#tim and leo

[wardenred]

Flufftober 3: "Wait, you love me?"

Tales from the Witch House is one of my oldest stories/settings that keeps growing out of control, changing directions, sprouting new characters and plotlines, and generally being a wild urban fantasy kitchen sink thing that refuses to stick to one shape. Some of the characters keep staying the same though. Like Tim and Leo, my favorite chaotic anxious fuck-ups in love.

The city was creeping up closer and closer to the Witch’s House. It wasn’t so evident if you stuck to the kitchen whose windows faced the desolate closed courtyard, or the living room that had no windows at all. Maybe if Leo was still only an occasional guest in this place, he would be able to pretend that this wasn’t happening. That the House’s borrowed time wasn’t running out. But he was now living under this leaking roof, sharing a room with Tim, and every time he passed the window with its sheer curtains, he caught a glimpse of the street on the other side of the barbed wire fence. What used to be a boring gray patch of asphalt and concrete, a border drawn between the House and the railway track, now brimmed with life. Streetlamps shone brightly through the evening fog, and the buildings were littered with signs for take-out venues, mom-and-pop shops, and other small businesses.

The Witch's House used to be an island drifting off the edge of the world. Now, it felt like a sinking ship about to crash into the shoreline.

Behind Leo’s back, the door hinges screeched. “The new guy is awful,” Tim complained.

Leo smirked, turning away from the window. “You say it about every new person.” It was a relief, really, to get this reminder that their broken boat was still getting new passengers. If the Witch kept letting people in, that could only mean she didn’t expect for the whole project to collapse any moment, right?

“Yes, but this one is particularly awful! He just called Tyssa a ‘buxom babe.’ Who talks like that?”

“The new guy, apparently,” Leo said. He hopped up to sit on the edge of the shabby, scratched desk, squeezing himself between Tim’s laptop and the ancient lamp with its dragonfly-patterned fabric shade. None of the mismatched chairs in the room offered much comfort for his lanky frame. The sunken armchair in the corner was occupied by Tim’s guitar and a stack of laundry they really needed put away. 

He supposed he could go plop down on the bed, like Tim just did. Except that was the thing: Tim was already there, stretched over the faded blue comforter, his toes nudging at the low table tucked between the bed and the door, the one with the record player and a stack of dusty vinyls they never played. It would be the easiest thing in the world to come join him, tuck himself against Tim, take a peek at whatever he was scrolling through on his phone, steal a kiss or two.

Get hopelessly late for work as a result.

“I have looked up ‘buxom’ in the dictionary,” Tim proclaimed, “and I have serious suspicions the guy is sexist, stuck-up, and old-fashioned.”

“The way you say it makes the last part sound like the worst of his crimes.”

Tim let out an over-the-top groan. “Love. Please. Take me seriously.”

The endearment made Leo freeze. He dug his fingers into the edge of the desk and forced a smile in place of the real one that had dimmed. “That’s really an impossible request.” He was speaking lightly, right? Just joking around. Tim wasn’t going to notice any weirdness.

Tim tossed the phone on Leo’s pillow and turned to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Is something wrong?”

Crap. Why was he getting so perceptive lately? Leo drew a breath. We did promise each other to be honest, he reminded himself. Maybe it was his turn to start.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing.” Yup. Perfect start there. His suddenly damp palm slid uncomfortably against the unevenly polished wooden surface. “It’s just—I like all the pet names and stuff, all right? But, um. Maybe save this particular one for, for when you really mean it.”

Which was probably never, and he had now successfully stuffed his foot in his mouth again, and Tim was going to��

“But I do love you.”

Leo’s train of thought crushed into a wall of rock-solid confusion.

“You... love me.”

Tim sat up slowly, his brow furrowed. “Well, yeah? I mean, I always have. Like, literally always? From that very first night in the club? Come on, you must know. Everyone knew before I did.”

“I—” But this didn’t make any sense. What did he mean, everyone knew? Yes, of course, now that Leo thought about it, there had been all those jokes. Karolina needling Tim about being oh so smitten, Gella making cutesy faces. Xan’s exaggerated eyerolls. Agnia’s grumbling.

Leo thought those jokes had been at his expense.

