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ghostbsuter · 8 months

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Wonder MOM ( part 1 )

Happenings/mentions of:

Child abuse, possible trafficking, kidnapping and blood!

Nothing is explicit.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Someone was in that cage.

Controlled anger aside, Batman made sure his footsteps were to be heard, speaking slow and calm as he approached and slid off the cloth.

"Everything will be okay now, are you–?"

With the cloth aside, Batman got a good look at the unconscious person inside.

He knows that face.

Thats—!!

"B! B, can you hear me?" Oracle calls, considering no one else seems to talk, he assumes Barbara put them into a private line.

"I'm here, Oracle." He answers easily, hands gripping the lock and fishing out the familiar pick-locking equipment.

"You went silent for a moment there, B, we got worried."

He gives a grunt at that, ripping the cage bars open and carefully checking for a pulse.

It's there, barely.

"Oracle, call Agent a to prepare, I'm bringing someone over."

"Got it. B, be careful, please."

Bringing the teen, the same age as his youngest, out of the cage seemed a bit harder than thought.

With some manoeuvring and carefully placed feet, the big Bat brings them both out in one swoop, tight on his hold.

His head rolls to the side, groggily blinking awake and peering up to Batman.

"Batsy?"

"Sleep, I'm getting you out of here."

"...knew you'd find me." Messy black hair hides the way he squishes his own face into Batman's side.

"Mom's probably very worried..." he gives an awkward laugh, throat dry and burning with the move.

The movement and warmth lulled him into sleep quite easily.

(Batman's expression, even if stony and blank, covered in a dark veil, anyone can see the carefully hidden layer of fury.)

—

Patrol was cut short that night, the boy in Alfred's care, and Bruce didn't hesitate calling Diana immediately after.

"Hello—"

"I found him."

Diana, Wonder Woman, remained silent upon the response, a quite inhale echoing through the call.

"They brought him all the way to Gotham?"

The man nods despite knowing Diana wouldn't see, giving a verbal answer after.

"I have a report of all injuries he has been subjected to. I'll send you the list."

There is a moment of silence before a sharp hiss from Diana comes through.

"They took his blood–?!"

"Not much from what Alfred gathered, but enough to get a running supply for their... plans."

"I'm coming over. Bruce, you and I both know the dangers of his blood in the wrong hands."

"Let's discuss this once you're here, Diana. Safe travels."

With a click and the call ended.

One look, and he has the eyes of most birds and bats on him already.

"The boy. You know him." Damian steps forward, arms crossed and cape off. The others must have come back not long ago and eavesdropped on his conversation.

"I do."

(The fact he doesn't elaborate nor does anyone either speak up is quite hilarious, wasn't it for the situation.)

The silence goes on, eyes sweeping over Stephanie's furrowed, thoughtful expression, Tim's calculating gaze, cass's curious yet open body language, duck's suspicious raised eyebrow and Damian's 'I dare you' scowl.

At least they didn't wake duke with their commotion.

"What's going on?" Jinxed, Duke himself comes down the stairs in his sleeping clothes, yawning.

"Duke, you're supposed to sleep."

"Sorry, sorry, apparently family drama is happening, and they needed more support." He jerks his hand towards the gaggle of vigilante children(1)/teens/one adult that is only an adult because of age laws.

Bruce suppresses a sigh.

There's a giggle to the side which gathers the attention of everyone.

Around the same height of damian, slightly thinner, is the teen B rescued not long ago. And who should not be awake either.

Alfred gives a smile, arm out stretched to support him on his way to the batclan, eyening his form with tapt attention.

"Batsy!" Ignoring the snorts and coos, Bruce nods back.

"Danny." The kid grins broadly, approaching.

He gives a wave to the other, attention solely on Bruce however.

"Is my mom coming?"

"Yes, she is on her way."

"Wonderful!"

He claps, arms bandaged to his throat, sickly pale and absolutely looking like prime adoption bait.

Cass approaches, hands ready to sign the most wnated question of everyone in the room and Bruce is already feeling the words of denial at the tip of his tongue.

'New br—'

"No."

Cass isn't backing down, expression only getting more determined.

'Honorary brother?'

He doesn't stop the sigh escaping, especially when Danny jumps up at the words with glee.

"Yes! Honorary!"

She seems very pleased with that, holding her hand out for a silent request, qnd once approved, gave a nice headpat.

"I'm actually surprised you didn't tell your kids of me, batsy." Danny side eyes the man, grinning mischievous.

"It slipped my mind."

(No, he doesn't break under the gaze of every person's disbelief stare directed at him. He stronger than that.)

(B did avoid meeting anyone's eyes tho.)

"Wait, so who is the moth—"

A green portal opens in the middle of the cave, and it has the most tense and drawing weapons.

Wonder woman stepped through.

"That answers my question then."

"Mom!"

Diana swooped him up, holding him closer and ducking her head into his black hair.

The Lady peers up at Bruce with a smile. "Thank you."

Her attention shifts to the child. "Frostbite will be expecting us, are you doing good enough to walk or should I–"

"I'm okay! I can walk!" Danny puffs his chest to prove it, giving her a reassuring smile.

Diana's brows knit together in worry. "Very well." She accepts, reluctant. She leads him to the still open veil of green, nodding towards pennyworth and both bid their goodbyes.

For now that is.

The portal closes.

"So, how were we originally supposed to know about Diana having a son??"

"HIS MOM IS WONDER WOMAN????"

"I'm so glad this isn't another adoptive brother. Honorary is good enough."

"HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM US, B!!!"

"Does that mean we have a miniature Trinity of the originals?"

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suzukiblu · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

omegaverse nursing

feral omega murder-nanny Jason and pup Damian in the League

Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this

Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!

YJ accidental baby acquisition

snippet from "YJ accidental baby acquisition":

"Thank you," Tim says, dropping the swab into the evidence bag. Kenley eyes him sourly for a last long moment, then makes a point of looking at Vic instead. Tim feels distinctly ignored.

That's definitely not because Kenley's stopped seeing him as a potential threat, he knows, and can't help suspecting it's that they trust Kon more than they don't trust him.

Or they think Kon's going to be easier to manipulate than the rest of them, given the clone factor, and–

"You're doing good, Kenley," Kon says, giving Kenley another gentle little squeeze. Tim remembers, again, how quickly he had that name to hand. "Want a lollipop or something after this? Gar's probably got some kicking around if Bart doesn't.”

"Why?" Kenley asks.

"This is basically your first doctor's appointment," Kon says reasonably. "Lollipops are traditional, right?"

". . . hm," Kenley says, brow just barely creasing assessingly.

"Kon, they've never eaten anything in their life and you want to start them off with candy?" Cassie asks, putting her hands on her hips and looking exasperated by the idea.

"Yeah," Kon replies with a shrug. "Tasting stuff for the first time is really overwhelming, simpler flavors are easier to start with. Not gonna want to order them paneer right now, you know? Maybe get them some of those bottled smoothies to start, actually, on that note. I puked the first couple times I tried eating and I'm pretty sure my teenage stomach was more capable of handling solid food than a kindergarten one is gonna be. Plus sugar tastes good, and Kenley should get to taste something good for their first time."

"Oh, uh, good idea," Cassie says, blanching slightly. Tim empathizes with the urge to backpedal on saying the wrong thing here. Deeply empathizes. He's not sure it would've even occurred to him to make sure that Kenley's first experience with taste was a positive one or that they might have trouble with solid food right off the bat, himself.

Kon's "ours" comment is both making more and more sense and also is probably for the best, at this point.

“What flavor do you wanna try?” Bart asks Kenley, peering curiously at them. “Wonder Girl's favorite is cherry and mine's orange and Robin's is green apple, so you might like one of those or you could try–”

“Mango,” Kenley says, burying their face in Kon's chest and gripping his jacket again.

. . . that's Kon's favorite, Tim knows.

And he'd be a lot less concerned by that choice if Bart had actually mentioned that fact. Especially because mango is a much, much more specific and unusual candy flavor than something like grape or lemon.

#meme #wip wednesday #omegaverse #I have not finished all of last week's WIP Wednesday asks but will that stop me from doing this week? no it will not #also yes this is absolutely the childcare edition of WIP Wednesday #no shame no regrets #wip: yj accidental baby acquisition #little bit cheating this week but shhhhh NaNoWriMo has kicked my ass so we're compromising lol

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allzelemonz · 1 year

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Robin Reveal: Leonard Hofstadter X Gender Neutral Reader

Prompt: Request, Leonard is a sucker for revealing clothes Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: Any, vague language is used when needed Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Top Leonard, bottom Reader, Reader wears revealing clothes in a private space, clothing is vaguely worded to make it gender neutral, fingering, penetrative sex, Sheldon is a Dick Grayson fanboy, Leonard is a Tim Drake fanboy, Reader has their own comic knowledge and opinions, based around the argument Sheldon had with Stuart about who should succeed Batman Summary: After a long day at work Leonard comes home to find you trying on an exceptionally revealing new outfit.

Leonard sometimes wonders why Sheldon always has to have his debates while going up the stairs. Coming home from work, all he wants to do is relax with whatever show you happen to put on that will keep Sheldon quiet. But first he must endure the climb. Like Samwise Gamgee escorting a particularly chatty Frodo up Mount Doom.

“Leonard, are you even listening.” Sheldon asks, eyeing his roommate with a particularly high brow.

“Yes, Sheldon.” Leonard responds, hardly registering the question.

“So, do you agree?”

“Yes, Sheldon.” Leonard responds again as he turns the corner, just one more flight to go.

“So you won’t mind telling Stuart that Dick Grayson is the only logical choice to take the Batman mantle!” Sheldon’s excitement catches Leonard’s attention just as they reach their floor.

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on.” Leonard pauses in front of the door. “Dick Grayson? Batman?”

“Well, yes. He’s the most logical choice-”

“Tim Drake is the most logical choice.” Leonard corrects his dear, very incorrect, friend.

Sheldon’s mouth drops open, “Tim Drake!”

“Yes, Tim Drake! He’s the best detective of all the Robin’s, he’s a tech mastermind, and he’s wildly underrated within the Batfamily.”

“Tim Drake does not hold a candle to Dick Grayson.” Sheldon snips as he marches past Leonard and into the apartment.

“Why did I get sucked into this?” Leonard asks himself before following him inside.

Sheldon has started a glaring period that will likely not end until Wolowitz comes around and says something about Damian Wayne just to rile him. Leonard ignores the stare, but he knows that it continues even after he’s gone down the hallway. He takes his bag off as he walks and opens his door, dropping it on the floor. When he looks up his mouth falls open and he hesitates for a second before closing the door.

“Wh-What are you wearing?” He asks, flattening himself against the door as if it might cave in.

“Just trying something out.” You answer as you adjust a piece of the fabric. “I’ll change in a minute, just wanted to make sure it fit.”

Leonard can’t help himself as his eyes rake over you. The clothing isn’t covering much, barely even the essentials. He’s never been more thankful that you’ve started spending more time here than at your own place. His breath catches in his throat when you look up at him and catch him staring nearly as intently as Sheldon, but with an entirely different intent.

“Is there something you wanna say, Leonard?” You let a smile spread over your face as Leonard squirms a bit against the door, redness flushing over his skin.

Leonard licks his lips and tries to smile, get words out, or stand up on his own. Anything. All of these attempts fail when you make a movement, messing with the bit of fabric that covers you.

“Oh my god.” Leonard mumbles.

“Can you stand, Leonard?”

He manages a nod, but doesn’t move.

“Then come here and help me get this off.”

Leonard moves faster than you’ve ever seen him move before, for a moment you’re concerned he’ll bring on an asthma attack. His hands are on you in seconds, finding a resting place on your hips and connecting your lips as you lead him back to the bed. He giggles with a smile fixed on his face when you lean back and push his jacket off. He follows your lead, stripping everything he can before you pull him back in for another kiss.

You pull him back until he’s above you and let him take the lead. He lowers himself against you and lets his hard dick press into your thigh as he presses further into the kiss. Your hands go to his hair and you relax as Leonard just enjoys the moment. He moves to kiss down your neck and rolls his hips against yours until you can’t wait anymore.

You begin to rid yourself of the outfit that Leonard admires so much and he follows you, shedding his boxes and making sure his glasses are in a safe spot on the nightstand. When you come back together Leonard doesn’t waste any time, he hovers over you and lets his hand sink down. You pull him in for a kiss as his fingers enter you and he stretches you out, preparing you.

