruce stills, stopping you both in your tracks.
“What do you mean, ‘go’?” he says carefully.
You remove yourself from his arm and gesture to the city. “Just go. Leave. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.” Bruce looks genuinely confused, as much as he can. 
“Of course you can.”
“No, I can’t!” you screech. Frustrated, you tear at your hair. ��I can just be an outpatient somewhere– I can go for hospital treatments every week– or everyday– whatever!
Bruce places his hands on your shoulders.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Rage flares in you and you gnash your teeth at him. By now, that all-too-familiar brain fog has flooded your brain. But you try to fight it. You have to fight it. Like trying to crawl out of rapidly-sinking quicksand, you fight it.
“I-I know what I’m saying. I’m saying–”
“You’re saying to just let you die,” Bruce sharply returns. “To give up, let you die, and leave us to grieve.” 
“No–”
“Stephanie.” 
You meet his eyes again at the name, which are resolute and as blue as ever. 
“Cassandra. Duke.” Your stomach churns, imagining their smiling faces, turned into ash as your hypothetical passing. “Barbara.” 
“Bruce,” you croak, pleading inwardly for him to stop. 
“Damian.” 
“Tim.”
“Jason.” 
“Dick. Alfred.” You duck your head and your eyes meet the ground. The listing of all your loved ones pinches your heart, and you feel nauseous. You weren’t trying to leave them. You didn’t want to leave them at all. 
“... Me.” 
Your eyes sting with tears again. Why did he have to make it sound like that? Like you were seeking some selfish want, rather than trying to improve your quality of life. You feel your ambition and desire wane under the weight of guilt. You feel all sense of struggle start to disintegrate, lost to the fog in your head. Lost. You’ve lost.
Bruce’s eyes scrutinize you.
“As I suspected. You’re acting delirious. Manic. Delusional.”
Any semblance of protest dies in your throat. 
“What?” you say. But Bruce is already leading you away towards the looming doors of Wayne Manor, away from the green of the grounds. Away from the light of the sun, and away from the skyline. He comforts you with familiar lines on the way to your bedroom. 
You need rest. Alfred will brew his tea for you. I’ll call the kids to come tonight. We can play Risk. He pats your shoulder, stroking soft, deceptively warm circles with his thumb.
“You just need some rest.” 
And not for the first time, you believe he may be right.
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confused-wanderer · 2 months
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Incorrect batfam quotes as things I’ve heard as a college student that definitely fit them:
Dick: Stop copying me!
Jason: StOp CoPyInG mE!
Dick: Oh my god you’re so annoying
Jason: oh my god you’re so annoying
Dick: I love you
Jason:
Dick: Say it bro
Jason: *booking it to the door*
Dick : SAY IT BACK MOTHERFUCK-
Barbara: .. wait I’m lost now
Stephanie: Girl I’ve been lost a long time ago
*while the batboys are doing laundry*
Dick: .. hey Jason?
Jason: yeah?
Dick: I put money and my clothes in the washing machine but it won’t start. Could you try?
Jason *stares at it and gently pries the door open before slamming it shut with such force that it swings open again*
Dick: DONT BREAK IT I PAID FOR THIS MAN
Jason: Hold on lemme try some- *swings harder*
Tim: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IDIOT ??
Washer *beeps and starts washing*
Duke: ah.. such a peaceful day and gorgeous vie-
*hears screaming in the distance*
Duke: Aaand we’re walking-
Tim: I’m sorry but could you tell me how to spell your name? I’m trying to save your contact.
Damian: It doesn’t matter.
Tim: Of course it does! I just want to make sure I spell it right.
Damian: No, seriously. It doesn’t matter how you spell it. That’s not even my real name.
Jason and Damian having breakfast in silence at a restaurant
Damian: so I have a knife in my room.
Bruce: And there’s this girl in the bathroom who’s been crying there for hours! And I don’t even know who it is, I can just see her shoes
Selina : Wait let’s check it out
Bruce: .. isn’t that an invasion of her privacy?
Selina: you’re no fun… I wonder what’s going on
Bruce: well she was talking to her friend about *insert very oddly specific rant about every microscopic detail*
Selina:
Bruce: ? What?
Selina: ..and youre trashing me for tryna find out who it is.
Bruce: Hey I was debating if I should call out and ask her if she was okay
Selina: Mhmm. Nosy. Imma go check-
Bruce: I have to fill my bottle anyways so I guess I’ll join..
— later —
Harley: and then what happened?
Selina: This mf was waiting for me outside while I found out and then I shooed him away to fill his bottle. And then we both watched as he placed it under the tap only for it to immediately start overflowing
Harley *howling with laughter*
Bruce: IT WAS HALF- EMPTY
Selina: It was FULL
Bruce: ..you’re exaggerating
Selina: Girl be for real you’re just as nosy as I am, that’s why we get along so well~
———————————————————————-
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secretelephanttattoo · 3 months
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Undercover
Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader. Reader wears dresses and blouses but is physically a blank slate.
Word Count: 3k
Chapter rating: Mature 18+
Chapter warnings: The Case. InTIMacy. Madison. Tim's hair. No Cleo this week. Disappointing party food. The Holsters™️
Series Masterlist
Chapter 5
Rockford swung the car through the black iron gates and crawled up the long gravel driveway, which was lit with hundreds of lanterns. At the end, you were greeted by the sight of an enormous glass marquee lit up like a snowglobe.
Once he’d parked the car, he hopped out of the driver’s seat and walked around to open the passenger side door for you.
“You’re really taking this role as my chauffeur seriously, aren’t you Rockford?” You smiled as you took his hand and stepped out of the car.
The smile on his face dropped quickly when he realised it was time to send you off on your own. 
“You know the plan, any sign of Damien Lee, and you call me right away.” He was now kneading a knot in his shoulder with his knuckles.
You nodded, feeling bolstered by the thought of Rockford nearby and a squad of patrol cars just a block away.
He touched your arm softly. “Be safe.”
Madison shrieked from somewhere behind you, and you turned to see her walking across the gravel towards you, wobbling dangerously on her high heels.