“You... didn’t know,” Tim stated. He sounded kind of lost.

“Well, you never said! And the way you were acting around me, up until the last time we got back together—” Leo forced himself to shut up. There was no use rehashing it. Those old hurts were scabbing over just fine. The two of them had sorted it all out, hadn’t they? They were literally living together. He was here to stay. The past didn’t matter.

Tim had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, yeah, I was an ass, I know. But that was precisely because I was trying to come to terms with—ugh. Why am I so bad at this?” He dragged his fingers through his dark hair, and then suddenly, adorably, he was babbling. “Listen, I’m a coward, okay? I met you once, and I couldn’t think of anything else. And then we kept, um, meeting, and every second with you was like stars colliding. Yes, I know! It sounds sappy and stupid! But that’s how it felt. How it still feels. So I chickened out and tried to act like you weren’t important, because at that time, I was still fucked-up. I mean, I’ll probably always be fucked-up, that’s like, my style! But when we met, I still believed wanting something openly was the surest way to never get it. And I’ve never, ever wanted anything the way I want to be with you.”

Leo decided his shift could wait.

[demonicsuffrage]

Dick, during a daily debrief: Wait now I understand why Jason was so vengeful when he first arrived to Gotham as Red Hood

Jason: Because I deserved to? Because Bruce-

Dick: Because you died a Leo but came back a Scorpio!

Jason: HOLY-

[one-hit-boy-wonder]

Bernard: hey what do you want for your birthday?

Tim: oh I don’t really do presents anymore

Bernard: oh, why not?

Tim: …okay first you gotta promise me you won’t get yourself injured trying to fight Batman-

[dulusionalapocaliose]

I desperately need crazy unhinged bossgirl woman and their pathetic man representation. And by that I mean intelligent, ambitious, unhinged, disgustingly educated but hyperfeminine, that knows how to fight magnifically and are mad science smart queens that would do what is needed to get what they want and need, and their husband/boyfriend supporting and following them around like lovesick puppies.

[riseriseleo]

do you ever think about how tim really didn't have friends in research.

(from @trans-jon-rights thanks for the pic max <3)

i think tim was hard to talk to. but not hard in the way that he joked too much. no, in the way that he was standoffish and short with people. he had a goal, a drive, and he couldn't let anyone or anything distract him.

(cough buried tim drowning under grief cough desolation tim prepared to burn the world down cough lonely tim who has no one at all and barely had danny before he disappeared cough i could go on)

sasha was the one who drew him out of his shell. who took him out to the bar, to loosen up. she became his single spot of light in the dark cave that he was lost in.

and then jon, who was a little too much like him that it kind of jolted tim out of the headspace. he ate lunch with jon, they helped each other with research, they grew close ish. tim is the only person who knows about georgie.

and then jon got promoted and sasha didn't and he was just a little bitter towards jon. jon is still his friend, so he tried to hide it behind jokes and a smile, because he's gotten back into the mindset of 'humor to cope', but still.

and then sasha is gone and jon is Becoming and danny is—and the circus—

and then nothing, because tim is no more.

[beanxiv]

when i see my man

[tsuvvy]

You sighed when you were pulled back into the bed by the arms around your torso.

"C/n," You whined, "I need to get up!" You tried to pry their arms around your waist off, but it wasn't any use.

"No!" They whined back, burying their face into the crook of your neck. "It's so early.. You can stay a few more minutes, they won't care."

"I guarantee you they will," you told them, "I've been late because of you enough!"

They didn't respond. You would guess they've already fallen back asleep if it wasn't for their arms tightening around you.

"Sorry, love, but you're not going anywhere." They told you, giving the base of your neck where it connected to your shoulder a kiss.

You sighed in annoyance, "Sometimes you annoy me so much that I want to start planning our wedding, just so I can very publicly divorce you."

You felt their amused smile against your neck. You couldn't help but smile, too. You knew you had to get up, or else you'd be late for the fourth time this week. But in all honesty.. You didn't want to leave their warm embrace, just like they didn't want you to leave it either.

Oikawa Tōru, Yū Nishinoya, Leo Valdez, Percy Jackson, Connor Stoll, Sebastian Sallow, Gojo Satoru, Timothy Drake, Garfield Logan, Dick Grayson, Lloyd Garmadon, Cole, Kai and any of your faves 🫶

[beeqisch]

who wants to be best friends who secretly hold hands very platonically

[spidermansballs]

the only true twink x big buff guy i will ever except is valgrace cuz thats literally their canon descriptions 💀

[erinwantstowrite]

can we all go back to megamind being canon??

back when LoF was supposed to be a mere 15 chapters long, I sketched out a comic that was basically a concept of an idea of what it would be like for Peter when LoF ended. that ending no longer exists because I have changed it drastically from the og idea. i have never shared this on my social medias except for one page. here's the full comic because i feel like it's time to share it :3

it's so fucking stupid but i thought it'd be funny if peter got to have more fun with his dimensional travel shenanigans in the future and he made some friends from other media. so! we have Danny Phantom, Leo from Lab Rats, Megamind, and Superhero Barbie. there's a much longer list of media (and friends Peter made) i thought would be hilarious to make canon to LoF

[pinetreevillain]

Stray Part 1

I’ve been calling this one “the big one” because THIS BAD BOY 👉👉 is a five parter. It’s also the one that I got into unarmed combat with the most in terms of the color palette, and after a long and bloody battle, it’s made itself out to be my favorite colors so far since the Friends Like These palette. Now i’ve rambled enough about the colors already! Please enjoy :)

<- Confrontation, next

Masterpost

[wardenred]

Angstober 4: "I want to believe you"

I was kind of going to keep using Angstober prompts for the exploration of that one plot bunny, but after writing some Tim/Leo fluff I had to rewind and write some angst for them, too. I was in a mood and craving emotional drama. Those boys do it well.

The club is called Discombobulation. A stupid name that perfectly matches Leo’s stupid feelings.

This was supposed to be a date. The thought swims in circles around his dizzy brain like a feral fish locked into a too small bowl. He tries to get rid of it, to focus on something else, anything: the oppressive weight of the crowd, the heavy beat of what the DJ mistakes for music, the prickling heat of liquor sliding down his throat.

He can’t.

Because this was supposed to be a date. Wasn’t it? Was it? He doesn’t really know the answer. Neither of them explicitly said so, but he thought. He hoped.

The hope made sense, didn’t it? Up until they came here, Tim had been acting like this was a date. Like he was happy to spend time with Leo. Sure, he chose this club without asking if Leo would prefer something else: a trip to the movies, a quiet walk around the city, maybe even just a night at home. But Tim loves clubbing, and that’s how they first met, and Leo sometimes enjoys it, too—he wouldn’t bother having a fake ID otherwise. He doesn’t mind it at all when he’s having a good night. When he feels confident and secure and knows that there’s someone by his side he can relax and lean on.

Not when he’s stuck by the bar watching Tim eye-fuck some other guy across the pool table, turning his back on Leo time and time again.

“Another?” the bartender asks, and Leo realizes the glass in front of him is empty. He can’t remember if it was his second one or his third. It feels like all the alcohol turned solid and rolled into a big slimy ball and that ball is now stuck in his airways.

He can’t trust his voice. He shakes his head, slides some cash toward the bartender—too much, probably, and he’ll yell at himself for it later, but he’s always got so many things to yell at himself for, what’s one more—and stumbles his way toward the exit. The most straightforward path lies through the dance floor. The crowd closes in on him. That must be what graves feel like, with all the weight of earth and maggots. He keeps his head low, elbows tucked in, his magic simmering within him—a spark threatening to ignite into a blaze. He stomps down on it as hard as he can. No one here deserves it.

Outside, a faint sheen of rain greets him. He draws a breath; the air is too thick, too damp, too slimy. A lot like that ball in his throat. Leo still tries, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right, when you’re on the verge of a panic attack? You’re supposed to breathe. One, two, three, four, hold, one, two, three, four, release.

His attempt only result in a coughing fit. He moves as far away from the club entrance as he manages, gets stuck in the middle of the parking lot. Keeled over, hands on his knees. Droplets of saliva and snot land on someone’s shiny expensive car. 

“Hey. You okay there?”

For a second, