#seriously i was crying so bad i had to hug tiny tim

[naomiknight-17]

I'm fully caught on the Owl House now

I'm not crying you're crying shut up

#spoilers in tags! #can hunter please just have a good fucking day for once?! christ #the owl house spoilers #the owl house #thanks to them #seriously i was crying so bad i had to hug tiny tim #and my fierce little kitty boy just let me hug him and cry on him. what a good boy #i am still so upset #hunter deserves better #flapjack deserved better

[whaleofatjme1920]

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

��Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

#masky x reader #masky #marble hornets #tim wright #mh #creepypasta #creepypasta masky #angst #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #hoodie #brian thomas #slender man #the operator #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader

[matthewtkachuk]

Can you do 9 from the dialogue prompts with topper?

low key was gonna go angst, but i had such a good day on tumblr.com that this came out instead. inspired by the love for give you anything you can consider this an indirect sequel if you wanna 🥺 high-key dedicating this to my fellow top simp pen @girlsru1eboysdroo1  sorry you had to read my angsty top fic at the beginning of your simp journey i listened to tim mcgraw while writing this skdfjklsdjf

9. You’re jealous aren’t you

pairing: topper thornton x reader

warnings: flooof, dad!topper, fear of being a bad mother

word count: 718

You had been secure in your relationship with Topper for a long time now. From the second he’d asked to make it official, you knew he was in it for real. You’d never worried about his eyes straying because he only had eyes for you. You’d witnessed it first hand, Topper was handsome and kind, and other girls were drawn to him. They always flocked to him at parties when you weren’t by his side and even sometimes when you were, thinking they would be the ones to grab his attention even with your hand in his. Every time, he would let them down gently if they were polite, or forcefully if they pressed the issue or were disrespectful to you. 

You never thought another girl would ever capture his attention, and for the first four years of your relationship, you were right. Until her; Lilah Mae. With her perfect curls, her big doe eyes and her soft skin, she had Topper’s full attention. He loved her, and doted on her, and let her fall asleep on his chest. 

He called her Lilly and Princess and Pumpkin, and her first word was Dada.

You loved Topper’s close relationship with your daughter, felt an inexplicable softness in your chest with their every interaction, admired the two of them when they would fall asleep together, her tiny little body resting on his chest as it slowly rose and fell. But sometimes you wished you had that bond with her. Of course she loved you, and you would do literally anything for the almost one year old, but it was daddy who she loved best. She would fuss and cry all day, while you would plead with her, beg her to take a nap so you could rest. The second Topper would walk through the front door after work, he would loosen his tie, give you a kiss and pick up his baby girl who would stop crying the second he held her. 

It was on one such afternoon, where you had already woken up tired from several feedings throughout the night, that Lilah would simply not stop crying. You had tried everything, soother, feeding her, diaper change. You’d walked around with her in your arms, you’d put her in her carseat and taken a drive around the neighbourhood. At this point, you were seriously considering bringing her in to urgent care, but you’d called the health hotline and they had told you to give it another few hours to see if she would stop. You were in the middle of feeling like the worst, most terrible mother in the world who couldn’t even get her baby girl to stop crying for longer than an hour, when Topper miraculously arrived home an hour early. Like clockwork, he loosened his tie and leaned in for a sweet kiss. 

“Rough day?” he asked softly, picking Lilah up from her crib, cuddling her to his chest expertly holding her. You shrugged, lip wobbling as you viewed the two of them. A little green monster sat on your shoulder, envious of how she reacted to being in her daddy’s arms.

“Babe?” He asked, now slightly concerned. He took one look at your exhausted face, and couldn’t stop the smile from forming, “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

You thought about denying it, but Topper knew you better than yourself. He wasn’t asking for a confirmation, he was asking to give you the opportunity to share what you were thinking.

“I just, I look at you and I see that you two have this beautiful bond and I wish I had that with her, too.” You admitted, feeling a little silly as you did.

“Listen baby, you do have a beautiful bond with her. You carried her and gave her a safe space to grow for nine months, I’m just taking on my shift to do the same.” He shifted Lilah onto his shoulder without waking her up, and used his other arm to pull you in for a family hug. You relished in the feeling of being so close to the two people who meant the most to you in the whole world, heart uplifted. 

Softly kissing the top of Lilah’s head and then your temple, he whispered, “I love both of my girls so, so much.”

everything taglist: @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @ohfreyfrey @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast

#topper obx #topper x you #topper x reader #topper x y/n #topper imagine #topper thornton x you #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton x y/n #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton faniction #topper thornton fluff #topper thornton blurb #dad!topper #dad!topper thornton #rae131415 #diverdcwn 500 blurb night #diverdcwn writes #diverdcwn blurbs

[fairytales-of-yesterday]

My Lonely Days Are Through

A/N: okay so I finally wrote a fic! this is my first fic in like,, 4 years or so? so be gentle with me I guess lmao

I am pretty content with this though! I'm soft as hell so,,, here we go :)

@gardnerlangway this one's for you, lovely

(no editing we die like men)

A yawn escapes your lips as you stretch out and then curl back up. Tim's heart flutters as he watches you rub your nose, your brows furrowed. You're currently curled up on his couch, fast asleep. It's a typical Friday night for the two of you, one spent together. After meeting Tim when you started working in the museum a few months back, the two of you had built up a routine around each other. You would eat lunch together on your break, stay after hours working and keeping each other company, you would even go grocery shopping together on weekends. Today was no exception to your intertwined schedules. Upon leaving the museum for the day, you had grabbed a late dinner and ended up back at his apartment. You had started the night working, but the stress of the week and your recent lack of sleep had taken its toll, and you dozed off relatively quickly after 2am hit.

The soft light of the television dances colors across your face as Tim looks on in complete adoration. Your eyelashes cast tiny shadows on your cheeks as your chest rises and falls steadily. You had borrowed a shirt and some shorts from him, you both agreeing it would just make sense if you spent the night, and his eyes couldn't help but wander to where the tshirt had ridden up to expose a bit of your stomach. His breath catches in his throat as he finds himself thinking about what it would feel like to hold you there. What it would feel like to just have you close. To run his hands along your soft skin and-

"Okay wow, Tim." He quickly looks back at the bright screen of his laptop in order to rid his mind of these compromising thoughts. But, as his eyes make their way back to you, he runs a hand through his hair and breaths a quiet laugh. "I really do have it bad, don't I?"

He quickly covers his mouth though as he sees you slightly stir, not wanting to wake you. He had seen the effect the last week had had on you, his heart slowly falling more and more as each day you seemed to become a little more quiet, a little less peppy, and a little less yourself. The project you had been working on was one you were very passionate about, but it had become quite the endeavor. Though you had been thrilled to take it on, the universe had not been on your side, with people forgetting to follow through with their promises, paperwork getting mixed up, and even artifacts getting misplaced for a bit due to the lack of a proper cataloging system when the museum first opened. It nearly broke Tim's heart to see you become so unhappy with something that had made you so ecstatic before. He had done all in his power to keep you smiling, with funny stories, bad jokes, and any help he could offer, but you couldn't help still being discouraged. He had even mustered up the courage to give you a little kiss on the forehead as he left your office at one point, and the smile it brought, along with the blush that rose to your cheeks, was definitely worth the ten minutes he spent panicking over whether or not he should even attempt it. Just the memory of your flustered face makes him grin.