“Juniper! Babe, you look amazing!” She hugged you loosely, as though trying not to smudge her make-up.
Rockford shifted on his feet, slightly unsure of how to leave undetected.
Madison clocked him and elbowed you in the side, a little too hard. “You should have told me you were bringing a plus one, naughty!”
You tried to set her straight. “Oh, no, this is-”
“Don’t be coy!” Madison cut you off, turned to Rockford, and threw her head back in an over exaggerated laugh. “She’s so mysterious, this one. I can hardly get anything out of her.”
You shot him a pleading look, and he gave you the smallest nod, unnoticed by Madison.
“Sorry, Mads.” You put on your best false smile. “This is Ro-, this is Tim.”
“Pleased to meet you!” She made no attempt to hide how she checked him out from top to toe, and you felt a prickle of annoyance wash over you.
“You too.” He said coolly, as he undid the buttons of his long coat and laid it flat across the back seat of the car. You hadn't noticed it before in the darkness, but underneath it, he was wearing a tux. He pulled a black velvet bow tie out of the jacket pocket, which he then deftly tied in the reflection of the car window, managing to get it straight on the first attempt.
You stifled an impressed murmur at the sight of him all dressed up and the way the jacket strained across his broad shoulders before suggesting to Madison that you all headed inside. She walked ahead of you, you and Rockford hanging back a few paces.
“Well, you turned up prepared for anything.” You said under your breath.
He linked his arm through yours and stood a little taller. “You should see what else I’ve got in the trunk.”
As you reached the entrance, your heart began to beat faster, and it was practically pounding when you saw several security guards manning a metal detector and looking through people’s bags. You thought of the weapon strapped to your thigh under your dress and imagined the machine alarms sounding.
One of the men, a burly egg-shaped man wearing an earpiece, beckoned you forwards in the queue.
“Oh, no, she’s fine. They’re both with me!” Madison trilled, coming to your rescue as you and Rockford were allowed to sidestep the security checks. You shot one another a look, eyes widening with relief. 
Stepping inside the crystal marquee, you tried not to let your jaw hit the floor. It was the most opulent thing you’d ever seen, an explosion of glass, twinkling lights, and white flowers.
Madison grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her, speaking directly into your ear in a low voice.
“I’m not surprised you kept him to yourself. He’s gorgeous.” She winked at you, then turned her head to stare at Rockford again. “He looks a bit like that Agent from that show I like on Netflix.”
Then she swept off in a flurry of green silk. “Got people that I need to say hi to, see you later, babe!”
You waved her off and relaxed just a little.
“What’s the plan now, Rockford?” You asked after accepting a mocktail from a passing waiter, sucking a sugary cherry off the end of the cocktail stick. 
“Same as before, just with two of us.” He grimaced at the taste of the alcohol free beer he’d chosen. “We mingle, and we listen.”
You stood for a while watching more and more smartly dressed guests pour inside. Rockford was holding your gaze intently when he chatted to you. It was making you feel hot, and you found yourself continually running your finger across the rim of your glass to keep your hands from reaching towards his. 
The heat of the room was making his glasses steam up, so he took them off and stashed them in the breast pocket of his jacket. You wanted to touch the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, soothe away the tiredness and the worry that you saw there.
After an hour, and to the relief of your growling stomach, you saw food start to be brought out, and people seated themselves at the large circular tables.
You found two seats at a table towards the back, and Rockford pulled out your chair for you with a flourish.
When the food reached your table, he examined a tiny burger on a stick with a quizzical eye. “Is this a canape, or…?”
“Oh, she told me about this. Everything is going to be on cocktail sticks.” You shrugged. “Don't ask me why. It’s faux kitsch, apparently.”
You couldn't help but snigger at the sight of his large hands holding miniature food on even smaller sticks. The dollhouse sized piece of steak was a particular highlight.
You selected a few items from the wooden platters in the centre of the table, keeping your eyes and ears open to the conversations around you.
A woman in a floor-length silver gown was sitting behind you, with 4 empty martini glasses in front of her, getting louder by the minute.
“Is Damien here tonight?” She called out to someone on the opposite side of her table. “I haven’t seen him for such a long time.”
Her companion gave her a look and said through widened eyes and gritted teeth. “I think he might be working away.”
You and Rockford caught each other’s gaze and leaned in to listen closer, your arms brushing up against one another.
When the plates and glasses had been collected away by an army of staff, you both decided to take a walk around to see if you could overhear anything else interesting.
Madison caught you by the arm as you walked towards the bar.
“Oh no, you don’t!” She was now pulling you in the opposite direction. “I want everybody on the dance floor!”
Rockford straightened up and followed you. When you reached the chequered patterned dance floor, she pushed the two of you together like unwilling teenagers, then disappeared off into the crowd.
“What do we do now?” You asked, raising your voice a little above the music.
“I guess we dance.” He shrugged and took your hand in his.
You felt as though static electricity sparked through your fingers as you threaded them between his, your soft, cool hand slotting together with his rough, warm one.
The voice in your head was screaming at you to decide what to do next. 
So you danced. 
Danced like you did twenty years ago. You felt yourself loosen up as the thumping bassline got louder and faster in tempo.
Rockford was feeling dizzy, caught between watching every move of your body, every changing expression on your face, and scanning around the room. Both of you began to forget why you were there.
A man, who you’d earlier spotted doing his best attempt to drain the bar of Tequila, tripped backwards into you, and you were knocked into Rockford’s chest with a thump. The man waved in apology and stood aside, making you realise that you hadn’t moved. Rockford was holding you, one arm wrapped protectively around your waist, your chest now pressed up against his own. 
You had no desire to put any space between you.
He steered you out of the way of the crowd and stroked a hand gently over the velvet fabric covering your lower back. “Are you ok?” His brow was furrowed with concern.
The song finished and transitioned into something quieter, an old Motown tune you remembered hearing in his car once.
You interlaced your fingers through his again and squoze his hand in reassurance. Pressing your body up closer against his, you stroked your free hand up his muscular arm and to his face, which you cupped in your palm.
"Yes, I'm ok." You saw his eyes soften, and he leaned his cheek into your touch a little more. "I’m very ok, Tim.” You said, eyes glittering.
With your heart racing, you enveloped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face into his neck, the warmth from your long sigh breezing over his freckles and making him hold his breath. You could smell his cologne and his shampoo and wondered what his skin would taste like on your lips. Would it be salty or sweet? 
You felt his pulse hammering in his neck as you dragged your mouth slowly up to the shell of his ear. “It’s really ok.” You whispered as you twined your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, causing his hold on your waist to get firmer.
You waited for an interruption, the one which always seemed to come, but none did.
The disco lights were casting flashes of purple, green, and white across your faces. You squinted against their brightness, and he moved you both into the shadows.
He cradled the back of your head, guiding you to look up at him, eyes flicking down from your eyes to your lips, searching for the answer to a question that he was still a little afraid to ask, as you angled your head towards him. 
The first touch of his lips on yours was soft, testing. The ghost of something that should have happened a long time ago. A question that you answered enthusiastically.
The second was harder, needier. You held his warm, scruffy face in your hands, stroking a cluster of errant curls in front of his ear with the tip of two fingers while you ran your tongue across the edge of his plush bottom lip, licking gently until he melted into you with a groan that shot heat straight down your spine.
His kisses left no room for ambiguity. The usual soundtrack of questions in your head now silenced. They made you feel excited and nervous all at the same time. There were butterflies in your stomach and tingles at the ends of your fingers.  
You traced your fingertips downwards, over his collar and lapels until you popped open the buttons of his jacket with a flick of your index finger and thumb. You slid your hands inside, over his firm waist and across his crisp shirt until you could hook your thumbs underneath the familiar straps of his holsters and pull him in closer. He never stopped holding you as though you might float away, the velvet of your dress bunching beneath his strong hands.
He tasted new but also familiar, like you’d kissed him a thousand times before, and when you broke away to catch your breath, his lips chased yours with a crooked smile.
You pressed a couple of gentle kisses along his jawline, pausing to discreetly nip at the bare patch in his beard with your teeth. 
You nuzzled your nose against his, both of you letting out a happy, shaky sigh before the music stopped and brought you abruptly back to reality. 
You smoothed your hands over the skirt of your dress, even though it wasn’t creased, and smirked as you saw Tim button up his jacket and subtly adjust his trousers.
You turned to see Madison standing on a raised platform, holding a microphone. Her emerald satin dress was shimmering under the spotlights, and you felt a swell of pride for your work.
“Speech!” A few people in the crowd shouted out.
Madison did a poor job of pretending to be humble for a moment before shaking it off and speaking into the mic.
“So, you know that this year has been, like, the worst.” She dabbed at her eye, but you couldn't see any sign of a tear there. “But I’m so glad that you’re here tonight, all of you, old friends and new.” 
She pointed her glass of champagne in your direction, and you nodded back, keeping hold of Tim’s hand.
“Please enjoy yourselves and remember to use the hashtag ‘MadisonMayhem’ across all your socials!”
With that, she hopped back down on the dancefloor to be met with air kisses and back slaps from a group of women who appeared to all have the same hair colourist as her.
“Well,” you nodded towards Madison, “I think if Daddy was going to show, it would have been then. 
“Hmm.” Tim replied, stroking your thumb with his own. “I say we get one more drink and call it a night?”
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he reluctantly let go of your hand.
“Boss wants an update." He said, frowning at the screen. "I’ll be right back.” He kissed you softly on the cheek, his moustache tickling your skin, then walked away to find a quiet corner.
You ordered two sparkling waters from the bar, not feeling like another syrupy mocktail, and peered behind the counter to see if they had any snacks. Food on cocktail sticks may be cute, but you were starving. 
You felt a hand on your back, not a warm, solid hand like you expected, but one that felt cold and uninvited. 
“I hear you’re Madison’s new friend.” You whipped around and saw the smarmy face of Damien Lee. “The famous seamstress.” 
You held your highball glass tightly, swirled the plastic drink stirrer around in your drink, and took a step backwards away from him.
“I don’t know about famous, but if you’re asking if I made her dress, I did.” You held his stare coolly.
Lee closed the gap between you again and leaned his elbow on the bar. 
“It’s funny, I always make a habit of keeping tabs on my baby girl’s friends but you… you’re a mystery.” He leant in towards you, and you could smell the bitter cigar smoke on his clothes. “It’s like you popped up out of nowhere.”
It was at that moment that you felt Tim’s arm wrap protectively around your shoulder, his fingertips lightly stroking your bare skin.
“Are you alright, darling?” He said it so warmly. It made your stomach swoop.
You leaned your body in closer to his.
“This is…” You waved your hand at Lee as if you had no idea who he was.
“Damien Lee.” He shook Tim’s hand without looking at him, keeping his eyes fixed on you.
Tim nodded and put his hand around your waist, stroking your dress softly with his knuckles. “Would you excuse us? My girl looks so beautiful tonight that I need to get her back on that dance floor with me.”
Your ears were ringing as he led you back into the jostling crowd.
He pulled you into him and spoke into your hair. “You call it in. I’ll keep an eye on him from here.”
You headed to the ladies' restrooms and reapplied your lipstick in the mirror while you waited for the gaggle of women inside to leave.
After making the phone call you’d rehearsed for days in your head. You returned to Tim on the dance floor and nodded. “It’s done. 5 minutes.”
-
Everything happened so fast after that. Blue lights and blaring sirens of police cars screaming up the driveway. You and Tim slipping out of a side door, hand in hand. Lee shooting you a disgusted scowl as he was led away in handcuffs. Madison stamping her feet and demanding that none of her guests leave until she said so.
Later, perched atop the edge of the open trunk of Tim’s car, you watched Lee’s silhouette disappear down the driveway in the back of a police car. You took a final large bite out of the cheese sandwich that Tim had fished out of a cooler in the trunk, dusted the crumbs off your dress, and scrunched the foil wrapper into a ball.
When Tim sat down next to you, you let out a small shiver and rested your head on his shoulder, taking a few long slow blinks to refresh your dry eyes. He shook off his jacket and placed it gently over your shoulders, wrapping you in his body heat and cologne, before tilting your chin up towards his face with his finger.
You gave him a tired smile and stroked his cheek with your hand, your thumb sweeping over his whiskered jaw. “You lost the bet. This is not a full beard.”
He laughed and turned his face to kiss your palm. “It’s not?”
“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’. “I’ll give you $4.50. I’m taking fifty cents off for this.” You said as you kissed the bare heart-shaped patch of skin on his jaw.
“That’s fair.” He hummed and rested his forehead gently on yours. “So, what do we do now?”
You ran your fingers into his hair and held your lips against his.
----------------------------------------------------
“I think you should take me home with you, Tim.”
Next chapter
@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @heareball @survivingandenduring @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @mysterious-moonstruck-musings
@readingiskeepingmegoing @anoverwhelmingdin @doughmonkey @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @sin-djarin
@missladym1981 @linzels-blog @rhoorl @tuquoquebrute @5oh5 @anavatazes @stevie75 @ranahx @darkheartgatita @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @titlee78 @amyispxnk
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timkonshipper · 2 months
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young justice w/ tim, bart and kon be like
the incorrect quotes are not mine, they're from a generator so full credit to that. apologies if they're similar to something someone else has done before.
tim: name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait
bart: you and me :)
tim, tearing up: okay
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*on an undercover mission where they lost all their supplies*
Tim: Um, Bart, why are you pretending I'm this guy's family? Bart: We need money! Tim: You're scamming him? Bart: I was thinking more like flat-out stealing from him? Tim: What?! No way! Bart: Why not? We already stole Kon! Kon: Hey guys Tim: No, we didn't. Kon can think and talk for himself, he can do whatever they want! Kon: I wanna steal
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*The group is getting into the car* Tim: I’m driving. Kon, out of view: Shotgun! Bart, turning to face Kon: Aww! But you had it on the way here- Kon, holding a shotgun: No! I found a shotgun! And I want the front seat! *Pumps gun*
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Tim, to Bart: My life is in the hands of an idiot! Bart, motioning to him and Kon: No no no no no, TWO idiots!
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Bart: Hey Tim, Tim: Yes? Bart: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on? Tim: Tim: Where’s Kon?
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Tim: While I’m gone, Bart, you’re in charge. Bart: Yes!!! Tim, whispering: Kon, you’re secretly in charge. Kon: Obviously.
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Store Worker: Would a Mr. Tim please come to the front desk? Tim, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem? Store Worker: points to Bart and Kon Store Worker: I believe they belong to you? Bart and Kon, simultaneously: We got lost :( Tim: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-
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Bart, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Kon: You did WHAT– Tim: William Snakepeare
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Tim: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life Bart: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind? Tim: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die. Kon: edible
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Tim: What time is it? Bart: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out Bart: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune* Kon: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING Bart: It’s 2 am
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Ok dumping my thoughts right here now that I’ve collected them since reading Batman 138. It’s a doozy, so bear with me.
Honestly, the premise of Gotham War is intriguing and could’ve been good if not for the sloppy execution. It’s interesting to see Bruce’s psyche rapidly declining, but how Zdarsky is going about it is ham-fisted and forced. First off, Selina’s method is outlandish and riddled with plot holes. There’s no skirting around that. Now logically I could see the batfamily members not declaring an allegiance to either side because both Bruce and Selina are in the wrong here; Bruce is losing his mind because Zur is hijacking it while Selina thinks training criminals will magically solve all violent crime in Gotham and everything will be sunshine and rainbows. But having the kids blindly fall into line with Selina because they agree with her plan is dogwater writing that I’m surprised Zdarsky cooked up after his spectacular Daredevil run. Have them form their own faction and let them actually act like they have agency and purpose instead of shoving them into roles that don’t fit.
Now I’m a little skeptical on the whole Jason/failsafe stuff. On one end, it’s a daring concept to play with. It shows how Bruce is going off the deep end and raises the stakes of the plot. On the other end, it’s going to drive an enormous wedge between Jason and Bruce for the foreseeable future. Like, there is no forgiving Bruce for this easily. Maybe that’s a good thing though, considering Jason for the past few years has been cycling through the same character arc over and over again like a washing machine that spits out clothes that are more worn-out after every load. Taking him out of the batfamily fold and inserting him into his own corner of DC sequestered away from Batman might actually force DC to write him organically, depending on whether or not Jason doesn’t go insane himself because what Bruce did to him was quite literally torture that will now be perpetual. Wowza.
My next gripe is the timing between comics. Batman and Robin’s timeframe is vague, but after reading 138 it makes zero sense why Damian would steadfastly stick by Bruce’s side—unless of course B&R happens way later, and somehow Bruce regains minor control of his mental state. Or the most realistic explanation being that the writers didn’t communicate the timelines, leaving their stories to contradict each other. But what are comics if not zany contradictions of stories? So I guess this gripe can slide…for now. Benefit of the doubt to Williamson at least because he planned B&R way in advance, meanwhile Gotham War was strung together as a myopic copy of Marvel’s Civil War in order to—I’m spitballing here—have Bruce be alone for a while in his own comics because he’s “a loner”…despite his character being, at his core, a family man, and whose character revolved around family for decades. Family rift stories can be good. Packed with drama. Exciting. This is none of the above.
Finally, arguably my biggest complaint about this dumpster fire, is Tim. Writers tend to be biased toward characters, I understand that, but when favoritism bleeds into the writing it sours the story altogether. Having Tim assume this role of “Bruce’s savior” is incredibly cheap and a little laughable at times. I see that they’re trying to establish him as important again, reliving his glory days as the Robin who helped guide Bruce back onto the right path after Jason’s death, but throwing other characters under the bus to lift him up is crazy. Especially Damian, because Damian saved his dad’s life twice in the last few months. Seriously, I’d brush it off if Tim hadn’t told Damian he was the one who helped Bruce out of the darkness while Damian only pushed Bruce further into it. Paraphrasing, but that’s the general idea: Tim is a saint and the rest of his siblings (Cassandra? Who?) are a cut below him when it comes to helping dear old dad out of his bad place. That hug was cute, but it was sugar spread on a pile of shit.