Once you’ve urged him along, unable to wait much longer, Leonard lines himself up and pushes in slowly. You stifle a moan, trying to keep quiet with Sheldon in the apartment. Leonard brings your lips back to his to keep you occupied while he begins a steady rhythm, pulling out and thrusting in with the occasional change of angle until you’re nearly screaming into his mouth.

Your orgasm comes too fast and you can’t give Leonard a warning before it happens. Leonard fucks you through it, keeping his kisses frequent to stifle the noises you make before he comes himself. His thrusts become more erratic and he grips your hips tightly as he spills into you. His body falls onto yours and his breathing is heavy as you both come back from your highs. Leonard reaches a hand out, fumbling with his nightstand until he gets his inhaler. He lifts himself off of you and tries to catch his breath with its aid.

“I guess you like the new stuff then?” You ask, breathless as well.

“Yeah.” Leonard says with a laugh.

You laugh along with him for a moment before Leonard’s phone goes off from his pants pocket. He leans, reaching his arm off of the bed and grabbing it out of the pocket. He groans when he unlocks it and looks at the screen.

“What?” You ask, still catching your breath.

“Nothing, just Sheldon being Sheldon.” Leonard sighs and shakes his head.

“What did he say?”

“He wants to know who you think should take over Batman’s mantle.” Leonard tosses the phone back into the floor by his pants.

“Oh,” You chuckle. “No one.”

Leonard gives you an odd look. “No one?”

“Yeah,” You move your hand to brush back his slightly sweaty hair. “All of the Batfamily have become their own heroes, if Bruce dies Gotham will be fine in the hands of his very large family.”

Leonard looks up at the ceiling, his face screwed into that thinking face he gets when he’s considering something he’s never thought of before. Then he picks up his phone and texts Sheldon your answer. A few minutes later there is a triad of knocks at the door accompanied by your name in an alarmed tone.

#tbbt #the big bang theory x reader #tbbt x reader #the big bang theory x gender neutral reader #tbbt x gender neutral reader #leonard hofstadter #leonard hofstadter x female reader #leonard hofstadter x gender neutral reader #leonard hofstadter x male reader #leonard hofstadter x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #x female reader #x reader smut

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littlemisspascal · 4 months

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Rockford & Roan Pt. 6

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: “You’re probably thinking, this is crazy. Being whisked away through a portal for a clandestine meeting with my match’s brother–what the hell is going on? Am I right?”

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, sort-of threat of murder, Reader has a made-up place of birth, stress, anxiety, named Thief character

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Brother

It takes a moment for you to shake off your shock, mutely staring at the man–Rockford’s brother, his flesh and blood relative–before stooping to reclaim Banjo's leash, giving it a firm tug. Your dog obediently, albeit begrudgingly, returns back to your side where he sits with a paw on your shoe. A hugely possessive action for such a small creature.

The man in the floral robe (and what’s up with that? His entire outfit looks perfectly tailored, every last crisp detail painstakingly crafted to suit his broad frame) inclines his head, looking cordial if not for the slight calculating sharpness in his gaze. “You’re probably thinking, this is crazy. Being whisked away through a portal for a clandestine meeting with my match’s brother–what the hell is going on? Am I right?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you say flatly, and he actually chuckles at that.

“When one is avoiding the attention of Timotheus Rockford, discreetness is the name of the game. Hence the one place he refuses to set foot in again.”

Well, that certainly doesn’t sound ominous at all. A memory flickers in the back of your mind of a knife stabbed into the apartment’s wall. Rockford’s first and to date only mention of his brother.

“Which is a shame,” the man continues with a put upon sigh, “because all his things are exactly where he left them in his room.”

“What?”

“Mamá insisted,” he says plainly, as if those two words are enough to erase your confusion. He scoffs then, nose scrunching. “No matter what I say, the old bat thinks her darling boy will find his way back home one of these days.”

Home? Rockford’s never struck you as the filthy rich type before—the man owns exactly one (1) ratty brown trench coat that he’ll probably take with him to his grave, for crying out loud. You’d assumed he’d had a modest upbringing similar to yours, but standing here in a lavishly decorated room larger than half of your childhood home…well. It’s crystal clear you were wrong about him.

Brown eyes narrow in consideration. “You seem upset.”

Your spine tenses up, not liking the shift in subject of the conversation. “Yeah well, you seem–”

Your empathy spasms painfully when you reach for it. A pins and needles sensation that has your fingers flexing instinctively. You can barely sense the faintest of glimmers from the woman’s mind behind you, empathy feeling strained as if she’s hundreds of miles away. Horror begins creeping into your bones as you turn your attention to the man who’s begun to smirk at you.

“I was wondering when your soldier instincts would realize something was amiss,” he says, looking at you the same way you imagine a scientist looks at a microscope slide, putting you on edge.

Gritting your teeth, you sharpen what little of your mind-gift you can concentrate on into a blade. Even if you can’t pierce through all his defenses, at the very least he’ll have a migraine from hell.

But lashing out reveals no target. Just a blank, gaping void where his aura should be.

Your lips part in a silent gasp, all coherent thoughts fleeing your head. If you weren’t looking directly at him, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was here at all. How…how is that possible?

Every living being has emotions, even those with the coldest of hearts can’t evade your mind-gift’s detection. And this man—this man wearing your match’s face—he’s obviously experiencing feelings. One look at the crinkled lines along the corners of his eyes, the flash of his white teeth in a smug grin, is proof enough. So why the fuck is he invisible to you?

“Who are you?” you ask, raking your gaze over him.

“I answer to many names.”

“He’s a dramatic bitch,” the nameless woman chimes in with a voice like smoke and chocolate. Banjo growls a low, grumpy note, still distrustful of her.

“Your commentary, as always, is much appreciated, Saturn, thank you.” The man’s tone is sharp, and his glare sharper. If looks could kill, Saturn would be a bloody stain on the floor right now.

Instead, she shrugs off the retort like a duck flicking water off its feathers. “No problem, boss.”

Your lips curl into an unimpressed scowl. “Who are you?” Then, more insistently, “What are you?”

“I’ll let you call me Cassius, Miss Roan. We are practically family, after all,” he says with a wryness that has your temper flaring hotly. “As for what I am, well. I like to think of myself as something of a master thief. It’s got a nice ring to it. Much better than a suppressor, in my opinion.”

A ripple of shock spasms across your face, heart lurching heavily in your chest.

Suppression is widely considered one of the rarest of gifts. Rare like one born every ten years kind of rare. You’ve only heard news stories about suppressors, how they can steal the abilities of others with just one look or touch. Sometimes for mere minutes. Sometimes for several years. They’re reported as heroes saving the day as often as they are criminals who need to be isolated from the rest of society.

Regardless of his relationship to Rockford, Cassius’ status as your ally or enemy remains to be determined. His personality leaves much to be desired, but really it all boils down to how long he intends to lock away your mind-gift.

Your empathy has always been a vital part of you. The way you can feel it fading away, a dying candle flame devoid of oxygen, makes your skin crawl. Reminds you of childhood summers at the beach, futilely grasping at sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. You didn’t realize the full extent of how much you rely on your mind-gift until right this moment, forced to guess what Cassius’ is feeling just from his body language alone. Is this really how the rest of the population lives? You shudder at the thought.

“Relax,” Cassius tells you, though it doesn’t have much of an effect. Not until he adds, “I won’t keep your mind-gift long. And if I really meant you harm I would’ve had Saturn portal you off a building.”

“Messy, but effective,” Saturn agrees.

Your eyes grow impossibly wider. (Did she just confess to murdering people? Surely she’s joking. Yeah. You’re gonna tell yourself she’s joking.)

“I really did just bring you here for a chat,” the thief says, ignoring his…assistant? Business partner? You haven’t quite pinned down what they are to each other, relying only on Saturn referring to him as ‘boss’ as a clue.

“Why?” you ask, voice still a little shaky before you make yourself take a deep, steadying breath. “Clearly you and your brother aren’t on the best of terms with each other. I matched with him, yes, but other than that I’m a nobody. Why waste time talking to me?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sergeant Roan. You’re far more interesting than any old nobody.” Cassius sticks his hands into the deep pockets of his robe, expression annoyingly inscrutable. “Born in Rabicano. Enlisted at eighteen. Discharged earlier this year following a lapse of control. Though you did manage to save your camp and fellow soldiers from falling into enemy hands during a midnight raid. You deserve kudos for that.”

Your lips purse, fighting to remain calm. Those details are supposed to be confidential, known only to you, the military, and Dr. Odair.

“You’ve done your research. Good job.” You flash a sardonic smile. “Are you trying to scare me off? Is that what this is?”

“Not at all. On the contrary, I quite like you staying at 445D Albatross Lane. Gives you close eyes on Timotheus—his comings and goings, his health, his cases.” He pauses, wetting his bottom lip. “My sources tell me you’ve been searching for a new source of employment. I’d be happy to pay you a large sum of money.”

“In exchange for what?” you ask cautiously.

“Information,” Cassius answers, eyes gleaming. “Just…tell me what my brother’s up to. Despite our differences, I do care about him. Somewhat.”

“No. I’ll never be a spy.” You shake your head. Things may be strained between you and Rockford at the moment, but you’d never betray his trust. Not for all the money in the world.

The thief blinks, something that looks an awful lot like surprise there and gone in the span of a heartbeat. You bite back a smug grin. It’s pretty nice being the one catching him off guard for a change.

“I haven’t mentioned a figure.”

“Don’t care.”

“You…don’t care?” Cassius echoes faintly, and it genuinely appears as if you’ve short-circuited his mind. He recovers quickly, squinting with a knowing air. “You’re protective of him.”

“He’s my match,” you say firmly. “And he’s my friend.”

There’s an awkward stretch of silence, nobody saying anything. Even Saturn doesn’t have a quip prepared. You find yourself wondering about Rockford, if he’s noticed you’re missing. You hope so. You hope even more to mend what’s been fractured. A long talk is in order once things wrap up here.

And then Cassius sighs—a single puff of air, yet it has the impact of a bullet hitting your gut.

For the first time since meeting him, his expression isn’t one of blankness or arrogance or humor at your own expense. No, it’s something else aging him several years, deepening the wrinkles of his brow, shoulders sagging from their perfect posture.

You’re scared to realize it might be disappointment.

“His friend? Nonsense. That tells me you don’t really know who he is.”

The moment Cassius says them, you want to take those words and stuff them down his throat until he chokes. Because that’s your biggest fear– plucked from the darkest corners of your being and exposed like an open wound to be mocked and prodded–that everything you’ve been learning about Rockford is wrong. No, maybe not everything, but the intimate details. All the itty bitty pieces gathered and studied and fitted together in hopes of understanding what makes Rockford Rockford.

“It’s a work in progress,” you admit. “We’ve both got trust issues and baggage we don’t talk about. And maybe he’s got a bit of a head start with his gift when it comes to knowing me, but I can be patient. Good things come to those who wait, so they say. And he’s worth waiting for.”

Cassius hums, thoughtful, then asks you, “And if it’s not a good thing in the end. What then?”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“I think there’s another popular phrase you’d do well to remember.” He steps closer, indifferent to Banjo scampering onto four legs with a disgruntled woof and the way you bristle when he clasps your shoulder in a firm hold, thumb pressing down ever so slightly. An unspoken warning to shut up and listen. Leaning in even nearer, his mouth drifts mere inches above your cheek, breath warm, and then he’s whispering in your ear, “Ignorance is bliss. Be very careful, Miss Roan, which truths you seek to learn about my brother.”

You say nothing, staring at the wall over his shoulder, heart pounding in your throat.

When he steps back, hand dropping to his side once more, the thief is smiling again, dimpled and cheery, expression cleared of stoicism. “I’m glad to have finally met you. It was an enlightening experience. No need to worry about finding a cab at this hour, Saturn will drop you back safely at your apartment doorstep.”

The Card

Your second trip through one of Saturn’s portals is as chaotic and disorienting as the first time, but you land on your feet at least instead of rolling across the sidewalk. Even better, your arrival back home comes with the return of your mind-gift, rising like the first sunrise after months of pitch blackness, burning away the numbness plaguing your brain.

The portal closes up behind you with a quiet whooshing sound, leaving you and Banjo alone on Albatross Lane, not another soul in sight. Banjo gives himself a full-bodied shake from nose to tail tip, yawning once he’s finished. Seems like you’re not the only one exhausted by the last few hours.

This night feels like one of the longest ones of your life, full of unexpected twists and traumatic trips down memory lane, culminating with perhaps the strangest encounter you’ve ever had with another human being. You’re still not sure what to make of Cassius. What kind of man offers to pay someone to provide information on his own brother? Is their relationship seriously so hopelessly broken that they can’t even fake a civil conversation on the phone like many siblings do?

Only two people can answer those questions. And one of them’s a short elevator ride away. You can sense Rockford’s emotions from down here, almost like a distant thunderstorm on the horizon, rumbling with irritation.

You stick your hands into your jacket pockets, mentally bracing yourself for what’s next to come, but the discovery of something brushing against your fingertips makes you pause. Eyebrows scrunching, you pull out a green patterned playing card and flip it over to reveal the three of hearts. You’re baffled by its existence for all of five seconds before remembering Cassius’ abrupt closeness at the end of your conversation. A cover to hide his parting gift unnoticed.

That settles it then. Mysteriousness must run in the Rockford family genes.

“C’mon boy,” you say to Banjo, stuffing the card away. The yellow door beckons you closer, friendly amongst the nightly shades of grays and blacks. It’s a shame what awaits you inside isn’t nearly as soothing. “One more conversation to go before we sleep.”

#tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford #the thief #pedrostories #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x ofc #my fic

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demonic0angel · 6 months

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The Stalking one-shot is out! Read it on AO3 here or here

CW: creepy behavior, stalking, voyeurism, invasion of privacy, delusions

Jason gave a sigh of relief as he finally entered his home. He opened up the window to the bathroom and slipped inside, taking off his clothes as he inwardly grumbled to himself at the mud and blood sticking to his boots and gloves. He rinsed off his hands and face when he finished, brushing his teeth with the toothbrush he kept under the sink and then slinking into the bedroom.

There, as a quiet lump underneath the blankets, was his girlfriend.

Jason smiled at the sight of her and didn't wake her up, only slightly lifting the corner of the blanket to slide inside and hold her. He kissed her forehead and then fell asleep peacefully.

In the morning, he woke up earlier than her. She gave a sleepy murmur and he chuckled to himself at her cuteness, using a hand to stroke her hair back and then went out of bed. He brushed his teeth, made himself breakfast, and then neatly cleaned up after himself.

Then after that, he went back to Gotham, hoping that by the time his family was finished with their morning business, he could hurry up and finish patrol with them to get back to Jazz.

He had only separated from her for a moment, but he already missed her.

When he put his helmet back on, he was met with a slurred, "Hood? What're you doin'?"

"Hey, RR. Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He said.

"Mmm. Yeah, but a new clue that came in with the recent murder case gave me a breakthrough so I'm tryna finish the report before I go to sleep." Timothy mumbled. He yawned and then said, "You sound happy."

Jason gave a hum.

"Ah," Timothy said. "It's Jazz, isn't it?"

"Yep." Jason loved her so much. It wasn't a surprise that with Jazz's ability to calm him down, his family also adored her.

"So when are we gonna meet her?" Timothy asked. He gave an audible yawn through the comms.

Jason hummed. "I don't know. She's shy."

"Even Damian wants to meet her. And you know that Bruce has barely been containing himself from searching for her himself, right? You should bring her home so we can meet her."

"Mm. Maybe some other day," Jason said. "She's really shy."

Timothy sighed. "How are her siblings by the way? Are they alright?"

A few days ago, Jason had mentioned to his family about Jazz's problems within her own family. Her parents were criminally neglectful and while she could get away from it all, she had left a little sister and a little brother at home and was very worried for them.

"I think so." Jason said. "Both of the Dannies are fine, Jazz is thinking of ways to collect them and bring them here without their parents knowing."

Timothy hummed. "I'm glad to hear that. Tell her that if she needs help, we'll help her, alright? We have more than enough room and you know that Bruce would never turn down a kid."

Jason said, "Yeah, I know." He checked his phone and then put it away.

"Well," Timothy took this moment to yawn again. "I'm going to bed. Damian needs to be picked up in the afternoon and tonight, Steph and Cass will be with you."

"Got it. Night, Tim." Even though it was technically early morning.

"Goodnight." There was an audible smile in his voice.

He left the comms and soon enough, Barbara arrived to take over.

"Hey, Jason." She greeted.

"Hey, Barbie."

Jason finally found his motorbike and pulled off the tarp he had put on it to hide it. "What needs to be done today?" He asked, mounting it and beginning the drive back to his own apartment.

Barbara yawned and said, "I hate how you've been waking up too early these days. Is it because of Jazz?"

"Yeah. I don't want to disturb her in the mornings. She has long hours at the asylum and she needs her sleep."

"Well, you should take her out on a date soon. I promise you, flowers, a nice dinner, and attention from the one you love— there's nothing better." Barbara dutifully gave him advice.

Jason rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Alright, I'll think about it."

He took his phone out of his pocket again. He pocketed it after looking at what he needed and finally arrived at his apartment. He went inside to get his cleaning tools for his guns as he continued to chat with Barbara.

"So you're sure that you don't want us to meet Jazz? I know she's shy, but surely you can convince her..."

Jason laughed. "You're all so desperate to meet her."

"Well, duh! You never let us meet her, we can't spy on her, she can't know about us being vigilantes, we can't even look into her..."

"It's fine," Jason said. His tone was relaxed, so casual that Barbara shut up immediately.

He knew it was because they were worried that Jazz's positive influence on him wasn't enough to keep him calm. He knew all of this, but he didn't get angry.

Now that he had Jazz, someone to watch over, to carefully guide and protect, he really couldn't even muster up the energy to go and search for the Joker as desperately as he had before he had Jazz.

Time passed, before primary school was finally over. Damian was surely out now, so Jason took his bike to go and pick him up. Jason arrived at the front of the school, drawing attention from all of the students there as they whispered and pointed at his bike.

Damian immediately strode out of the gate, furious and glaring at him. Jon, who followed behind him with an awkward smile, waved at Jason.

"Bye, Damian! See you tomorrow!" He said, before running off to find his mom.

Damian turned around and said, "No! Come to my house!" He turned back to Jason and glared with faintly flushed cheeks, as if it was his fault that he had witnessed him maintaining his friendship with the w youngest superboy.

Jason raised an amused eyebrow.

"You are embarrassing." Damian hissed through clenched teeth. "I wish you dropped dead." He paused and then smirked. "And then maybe we can meet that Jazlyn of yours too at your funeral."

"Her full name is Jasmine, not Jazlyn," Jason said with a roll of his eyes. "Don't just change her name because you don't like it."

"Jasmine, tt. What a weak sounding name."

"It's a beautiful name," Jason chided, handing a helmet to Damian.

If it was any other time, Jason would've left him to fend for himself, but since they were in public, it was best for him to wear a helmet so he wouldn't get pulled over.

"You are disgusting and sappy. Thankfully, with this woman's presence in your life, you will soon grow weak enough that I can easily kill you." Damian said, sliding onto the bike and wrapping his hands around Jason's waist.

Jason laughed. "So you're saying that you can't beat me unless I'm weakened?" He started the bike and began driving off.

Damian paused and then jabbed him in the side roughly. Jason yelped.

"Stop that! I'm driving!"

"Crash it." Damian hissed.

Jason laughed louder. Damian was always so violent around him, knowing that the two of them were the only two who could stand each other's dark and pessimistic humor without the urge to kill one another— ahem, Timothy and Damian— or calling the cops— ahem, Barbara— or immediately being concerned and signing them up for therapy, AKA everyone else in their family.

So Jason let him have his fun before he dropped him off at the manor.

Like everyone else, Alfred told Jason, "Be sure to give your girlfriend a compliment today. Lord only knows that you spent all of your luck getting such a lovely woman as a girlfriend. Do your best to keep her and treat her well. If you can, bring her to the manor."

"Of course," Jason laughed. He checked his phone for a quick moment and continued, "I'll let you know when you can meet her."

Jason bought a croissant and a caramel latte before sneaking into Arkham Asylum to drop the treats at Jazz's desk. He unlocked her phone to make sure that the tracker was still connected to his phone, and then he left to walk through the asylum, idly staring at the captured patients there before he spotted Jazz in one room, where she was chatting with the Scarecrow.

The two of them were chatting amicably, with Jazz waving a hand to emphasize her words.

Jason smiled at the sight of her, watching her for a few more moments before he finally left.

Night arrived quickly, as criminals and thugs found the courage to leave their hiding spots and cause trouble within Gotham. Thankfully, there were the Bats ready to put them back in line.

Stephanie and Cassandra joined Jason in his patrol the moment it became dark.

"Hey! Wanna leave Crime Alley now?" Stephanie asked, and Jason nodded, all three of them taking out their grappling hooks to swing across Gotham.

After some swinging to observe the state of Gotham, they took a break.

Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket, taking a glimpse at the screen before he pocketed it again.

Stephanie rolled her eyes and smiled, a little bit of teasing in her eyes. "Was that Jazz? You need to stop checking up on her. She's an adult, she can handle herself."

They began to move again, walking slowly to chat. If anything happened, there would be Barbara to tell them.

Jason smiled. "Sometimes, I feel like she's too independent. When I come home late, she's already in bed."

"You expect her to wait for you?" Stephanie said, raising an eyebrow.

Cassandra, who had been walking in front of them, gave the sign for 'men' and then exasperatedly shook her head. Stephanie laughed with her as she nodded and agreed, “Men are so entitled.”

Jason laughed and said, "Fuck you."

They didn't seem too bothered by his cursing, just happy that he hadn't brought out his guns just to shoot them to death for teasing him. A look of odd relief and happiness crossed Stephanie's face. Jason didn't point it out and continued to patrol with them.

The night ended once more and once again, Jason came back home to Jazz asleep in bed. Jason smiled at the sight and then finished his daily routine before crawling into bed with her.

The next morning, it was only rinse and repeat.

Jason liked these sort of days. Jazz was always comfortable to hold and she never complained about long hours that he had.

Though, to be honest, she probably didn't know about them.

Days passed, just like this. Simple, sweet, and gentle. Jason enjoyed his time with her and his family, and otherwise, was using his time wisely to protect Gotham in a fulfilling way.

But everything changed one day.

Jason had finished a hard day on patrol.

He arrived at Jazz's apartment, intent on relaxing in bed with her while she slept. He had went inside of the bathroom, finished his duties and cleaned himself up, when he entered the bedroom.

The lights suddenly turned on, blinding him for only a moment before Jason blinked his eyes and his vision adjusted.

Jazz stood wide eyed behind their bed, with a bat in her hands and a tremble in her limbs.

A look of fear and indignation crossed her face as she pointed the bat at Jason.

"Who are you?! And what are you doing in my house?!"

||||||||||||||||||||

If anyone’s confused, Jason is Jazz's stalker who completely invaded her life without her knowing. That’s why he doesn’t want anyone meeting her, while he knows all of these facts about her and her life, has a tracker on her phone, and is never seen actually talking to her.

Once again, thank you to my beta @meditating-cat for editing this!

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #jazz fenton #anger management #halloween one shots #jazz x jason #jason todd #jason x jazz #we’ve got the whole family here too #anger management ship

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aprocessionofthoughts · 6 months

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The Camera Lens

whumptober2023 day 23- stalking fandom- batman TW- canon typical violence summary- Jason has a stalker

ao3 masterlist

Jason had been feeling eyes on him for a while now. It felt like someone had been following him on his patrols since he started being Robin. He kept seeing things out of the corner of his eye, but Batman never mentioned anything so Jason figured it was nothing.

He saw something out of the corner of his eye now, and he paused on a rooftop pretending to look at the street below.

There. There was someone standing on the fire escape of the next building.

Time to confront his little shadow.

Tim swore he had only looked down at his camera for a second, but Robin was already gone. He huffed. It was still early, he didn’t want to go back home yet.

“What are you doing, kid?”

Tim let out an embarrassing squeak and turned around.

That… That was Robin standing behind him. Robin was talking to him! That was Jason!

Robin was staring at him.

Shoot. He’d asked a question hadn’t he?

“Uhhh… I’m just getting some fresh air.”

“Uh huh. With your camera?”

“It’s my emotional support camera.”

Robin smirked.

Yes! He got Robin to smile. Score one for Tim.

But then Robin sighed. “Do your parents know you’re out here?”

Think fast. “They’re not home.” shoot. He wasn’t supposed to tell the truth. “There’s a babysitter.” That was believable, right? Did kids his age even have babysitters? He thinks so, though he hasn’t had one in over two years. But he was special, almost grown up. His parents said so.

“Well, you should probably get home before you worry your babysitter.”