A small whine draws him from his thoughts. He looks up to find you rubbing your eyes and slowly pushing yourself to a sitting position. He tries his best to maintain his composure as you sleepily pull down your shirt and run your hand through your hair.

"Good morning," he chuckles quietly. You look at him in sleepy confusion before realizing what happened.

"Oh nooo," you groan, putting your face in your hands. He laughs a little louder this time, scooting over on the couch to bump your shoulder with his. You smile into your palms, your face flushing pink at the contact. He bumps you again, drawing your face away from your hands. Peeking through your fingers, you can see the soft but wide smile on his face.

"Have a nice nap?"

It's teasing, but you can see something resembling concern in his gaze. You just nod in response, running a hand through your hair. "I don't think I've ever seen you fall asleep this fast," he cautiously approaches the subject, "have you slept this week?"

The laugh that escapes you in response only makes his concern grow. He asks again, softer this time, and you look up at him with tired eyes.

"I uh... I think I got ten hours this whole week."

"Ten?"

You wince slightly at his tone, cursing yourself for not adding a few hours to make him feel a bit better.

"But that's like... two hours a night! You've gotten ten hours of sleep this whole week?" You can't tell if it's shock or sadness in his eyes. Maybe both.

"Eleven if you count the nap I just took?" You joke, trying to calm him a little. "Tim, I'm okay I promise, I've been through a lot worse, honest."

"Worse?!"

Okay, so that didn't help. But before you can say anything else to try and defend yourself, he wraps you up in a tight hug. You tense up for a second, taken by surprise, but quickly you melt into him. You don't even realize you've started crying until you hear Tim trying to comfort you.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you hiccup into his shoulder, tears beginning to stain his shirt.

He rubs your back slowly, quietly shushing you, and telling you that it's absolutely okay, and you have nothing to apologize for. You shiver at his touch, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in. You stay like that for a few minutes, you trying to stop your ragged breaths and the tears spilling from your eyes, him rubbing your back, occasionally switching to run his hands through your hair, whispering words of comfort. However, eventually you pull away with a pitiful laugh.

"Sorry about your shirt," you whisper, trying to simultaneously brush your tears off of his shoulder and wipe your eyes.

"Hey, it's completely okay. I know this week has been rough. You have every right to be upset. But, it's over now, okay? Next week'll be better, yeah? I'll make sure it is."

He's relieved to see a watery smile grace your lips. No, that's an understatement. He's almost on the verge of crying himself, never having seen you in this state before. He brings his hands up to cradle your face, wiping the still falling tears with the pads of his thumbs, somehow not noticing the deep shade of red you're turning. With his hands still around your face, he tilts your head so you're looking up at him.

"Now, what do you say I pop some popcorn and you turn on something you like?"

A breathy laugh escapes you and you nod, not really trusting your voice with him this close to you. You can see the masked worry in his features as he smiles, and you mentally kick yourself for stressing him out. But, that thought leaves you as he stands up, giving you a chaste but firm kiss on your forehead. You're eternally grateful that he goes to the kitchen immediately after bc you can't stop the blush that rises to your cheeks.

"Dear god, that boy's gonna kill me," you whisper, wrapping yourself up in one of the blankets that had been resting on the back of the couch.

You start to flip through the channels, eventually landing on a documentary, and you hear a chuckle behind you. You turn to find Tim with a bowl of popcorn in his hand, looking at you in what you could only describe as fond adoration. You flush again, and he laughs fully now, plopping down beside you. You lift the blanket, inviting him in, and he gladly accepts, scooting over close enough to bump knees with you.

You fall into a comfortable silence, both of you enraptured by the bright images on the tv. Every now and then your hands brush when trying to reach for popcorn, and you mentally curse yourself for getting so worked up over cliches, not knowing that Tim was doing the exact same thing.

You're the first to speak.

"Thank you."

It's a quiet whisper, accompanied with a shoulder bump. He bumps you back and gives you a lopsided grin.

"It's the least I could do."

“What?”

“Y/N, you've spent the last few months I've known you being so amazingly kind to me. You bring me food, you save me seats in meetings, you laugh at my jokes, you-”

You cut him off very seriously, “Okay they're good jokes, Tim.”

At that he laughs, breathlessly.

“Not good enough for you to cry in the middle of a meeting! I was trying to be quiet and you almost spit your water everywhere!”

Now you're both laughing, remembering that stupid planet joke and how you just about died of embarrassment, and before you can think or stop yourself, you say it.

“God, I love you.”

It's like all the oxygen leaves the room. Both of you are immediately gasping for breath, as if the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Before you can sputter out an apology, anything to make things go back to how they were before you blurted out what had been your most well-kept secret, Tim manages to get out,

“You… you what?”

His eyes are wide, and you're sure yours are as well. You're in love with him. You're in love with him. You had never even said it to yourself before. It had always just been little sighs, thoughts of him basically all the time, or little whispers to yourself about how bad you've got it. Never an outright, ‘I'm in love with Tim Murphy.’ No, the first time you said it just had to be right to his face.

You start to say ‘sorry, no, wait,” to say, ‘hold on I shouldn't have done that,’ but then you stop. And you look at him. Tim. Tim, with his sweet words and his brilliant mind. Tim, with his adorable laugh and beautiful smile that he had come to trust you with. Tim, with his tight hugs that make you feel safer than almost anywhere else. Tim, with his strong arms and gorgeous face and Jesus Christ his HANDS are just about the hottest things in the world like oh my god the things he could- you've gotten off track. The point is, you don't want to apologize. You don't want to take it back. You love him.

So you say it again.

“I love you.”

And then it's quiet. He looks honestly shell-shocked. You can almost see his gears turning behind his eyes, trying to figure out what to say after that. Immediately, your brain jumps to the worst possible scenario, and you begin to backtrack.

“I'm sorry. Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just- you're so lovely, but you can completely ignore any of this just hap-”

And then he's kissing you. It's a short kiss, just a sweet, small one, but you're out of breath when he pulls away. You open your eyes to see him in a similar state, his face completely flushed. But he quickly finds his voice.

“I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that.”

All you can do is laugh, still trying to remember how to breathe.

“The feeling is mutual.”

He blushes and gives a bashful smile, then hesitates again, opening his mouth, then closing it, once more unable to speak. However, he manages to regain his composure enough to ask,

“Can… can I kiss you again?”

Not even bothering you answer, you close the gap between you. You feel Tim smile against your lips, and you can't help but do the same. You don't know how it happens, but somehow you end up on his lap, straddling him. Your hands are on his chest as your lips move in sync, slowly, but desperately. Passionately. His hands make their way into your hair, and you whimper quietly into his mouth as he gives it a slight tug. Your face heats up immediately, but you just keep going, pretending it didn't happen and hoping he missed it. He definitely heard it though, and you feel him smirk against you.

Shit, that's hot … everything he does is hot.

You roll your hips experimentally to retaliate, still on top of him, and the moan that leaves his lips is one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. It goes straight to your core, and you let out a groan yourself. You start to roll your hips once more, desperate to draw that sound from him again, but his hands come up to your waist and stop you. You can see he’s panting, and his hair is all disheveled.