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nonexistenttho · 2 months
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(mostly) Tamara and Tim prompts 
🚓There is not much she can do. Lucy is stuck in undercover op, and Genny and the boys left for vacation so she does what she can. She smiles awkwardly at the nurse and murmurs: “Hi, can I see... I mean, I’m Tamara Bradford, my cop dad had been shot in the ass?..”
🚓Ben the rookie is quite disgruntled with his temporal TO because for all his lectures about honor, conduct and values, Sergeant Bradford is having lunch with a pretty girl who is way way way young for him. It's creepy. Seriously, she could've been his daughter!
🚓Tim wouldn't have noticed the girl sitting at the waiting area but she flinched when someone gestured a little too animatedly. He's a grown up man but witnessing it was like a blow in a chest. A little innocent digging and he knows she's waiting for her foster mother. His history with his own father makes him suspicious so he definitely is going to meet her mother who’s happen to be his new rookie. Surprise!
🚓Tim’s wife is on a UC assignment. Again. He goes to bar and picks up a pretty girl. It’s just a one night stand. He does this sometimes because his wife away a lot. He’s not a cheater, he’s lonely, besides is it cheating if all of those girls are Lucy?
🚓Tamara feels a bit down. She came home yesterday and had to dose all the candles in a living room and get rid of rose petals. Ugh. Objectivly she’s a pretty young woman but somehow her parents get waaay more romantic action than her? They’re old. They have three kids (including her). How is that fair?
🚓Tamara is left to explain to her 5-year old siblings why mommy gave daddy tiny booties for his birthday and why after that daddy whisked mommy to laundry room to fix a washing machine. For heaven sake, it’s that got them in trouble in the first place!
🚓Lucy tries new character just for practice. She’s basing her on Angela’s description of Charlie Bristow. News flash, apparently, Tim’s into sharp suits, glasses and terrible British accent.  
(Please tag me here or on AO3 KerenCardo if you use one of em, I don't want to miss it!)
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Hi! It’s you, surprise!
Anyway, I’m so mentally ill over “the stars claim them” a d I love it I love it I love it. Ever now and then I’ll think to myself “hey, what’s a good fic to read?” And every time it’s yours.
It’s just like [image of cat eating a box] and just so good. It honestly might get printed out and bound into an irl book just so that I can actually bite it.
(I am working so hard not to get off topic)
I don’t think I’ve ever found it harder to explain my love for something with actual words. Your writing alone is incredible. I think I’ve already said this in a comment but I am constantly on the edge of my seat waiting to see what you do next, and you write all of the character so well.
Never before have I wanted this much to reach into a fan-fictional world and scoop out an oc with my hands and just hold them like a tiny little kitten. (Technically accidentally did that with a character anyway but ah well)
Plot aside, because I’m already talking characters, I love the cast you’ve chosen so so so so so so much, I love the diversity and headcanons. And I especially love the dynamics and interactions with each other. And the parallels, oh my goo the parallels in character pairings that pop up occasionally. (Lyf and Micheal, Tim and Grifter’s Bone guy (his name evades me), even just the whole vampire Gerry thing)
Which reminds me, you’ve managed to have at least one reference to wtnv in every book so far, is this deliberate or just art?
Okay, I could talk characters all day so let’s move onto plot now and I’ll ramble about individuals later. 300+ (or something) chapter slow burn my beloved. And then everything just tumbling around around it is just wonderful.
Lyf was just out here trying to live their best life and then things just kept happening to them over and over and over and over again, first the prisoners, then the train, then the prisoners again, then the void, then space, then Nastya, then death, then earth, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the circus, then the mechs, then probably some more spooks, then [see last three lines].
Poor inspector is in the washing machine of happenings.
And of course, gotta adopt a family along the way because, as Batman has shown us, the best way to recover from your whole family dying is to just adopt more.
And the whole chaos avatar screwing with all the other fear’s shticks is an incredible concept and I adore it. I also find it beautifully hilarious. Do you think Lyf could just rainbow people like they did Gerry to help them escape their entity? Instead of like, eye stabbing?
And the fact Lyf sees the fears in colours and one of the first people they meet in Gerry, who originally referred to them as colours in the show, is just fabulous. And then Lyf being all the colours is also marvellous.
(I feel like I’ve been going too long, am I going too long?)
There’s just so many little plot points that I adore that I can’t remember them all at once let alone put them in words so maybe I’ll just doom spam ask you a live rereading so that I get all the bits.
This story is my soul, my life, I am empty without it. Anyway, off to go read it again probably.
Thank you for writing, I love it so much.
!!!!!!!
Thank you so much! I've really loved writing this story, and seeing other people enjoying it to similar levels is beautiful. And no worries about getting off topic or going too long-- I've written this story for over a year. If anyone's going too long here . . .
But anyway. Let's chat!
If you (or anyone else!) ever get this story printed out and bound, I would love to see it <3
I'm so glad you enjoy the writing and characters, too! I personally love my characters and try to let them guide the story as much as possible, so hearing that I write them well is fantastic. So. Thanks!
(And I get the feeling. I've literally made tiny knit dolls for some of my OCs along with my TMA and Mechs ones. Brenn and Juniper my darlings, for instance. And my Lyf, of course. That doll has now crossed so many state lines because I keep bringing them on road trips and the like with me. . .)
Character parallels too. . . yeah, there's a lot that can be said about the way characters parallel and interact and misunderstand each other, and I love writing them doing that. It's fun to consider, and I love it :)
The washing machine of happenings. . . yeah, that sounds about right :D
Heh, adopting a new family to cope with losing one is certainly a way to put it! Not sure how well that works, for Lyf or for Batman, particularly when said New Family also gets into danger, but. . . yep!
Could Lyf just rainbow people to help them escape from an entity? Likely! It would hurt a LOT, though, and it'd probably end up having consequences, you know? Whether it's that the person in question becomes a chaos magnet, or whether they'd be able to break reality too. . . yeah, that's an interesting one to ponder.
I love that, yep!
I'd love to see your thoughts if you do that, whether it's on here or on Ao3! Like I said, I've been writing this for more than a year now, and I really do love talking to people about it.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts like this, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! We've got some fun times ahead. . .
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kinoyoga · 1 year
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Enjoying the hometown view ☀️ It feels so good to be back on my mat, my community, my practice, my bed, my shower, my washing machine, my home, my juicer and the other creature comforts I take for granted when I’m here. Did you join for the live talk on @omstarsofficial this afternoon? What did you think? Who would like to see a live talk with next? Tim and I will be teaching in Miami next week for Mysore classes, Adjustment Clinic and Saturday Ritual @miamilifecenter and for two weeks in Mallorca and then again for our summer One Month Intensive in July. Next workshops: Malaysia, Vietnam, Taipei and Cincinnati. Come practice 🙏 Photo @ifilmyoga #yoga #yogi #headstand #beachyoga #miamiyoga #kinoyoga #sirsasana #shirshasana #ashtanga #ashtangayoga #ashtangi #omstars 💕 (at Miami Beach, Florida) https://www.instagram.com/p/CovDUq0ugGK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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anniebuddy · 2 years
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okay i’m not trying to start drama. but. discourse about the Steph and Cass relationship concerns me a bit.
mind you, it’s totally valid to critique certain aspects of it - like how its served to undermine either character’s individuality with the wrong writers (particularly Cass). i do want more non-ensemble stories featuring them.
but i feel like more and more i’m seeing the “solution” to these problems as people wanting Steph and Cass to not be as big a factor in each other’s lives as they are. which is like, blatantly discounting the long history of their friendship, and just how deep and meaningful it is for both of them.
Cass and Steph have an intrinsic connection via their traumatic pasts, of which they’ve strived to not let define them, and committed toward the fight against injustice. and that desire to forge their own identities does, in some way, seem to come more easily to them when they’re together. they both know how hard it is and have been shown as relentlessly supportive of each other’s journeys because of it. to say their friendship is actually reductive of their individual identities in-universe is very much just fandom discourse clouding actual canon. Cass and Steph do not feel stifled by their commitment to one another.
also, they just generally enjoy each other’s company?? and that’s okay??
one argument i can’t stand is the idea that Steph and Cass shouldn’t be THAT good of friends, that they would almost certainly get angry with each other consistently, that they wouldn’t have good communication skills (not even gonna get into how ableist that is), etc.
now. i’m all for relationship drama - and yeah, i’d be up to see some more of it in regards to Steph and Cass. but claiming they simply cannot be allowed to have such an ease and comfort with one another as is portrayed in the interest of said drama is SO weird. 
if i were to try to understand where it comes from - i do know there’s some level of backlash to the modern push for “women uplifting women”, out of concern that it’s washing away a lot of the nuance female friendships have. 
as to how much that applies to Steph and Cass...i don’t know. even in Batgirls (which is just way lighter in tone overall) Steph and Cass aren’t this perfectly well oiled machine. just the other issue we saw Steph reject Cass’s words of encouragement because she’s convinced everyone secretly doubts her abilities. WFA just had this great little two-parter about how Cass hates how conscious she is of everyone’s emotions and how that hyper-awareness can cause problems with Steph. but i digress-
even if it IS the case, to feel it’s indicative of “women uplifting women” being a flawed portrayal of female friendships (or at least Steph and Cass’s) in the first place is so reductive. it feels like just another reflection of the patriarchal idea that the dynamics between girls are somehow inherently more toxic and catty than those of males.
i can’t tell you how many times i’ve had a man tell me guys are just “more chill” with each other than girls are.
or how much media i’ve seen surrounding female characters that covet being “one of the guys” on account of how much more comfortable they are with their unproblematic, non-gossipy guy friends (usually in romance plots actually, as if it couldn’t be more obvious this is just male writers trying to project some level of desirability upon themselves. which is just a beautiful self-own, because - no, male-female friendships can be way more uncomfortable, especially when your male friends are constantly trying to categorize you as a potential fucking love interest). 
and, yeah, how much do you see this conversation applied to Tim and Kon? Or Jason and Roy?
of course, i don’t want to discount the fact that patriarchal norms have led to a culture where female friendships can be that way. but that’s just it - it’s down to patriarchal norms. and i know for a fact that the strength of female friendships can shed those norms. and i almost certainly abide by the fact that Steph and Cass would have no problem doing that.
and either way, female friendships in general ARE shedding those norms from an earlier age. i can attest to the environment of my HS experience being much less “mean girls” and much more “turning red” (which didn’t take place in HS but w/e you get my point) (and not to say that mean girls was ever meant to be wholly accurate mind you lmao).
soooo yeah. we can ask for more individual stories between them without actively rewriting how much the two care and connect with one another. Steph and Cass are still each other’s best friends.
but that’s just my take. i guess this kinda became a rant lmao.
also i’m not gonna get started on how many ppl are so quick to discount the queer reading of Steph & Cass bc that’s genuinely annoying
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re-readingcomics · 11 months
Text
Comics Read 04/16-05/10/2023
Over this period of time I read the Ascender Deluxe Edition by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen. It is a sequel to the creator’s earlier, Descender. I read that about three and a half years ago, also in Omnibus format, and wrote at little about back then. I do wish I wrote more. My desire to avoid accidentally spoiling someone and upsetting them is at odds with my desire to have notes that actually jog my memory. 
Very little of Ascender jogs my memory of Descender. The appearance of the “dog” Bandit does a little, but I don’t remember if his backward bark (“fra” instead of “arf”) is a new thing or consistent with what came before.The main character of this one is Mila, the daughter of Andy and Effie and I don’t remember their stories at all. Andy was Tim-21’s human companion, and Effie’s character design has her mostly machine in a human machine hybrid. It’s tragic looking, and which hat suits her arc here but I don’t remember any explanation of her look.  In general I remember Descender as an episodic picaresque, where I could enjoy moment to moment, but not really explain what it was about in a large sense. 
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How important is it remembering Descender to enjoying Ascender? I’d say really important as many of the original cast of characters return one by one over the course of the story. When the robot Driller showed up I remembered that there was a robot named Driller who was enthusiastic about drilling and spoke in a mechanical looking font, but nothing about his character arc. When Dr. Quon showed up I remembered that he made everyone uncomfortable he was sort of a mad scientist, though mostly not harmful. These were mostly explained in Ascender too, so what I’m really saying is, their appearances here felt right. But I can’t say that seeing them again gave me any emotional excitement.