“But–”

“No buts. Little kids like you should be in bed by now.”

“I’m not little!”

Robin raised an eyebrow at him. It was impressive how the mask could show that.

“How about,” Robin started, “I take you home.”

Nope. That couldn’t happen. Tim was grown up enough to be on his own, but his parents also said it was best if other people didn’t know that. It would mean they'd underestimate him. Tim didn’t really care about that. But he didn’t want to make them upset. “It’s okay. I can get home on my own.”

“I don’t think–” Robin tilted his head. Tim thought that he might be listening to his comm. Robin turned to him again. “Are you sure you can make it on your own?”

“Yup.”

“Fine then. It looks like I have to go. You go straight home, agreed?”

Tim nodded.

“Good, and I better not see you again. It’s not safe out here.” With that Robin shot his grapple and disappeared into the night.

Tim smiled so wide it hurt his mouth. This was his best day ever! Robin had talked to him and he’d gotten some good pictures.

Best day ever!

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

Tim ran through one of the Tower’s hallways. Well, more like he hobbled through the hallway since one of his ankles was definitely broken, and his ribs were probably fractured, and he could hardly see out of one eye, and the fingers of his left hand were crooked, and… well let’s suffice it to say that he was heavily injured.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Tim’s breath hitched and he stumbled, sliding down the wall and leaving a bloody smear. He was trying to push himself to his feet when something slammed into his back. He grunted, his arms collapsing and making him faceplant into the floor. He didn’t have a chance to recover before a steel toed boot was slamming into his side.

The boot flipped him onto his back and then pressed onto his chest. Tim wheezed.

“Got you.”

Jason stared down at him, eyes blazing green and a deranged smile pulling at his lips. He leaned forward putting more pressure on Tim’s chest. He heard something crack and a whine escaped him.

Jason chuckled.

“And here I thought my replacement would put up more of a fight.”

“I’m not–” Tim cut off as the pressure increased, his hands scrambled at the boot pressing into him but he couldn’t get the bigger man off of him.

Jason’s still holding part of Tim’s broken bo staff and he swings it down. Tim barely has time to get his hands up so that it doesn’t slam into his face. It comes down again landing across his ribs. Jason brings it down a few more times before tossing it to the side and lifting Tim up by his throat. He slams him into the wall. Tim feels his ribs shift and prays that they don't pierce a lung.

But would it really matter at this point? Tim can’t breathe and Jason isn’t letting up. His vision was starting to go black. Would Jason just keep beating him up after he blacked out? Would he be just another dead Robin?

“You should have stayed behind the camera, Replacement.” Jason said, leaning in close.

And Tim… Tim blacked out.

#whumptober 2023 #whumptober #no.23 #stalker #stalker tim drake #titans tower au #Jason todd #Tim drake #hurt/no comfort #canon typical violence

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thenhlteaissuperhot · 4 months

Note

Honestly this all star roster is the reason I think fan voting shouldn’t exist or should at least have a limited number of players per team that could join. There’s no way 9 players being from only two diff teams is fair. And who tf voted for georgiev!!!!

I am all in for the fan voting because the results usually reflect, who the fans want to see there outside of those, who had already been chosen by the league, but for heaven's sake, make limitations on how many players from each team can come.

As hot as Vancouver is this year, no one (outside of the Canucks fans) wants to see five of them there. Why are we filling five damn spots with players from a team that is nowhere near the most popular in the league? Why are we filling five spots with one team, to begin with?

I can, to a certain point, understand why there are four Maple Leafs since it is going to be held in Toronto (as much as I love him, I don't understand why Morgan was the 4th one "voted in"), but there should be maximum of three players representing a single team, no more than that.

If it was up to me - choosing those 44 players out of 32 teams, those eight allowed goalies are in italics:

Anaheim Ducks - Vatrano and Dostal

Vatrano leads the Ducks in points, it's understandable, and Dostal deserves it for the insane performances he has been putting out lately.

Honorable mention to McTavish.

Arizona Coyotes - Ingram and Keller

Another goalie, whose success the league and fans ignore.

Boston Bruins - Pastrnak, Marchand, and Swayman

This trio has everything - character, skill, popularity. Like Marchand or not, you have to admit that the content he creates for the camera is elite. Exactly what an All-Star Game needs.

And also, let's have the Toronto crowd go nuts because of three lone Bruins.

Buffalo Sabres - Dahlin

Calgary Flames - Lindholm

Carolina Hurricanes - Aho

Chicago Blackhawks - Mrazek (because Bedard is out with the operated jaw)

The only other player on the Blackhawks roster, who is worth watching. A legend.

Colorado Avalanche - McKinnon and Makar

Columbus Blue Jackets - Fantilli

Who on earth picked Boone Jenner over Fantilli?

Dallas Stars - Robertson and Oettinger

Detroit Red Wings - DeBrincat

Edmonton - McDavid and Draisaitl

Honorable mention to Hyman. I put Draisaitl there because I am biased as hell and because he is the most underrated jokester in the league.

Florida Panthers - Reinhart

Los Angeles Kings - Doughty

We need those defensemen and everyone knows Doughty. He is a funny guy and he is doing decent this season.

Minnesota Wild - Kaprizov

Montreal Canadians - Slafkovsky

He is always a hot topic, he is a comedian, great personality, shove him in there.

Nashville Predators - Forsberg and Josi

New Jersey Devils - Jack and Luke Hughes

New York Islanders - Barzal

I frankly know the bare minimum about the current state of the Islanders, so Barzal it is.

New York Rangers - Fox and Shesterkin

Ottawa Senators - Stützle

Why is it always Tkachuk? Why not switch it up a bit? Tim is leading the stats in Ottawa, has ridiculous 30+ assists, he is a funny likable guy... Let's boost the Germans in the league and have him and Draisaitl interact properly.

Philadelphia Flyers - Konecny

Pittsburgh Penguins - Crosby

Seattle Kraken - Dunn

The guy is leading the points in that team as a defenseman, he is a total social media catch lately, why isn't he on there? Why haven't the Seattle fans and his girlies voted for him?

St. Louis Blues - Thomas

Tampa Bay Lightning - Kucherov

Toronto Maple Leafs - Matthews, Marner, and Nylander

Gotta make the home audience happy.

Vancouver Canucks - Hughes and Demko

Pettersson was on here for a while too, he definitely deserves the spot, but we don't have enough space on here.

Vegas Golden Knights - Eichel

Washington Capitals - Wilson

Winnipeg Jets - Hellebyuck

Me, reading this list.

#nhl #nhl all star game

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takaraphoenix · 1 year

Text

So DCeased ended, huh.

And I’m... it wasn’t the worst ending, but I’m also not happy with it?

After that amazing twist with Alfred becoming the Spectre, specifically to save Damian’s life, to save his last son (still kinda pissed that Cass is... just... not acknowledged at all as a Bat Fam member I mean she is alive?? She barely appeared at all in this run? And doesn’t seem to matter to Alfred and Damian at all?).

Alfred did this great thing to save Damian... just so Damian could now sacrifice himself for the universe. Wow. How satisfying. /s

And it was somehow made more infuriating by how dumb everyone around him seemed? Cassie not realizing that this was a sacrifice play. I’m sorry, but if someone says they have “a weapon” and “can’t tell you what it is” but leave you, their romantic interest, behind on purpose... then the weapon is them, it’s a sacrifice play, they’re not coming back. You don’t need to be Wonder Woman to figure that out, but also Wonder Woman should definitely be able to see through that.

It absolutely infuriated me how dumb this made Cassie look, on top of sidelining her. Not giving Wonder Woman anything to do in this final battle against EREBUS, the ancient GREEK deity of darkness. Really? You really did that? You made the Big Bad a Greek god and then you benched Wonder Woman?

But hey! Ares got to go and play! And the Black Racer! And... so many more guys. It was a real... sausage party up there. Oh, yeah, and Dinah, I guess. Wow. One woman, huh.

No, seriously, benching Wonder Woman here? And not letting Cass as Shazam do anything anymore? Making Cass Shazam had been such a cool move but then she kind of... never really... appeared anymore, aside from in the background? And I gotta repeat where I couldn’t hold my tongue earlier, because seriously. They made Alfred mourning Bruce, Jason, Dick and Tim such a big deal. And yeah, it should be. Absolutely. But... how do the women not matter at all? So Steph and Babs aren’t ‘family’, so their deaths don’t have that much impact (it would still be nice if they would have been mourned too, to any degree), but Cass is family and Cass is still alive and Cass is not included in anything. There are no moments between her and Alfred, between her and Damian. What the fuck.

The way Damian mentions that Cass is training the new Kryptonians just... reminded me that Cass exists - or rather, showed me that the writers remember that Cass exists - and that makes it somehow worse, I don’t know.

Speaking of the new Kryptonians, another underused female character really was Kara though. The way this series opened up around Kara, I... falsely assumed her to be a central figure and play a... bigger part... But... uh... she... really didn’t... I mean really didn’t. Even the reunion with Clark was kind of a throwaway moment that faded away and then she was gone, because untrained new Kryptonian.

But the severe underusage of its badass female characters aside, the sacrifice play.

I don’t believe that it was necessary. There’s no way, no way, that they couldn’t have found a better solution for it. That they couldn’t have delivered it on the damn USB drive that it was on, or whatever. Heck. Put it on a mouse and sacrificed the mouse, sorry, PETA.

But Damian had this whole arc over this series, and Alfred did this great thing to save him, and now we’re just back to “yeah I do everything on my own, and now I gotta die to save the universe, all on my own, without even trying to figure out a better solution with my team”, when one of the great things about this series was when there were all these great and different characters working together.

Also I honestly wish they had not included the part with Damian’s birthday and him turning eighteen. For one, it made the sacrifice much... sadder. He was just a kid, still. I had genuinely assumed that much more time had passed in-universe and that Damian was 20+ at this point. And the other part, it would have made the Damian/Cassie less weird if they had not gone out of their way to announce that, because she’s... Tim’s age, so five-ish years older than him. So it seemed like a bit of a choice to emphasize that.

On the overall? Man, that finale was a... letdown. Which sucks, because I really had enjoyed it so far. This had so much potential. It was great. I hate when something is amazing, but then... just doesn’t stick the landing, because a mediocre or bad ending can sour the whole story and this... did that.

So now Alfred haunts space, mourning his sons. The ending doesn’t fit the journey, in my opinion. It was always a journey of hope, Clark and Pam and Jason and Jon and Alfred everyone always projected hope to... get a new start. And, obviously there were losses, there had to be, but the literal final shot of this was Alfred, all alone, staring into a vast universe created by Damian’s death, thinking about his dead sons, thinking about the past. Not the hope, not the future. We don’t even return to Earth in this finale, we don’t even see them start to rebuild, we don’t see hope’s seedling, we don’t see a joyful future that Damian brings, we only the sadness. And that stands in contrast to this message of trying to find hope that the story kept telling throughout.

Hope? Hope would have been Victor Stone, who has the intellect of Brainiac and the knowledge of Apokolips, actually figuring out a better solution, instead of being robbed of his agency by a self-sacrificial teenager who got to explode into a new universe because they couldn’t think of implanting this into a mouse or something. It would have been seeing them all return to Earth, rebuild. Seeing what Harley and Pam have been rebuilding down there already, and those from Earth-2 finding their place back home. Seeing Alfred and Leslie, happy, with Damian (and Cass...). That’s what everyone has worked toward for this entire journey.

#DCeased: War of the Undead Gods #DCeased Spoilers #Cass Cain #Cassie Sandsmark #Kara Zor-El #Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #DCeased

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boliv-jenta · 1 year

Text

Tim Rockford x OFC. Name only, no physical description.

WC:1.9k

Warnings: Death. Some bad language. Some descriptions of smut.

Follows on from this.

Someone mentioned more Tim, and this happened. In my defence, I'm still very sick. This may be a fever dream.

Afterlife?

The two of them stood in each other's embrace for what felt like eternity. It could have been and the both of them would be fine with it. It was so strange. Even on top of the strangeness of apparently being ghosts. The two of them didn't know each other except they felt completely in love with one another.

Though Tim's marriage didn't end well, it started lovingly. That love strengthened with the birth of his two children. He knew what love felt like. This was it. Except this was stronger. He felt an incredible bond to her. He prided himself on being a very articulate man. A skill used in crafting his cases. In interrogations, he used his carefully chosen words to twist and trip up his suspects. His words had never failed him. Until now. He couldn't for the life (afterlife?) of him, put into words his feelings for her.

The feelings that bound her to Tim were indescribable. This whole thing was insane. Like some weird Alice in Wonderland-esque drug trip. She had died but there was no grief, she was completely okay with it. There was something in the back of her mind telling her everything would be fine.

Then poor Tim showed up. Damn her aunt being under her mother's thumb. Her grandmother who seemed sweet to the outside world. Who had fooled her for the most part, only letting her facade fall on a few occasions. Blaming the snap of anger on the crotchetiness of old age. If only she'd looked deeper, sooner.

Now Tim was here, in her arms. He was suddenly her whole world. She barely knew any facts about him but she knew he was the love of her life (afterlife?). It was the strangest feeling. Also, the most beautiful and profound. She thought her ex was the one. She had truly loved him, at first, then things just..nothing lasts forever she supposed at the time. But this, with Tim, she knew it would last forever.

Even death couldn't stop her from overthinking. Her curiosity had always been a weak spot. Sadly, it led to her death.

"Detective?" Lifting her head from the warm, firm comfort of his broad shoulder she came face to face with him.

He was a beautiful man. Those whiskey rich eyes. The nose and jawline that would have even the finest sculptor down their tools in envy. The pillowy fullness of his pouty lips.

His face softened as he answered. "Please. Call me Tim, Jessica."

"Tim. Then you can call me Evie." Evie smiled almost shyly. Only her friends called her Evie. It was oddly intimate, given that they were already oddly intimate with each other. The taste of the coffee he had earlier, still on her tongue. Their chests still flush together. The press of something that had her questioning where he kept his firearm, to her hip.

"Hey, Evie." He smiled awkwardly.

Gradually the walls of the little bubble they were in started to thin. As if their nagging doubts were over inflating it. Untangling from each other they stood in silence for a long while, until the silence and the bubble was broken.

"Great. I knew you'd be one of those couples. More paperwork for me. Alright, this way." The rough smokers voice belonged to a woman who looked like she'd stepped right out of Central Casing for a 1950s telephone operator. Complete with headset. Standing next to the door to Evie's closet she tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, don't just stand there. In you go."

The two of them stood there dumbfounded. They stared at her until she huffed and swung open the door. The door that should have revealed a very haphazard filing system of old shoe boxes, box files and childhood mementoes. The door that actually revealed what looked like a huge police station bullpen.

"What the….?" Evie breathed.

Tim had already moved toward the door hand hovering over his gun in his shoulder holster.

'So, that wasn't his gun. Good to know.' Evie thought to herself.

Tim's instincts took over and he kept Evie behind him while he cleared the area. There was no way what he was seeing was real but it appeared to be. It felt real as he put his hand into the closet. The cool air from a nearby fan blew over his hand. The noise of a hectic police station filled his ears. The smell of old coffee and printer toner wafted his way.

"Listen. I haven't got all day. In or out?" The woman asked, seemingly completely uncaring of their choice as long as she got an answer soon.

Evie wondered who the hell she was. A chill ran down her spine at the mention of hell. Well, standing her wasn't getting any answers. As Tim turned back to her, brown eyes seeking her answer, she walked straight past him. Once the two of them entered the bull pen, Central Casting lady followed. Closing the door behind her, it disappeared. Not one person in the room looked twice at the dissipating door. Or them for that matter. They all carried on with whatever they were doing. Sorting papers. Talking on the phone. Typing on computers, all from various decades. Evie spotted a brand new, state of the art laptop, a big chuckled 80's number, one of those late 90's colourful iMacs. Tim spotted a guy using a typewriter and,he swears, a guy with a quill.

"Boss's office is this way." The woman's heels tapped on the hard floor as she raced ahead of them. She must have been in her late 60s but she could move.

The boss in question had 'Henriksen' painted on the glass of their door. Opening the door for them, she shut it behind them when they entered and left without a word.

Another mystery woman, Henriksen presumably, didn't even look up from her paperwork. "Take a seat."

Only when Tim and Evie hesitated, looking at each other for reassurance did she look their way. "Seats, now. Please."

The two of them moved like the school principal had summoned them.

"I'm Henriksen. I run this office. I know this is strange for you. We have a whole procedure to help you deal but we need signatures first. Red tape will drive you nuts!" She spoke a mile a minute and dumped two heavy files in front of each of them. Each labelled with their names. Evie barely had time to register that Tim's middle name was Ernesto before the woman started again. "Short version. You died. When people die they hang around unfinished business and what not. Most people move on after the closure of the funeral or loved ones saying goodbye or murder victims wait for justice. Some are stubborn S.O.Bs and can't move on. They are the ones we have here." Jumping up she moved to her window to tilt open her floor to ceiling blinds.

Tim fumbled for his glasses as Evie stood moving closer to the window. "Tim?"

Warmth bloomed in Tim's chest as she reached back for him.

Neither one of them could comprehend what they were seeing. Over a few blocks of relatively new city buildings, the view diverged into a forest complete with a castle that looked like it came from the middle ages except it was in pristine condition. The other side held the view of a suburb that looked like it was from the 1940s. Further up the city blocks it looked like Tokyo all bright and neon, except Tokyo didn't have hover cars.

"We have a lot of people from a lot of different times. This place seems to adapt to what people want. Most people are actually quite happy here. Some want to move on. That's where you come in."

Evie finally found her voice. "That's where we what?"

"You two have everything you need to move on. You know who killed you. You have the love of your soul mate. You can choose to go to the next place. I can't tell you exactly what is there but it's peaceful. I know you two experienced a little of that back there. You were on your way until you started questioning it. If you sign here. You stay with us and you can help others find what they need to move on and help us police this place. You have twenty-four hours to think. Phillis will show you where you can stay."

With that Henriksen press a button on her desk and Central Casting…Phillis came to collect you. Henriksen say another word as she went back to work.

The ride over had been silent but eventful. It's not every day you see a road rage incident involving a hover car and an old timey horse and cart. The two of them ate in silence. Phillis had left some TV dinners for them. They sat at the table in silence until the leftovers had cooled and congealed.

Tim eventually spoke first. "I don't even know where to begin…"

"Me neither. This is too much."

"I know. It's weird but I kind of miss when I was just dead and standing over my body with you."

"Same. I mean, not you being dead or the body part but it felt…"

"Right."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to..?" Tim stretched his hand out for her to take. Once again they stepped into each other's arms. It felt nice, reassuring, but the same peace wasn't there.

Chuckling nervously, they both realised it was different now.

"Maybe if we..?" Evie leaned in to kiss him. The peace wasn't there in the kiss. Although something else was. It took them over as they pulled at each other's clothes and blindly fumbled their way to one of the bedrooms that Phillis had pointed out.

The next morning, with the sunlight warming her bare back it was easy for Evie to forget everything. It was just another beautiful morning at home. Opening his eyes to see Tim, looking beautifully at peace, brought her back to her and now. Shame flooded her. It wasn't like she hadn't had a one night stand before. There were a few bad ones, a couple of good ones. Neither of them compared to last night. It was perfect, the kind of sex she thought only existed in movies or female producer porn. It was as if he knew what she wanted before she did. When she did want something different, she didn't feel uncomfortable to ask. During the second round, that they woke up for in the night, she'd asked for him to be rougher. He'd delivered, with great enthusiasm. It was amazing. Now, it suddenly felt awkward. She had so many conflicting feelings. On one hand, she was head over heels in love with Tim. On the other hand, he was a stranger! She didn't know how old his was, where he was from. Was he a cat or a dog person? An early morning or a late night person. She knew nothing about him yet she'd been happy enough to share some of her kinks with him.

Tim slowly woke when he felt her turn over. Needing a minute he kept his eyes closed. Fuck, this whole thing was just ridiculous. He was in love with a stranger. Sleeping in an apartment that belonged in the 40s. Was he dreaming? It all felt real. Last night felt very, very real. Making a beautiful woman cum, twice, around him felt very real. Her taking control to make him cum, felt very real as well. Her begging him to cum inside her, that felt very real. And like the most erotic experience of his life (afterlife?) He started to swell at the memory of it. A memory cut short by the sound of shouting outside their apartment.

Any awkward conversation they might have had to have took a back seat as they quickly dressed to the point of decency and ran to the front door of their apartment.

Outside, in the hallway, there stood an honest to goodness pirate, complete with eye patch and wooden peg leg. Apparently about to shoot a knight, in full mediaeval armour.

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #tim rockford #tim rockford x ofc

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asexualbert · 1 year

Text

I wasn't exactly planning for the first installment in this AU to be a Christmas short but, here we are.

Enjoy!

-–—–-

It may have been a little much.

Tim stepped back, examining his handy work. It certainly was... Big. All the movies seemed to say that was a good thing, but it was also, apparently, seriously inconvenient to work with.

Though a seven foot Fraser fir was by far not the most questionable thing he'd ever hauled into the building at half past midnight, he was glad as ever not to have nosy neighbours. The trip had admittedly not been particularly graceful...

Tim sighed. Was he going about it all wrong? He probably should have asked the kid if he even wanted all this right? But, though for the life of him he couldn't understand why it had seemed so important, he'd wanted it to be a surprise. Hence, he supposed, his spending nearly five hours of optimal working time to track down, set up, and put lights on the Christmas tree now residing in the middle of his living room. Not to mention sweeping; apparently the stupid thing shed like a bitch too and, with the kid asleep, the vacuum was out of the question.

He'd never really done Christmas before. His parents had been Jewish as far as he was aware, though they hadn't really discussed it, as had the Waynes. The only religion the League followed was whatever the hell Ra's was on, and they certainly weren't pausing all the cult activity to celebrate a nice secular Christmastime once a year.

Tim himself had been decidedly agnostic despite it all for as long as he could remember and, since coming back, any and all holidays had been tucked neatly away in his mind, alongside his emotions, as irrelevant and inefficient; entirely unnecessary to his beautifully simple green worldview.

But then, as usual it seemed lately, there was Jason.

The kid hadn't asked for anything; he never did, but that was a different concern which Tim didn't have the capacity to go into at the moment. Nearly two weeks ago though, he'd mentioned in passing how he used to celebrate Christmas with his mother, and Tim had been thinking about it ever since.

———

"It wasn't big or anything. We'd go down to the soup kitchen early t'get one of the really good meals they only serve on the holidays and then build snowmen in the park. They were pretty bad, but mama always called'em "abstract"" Jason made air quotes as he spoke, giggling slightly. "Then we'd go home an' she'd give me a present. It wasn't ever anything much; new pair of shoes or a jacket from the Goodwill if she'd managed. And then she'd sing. Kept doing that bit even after she got sick, at least until it got too hard." His smile turned sad, "she had a real pretty voice. Didn't sing much cause dad didn't like it, but on Christmas she always did..."

Jason was quiet for a while after that, leaning timidly against Tim's side as he'd taken to doing as of late. Neither said anything for about five minutes until Jason, sounding half asleep, spoke quietly.

"It's special you know? Christmastime. Even if it is cold, it's still... Special."

———

Tim examined the tree again, shining with the rainbow coloured lights he'd fought with for nearly an hour. Maybe it was a little over the top, the whole event of dragging in and setting up a live tree in the middle of the night, just to surprise a ten year old he'd had for barely more than six weeks. It was ridiculous and unnecessary and nothing like him.

But his kid deserved the best. And if it made Jay smile?

Tim somehow knew that he would do it over again every year.

#tim drake #jason todd #batfamily au #RAU #reverse robins au #red hood!tim #baby jason #tim cares very much for this random ten year old he found on a street corner #and he's very awkward and clumsy about it #all these 'feelings' and 'care' and stuff is very new #but he's doing his best #the kid's important to him

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nullsleepy · 2 years

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The Strike of a Villainess

Chapter 2: Let’s Play

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2(here), Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

His husky breath warmed her neck as he wrapped his arms around Lillian, a sigh of relief as he saw no injuries on her body.

“Timmy?” Lillian’s angelic voice calmed down his nerves, his grip loosening.

“L..Lily. Don’t EVER do that again.” She could feel tears stain her white blouse. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing him into her shoulder.

The scene faded black, with the words “Good Ending” flashing onto the screen. Marinette tossed her phone towards a cushion near the bed, squealing as she hugged her pillow. As it turns out, that game wasn’t nearly as “uninteresting” as she had initially thought. Of course it wouldn’t be, she remembered half way through that Alya had recommended it to her once, a time ago! And, no matter how much the girl couldn’t face the truth right in front of her, her taste in games was impeccable!

When she had just started playing, she began with Jonathan Kent’s route, superboy. His sunshine smiles, his ocean blue eyes, the awkward stutters, ah! He was so adorable! He was like Adrien, a handsome dork, a beautiful knight in shining armor! It had made her heart ache a bit at first, but his tangents on comics and anime made her heart flutter. He was just so cute!

Her next route was on the precious boy’s best friend’s(Damian Wayne, as she soon learned) eldest brother, Dick. The name had made her hesitant first, wondering if it was some dirty joke. But his puns reminded her of her partner, Chat. He was quick to make her laugh and made her think of fond memories of her Chaton. But unlike her cat in black leather, the man was more mature, experienced. He knew when to not push her, but knew when she needed support.

Marinette lost herself in the game, smiling to herself. Most of the characters reminded her of the people in her life, but some were completely different from the people in her life. Like Damian, an arrogant young master. At the beginning, she had thought he was like Felix, which made her groan, but she quickly learned otherwise. While she hadn’t played his route just yet, since it costs coins, he had saved her in other routes from certain unsavory characters. He rescued her in Tim’s route where she was kidnapped by the joker, and saved her again and again in Jason’s route. Not to mention she caught him snuggled with a cat, while reading a book, as she was exploring the manor. It made her giggle, and she had to put down her phone for a few minutes.

That five minute break quickly became four hours, her frequently pausing to freak out and blush. She was this close to trying to marry the developers for making this beautiful masterpiece.

Checking how many coins she had, it was just barely enough to buy Damian’s route. She bit her lip, wondering if she should buy it. It would cost all the coins she got, but - Marinette looked back at Damian’s profile, his green eyes baring into her soul, it would be worth it.

She took a deep breath as she purchased the route. Her heart beating after a fictional character. Why did fictional men have to be so handsome?!

“Master?” Marinette whipped her head towards Wayzz, putting her phone down as if just remembering she wasn’t a giggling teenage fangirl.

“Ah, sorry Wayzz. I got distracted,” Marinette glanced at her phone, disappointed. A heavy feeling surrounded her heart. “Let’s get to work.”

Marinette stood up quickly, causing her to lose balance. She crashed into her floor, swearing as she felt pain in her ankle.

“Master!” Wayzz rushed towards the girl, unsure of how to help.

“I’m okay Wayzz, just took a tumble is all! I’ll be fine.” Marinette smiled at the kwami, but the pain in her ankle felt unbearable.

“Why don’t you take a bit longer, master? Paris can wait an hour or two.” The kwami looked down at her.

“You know what, I, uh, I’ll do just that!” Marinette failed to stand, instead being forced to climb up her bed. She stared at her phone, wondering if she should just play the route. It should be fine to spoil herself when in pain.

Ignoring her throbbing ankle, she pressed “start”.

A blinding white light poured into the room from her phone. Marinette squinted, covering her eyes with her hand.

“Master!”

“Wayzz!”

Taglist(Open): @khneltea @cydaeashootingstar @shadosakushi @jeminiikrystal

Notes: Hi! Sorry for the delay, I just couldn’t figure out how to get to the white light part but I did it! This chapter probably sounds rough/rushed because honestly I just want to start writing the next chapter already. I have tons of ideas for it, and this chapter was technically supposed to be apart of chapter 1. Anyways, I do hope y’all enjoyed reading! I can’t wait to write the next chapter!!!

#maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #villainess au #Marinette is me reading mangas sometimes okay #I just tried to channel my inner fangirl for this #Fangirling IS NOT a bad thing sometimes okay #bro ima about to cry the song on right now is #The one that got away rewrite by reinaeiry #SND OH MY GOD ITS YMIRXHISTORIA IMA START CRYING #anyways yeah that happened

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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 5 months

Text

The Taste of Revenge (6)

Warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, mentions of non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, mentions and descriptions of jail, car crashes, descriptions of drowning, lying, manipulation, guns, yandere themes, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), spoilers for Hannibal, references to Leverage, past Frederick Chilton/Rafael Barba, NSFW moments and angst.

Chapter 6

You shot out of the room before Doctor Chilton could stop you. Between remaining in the conference room with him and confronting Barba, you would take your chances with confronting Barba. At least with that option, you would have the physical support of your teammates.

The second that you stepped out of the hallway, you were aware of Barba’s eyes on you. From this distance, you could see that his posture was casual and relaxed. He was surrounded by some NCIS agents that you recognised and standing between you and Barba was your team with Gibbs at the front.

You had a sudden flash of déjà vu at the sight of your boss blocking Barba from walking over to you.

Steeling yourself, you walked over to stand with your team and as you walked over to them, you could feel the presence of Director Vance close to you. Being cooped up in a federal prison didn’t appear to have had any long-term effects on Barba; he looked exactly as you remembered him which caused you to wonder how long he had been in the prison for. If you had to guess, you would say it wasn’t for very long.

“So much for justice.” You thought waspishly.

“Now would be a good time to share any information that you know. You’re not in the most welcoming of places.”

“The last time that we interacted Agent Gibbs, you threw me across the room. I’m not particularly inclined to share anything with you.”

The subtle emphasis that Barba put on the word ‘you’ did not go unnoticed by any of your team.

“No way.” Torres was the first to speak up. His voice was loud and could be heard over your other teammates' protests. Tim clenched his fist around the handle of his gun, “Whenever you and (Name) have interacted, she’s been exposed to dangerous situations.”

“I pulled her out of the river!” Barba growled.

The impact of Barba’s words was instantaneous. The air thrummed with electricity and the tempers in the room began to approach a boiling point underneath their initial reactions of surprise and anger.

“She wouldn’t have needed you to pull her out of the water if you hadn’t given the signal to begin the car chase.” Gibbs snapped back, disregarding the reactions from his team.

“All the more reason to keep you away from her.” Tim agreed.

“I bet you would like nothing more than to draw your weapon and fire it at me, Tim.” Barba stated bitingly, “Fortunately for the both of us, you can’t do that.”

“I think you mean ‘fortunately for you’.” Tim corrected cuttingly. “I doubt anyone would judge me too harshly.”

“I’m unarmed and I have information that can help. I just have one condition that needs to be met and you refuse to grant me that concession. If your feelings clouded your judgement and I was injured as a result; those factors would be revealed in a court of law,” Barba crossed his arms and shook his head. “Who do you think the courts would side with?”

Bishop turned her body halfway around to face you, “Tell me that you’re not considering this.”

You looked Barba directly in the eyes, “Are you going to be completely honest this time?”

“Yes.” The word left Barba’s lips barely a second after you finished your question.

“You have five minutes.”

“We won’t need that long.”

Wondering about Barba’s statement, you led him to an interrogation room and after he had passed the threshold of the door, you closed it with a snap behind him. The mafia boss cast a disgruntled eye around the room.

“You really should invest in an interior decorator for your interrogation rooms.”

You glared across the table at him, “We don’t bring people in here for comfort or style.”

“Evidently.” The mafia boss crossed his legs on the surface of the table and leaned back in his chair.

Minutes passed in silence and your frustration mounted as Barba refused to divulge any of the information that he had promised. “Are you just going to sit there and look pretty?” You demanded impatiently.

Barba smiled at you indulgently, “I think I’m a few steps above ‘pretty’ though it’s nice to hear that you find me attractive.”

“I never said that” you replied, rolling your eyes.

You could tell that Barba didn’t believe you but he let the matter drop instead choosing to reach into his pocket and place a recorder on the table between the both of you.

“What are you doing?”

“In ten seconds, I’m going to give you all the information that I promised. I suggest you press the record button any moment now.”

“This man is infuriating!”

Grudgingly, you followed his instructions and when the light appeared to indicate that the machine was recording, Barba began to talk. After the first few words, you realised that he wasn’t speaking in English but Spanish. You reached forwards, intending to pause the recording and demand that Barba reveal what he knew in English however, he warned you nonverbally not to press the button.

In order to avoid Barba’s gaze, you focused on the recorder and watched as the seconds became minutes. When the time hit the four minutes and thirty seconds mark, Barba stopped speaking. You waited for a few moments just in case he would reveal any further information but when it became apparent that he wouldn’t, you turned off the recorder.

“What was the point of that?” You exclaimed.

Barba shrugged, “You wanted the information. I gave it to you. I fail to see the problem.”

“You know I don’t speak Spanish.”

“No, you don’t, do you? That means you will need to keep me around and ensure my safety. Every day, I will teach you Spanish until you can decode my message.”

“What’s to stop me from finding someone to help me translate it?” You questioned while your mind considered how Barba was going to teach you Spanish daily. He couldn’t stay at the NCIS base; he wouldn’t be safe. He would be uncooperative if you sent him back to prison and even though you had a small number of safe houses around the state and a few in others, you were reluctant to reveal their locations to Barba.

Barba set a small black device on the table next to the recorder. It was similar to the one that Abby had used to shut down her machines remotely. “If I learn that you have asked another person for help instead of me, I will press the button here,” Rafael pointed to it, “and the recorder will delete the file. I’m sure that with Abby and Tim’s help, you could retrieve the information but it might be too late when you do.”

You snatched the recorder off the table and slid it into your pocket. Without sparing a glance at the undoubtedly smug mafia boss behind you, you opened the door and exited the room. Back in the bullpen, Doctor Chilton had joined the NCIS agents on the floor but he stood apart from them as if he knew that he didn’t belong with them. You found it odd that he wasn’t standing with the Interpol agents considering that their boss was the one who requested his services in the first place.

“What did he tell you?” Ziva interrogated as soon as she caught a glimpse of you.

“He revealed everything.”

“I didn’t expect him to be so cooperative.” Tony commented.

“In Spanish.” You added.

“There it is.”

“You don’t speak Spanish.” Tim argued, “How does that help us?”

“Excellent deductive work Sherlock. Maybe you should write a book series.”

You raised your voice, “Barba said that he plans on teaching me Spanish daily until I can understand enough to decode the message. He has a device like Abby’s that can remotely erase the file if I ask anyone besides him for help in decoding it.”

“What do you mean daily?” Tim uttered, “He’s not staying here. We already have his doppelgänger in limbo.”

You looked up at your partner and waited for him to connect the dots. “This case is getting worse by the minute,” Tim complained. “I don’t like it.”

“Everyone here knows that he wouldn’t be safe on base and he wouldn’t be cooperative at all. If he was returned to prison, he’d definitely be uncooperative and there are some places that I would prefer to stay away from, for security reasons.”

“Speaking of Barba, where is he?”

You shrugged, “Walked past him to leave the interrogation room. I haven’t seen him since then.”

“Look up,” Tony instructed humourlessly.

Following the special agent’s instruction, you turned and looked up at the stairs that led to the MTAC room. Barba stood on the lowest step with his arm resting on the railing and Gibbs and Director Vance stood several steps higher wearing nearly identical scowls.

“It’s settled then.” Director Vance announced.

“Leon!”

Director Vance focused on you, “Rafael Barba will be released into your custody. During this time, I expect you to decode the message he had you record.”

“Yes, Director.” You conceded. You couldn’t do anything else but agree to Barba’s terms.

Then the other part of Tim’s sentence sunk in and you pivoted to face your teammate, “What did you mean earlier when you said, ‘we already have his doppelgänger in limbo?’ What happened when I was with Barba?”

“Today must be a day for manipulation.” Your partner answered unhappily, “Sterling has cancelled Chilton’s accommodation and now he has nowhere to stay because he can’t get a flight out.”

“I just know that I am going to regret this.” You thought as sympathy and outrage welled up inside of you. You knew that Sterling could be mean and ambitious when he was focused on a goal but this was downright horrible of the man.

“Doctor Chilton? There is a spare room in my house if you would lik-”

“I don’t need your charity.” The doctor spat, cutting you off and turning away.

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, “It’s not charity. It’s an offer and before you get any ideas, it’s not done out of pity either.”

“Thank you.” The doctor breathed in a whisper, still facing away from you. You were struck with the realisation the reason behind his façade was because he didn’t experience kindness from others very often.

#my writing #my fics #the taste of revenge #rafael barba x reader x frederick chilton #frederick chilton #rafael barba #female reader #jethro gibbs #jim sterling #leon vance #tim mcgee #tony dinozzo #ziva david #enemies to friends to lovers

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marlasomething · 1 year

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(my) Mag a Week: Sharp Therapy

Hello there!

I am participating in the "mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened and...this is the first one! (Eps. 1-8)

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: mentions and discussions of mental health issues, family issues and death. The Slaughter usual content with a bit of more physical violence

Also on AO3!

Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding his encounter with Sasha James in her never-ending search for revenge for the allegedly provoked death of Tim Stoker.

Recorded by Gertrude Robinson, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

I don’t understand why you make me write this down, since I can clearly see doing absolutely nothing through the blurry window of this ancient office. However, I guess I have no other option…and I need to get this out of my system.

For my own good, but also for the good of all those I care about.

It all began a few weeks ago, when I went to pick up my boyfriend from one of his therapy sessions. I won’t say his name, nor his predicament, but let’s just say…he finally embracing the fact that he needed the kind of help a loved one is unable to provide was a great relief.

This is all secondary, though, and I am only mentioning it so you understand why I was rather jolly and willing to speak to anyone non-suspicious enough while I waited for him with a couple of overpriced coffees burning up my hands through my thin globes.

The woman came to me with grieve covering her rather pretty features; she was around my age, which is to say, late twenties/well-kept early thirties; had auburn curly hair, was towering tall and wore too many layers of colourful clothes, though somehow she made them look formal.

In spite of the clear pain she was experimenting, she was quite charming and introduced herself as Sasha, saying she had just recently lose her… should-have-been-boyfriend due to a work accident and was there for the “Lost Family Members” Association, to which she asked whether I was in for the same reason or not.

I froze, because, you see, I actually lost someone. When I was quite young, my mother died. I was only four and, according to my father, it was a good thing she was gone but, though I don’t have a bad relationship with my dad, he can be…well, I’d rather believe my dead mother was a good person, thank you very much.

The point is; it wasn’t an accident. It was actually even spoken about on TV without giving her name: remember the woman who felt from a boat in that creepypasta-worthy video? That was her.

Nobody ever proved who had done it, but someone had and, which was worse, likely for no good reason at all.

Stammering, I asked what had she meant by that and she just replied that she was quite good at reading people and that, even if I wasn’t there for the reunion, I would always be welcomed…and then she started talking with me about this and the other until my boyfriend arrived.

By this point, I had already decided I really liked Sasha James.

I actually felt convinced enough to the meeting the next week and it was…bizarre just barely covers it.

Everybody in there felt extremely friendly on a first glance, quite put together. Especially taking into account the reason we were all here present for.

However, as time passed and we started positioning for the round circle…I started to perceive the pain in everybody’s eyes.

Well, the pain and something else, something made out of pure fire, something that danced within the part of the soul that only the eyes can properly reflect.

Then, we started talking and…nobody talked about their lost ones, or how they lost them; nor how that made them feel. Instead, I found myself hearing about the people that caused their deaths in extreme detail, one way or another, about their personal lives and even the minor infraction they accidentally committed as almost toddlers…

…but they didn’t stay in their past. They also where they were today and what were their weak points. All speaking in an organized, almost militia-like style; taking turns and not letting at any moment the heat of their very arguments make the worst of them.

I tried to stay behind since, after all, I had no clue of what had happened to my mother but, in the end…

…there is something almost magical about sharing a common enemy, even if said enemy is more of a concept incarnated by a myriad of individuals with no relation among themselves whatsoever.

I…I am not proud but…I made something up, something so believable that only Sasha raised a suspicious eyebrow but, thank God, waited until the session had ended to come and speak with me personally.

“I know you lied” she said. “But I understand, it’s a bit…too much…Still, trust me, you will go looking for answers, eventually.”

I doubted I was even coming back to the Association, but I’d rather not argue with the only person who had noticed how full of it I was.

“Is that what happened to you?” she shook her head, dismissing my question with one hand.

“Not at all, I had already all the answers the first time I came in, right after I resign from my former job…the one that got Tim killed” she hadn’t spoken today, but I deduced quite easily she was referring to the same person she had mentioned (but not by name) the previous day. “I was full of grieve, and anger, and I just wanted to take them down but, then, I realised, just hunting them…it made no sense. Would Tim’s death mean anything more if I become the hunter of the people responsible for his demise?

Of course not. However, this planet had a cancer, a cancer I had not even noticed before: we are a selfish species, ready to provoke the death of others sometimes not even being conscious of it.

That is what this program taught me: to be part of Something Bigger, to canalise my anger into a proper purpose, to join an army that, as a difference from the ones assembled by countries (or most fictional groups, to be honest), had a worthy reason for existing: fighting back the people that cause death and destruction without even noticing so.

It’s almost a melody in my head. The Song of the Good Fight. Not only that; we know we are doing it right because…you see? We already have a proper rival association. I like to call them The Ultimate Apologists, though the rest of the group think it’s a bit too quirky for such a serious matter. I don’t blame them, but I had to honour Tim’s memory somehow and he…he would have loved that title.

Sorry, I digress. This other group, they honestly believe everybody can make a mistake at any point without it being anything of relevance, and the offended people of nowadays are just too easily triggered. So they had decided to keep us in their line in a very similar manner as we do with them…but without being right.

That is one of the reasons I told you about us, apart from your obvious pain. You seem kind and sweet, but you are also objectively huge; and we need both things combined. So they won’t see the attack coming, it’s all part of our…” her eyes turned a shade of… red for an instance and I felt I shiver coming up my spine “… my cause.”

At that very instant is when I realised why I was actually there, what had made me take the decision to come in. It had been Sasha’s tone; she was commanding, yet charming. She was angry, but she knew how to dissolute said rage in her speech, so you got soaked in with it without even noticing so. Drawn to her and her cause as if it was a universal undisputable truth.

I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t. Partly out of the fear itself and part because…she was convincing me. After all, she was proposing me to give purpose to one of those painfully nonsensical realities we are doomed to live through.

So I stayed, just promising myself I was not going to get involved.

I kept going to those reunions, in which it kept becoming more and more abundantly clear Sasha was the leader, giving tasks and dehumanising our rivals.

That rhetorical speech, the two antagonistic bands, just becoming more and more usual. With the Them in the Us versus Them constantly getting wider…

…and it spoke to me. Without even properly realising it, I was being lured into… murdering. Now, look, I was lucky enough to still have my Tim (sorry Sasha, I know you are hurting).

See, my boyfriend can be quite observant and he…look, these reunions had made me lose track of his appointments, and, since his job demanded a lot from him, he had decided to leave therapy aside, for later on.

And I haven’t even opened my mouth about it. Not only that, but I started to be more reactive to anything and anyone who bothered me.

Hell! I yelled at the mailperson for giving us the neighbours’ newspaper!

He…he put some reason into me and, alas, I stopped going to the meetings.

With apparently no negative result on my life.

Apparently.

It was already a few weeks later when I heard a voice in my head, still half asleep. A sweet melody that made me feel home, part of something bigger…just as I felt in the Association.

Then it came another voice: Sasha’s.

“You don’t have to resist, you know? I used to think this was a bit too much too, but then…if you let your anger and pain, your fear act properly….I promise, you won’t regret it. It is much calmer in the frenzy of the rightful fight, come back to us, Martin. This place was a mess when I came in, with you, I can make it ever more orderly. We can take it the next level” even if she hadn’t said it properly, I knew what her next level was. It was always the same once your brain got stuck in that very frame: global fight, forcing your ideas, your cleansing, upon everyone and everything.

And all started because she was hurting too much and, I am almost certain of this, was far too scared of how it would affect who she still was back then if she acted upon the anger consuming her.

Now, she had left all that behind; and she wanted me to join…and I was tempted.

Good thing I had a strong safety net and I could convince myself with their very voices, fighting back all the instincts that tried to kick in.

I completely woke up, hug my boyfriend until I almost broke his ribs and pretended nothing had happened.

However, once again the voice in dreams came back a few days ago and, with it, Sasha just popped into my little apartment, having forced the door with a strength she shouldn’t have had…

…just as she shouldn’t have been able to put me to the wall, knife out, eyes fixed on me.

“You know, sometimes wars have civilians loses” she pointed to a picture of me, my boyfriend and some of our friends.

I panicked, but she had already left and, I noticed, the humming voice was back, echoing inside my skull.

It hadn’t left since then, and I am genuinely worried, of what Sasha might do, of what I might do… I think I shall join her, I went in too deep and then…it’s what I must do.

Not for me, but for the safety of my people. However, if you happened to know how to stop her…

…do it. Prove War was never the option.

Statement ends.

Well, it is good to hear from my former assistant. Though I must admit I am quite disappointed; such a promising young woman, completely lost for the sacrifice of a man that felt really short for her.

I don’t regret counting with Mister Stoker’s help for destroying The Stranger ritual; though Sasha was misfortunate enough to encounter a group that loosely rendered cult to The Slaughter so early in her grieve. Otherwise, she might have found out that, tragically enough, Tim is not dead, but turned into an ally of my dear Jude Perry…

…never mind any of that. After all, these are not the first assistants lost while fighting (and winning) against a Fear…even if she is the first who turned herself into a Leader to fear such as The Fairchilds or the Lukas. I won’t be surprise if I started hearing about the James in a few years…

The important thing, though, is to make sure that my plan against Elias works out tomorrow…

…Miss Cane, I know you are listening. Please, do not interfere.

You and Your Mother will regret it otherwise.

Recording ends.

#mag a day #mag horror #statement #original statement #au #the magnus archies #fanfic #tma #magnuspod #sasha james #gertrude robinson #martin blackwood #fic #the stranger

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le-amewzing · 2 years

Text

Green-Eyed Monsters

And sometimes it's the little details in an episode that get your heart beating madly for the OTP. 8DDD *Note: Set after s19e19, "The Brat Pack."

Fic: "Green-Eyed Monsters" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Jess Knight/Alden Parker, with cameos from Torres & McGee

Rating: K+

Words: ~1,920

Additional info: romance, 3rd person POV

Summary: Knight, as it turns out, was not the only one dealing with an unwelcome emotion during this base break-in case. -—Or, Knight and Parker trade some jokes, but Parker has an admission to offer, too.

"At the end of the day, scenes like that really are rewarding," Knight piped up after Teagan and her mother had waved goodbye to the team and been escorted out by another agent. Knight glanced at the guys. "Makes an exhausting case like it worth it, you know?"

Parker nodded, a sort of casual movement, before returning to his desk. McGee's grin was bright, though, and Torres caught sight of it and rolled his eyes. "Only this guy, as frustrated as he was with Teagan's antics, could possibly wear such a dopey smile." Torres threw his hands up in defeat and shook his head, close to laughing as he grabbed his bag and jacket. "I said it once and I'll say it again: This case was just proof that you'll be fine once the twins are Teagan's age, Tim."

That finally snapped their friend out of his doting, fatherly stupor. McGee shot Torres a look first and even quirked an eyebrow at Knight. But the mention of his kids had him turning his desk light off. "With that reminder, I think it's time for a family reunion of my own."

"The only reunion I want is with my pillow," Torres remarked, leading the march to the elevator. He turned on his heel and walked backwards for several steps, pointing to Knight and Parker in turn. "Knight, Parker—you coming?"

Knight shared a brief glance with Parker, who subtly shook his head, and she surveyed the manila mess hiding her keyboard. "Not quite yet. My desk looks like yours, Nick, and I'm beginning to wonder when that happened…"

He smirked. "Strange things happen when you ride shotgun with Parker for the whole case…"

"We were almost blown up!" she reminded him.

That did nothing to wipe the smirk from Torres' face, but at least McGee turned him around with a firm hand on his shoulder. "'Night, Parker, Knight," the taller man called over his shoulder. His parting words and the elevator's ding barely muffled Torres' snickers, though.

Knight groaned and began tidying up the piles of folders spread before her. "Just when I start to forget how petty he can be, he goes and does something like this." She glanced again to her left. "He might be jealous, you know. You do take me out in the field with you the most."

Parker snorted and briefly met her eyes; his dry look made her grin. "Yeah, I'm not biting. We've got a good thing going here, and Torres just has sour grapes because he processed a lot more paperwork and evidence than usual. But he should be blaming the partying teenagers, not either of us."

"True." Knight made stacks, some of which she kept to be dealt with tomorrow and one which she crossed the room to return to Torres' stunningly sparkling workspace. Then she faced Parker and watched him continue to root around his area. "…all right, I know why I couldn't run out of here, but he didn't pull a prank on you, too, did he?"

Parker straightened up, opened his mouth to answer, and then paused while considering the notion. He put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. "I wanna say, 'I highly doubt it,' but since he just mentioned me in the same breath—"

"Yep." She nodded. "How bad?"

"Nothing major. I just seem to have misplaced a photo of one of our initial suspects and the accompanying notes, before we shifted our focus to Teagan."

"The photo you can print again—same with the notes, I take it?"

But Parker shook his head. "Partly handwritten. Hadn't had the time to finish typing them up yet." He checked his watch. "I've checked my desk, but I might've left the file back in Interrogation."

Knight shrugged. "I'll come with. It'll be faster with two of us searching."

He smiled in thanks. After they rounded the corner of the hallway, he piped up, "I agree with what you and Torres said, by the way. McGee will definitely be fine with teenagers."

"I like to think so. Not every kid at that age is a pain in the ass."

Again, Parker snorted, but Knight knew it was his way of trying to stifle his laughter. "No, the real trouble will be if either of them turns out to be like Torres…"

Knight laughed at his honesty—not to mention she couldn't disagree.

The two of them reached the interview room and switched on the lights, but the table was clear and the floor, pristine. It was too early for the janitor to have come by, though, and no one was stupid enough to slip a case file into the trash, but they checked the waste basket anyway, only to come up empty-handed. Parker heaved a sigh and caught Knight's eye in the reflection of the mirror. "Guess checking the other side's my last option before seeing if they changed the cleaning schedule on us without notice."

Knight bumped her shoulder with his. "I highly doubt it's your memory playing tricks on you in lieu of a certain Special Agent."

But that surprisingly did little to relieve him. If anything, Parker pulled a face, the right corner of his mouth drawing back grumpily despite making one of his dimples appear.

She followed him into the observation room. It was strange to flip the lights on here, since they typically kept it dark while studying how victims and suspects reacted to questions and information. But the observation room was remarkably bland with the lights on and the audio and visual recording equipment off, just another orange part of the building.

Parker dropped to one knee by the recorder's rolling chair and resurfaced with a huff, waving a folder in his right hand. "Lo and behold," he announced, his shoulders dropping a bit in relief.

"Hey, that's great! I guess, for once, we can let Nick off the h—" But Knight stopped when she eyed Parker's frown. "All right. So the missing file wasn't the only thing on your mind."

Parker leaned back against the one-way mirror and crossed his arms in front of his chest, tucking the file against his side. "Torres probably had nothing to do with this, but neither did my memory. …I'm not an old man," he sulked.

Knight blinked. Then she blinked again, realizing her comment had brought him back to fifteen minutes ago and Teagan's teasing about "old people." Then she blinked, just once more, knowing Knight herself had a hand in Parker's sour mood since she'd turned to him without missing a beat earlier and commented, "I think she's talking about you." Well. She thought he'd taken it in stride earlier, but… Knight offered him an apologetic smile and sidled up to him, also leaning against the mirror but careful not to touch him just in case the action came across as playful and dismissive.

The two of them stood together quietly for a moment, but Parker's stiff body language slackened. He unfurled his arms until he had his hands loosely joined in front of him, the folder in one and the other holding his opposite wrist. He exhaled, long and slow. "All right, technically, I'm old. Just"—he tilted his head Knight's way—"not the way she implied."

Knight peered up at him and risked a tiny grin. "Age doesn't matter much, really. Besides, I'm definitely this 'old man's' number one fan," she reassured him.

Finally, some healthy color graced Parker's cheeks, and he groaned at her words. "Jess, please don't remind me of those two we interviewed about Lieutenant Tang…"

"Aw, you didn't like how friendly Claudia and Ramona were?" She laughed, but this time Parker managed to share in her laughter with her.

He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. "More than being called 'old' multiple times today…" He slid his eyes towards Knight. "I was a little stunned you left me to the sharks like that."

Ah. It was easier to laugh at the memory than to discuss the older women hitting on him. Still, Knight ducked her eyes. "Well…I knew we needed information." She stole a peek at him. "Plus, their type is less likely to speak if they pick up on competition, so."

Parker quirked an eyebrow. He really wanted her to come out and say it.

She shrugged. "Hey, who was I to ruin their parade and let them know that there's already a president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer for the Alden Parker Fan Club?"

At that, he laughed, a softer sound this time. But then he surprisingly gave in to a rare impulse, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, despite being at the office still…hell, despite the door to the observation room still being half open!

Knight's surprise and panic were fleeting, though, knowing the hallway had been empty and everything had been switched off already for the night. They had a smidgeon of privacy, so she chose to enjoy this impulse, and she leaned into him, even fingered the lapels of his blazer and let her fingers walk northward until they drifted past his collar and her fingertips grazed skin.

Parker broke away with a smirk, though he'd wound one arm around her waist, too, as she'd turned to face him more properly. "So that's what that was, then? Jealousy?"

She scoffed and fidgeted, but there was no escaping, even with only one of his arms around her.

"Jess, you quite emphatically grabbed my arm before you left me to talk with them. Like marking your territory."

Knight reddened. "Uh. I mean, I couldn't stand watching those two fawn over you, but clutching you had been a subconscious move…oh."

He raised both eyebrows, as if saying, "Yeah, 'oh.'" But Parker sighed. "At least you're not being deliberate about it. You are a far better person than am I." He gave her waist a tiny squeeze. "I, uh…I might have been a tad mean-spirited, stirring the pot while I was down in Autopsy."

His change in topic threw Knight, so she rested her hands on his chest and furrowed her brow.

"I…might not have corrected Hawaii's, ah, Ernie, in his assumptions about your platonic interest in him." He winced. "Playing up your interest in him for the case's sake was bad enough, but…there also might've been the side effect of sending Palmer into a panic. Over said interest."

"Oh, jeez."

"Yeah…"

"Not that I would've handled it any better, but—Alden." Knight frowned and poked him in the chest. "You could've said nothing."

Again, he raised his eyebrows, but he ducked his eyes, hangdog the longer she fixed him with a reproving stare. "…nah, you're right. I'm sorry. That's your battle to fight."

Knight pulled a face, scrunching up her nose. "Well, I wouldn't call it a 'battle.' But at least Ernie's on an island off the coast on the other side of the country. As for Jimmy's puppy crush… I might have to sit and talk with him at some point." She looked at Parker and shook her head, unable to fight the exasperated smile that curved her lips upwards. "Good grief, though. We make quite the pair, don't we?"

He returned her smile, though his was small and a touch apologetic. But then he gently tapped the file folder against her hip, drawing Knight just this much closer, in no rush to leave yet. Parker replied, "That we do."

8D So! Am I still stalling this other WIP that's taking me forever? You bet! Is that other WIP a oneshot? You bet! ;w; Not every story comes easy to me, believe it or not, but I'm glad this one did; I'm only sry I didn't have the time to write it sooner, since I had outlined this right after e19 aired…! TTwTT Esp given some vibes from e20 after. ;P Then again, I wasn't the only fan catching Parknight feels from this ep, and "Now or Never" was written upon request via tumblr. :D So now you folks know what my first idea for an e19-inspired fic was, *lol*—this! XD It rly wasn't only the two older ladies thirsting for Parker, tho; when Parker had that scene in Autopsy when Ernie made his cameo and he not only did not help Jimmy out but played things up, I smelled Parknight. B3c And I've been dying to write this literally for MONTHS (I've had this outlined since early May! Dx). Anyway. All the other banter was fun to write, and throwing my bby Nick under the bus was for fun~ :3c *can u tell i luv him* ;P Also, two songs for this oneshot: "Bad Vibes Lonely" by Dok2 featuring DEAN (had the right vibe when I outlined this) and "Love Degrees" by SOMDEF featuring HOODY and BeWhy (hit all the right feels when writing, so I rec a listen when reading~).

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#ncis #parknight #jessica knight #alden parker #fanfic #mew writes too much #<3 #pls halp they've got such good chemistry

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eddsworld-enchanted-era · 6 months

Text

~Somewhere to stay.~

(base by the ever-incredible EddsWorld-Base on Deviantart, can be found here!)

(tw for alcoholism mention, and general angst.)

"So, yeah..." Tom says awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck, "I was uh... wondering if we could stay here for a few nights."

"Well, I don't see why you couldn't," Sharpay begins with a smile, "We have a spare room, and-"

"He absolutely canNOT." Tim interrupts, glaring at the only other eyeless man in all of Europe, "Not after everything."

"C-Come on, Tim... I thought we put all that behind us!" Tom stutters as he attempts to reason with his brother, "It's... it's been years, th-this is really important, a-and I, well... I..."

"...I missed you..." he murmurs, barely audible as he glances away.

"Oh, you missed me?" Tim sneers, "Of all the people in the world, my lowlife drunk of a brother, who threw his entire career away in one night, who never wanted to see me again, that's the guy who misses me? Give me a damn break."

"I... you... it..." Tom fumbles for words, silent for a moment before he finds his voice, "It wasn't that I never wanted to - it's that you left me in the fucking dirt when I needed your help the fucking most, Timothy." he growls out the name of his more successful twin, "We were supposed to make it together. You weren't supposed to just walk away because I picked up a little drinking habit that you couldn't handle because it ruined our perfect, squeakly-fucking-clean image!" Tom raises his voice as he speaks, shouting the final few words.

"It wasn't a little habit - you damned near took me down with you!" Tim gestures with air quotes around 'little habit', voice taking on a mocking tone for a moment, "What was I supposed to do? Sacrifice myself for some loser who couldn't make it half a show without passing out? There was a reason I split off to do my own solo act!"

"It would have only been a little habit had you the mind to stop me!"

"Well maybe I didn't want to stop you!"

"What, would you be better off if I drank myself to death?!"

"Maybe I would be, you worthless alcoholic bastard!"

"Fine! Then maybe I will! This stupid world doesn't need saving anyway!" Tom shouts as he begins to storm away.

He is stopped as someone grabs his hoodie.

"Wh-" he can't finish the sentence as he's yanked into the house.

"You can stay." Sharpay says with a warm, friendly smile, pulling Tom close to himself, letting go of his hood to gently drape an arm over the man's shoulders, before he turns to Tim, only saying one word to the guitarist.

"Out."

"You can't tell me to leave, I live here!"

"And I'm the one paying the rent." Sharpay sighs, "So you can simply get over yourself and act like an adult, or you can leave."

"Psh, whatever." Tim scoffs, walking away, "Not like I want to be here anyhow."

Edd just kind of stands there, having been naught but a helpless spectator, before finally speaking up with a cough "...Should I... uh..." he pauses, at a loss for words, "You know..."

"No, no, it's okay! You can stay here too!" Sharpay gestures for Edd to come closer, smiling as though nothing had occurred, "I know you've been so eager to see Ded again, after all!"

"No offence, but how did you know? Did he tell you or something?"

"No, I've been spying on you." Sharpay deadpans, before snickering a little, "Of course he told me! He hasn't piped down about it since you called!"

"I mean... I can't blame him. It has been five years, after all." Edd shrugs a bit, stepping inside and shutting the front door behind him, "You got any coke in here?" he asks as he looks around.

"Nah, but we do have that... Mr. Salt? Or whatever it's called." Sharpay states idly, "But I could go out and-"

"It's alright, I can deal with Dr. Pepper." Edd smiles, while it hadn't been his favourite soda, he'd take most anything as substitute - just as long as it wasn't Pepsi.

He walks off to the kitchen, leaving Pay and Tom alone.

"And as for you..." he begins, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face "I'm not done with you just yet."

"Wh... what does that mean?" Tom asks cautiously.

"Whatever you want it to mean, dear." Pay grins, "I am the host, after all - and it's my job to make a guest feel welcome in my holes- my home."

#eddsworld #eddsworld enchanted era #eddsworld fan era #eddsworld au #EddsWorld-Base #eddsworld base #base edit #eddsworld tom #eddsworld edd #eddsworld tim #eddsworld pay #eddsworld sharpay #eddsworld fanart #eddsworld fanfiction #minific #mod robohoe #ENOUGH TIMPAY IT'S TIME FOR TOMPAY #jkjk... unless...? 😳#also i KNOW in the last one with the typos i said they all made up #but i can't help myself... i am the sad man and i bring the angst....#and also i mean... he's not totally kicking out tim he's just making him leave for the next few days #because he knows tim and tom will likely never be able to make up after everything that had happened over the years between them #and he does not want that drama lmao #also do ya like the new tim design - it's really subtle but... i changed his dye job a little lol #also also this is technically part of the episode - it'll likely be somewhat changed in the Snow Turning Back Now script #but nonetheless it will be there in some form... and yes it's basically ripping off that one scene in The End but hush #this is my fan era and i get to jank scenes/'make canon callbacks'#eddsworld Snow Turning Back Now #eddsworld fan episode

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