“Okay, as much as I want to do that, and I really wanna do that,” he pauses as you giggle, “you just told me that you got 10 hours of sleep this week. I promise we can continue another time, but right now, you need to sleep.”

You pout, knowing he's got a point.

“Okay, but only since you promised.”

He helps you off his lap, letting you use him as support, and gently guides you to his bedroom. He makes a big, dorky show of tucking you in, making sure you're comfortable, offering to make you a glass of water. Finally, he gives you a soft smile, says a quiet goodnight, and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead. Your face immediately flushes, and you whisper a soft goodnight back as he turns to leave.

"Wait, where are you going?"

He turns around, confused.

"The couch?"

You give him a grin, suddenly a bit shy, and wordlessly lift up the covers next to you. He stares at you for a moment, still sporting that confused expression, and then suddenly it's like a lightbulb goes off in his head.

"Oh. OH! You want..?"

You giggle sleepily at how flustered he is. Just a few minutes ago you were about to rip each other's clothes off, and now he's getting stuttery about sleeping in the same bed as you.

"I hope you like to cuddle."

At that, he smiles sheepishly, and nods without a word. You watch as he changes into pjs, his boxers and an old band tshirt, and it takes all your willpower to not start anything again. After turning the lights off, he slides into bed next to you. There's a moment of hesitation, a moment where it seems like he can't quite decide what he wants to do, but then you feel him move closer to you, and suddenly, he's holding you. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his smile against your skin. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, and you turn to press one into his hair. You both sigh, more comfortable and safe than you've ever felt in your life.

"Goodnight, Tim."

"Goodnight."

A beat.

"I love you."

You smile.

"I love you too."

#ohhhh boy here we are #this took way longer than it should have #tim murphy #i love that dumb dino boy im so soft #rowan im sorry this took so long i love you #does anyone read the tags #if anyone ever wants to talk to me about tim pls do im emo #my writing #joe mazzello #shut up née #here's hoping no one's used that picture for a fic before lmao

[sammyspreadyourwings]

I don’t think there’s a word in this ask that I don’t like. Also Tiny Dancer started playing for this ask and whelp. And an update to the dumb!Brian tag hell yea

Oops, I made another Soulmate Au

The thing is, Brian wouldn’t have said that it was love at first sight. Sure he thought Roger was exceptionally beautiful (”he’s so pretty Tim. Like, like a bottle of stars. And he can play so well, and when he talks about music and smiles and sticks his tongue out - oh no I love him”). Tim had been sympathetic to his drunken rambles even if he made fun of it (”of course you love him, Bri I think even your precious stars could tell you that much. It took us months to get used to playing together, you guys clicked after five minutes”).

So he’s in love with Roger Taylor, his best friend. The one person in the world that’s just accepted all he is without question and guiding him to be better. It’s entirely romantic, at least on his end. It’s entirely platonic from Roger’s end.

It isn’t even the love he felt when he saw Roger’s looks, because he’s pretty certainly but it’s his passion for life. The way he talks about music and rhythm and how he can be the smartest person in the room but hates it when that makes someone feel bad. Hell, Brian even loves the way he complains when his food touches on his plate.

One morning when they’re sleepy and high, with the haze of smoke making impossible shapes above them, Brian gets brave.

“Do you think you’ll ever find your soulmate?”

Roger looks up, his head resting on Brian’s chest, his doe-eyes slipping further until Brian’s not entirely sure he has them open. Also, his knee is pressing into Brian’s thigh and hurts.

“Mm, yeah,” Roger says slowly.

Roger does open his eyes some minutes after answering, Brian’s forgotten he asked the question, bright and entirely too focused, “I’ve already found mine.”

Brian blinks. His blissful haziness fading quickly. Oh. Of course, Roger has met his. He’s lucky. The person probably loves Roger back and he spares a second to figure out why Roger hasn’t told him about this mystery person.

Or maybe it’s Freddie. The two get along better than friends that have been together fifty years or more. They both have this contented aura when they’re together. Brian isn’t jealous of that, just the idea that Roger might be in love with someone else.

Roger has fallen asleep. Curled against Brian, his nose scrunched up adorably and lips parted. The tiredness he did feel is tangled with the pang of knowing that Roger isn’t his. He doesn’t know how long he lays there staring at the ceiling (glow in the dark stars the only light in the room, unfortunately, shaped like a smiley face because he left Roger alone when decorating).

Brian turns just enough and squinting he can tell it’s sometime past 3. He doesn’t have lecture until 2, but he has other things he needs to do, like finish grading papers and try to not think about how Roger has his soulmate and it isn’t him.

At some point, he does fall asleep and Roger is giddy when he wakes up.

Things move slower after that, Brian just can’t seem to get the idea that Roger isn’t his soulmate out of his head. It’s not like he’s entitled, but part of him doesn’t get it. He starts to wonder if his soulmate wasn’t actually his.

It takes Roger all of two days to corner him.

“Okay, what did I say?”

Brian is still trying to figure out how Roger even got in his flat, “what?”

“The other night, what did I say because you’ve been MIA since, and I can only think that I said something that I don’t remember,” Roger repeats.

He’s weirdly calm. Brian’s hair stands on end, “nothing bad.”

“But something?”

“No.”

Roger stands, “Brimi, talk to me.”

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m just stressed.”

“That all?”

Technically, yes.

Brian holds open his arms and Roger happily walks into them. They hug for a moment.

“Just talk to me, Bri. I hate it when you get distant.”

Roger had left not long after that, citing a test that he actually does need to take leaving Brian alone with his thoughts yet again. He manages to do his daily tasks, relaxed knowing that Roger does care about him.

Everything is fine until he dreams about a distant future where he wakes up with Roger in his arms and somewhere in the distance a kid yelling for their father. When he actually wakes up he can’t stop the harsh racking sobs.

God, he wants that. Wants it as much as he does his doctorate and fame. He’s not going to get it though, not with Roger already having a soulmate. Hell, if it isn’t Freddie, Roger probably went home to them tonight. The crying doesn’t stop for what he guesses is a good thirty minutes, and by the time he calms down he can make out the sounds of someone in his house.

Which, if someone wants to rob a broke college student, it’s their life. He’s just glad his guitar is in his room with him. When Roger enters his room they just stare at each other.

“Brian? You had me worried. What’s wrong?”

How did he even know?

“How, why, huh?”

“What do you mean how?” Roger blinks, “seriously?”

Brian just stares.

“I literally told you - what do you mean how?”

Roger moves to him and wraps him in a hug. His ear is pressed against Roger’s chest, and he can hear the wild thumping of his heart, as though he ran over here. For a long few moments, there’s nothing but Roger’s heart and his own racing one thudding in his head. They start slowing down at the same time. Comforting each other.

“I thought maybe - when I woke up and my heart was racing, that something happened to you. Like someone broke in.”

“You did, you don’t even have a key, so it’s breaking and entering.”

“Hush,” Roger smacks him lightly, “I meant someone that could hurt you.”

Brian ruthlessly shoves the disagreement down, because Roger had been hurting him but that was unfair for him to say. When he doesn’t say something Roger pulls away and cradles his face.

“Really, you still don’t get it?”

“Get what?”

“I remembered what I said the other night, that I found my soulmate. Personally, I thought it was obvious -” 

“So it is Freddie?”

Roger laughs and then sighs. He knocks their foreheads together softly as he crouches so that he’s eye level.

“I mean in you want to define a soulmate as someone I’m in sync with then yes,” Roger puts his finger to Brian’s lip, “but we’re missing that key part of it. That our heartbeats match.”

“Oh.”

Hang on.

“Our heartbeats match,” Brian says.

“They do.”

His grin nearly splits his face as he leans back and drags Roger on top of him. The blond yelps in surprise, but they quickly settle around each other. Brian, mostly hanging off the bed so he can hear Roger’s heartbeat and Roger’s hand lingering over his pulse point.

#maylor #soulmate au #pulse point au #dumb!Brian #I got carried away again #someone should stop me #Sammy don't answer asks with ficlets #just give head cannons #I do what I want #I say to myself #but also this was super cute #and had all my favorite things in it #well not all #but a lot of good ones

[popculturespiritwow]

THE WICKED + THE DIVINE CHRISTMAS ANNUAL AKA LOVE ACTUALLY ACTUALLY

STOCKINGS

What kind of dedication does it take to spend the time you’re free from drawing a monthly comic book to actually knit a stocking cover? Jamie McKelvie, you are indeed Father Christmas.

I love the way the cover speaks to what this issue is, too – a series of little Christmas gifts from Kieron, Jamie and their Super Friends. Things we maybe hadn’t asked for (mostly) but in retrospect are so glad to have. 

The Christmas Relationship Vignette format also seems a fabulously dark and twisty riff on Noted British Christmas Relationship Vignette Extravaganza Love Actually. Which makes the special a whole other level of stocking gift, because if there is one thing I would not have expected from WicDiv and yet am filled with joy and tra la la to receive it is the WicDiv Love Actually.

And true to that reference, in a sense all of the stories are about characters trying to give some version of the gift of love: pleasure, freedom, connection, safety, empowerment, or even just a lift.

(Am I working too hard to say that the Cam/Umar story, in which Umar gives a non-stop punning Cam a ride, is itself a pun on what is to be found in pretty much every other vignette? God I hope not, because that is Next Level Punning.)

In Richard Curtis’ film almost all those vignettes work out for the best. (I cry every time Colin Firth starts proposing in bad Portuguese, and every time Sam runs through the airport, and every time all the strangers start hugging one another at the end. Also I am crying now.)

Meanwhile the WicDiv version is more like, What if you already knew the ending of Emma Thompson’s story when you started reading this, and also you knew that Alan Rickman was going to die too soon and Andrew Lincoln would be trapped for the rest of his life playing a zombie-fighting sheriff in Atlanta. If you took them on their own without further information, many of the stories would be straight up sweet – Baal and Inanna, Luci and Laura and Cam and Umar in particular. If not for that last panel the Ananke/Tara story on its own would also be pretty beautiful.

(Not only is it this for-some-still-unexplained-reason-masked grandmother figure helping her granddaughter to trust her instincts and be brave, it is capped by her giving the young woman a mask of her own. Seriously, it’s a really sweet story, you guys.)

Also, there’s unbelievably beautiful pages like this one from Chynna Clugston Flores, Ludwig Olimba, Brandon Daniels and Tamra Bonvillain.

But the backstory and soon-to-be stories we know cast such shadows. Cam warning Umar he’s going to be deeply disappointed if he thinks you can trust people; Ananke leading Tara to suicide; Luci having tried to save Hazel from doom giving that same look that we have reading this, seeing her entire terrible future already in that moment of ascent.

Another gorgeous and painful page, this one from Carla Speed McNeil, Fernando Argüello and Bonvillain.  

And the depths of those shadows only grow  when you reread this issue again as the series continues. At this point we still don’t know what it is that Baal’s been doing to stave off the Great Darkness. But we do know that whatever it involves something he looks to that is far away, much as in this shot.

Up on the rooftop reindeer pause, because here comes The Guy Killing Children.

And his comment “Life’s hard. You have to be harder” means something so completely different knowing what makes it all so hard. And so much worse, too.

LOOSE THREADS

While this is an issue of vignettes, Baal and Luci seem almost like the main characters. They each get a strong through line. Baal’s story takes us from real human connection to crazy jealousy to weird awkward rebound and confusion. Meanwhile Luci’s story is a bit of a bittersweet Christmas Carol – she starts at peak selfishness, but then, after Laura offers her that playful moment of connection – the actual significance of which we see in Luci’s face after she thinks she’s been rejected –

-- we get Luci’s tale of generosity, as Luci again seems to act selfishly, but this time as a a means of trying  to protect her friend from this doomed nightmare she’s now trapped in. And it totally fails, which is sort of like if Scrooge changed his ways and helped the Cratchits and Tiny Tim grew up to be a miserable bastard.

Chronologically Luci’s a bit of a twisted tale; the middle vignette actually occurs last. But resorting the elements seems to make things only more brutal; Hazel and Eleanor were these great friends, but Hazel had this obsession; after her own ascension Luci tried to save Hazel from her obsession, before giving in to the selfishness of her “part”. But at the height of that her friend returns, having missed the point entirely and taken on her own terrible doom-laden role.

And now rather than an effervescent moment of sexy Laura’s flirtation is almost like a last meal. Luci’s doom is coming. 

Laura is also a bridge between the two main stories, with a micro-but-not-really arc of her own: she offers herself to Luci entirely in the moment and joyful, ends up with Baal, which should be similarly All Systems Awesome, but then he slowly melts down into that classic multiple partners house of mirrors of insecurity.

God I love this image; Baal facing Laura and yet still looking away captures so much about him.

And with that comes new insight for Laura, the painful depths of which she will not begin to understand yet for quite some time. But artists Emma Vieceli, Dee Cunnifffe and Matt Wilson still nod to it, ending on Laura smoking, the quintessential Persephone-is-in-Hell image.

(This story also has one of the great titles in the history of great WicDiv titles, “Uh-Huh-Huh.”)

Another one of those great WicDiv issues that only grows better the more times I read it. And like every great Christmas song, it only grows sadder as well.

#wicdiv #kieron gillen #jamie mckelvie #carla speed mcneil #chynna clugston flores #shag dual carriageway #to me you are perfect for now

[audreycritter]

Could you do a fic where all the bat kids get turned into little kids somehow? Pleaseeee?

Hey! I don’t usually do de-aging fics, but it’s Christmas! Merry Christmas, haha.

Babies, Babies, Babies

When Selina Kyle left the Manor, it had been quiet. The second she opened the door, however, a cacophony of shrieking, crying, and hysterical giggling all met her ears— there was a blur of movement near her knees and a roar from just out of sight:

“SHUT THE DOOR!”

Her reflexes weren’t honed for nothing, and the door clicked shut just in time to catch a careening tiny body with a smack. She blinked down at the stunned toddler, shared expressions of mutual shock with him, and then looked up with the question frozen on her face just as the kid began to howl.

Another door, the one into the private wing from the foyer, slammed open and Bruce pulled himself to a short stop with an expression of relief.

“Good, you caught him.”

Selina’s mouth was still forming a perfect o when she stared at Bruce, down at the sobbing kid, and then back up at Bruce.

Bruce, who had another toddler tossed over one shoulder (laughing) and another toddler tucked under the opposite arm (yelling and— biting?).

“What…”

The sobbing baby flopped himself over flat on his back and wailed so loudly that Selina winced.

“I had them under control a minute ago,” Bruce said, earnestly. Maybe a little manic? There was definitely a bit of something crazed in his eye. “Then all hell broke loose.”

“I…” Selina felt dumb.

“Damian, stop biting.” Bruce flipped the toddler gnawing on his hand up and around, to keep his mouth away from anything.

“Damian…”

“Can you pick up Jason? Quick, he’s got the lock almost—”

Selina turned. The sobbing toddler from the floor was indeed standing and making quick progress with the bolt lock that had auto-engaged when she’d shut the door. She picked him up, ignoring his screech of protest.

“What.” She perched him on her hip while he wriggled and reached for the door knob.

“He’s been trying to escape ever since I stopped reading,” Bruce said, like this explained anything. He looked over his shoulder at the door he’d come through. “It’s too quiet. I need to find the others.”

“You stopped reading,” Selina echoed, taking an experimental step away from the front door. It felt like she was in some sort of suspended reality, separate from the world she’d woken up in twelve hours ago.

“The others kept wandering off,” Bruce answered. “Alfred can only find one baby gate. Not that it slowed any of them down.”

“I feel…like…I’m missing something,” Selina said faintly, following Bruce and his armfuls of toddler. The laughing one clambered onto his shoulders and hugged Bruce’s head.

“Duck,” Bruce said, and the baby did, as they walked through a doorway.

“A big something.”

Bruce glanced back and raised an eyebrow at her, which wasn’t easy for him to do because a tiny hand was smooshing half his forehead with a fierce grip.

“You didn’t get my messages?”

“…no?”

Selina had left her phone upstairs, charging on a dresser. She liked the freedom of not being tied to a device. She thought he would have noticed the phone.

“Well,” Bruce said. “Cass, no, you can’t—”

He lunged, the toddler on his head shrieking with glee at the sudden movement. He caught a tiny girl by her wrist and lifted her in one swift motion. She now dangled over his arm, alongside Damian, while Bruce pried a knife from her grip.

“Give me that before you stab a baby,” Selina demanded, taking it from him just as he got it free, his wrist bent back at an uncomfortable looking angle to keep it from Damian’s grabbing hands.

“They’re toddlers,” Bruce said.

“I noticed,” Selina answered, putting the knife up on a nearby shelf. “Why?”

“Magic, why the hell else?” Bruce said wearily. “I hate magic.”

The curly-haired baby in her arms— Jason— had stopped struggling and was now sagging limply with his head on her shoulder, sucking his two middle fingers. A tiny sigh escaped him. Selina didn’t really like kids, usually, not in the doting maternal way some people were drawn to them, but he was warm and his other little fist had a handful of her shirt.

“Yeah, this is the worst,” she said dryly. “How long?”

“Midnight,” Bruce said bitterly. “It’s always fu—midnight. It’s traditional.”

The word dripped with icy disdain.

“That’s not too bad,” Selina shrugged. Jason’s eyes were closing.

“Yeah, because you got the sleepy one,” Bruce said. Then his eyes widened and he looked around the room. “Where’s Tim?”

The den had been converted into some sort of central station. A lopsided gate hung from one doorframe on the other side, a pile of books and a box of cars sat on a rug and there was a tray of crackers on the coffee table.

“Wait,” Selina searched the room from where she stood, hunting for another body in motion. “Bruce, how many babies are here, exactly?”

He wasn’t listening. He was counting silently, his mouth forming the shape of the words, as he checked his own arms and hers.

One, two, three, four…four…

“And Duke. We’re missing Tim and Duke.”

“Isn’t there a blonde one?” Selina ducked to look under a table, hand holding Jason so he didn’t topple out of her arms. He whined in protest.

“Stephanie? I called her. She’s fine. She laughed until soda came out her nose and hung up on me when I asked for help, but she’s fine. She’s not mine.”

“All of these are yours,” Selina said flatly. “All of them.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, sounding irritated and distracted. “All of them are mine, can you please help me find—”

“Bruce, this is so many babies. This is too many babies.”

“They aren’t usually babies,” he retorted. “Tim! Duke! I don’t know why I’m yelling, they aren’t going to answer.”

“B!” came a faint cry.

“Or that,” he said.

“How did you get so many.”

“Watch them,” he said, and dumped all three toddlers onto the couch, where they tumbled over each other with a mix of giggles and cries. Before Selina could protest, he was gone.

The three he’d left didn’t stay put for long. They rolled off the couch and scattered in three separate directions and Selina made an ineffectual noise of frustration.

She tried to catch one— Dick, she deduced—and he slipped right out of her usually excellent grasp. Clearly, chasing toddlers while holding another wasn’t going to work very well.

“I’m going to put you down,” she said gently to Jason, uncurling his fingers from her sleeve. He didn’t sound happy, and slumped over on the couch with a dazed and grumpy scowl.

She spun to see Damian scaling the bookshelves for the knife she’d set out of reach; she plucked him off and nearly dropped him when he bit her wrist. Cassandra was looking quietly at a book, albeit upside down, so Selina left her where she was and looked around for Dick.

“Dick?”

A high peal of laughter rang from overhead. She glanced up.

Bruce chose that moment to re-enter the room, his arms full again of babies, this time two toddlers happily munching some sort of cookie or bread.

“False alarm,” he said. “They were with Alf—”

He stopped abruptly and looked up just as Dick hurled himself from a ceiling beam with an ungodly squeal of delight. Selina didn’t know how Bruce managed to get Tim from one side to the other, squished up against Duke, so fast, but he did just in time to catch the flying body with his newly-free arm.

Selina started breathing again.

Bruce’s shock was plain on his face, but he was letting Dick swing from his extended arm like it was nothing.

“Where’s Jason?” Bruce asked, sudden and urgent and…scared?

Selina whirled, Damian gnawing on his own hand in her arms. The couch was empty.

“He was just here,” Selina said. “Uh, I’ll go…here, take him.”

Bruce looked like he could handle holding four, so she shoved Damian at him and took off down the hall. The front door was still wide open and she sprinted into the slanted sunset light.

Only ten feet down the lane, Jason was stumbling along as fast as his short legs would go. She overtook him with a couple long, running strides and scooped him up.

“He runs every time he’s upset,” Bruce said, when she went back into the room. He spoke without looking up from where he was building a tower for his tiny, captive audience of five. Selina set Jason down at the end of the semi-circle.

“I noticed,” she said dryly. She tried to take a block, slick with saliva, from Damian’s mouth and he hissed angrily.

“Let him keep it,” Bruce said, and she willingly gave up the fight. “It’s non-toxic and he’s teething.”

“Where is Alfred, anyway?” she asked, sitting cross-legged and making sure she was between the toddlers and the door.

“Gloating,” Bruce said bitterly. There was a pause. “Making dinner. No.” His hand shot out lightning fast and stopped Dick’s tiny fist. “It’s Duke’s turn.”

Duke leaned forward and toppled the tower with a quiet, gleeful grin. Bruce began stacking the blocks again. Selina intercepted Cass trying to roll away from the group with her hands over her eyes.

“I see you,” she said.

She got a bright smile in reply and she didn’t miss the lopsided smirk on Bruce’s face either.

Somehow, in a blur, they survived dinner and corralled all the kids back in the den. Selina found herself sitting on an armchair with Tim on her lap. He was swiping through pictures of birds on Bruce’s phone. When Bruce started reading a book, Damian was still chewing on a block; Tim slipped off her lap and climbed onto the couch with the others.

Before the last page, they were all asleep or close to it.

“This isn’t too bad,” Selina ventured, teasing gently.

“Hm?” Bruce asked, blinking fiercely. The book was falling from his hand and he looked nearly asleep himself, buried under a tangle of drowsy toddlers.

“I’m going to be sad when it’s midnight, I think. Maybe we should have one, together.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Bruce said and Selina took that as her cue to actually listen to him for once— he didn’t look unhappy in the least and she realized that a man who had collected six children might take her joke very seriously indeed.

“Should we move them, do you think? So there isn’t murder when they go back?”

“Let ‘em try,” Bruce grumbled. “I’ll be right here.”

Selina turned the light out.

She also double checked the gate, and the door locks, and if she maybe parked herself with a book as a night watchman across from Alfred with his tea, well, Alfred wasn’t going to tell.

Probably not, anyway.

[bluboothalassophile]

3 Lil’ Birds, 2 Lil’ Bats, & 1 Lil’ Demon

Bruce made it to the Cave, after having getting Damian in a diaper, and buying Dick and Tim ice cream to keep them occupied and in the Batmobile while he was getting the diapers for Damian. Now he was carrying Damian in his arm, Tim was clinging to his cape and giggling, and Dick was securely in his grasp as he looked around.

"Whoa! Is that a Dinosaur!?" Dick demanded with glee.

"Yes," he answered uncertainly. Bruce didn't really know what to do with children this young, even when Dick had been nine the first time around. But the first time around Dick hadn't been like this. Makind Bruce think that Dick had been regressed to before his parents' deaths when Batman was a scary shadow to fear in Gotham.

"Huntress, Signal, and Batwing are on the hunt, I haven't gotten ahold of Batwoman, and hello!?" Barbara gasped as he came into view. "Wow, they really got blasted."

"You're pretty!" Dick blurted out. "Are you an angel? Why do you have these? Do you like to go real fast down hill on these wheels? Why are you in this chair? Can I show you my triple backflip!?"

"I forgot he was a talker the first time around," Barbara chuckled.

"Batman!" Tim giggled behind him.

"I'll leave them here, I'll join the hunt for Jason, Cass, and Steph."

"Leave them!?" Barbara sputtered as Dick leapt onto her lap and yanked her arms around him.

"I have to find them!" Bruce grounded out. Jason would survive, he was good at that. Cass too, and so was Steph. But they were children! Stephanie a toddler! Bruce knew that while these three were high on survival instincts they were still children. Which meant that they were vulnerable.

"Ah, Master Bruce, I see the young Masters are… younger," Alfred said.

"I have to go find the others," Bruce said handing Damian over to Alfred before running to the Batmobile. Leaping for the driver's seat, he started the engine before gunning it out of here.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Jason looked up at the ninja, who had appeared with clothes. Which he had yanked on then he had shoved the tiny toddler who hadn't let his leg go into her clothes. Now he hoisted up the toddler, kept her in his arms now as they crept through the shadows. They would need to be warm, he knew that.

The ninja pointed to a warehouse, and he jogged after her. Slipping into the warehouse, he set the toddler down and he looked around. Food was the next thing on his list, looking for it he started exploring the warehouse slowly.

They weren't batfood, no, no they weren't. Nope. He wasn't no bat's food. Especially the Bat.

"Bat!" the toddler giggled.

"No! We're not batfood!" Jason shouted as he looked for some food. He picked up a can, it looked like food; but how did he open it?

"Batty Bats!" the blonde giggled with delight.

"No."

~~~*~*~*~~~

Barbara sighed as she furiously typed. Jason was a street kid, Cass had never interacted with people, and Stephanie was… Stephanie. Oh god they were in trouble, they were probably going to be killed or dead!

Three kids alone in Gotham, they were going to be killed!

Oh God, she couldn't live with that as she furiously typed away and tried to think about where Jason would go to be safe.

Shelter would be his priority, Jason hated being cold, and no Gotham spring was warm.

With that in mind she started narrowing down the places that he would go on foot wit two little girls with him.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Okay, Duke was going to be completely real about this, this family was insane! Seriously! He was now in Gotham looking for his big sisters and big brother who were now his little sisters and little brother and everyone was acting like this was a regular occurrence.

He didn't know what these people thought was normal, but getting de-aged was not normal.

Duke looked over his shoulder when he heard a cluttering and saw a shadow in the window. It made him think of Cass which had him internally groaning.

This was a bad idea.

Swallowing the bad idea; because he was now in a family of bad ideas, Duke leapt for the window.

Tiny Cass, he pleaded, please don't kill me!

There was a tiny battle cry and he saw the shadow move fast as she came at him.

"O! I got them! Send HELP!" Duke screamed as he tried to fend off tiny Cass, only for tiny Jason to wrack his shin with a bit of wood.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Bruce leapt from his car at the signal where he had gotten the call from and came running into this warehouse to see his newest son, gasping for air, Cass was tied up and dangling from the rafters, Jason was duct taped to the post, and Stephanie was hugging Jason leg growling.

"I got 'em!" Duke gasped, wiping his bloodied lip.

Jason roared behind his duct tape and struggled vainly against the wall.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked clasping Duke's shoulder.

"Yeah, they're a handful!" Duke gasped as he stood up straight. "I'll meet you at the Cave." Duke said before jogging out and leaping for the street.

Jason's eyes narrowed on him, Stephanie glared at him, and Cass also gave him the evil eye.

Bruce sighed, this wasn't going to be easy. None of these three were easy to begin with, and these three were easily his most dangerous children (minus Damian). He started with Stephanie, scooping her up she bit him, he would have dropped her had he not expected this from her. Getting her in the Batmobile was challenging, Stephanie didn't want to go into it, but once he had her in she sat very quaint.

Collecting Cass without massive injury was easy once she saw Stephanie was alright.

And that brought him to Jason who was glaring at him with bright green eyes duct taped to the post of the warehouse.

This was going to hurt.

#bluboothalassophile #fanfic #batfamily #family bonding #deaged #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #duke thomas #timothy drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #barbara gordon #3 lil birds 2 lil bats & 1 lil demon

[dccomics-imagines]

oh my god. IM IN LOVE WITH YOUR TERRIBLE TWO HEADCANONS DJDJDJJDDKDB please write more! I'm already deprived !!

(SHIT I ACCIDENTALLY EXITED OUT WHILE TYPING FML)Okay okay so might in all reality write a fic for this? Idk man, but for now head canons galore

Alfred:

YEP AFTER YEARS AND YEARS I FINALLY MAKE ONE FOR HIM

Our beloved butler.

God you’re like a tiny Bruce.

He’s always there for you 24/7

When you’re about to do something bad somehow he stops you just before it happens.

Dude it’s like he can read your mind.

Nah, he just knows all the tricks(have you seen the amount of kids that come into the manor??)

Every time Bruce is having a heart attack cause he can’t find you, Alfred is the go to.

He just knows everything.

“Alfred have you seen-”

“They’re with Master Dick, he quote on quote ‘stole’ them to take them to a carnival”

As i said, he’s the one to put his foot down with things.

I mean, he won’t yell at you heavens no but he will scold you.

He makes sure you eat proper meals and only offers the healthiest snacks.

He also remembers what veggies you like or dislike as well.

Okay so one time for his birthday the boys bought a mug that said “World’s Best Grandpa” and they gave it to you and you waddled up to Alfred to give it to him and it was the cutest thing this man has ever seen.

“My, this is…this is lovely! I…thank you all”

He kisses your forehead and hugs you.

And all the boys as well.

Bruce:

Okay so he once caught you on his desk with his cowl on and you were crossing your arms trying to look scary and it was adorable.

“I’m…Batman!”

Cue the “aw’s” from all of the batfam.

One time you lost your favorite stuffed animal and Bruce literally gathered up the whole Justice league just to find that thing.

Let’s just say you were more interested in Wonder Woman than the stuffed animal she held.

Diana adored you from that moment.

“A baby!! Glorious day! She is ever so precious!”

So you just reach your tiny arms out for her and she picks you up.

Diana tucked you into bed that night too.

Not many kids can say that Wonder Woman is basically their aunt lol.

Bruce makes sure to keep you out of harms way

If at any point you want to join the vigilante career he will decline.

He will not let you not over his dead body. You’d have to sneak your way past all of the batfam to be a vigilante

Of course, you have the stubbornness of your father, so they reluctantly let you do what you want.

Remember that time they said he trained Tim harder than any Robin he ever had?

Well let’s just say, he trained you harder.

He did not want you getting hurt out there.

Thankfully, you are only two right now.

He doesn’t have to worry about that just yet.

He more worried for when you hit your teens

Dick:

Rainy days are best with him.

He’ll take you out to splash in muddy puddles a lot.

Much to Alfred’s dismay.

Okay so, I feel like maybe all toddlers are afraid of thunder at some point(maybe that just my siblings-)

So whenever it starts thundering, he makes sure to hugs you and pet your hair as you cry out your fear.

Soon enough, you fall asleep through the storm.

Jason:

Reads books to you a lot.

Whenever you read books and you need help with a word he helps you.

Seriously, he will even act out what the word means.

He’s seriously up to play the bad guy in any of your little fantasies.

“Jason! Dragon!”

“Hmnm?Oh oh Alright gotcha”

Tim:

I feel like he’s really good at multitasking so he’d be able to work while teaching you.

“One~ Jason behind you.”

“Two!”

“Uh huh good, what comes next? Dick turn the corner and there should be three armed thugs.”

“Four!”

“Good, wait no that’s wrong. No I’m not talking to you Demon Spawn. I’m talking to our sister”

“Hi Dami! Hi!”

“…___ says hi. Also I’d advise you to watch your step”

Damian:

"Don’t touch my sister Kent."

“Damian we were only-”

“She’s my sister only i should be allowed to converse with her”

Cue eyeroll.

(oMG WHAT IF WAIT NOPE We’ll save that for the next headcanon idea-)

Sometimes he just takes you for walks around Gotham when he’s bored.

He loves to take you to petting zoos too.

Teaches you a lot about the animals there.

Also tries to teach you how to properly kill a human but we won’t go there-

[nightwingswing]

The family’s girl (Batfam x reader) Part4

Here it is, Part 4 of the family’s girl. @hamsterforlive and @miissu, i read your coments while writting the part 4, i thought I’m going to surprise them! ;)

We’re 109+ little wing! OMG I never thought so many people would enjoy my writiing! I thank you soo much!

So now, ENJOY, MY LITTLE WINGS!

Part1 Part2  Part3 Part4 (you are here!)  Part5 Part6  [Interlude] Part7  Part8  Part9  Part10

“Hi..”

“…”

You felt your blood flood your cheeks as mister’s Wayne piercing glance looked at you.

“Hello. You must be Miss (l/n), Tim talks a lot about you.” Mr Waynes hand grabbed you and pulled you up. Tim, who was about to help you up, stopped dead in his tracks as his cheeks reddened.

Damn, why couldn’t his family stop saying he only talked about you.

But you did, Timmy.

I know. But I don’t want them knowing it.

Too late.

 “Come, miss (L/N), Alfred has our dinner already served.” Bruce grabbed your hand and leaded you toward the dining room where Alfred was serving dinner.

You sat between Damian and Tim, with Dick and Jason in front of you.

“I hope you enjoy my (f/f). Master Tim said it was your favorite.” Tim hited his head against the table as you looked at him surprised, his family with an amusing smile and Bruce… Bruce just sipped his wine like it was normal.

“So, (y/n). Where are you staying?” Steph asked you and before you could respond Dick answered for you.

“She lives in front of me! We’re neighbors!! “ He said with a silly smile.

“Yes, I meet Dick when he helped me moving in.” You smiled.

“Ohh sooo chivalrous Dickiebird” Jason mocked.

“Stop it Jason.” Dick said.

“Ow! Grayson, why do you hit me with your foot! Do you wish to start a war?” Damian said.

“Sorry, Dami. I was trying to hit Jay.”

“Sooo mature, Dickiebirdd” Jason mocked once more.

“THAT’S IT!” Dick said.

“OW! GRAYSON. YOU STARTED IT” Damian said before hitting Dick with his food.

“DAMIAN!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA” Jason laughed until Dick shoved his face in his food.

“FOOD WAR!” Shouted Steph.

Everyone except Tim, whose face was red of hitting it with the table surface, You who was looking at them weirdly but amused and Bruce who was just chilling there, sipping his wine. He suddenly asked you

“I hope their incessant questioning isn’t overwhelming you.”

“Oh no, I-“

“She’s overwhelmed, you are underwhelmed. Why isn't anyone just welmed?” Dick asked before being tackled by Damian and his battle cry, spoon in hand.

“Please (y/n). Don’t let this change your opinion of me! I’m sorry! Pls don’t stop talking to mee” Tim said giving you the cutest puppy dog eyes ever. Even when Damian splattered his plate of (f/f) on his face, he didn’t tear his eyes from you.

“Don’t worry, Tim. I won’t stop talking to you and this is rather amusing if I say so myself.” You grabber your handkerchief and wiped Tim’s face clean. Now his face was red for another other reason.

He smiled at you dazzling. His brother, who were a little jealous of you ignoring them for Tim, grabbed his food and splattered Tim and you.

Tim’s eyes became murderous.

“THAT’S IT! YOU CAN HIT ME, BUT YOU CANT HIT MY LOVE-I MEAN MY BEST FRIEND” Tim tackled Dick, who was in front of you and soon Jason and Damian became involved somehow.

Meanwhile Cass was eating peacefully, Luke and Babs facepalmed and Steph recorded it.

“Send me the video, please.” You whispered in Steph’s ear. “It makes good blackmail” You smirked at Steph’s surprised face that soon turned in a smirk.

“I knew I liked you for a reason.”

This continued for a while, with Alfred trying to stop the batboys but the fight didn’t stop until a tiny little piece of (f/f) smudged in Bruce’s face.

Then all became quiet.

Like

Spooky quiet.

“…” Bruce hand wiped his face as he bat glared at his children, who looked at scared as f*ck.

“I’m sorry, miss (l/n). My sons can be rather…childish. I hope you excuse their behavior.” Bruce looked at you seriously and you swallowed.

“You can call me (y/n), mister Wayne.” You smiled awkwardly.

“If you wish.” The boy returned towards their seats as Bruce started eating his food.

The dinner went quietly since then. No one dared to do something else no wanting the Batman’s anger unleashed.

////*\\\\\

Tim and you were sitting in the couch, talking animatedly.

“Oh my god, (y/n). Bruce likes you! You are the first girl I’m friend with that he likes!”

“Really? He looked at me rather…angry”

“Nah, don’t worry, babe. He always looks like that.” Jason said as he sat next to you.

“Your cute…” You whispered.

“Thanks doll” Jason smirked.

“…Did I said that out loud?” You blushed. Tim glared at Jason, looking at his longer hair and clothes.

Would you like him better with shorter hair, dyed white and with leather?

“Am I cute too, (y/n)?” Dick bounced happily, searching for your attention.

“You are not, Grayson. You are more like an unavoidable annoyance.”

“Ow Dami…” Dick frowned sadly.

“You are cute too, Dick…” You said to make Dick stop pouting.

His face lightened, cheeks reddened.

“Hmph” Damian humphed.

“I think you are cute too, Damian. “ You smiled at him, your hand brushing his short hair. He slapped your hand away, blushing.

“I’m not a child! Don’t call me cute.”

You laughed at his tsundereness.

“Do you think I’m cute too, (n/n)???” Steph said tackling you on the couch.

“I’m sorry for her behavior.” Cass said, grabbing Steph away from you and sitting herself next to you.

“I like your case” She said, pointing at your (f/t) mobile case.

“Thanks! I like your dress!” You smiled at her as Babs approached you.

Babs and you started talking about what you were studying, the bests methods to study and on, boring all the bad boys except Tim, who sometimes interfered in the conversation.

“Oh, talk about something else! Not school. School is for weekday. Not weekend!” Dick said childish. Babs smirked and said nonchalantly.

“Did you know, Dick here had a crush on me when he was young? He did the weirdest things for getting my attention”

“Really? Tell me more” You said as you saw upcoming blackmail material. Jason became interested all of sudden in embarrass his older brother. Dick face exploded in a blush so violent, it seemed he was going to die.

“BABS!!! NOOOO STOOOPP, DON’T SHOW HER THE PHOTOS! NOT THE PHOTOOOOS!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

///////*\\\\\\\\\\

“I had the best time of my life!”

“Really? You don’t think my family is weird?” Tim asked.

“No, they’re….extravagant but not weird!”

Tim’s face relaxed.

“Besides I love them! I’m going out with Steph and Cass on Saturday, then I’m meeting Babs at her house, she is going to teach me a thing of two for my (least favorite class)! Then on Sunday, Damian is going to show me his art-“

“But he never let’s anyone near it! Not ever his father!” Tim said.

“Dunno, he said he show me and his pets. He say he’s got a lot!”

“…”

“Then Jason and I are going to meet for dinner on Friday!”

“oh alrigh-WAIT JASON ASKED YOU OUT?  AND YOU SAID YES????????”

“Tim, are you alright?! You look like you are about to faint!”

“NO I’M NOT. JASON? JASON ASKED YOU? IT’S THE LEATHER RIGHT!? DAMN, STUPID SUIT!” Tim said, fighting his vest.

“Tim, relax. It’s not a date. We’re meeting because we got a lot in common. Also, don’t kill your suit, it’s not alive. And you look dazzling in it.”

“I do?” His face came closer to yours.

“You do” Your lips were about to touch, finally when.

“(Y/N) I’M GOING HOME! DO YOU WANT TO COME WITH ME??”” Dick’s face got in between you two.

You blushed.

Tim thought about 1000000 ways of killing his obtrusive big brother.

“I’m going to take her home” Tim said with a smile as scary as the Joker’s.

“But Tim, If she can come with me why bother Alfred, because, you know, you don’t have a driving license.” Dick smirked.

“But I do! And I got my baby right there and I have a spare helmet for you,(y/n).!”

“…” You didn’t know what to do. “ I don’t want to bother Alfred more, he’s got a lot to clean for your little fight earlier…”

Yes  Dick thought in his head, highfiving himself

NOOO Tim said in his head, He’s going to woo her.

“Okay. Sorry Tim, do you want, maybe, meet me tomorrow to have lunch with me?” You said, scratching your head awkwardly. Tim’s whole demeanor changed. Eyes sparkling, smiling lovingly.

“There’s nothing else in the world I want to do more…” Tim said.

“Okay! See you tomorrow!” You kissed his cheek and bounced towards Dick who pouted in jealousy.

But now was his chance!

Haha

You’re so smart, Dick! He praised himself in his head

You bid everyone goodbye and before going Bruce stopped you.

“Wait, (y/n).” You stopped dead on your tracks.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?”

“Call me Bruce.” He winked. And you know now why everyone calls him a playboy. You smiled, cheeks flushing.

“Bye, Bruce” You waved.

“See you for the charity ball next Sunday. Bring a date.”

“Wait what?”

But before you could say anything more Dick had already snatched you away.

/////*\\\\\

You were hugging Dick’s waist for dead life as he speed his bike like he was racing someone.

But really

He just did that so you would hug him like your life depended of it.

“CAN’T WE GO SLOWER?” you shouted.

“NO” said Dick, speeding more.

“AHHH, I’M GOING TO FALL!!” You hugged Dick tightly, your helmet on Dick’s shoulder. Dick’s smirking face was covered by his own helmet.

Dick: 1  Damian: 0  Jason: 0  Tim: 0

😏

///*\\\

“ YOU ARE AN IDIOT, DICK GRAYSON!” You hit him in the head. He smiles at you, but soon his arm grabs you shoulder and leads you to your home.

The ride in the elevator was tense, as Dick planned his next move.

Once the two of you were in front of your home, Dick backed you against your door.

“Dick, what are you doing-“

“Shhh.”

Dick face approached you.

His chapped lips nearing your soft ones.

Breaths mingling.

Until-

To be continued…

#dc #DC comics #dc comic #dc comics fanfic #dc comic imagine #batman #batfamily #BatFam #batman imagin #batman imagine #batman x reader #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfic #Tim Drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #Red Robin #red robin imagine #red robin x reader #red hood #red hood imagine

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 87: "Spin spin spin spin spin Spinspinspinspin Spinspinspin AAAAAUGGHH!"

#Paula reads SBR #Chapter 87 #suffer Valentine suffer #die Valentine die #Johnny better not fall for whatever crap is about to come out of his mouth #Steel Ball Run spoilers #Part 7 spoilers