There is a quote on the back of the edition attributed to Comics Bookcase that says, “As Descender was to hard sci-fi, Ascender is to high fantasy…”. It actually has a magic versus science plot, where vampire invaders have banned the existence of machines. The vampires here are magical colonizers led by one known as Mother. The colonization metaphor is extended by having characters state that those converted to vampirism are “saved”, the same language as converts to Christianity. This sounds heavy handed when I describe it, but there is also a plot about Mother battling for power within her original family that resists this kind of allegorical interpretation. 
I generally really enjoy Nguyen’s art, especially when colored by watercolor. It is very clean and easy to read while always having interesting things going on.  The only time I didn’t like the art was with the Mother’s family, which uses a red wash to suggest magic, and it seems to come at the expense of clarity. I also generally like Nguyen’s panel work more that one or two page spreads. They were beautiful but required more engagement in the plot than I had. One of my goals with this  blog is to better focus on the art while discussing comics criticism. I wish I had more to say  here. 
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Is Tim and Sylvia bc
“Throw your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart, baby bang it up inside.”
Growing up as they did, how are Sylvia and Tim supposed to expect anything other than something toxic and (in all honesty) probably abusive between them? They both know they could get hurt, but is it really that bad if they’re getting hurt by someone they’ve loved for years?
“I’m not wearing my usual lipstick / I thought we could kiss tonight.”
Sylvia gave Tim plenty of opportunities to make a move. More often than not, she was hoping he’d finally take the chance. And Tim was never that dense, he liked to think Sylvia knew what she was doing when she looked at him like that, but she’d already changed so much in those months since Dallas rolled into town. Maybe this was just the way she was now.
“I know who you pretend I am.”
Tim was always quick to slide an arm around her waist when they were walking past a group of guys. He was always quick to make sure she had a place to stay, to let her know she was wanted and didn’t have to do it alone.
And sometimes, Tim was quiet when he held her at night, when she was barely awake and didn’t have the heart to remind her she wasn’t Dallas at three in the morning.
OH MY GOD-
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dairy-farmer · 1 year
Note
Autistic Tim anon from before I’m just imagining the batfam lovingly taking care of Tim and the blend between sexual and the mundane. Bruce likes to regularly wash him, to wax his cute little pussy and comfort him afterwards when his sensitive skin aches— he’ll lap over it with his tongue until Tim cums with a squeal.
Cass gently but firmly manhandling Tim into whatever position or situation she likes— she likes to practice makeup on him, giving him glossy lips and dewy skin and little hearts on his cheeks, and then have him messing it up sobbing on her strap or having his face shoved lovingly into her crotch. I think Barbara is the one who most understands Tim’s need for pressure as a type of contact, and this manhandling and pushing isnt done at all cruelly but rather lovingly. She’d also be into the “little sis big bro” porn type scenarios but she’s the big sis and he’s her little brother. Stuck in the washing machine type beat.
Dick having somewhat of a fetish for Tim’s weak immune system, getting a little worked up over fussing over Tim, tucking him into bed and taking his temperature and carrying him around. He loves the absolute dependence it creates in his sweet baby bird, the way his poor little cheeks go red. Ngl dicks thing also feeds into his period kink and low key a piss kink— he gets way too excited when sick Tim wets his bed or needs to be helped to the toilet.
Jason likes to feed Tim, has a bit of a feeding kink. He loves to cook premium, delicious meals—only the best for his Timmy— and hold him in his lap to feed hand-feed him, gently asking him questions and letting him experience the different tastes and textures. He’ll feed him until Tim is shaking his cute little head, whining that ‘he’s full, jayyyyy, he’s full’— Jason measures this by a hand on his bird’s stomach. If the stomach is firm with fullness, and a little push sends a little puff of discomfort from Tim’s lips, he finally decides that Tim is done.
Damian likes Tim’s hands, and his feet, and weirdly, his ears— he researches different types of piercings, and although father vetoes most of them— he is reluctant to cause even the most temporary pain to his precious Tim— Damian likes to fantasize of cauterizing a needle, and clicking his tongue and rubbing soothing circles into his brothers stomach and back as his pushes the point through. He does the same with the concept of tattoos, especially small, floral ones that symbolize ownership by an Al Ghul demon back in the league.
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!!!!!!!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i love these so much!!!!!!❤️❤️
the way they each have a different way of loving tim, being fascinated with a different part of him!! them splitting up and taking control over every single part of tim. jason with feeding, dick with his peeing and health, bruce with tim's grooming. barbara being an expert in getting tim to relax and unclench, feeling him go lax and pliant under her hands as he curls up in her lap. barbara loves being able to touch him as he's too sleepy and drowsy, going in and out of sleep while she strokes his beautifully soft body.
cass and damian have artistic takes. the both of them are artists after all, a dancer and painter. the two of them love caressing tim. they view him as this wonderful work, a magnum opus. tim is perfection and wonderful and they get to enjoy those spoils. damian desiring to leave some mark of ownership- a piercing a tattoo, something that he can carve into tim's flesh so he can never wash it away. cass enjoys dressing her timmy up pretty. he's so cute, so soft. she paints his eyes with bright colors and stains his lips with lipsticks, dusting blush on his cheeks. she dresses him up too. tugging on large poofy dresses with plenty of lace. long socks and soft, cotton gloves. her timmy is so beuatiful and wonderful and it soothes some beast in cass's chest as she tears that dress in desperation to get to his pussy that takes her strap so well. she watches, fascinated at how her cock can sink right into her timmy even though it's a BIG one and her timmy's cunt is so red as it strains against the stretch. her timmy whines and takes it and when it's over cass kneels over his pretty race with ruined makeup and shivers as he presses his tongue against her and lets her roughly fuck his face. such a good timmy.
they all love him so much. they love touching him, seeing him, kissing him, playing with him, fucking him.
their lives are good now that tim is there.
their lives are perfect now that tim is there.
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tilbageidanmark · 1 year
Video
Movies I watched this Week #105 (Week 1 of year # 3):
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4 Restaurant films + 3 with John Leguizamo:
🍿 As an ex-chef and as a person who likes to eat, I was looking forward to seeing the new conceptual thriller The menu. Unfortunately, it wasn’t satisfying. As a satire of the 1% foodie class, ‘Triangle of Sadness’ was sharper. As mouth-watering Food Porn a-la David Gelb, (who actually advised the director with hi-rez hi-end fine dining creations), it fell flat. As a wink & nod to Alinea Restaurant’s choreographed tabletop dessert, well, I wish I was able to enjoy it in Chicago instead. Otherwise, like the ostentatious dishes, it felt pretentious and vacuous. Leguizamo plays a washed up movie star. 6/10.
🍿 What ‘the menu’ wished it was, was Jon Favreau‘s sweet Chef, about a father and his 10 year old son who bond on a gastronomic cross country trip in a food truck called The Boss ‘El Jefe’. This was a charming movie that Adora & I watched many times. I believe that as times goes by, this will end up being considered as one of the best food-centric films, up there with Tampopo, Ratatouille, Babette’s Feast, Etc. Leguizamo played the line cook Martin, cooling his balls with corn starch. 9/10.
🍿 Lobster Soup, another slow, enchanting documentary from Iceland. It tells of Bryggjan, a small cafe in a tiny fishing town and the few locals who’s been gathering there for 40 years. The place had slowly become the cultural center of the town. Surprisingly, it was made by a Spanish director. 9/10.
🍿 I never heard of Dinner Rush before, even though it got good reviews when it came out in 2000, and was favorably-compared to other food-porn movies of the past. That Bob Giraldi, the director, was a NYC restaurateur himself, helped the authenticity of the kitchen drama (even though I’ll argue there were ‘too many cooks’). The background story is about some mafia guys trying to muscle in on Danny Aiello, the owner of the restaurant. Vivian Wu played a waitress who looked notably like AOC.
🍿 “… If I die, I’m going to do it stoned, and smiling in my bed…”
Repeated re-watch, American Ultra, a clever action-comedy about an artistic stoner, who’s actually a dormant Ultra super-agent. Jesse Eisenberg is the last person you’d expect to play a ruthless killing machine, so his love for girlfriend Kristen Stewart is the key to this innovative story. Leguizamo played “Rose”, his crazed drug dealer. To be watched while stoned.
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Coraline, after Neil Gaiman’s Gothic dark story for kids. (Clip Above). A nightmarish vision of parallel world discovered by a lonely girl with too-busy parents. I can see why Adora had become obsessed with this story as of yet. Even her accent is similar to Coraline. The stop-motion animation was stupendous too. My favorite discovery of the week.
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So after Coraline, I returned to the earlier Haunted House fantasy, Tim Burton’s Gothic comedy Beetlejuice. Weird and original Disnyfied vision of the after-life. With young Winona Rider and Dick Cavett. The Harry Belafonte’s Banana Boat scene. 4/10.
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3 Titanic-adjacent films:
🍿 James Cameron’s masterful Titanic, first re-watch in 20+ years. Ambitious myth-making saga combining epic romance and maritime disaster. Still gripping suspense, pathos & thrills, played luxuriously with Enya-styled score, and exact skills. 3 hours and 14 minutes long, it is divided into two perfect halves: the first half is building the love, and at 1:38:00 they hit the iceberg. With a continual final shot. 9/10.  
🍿 Cameron’s very first short film, Xenogenesis, financed with $20,000 from a local dentist (who backed out after seeing the rushes). An experimental indie sci-fi with the seed concept for Terminator. Very badly done, and it didn’t help that the YouTube copy is very low-quality. 1/10.
🍿 Gloria Stuart was 87 when she played the old Rose in Titanic. She was 23 when she starred in The Invisible Man, James Whale’s brilliant horror classic. 7/10.
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Immersion, a slow, ominous thriller from Chile. A father takes his two grown daughters sailing on a lake. He sees a sinking boat, but because the far-away occupants look 'suspicious’, he turns a blind eye to them and hurries away. The uneasy, suspenseful tragedy that follow reminded me of ‘Straw dogs’, even though there was no violence or assaults present, or a 2021 version of Polanski’s ‘Knife in the water’.
Recommended - but not for me: These types of films fill me with too much anxiety.
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3 delightful shorts:
🍿 Jon Lefkovitz’s In perfect unison - where two characters do or say the same thing at the same time. A supercut using 100+ moments throughout film and television history, set to the tune of TV on the Radio's "Second Song".
🍿 Out of sight, a very cute story in Studio Ghibli style that doesn’t ever mention that the little girl is blind.
🍿 “...Our lower classes are desperately trying to escape the meteor through discount time travel...”
World of tomorrow, still my favorite science fiction film of all times, Genius animator Don Hertzfeldt’s Oscar nominated mind-bending, surreal masterpiece, “One of the greatest short films in the history of movies”. Free to re-watch on YouTube. 10/10.
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In the recent My Next Guest with David Letterman he flew to Kiev and interviewed Volodymyr Zelenskyy at an underground station, in front of a small audience. It’s moving and tragic.
Can’t forget that Zelenskyy came first to prominence on live TV when he played the piano with his pecker.
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Never heard of Andrew Callaghan, a 25-Year-old YouTube ‘Gonzo Journalist’, who just released This Place Rules, a wild documentary about the events leading to the January 6th insurrection attempt. He traveled around the country in his own RV, interviewing the craziest nuts and out-there Nazis, Alex Jones wannabees, toothless soothsayers, foreskin conspirators, and a bunch of Q-anon fanatics as they prepare themselves for the fascist revolution. Unsettling. 
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Adam McKay’s first film, Anchorman, a loud, low-brow and obnoxious ‘comedy’, with the always-insufferable Will Ferrell. Old-fashioned sexism geared for young teenage males made this a big hit. One point for coining the phrase ‘That escalated quickly’. 2/10. 
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Throw-back to the art project:
Adora on the Titanic.
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(My complete movie list is here)
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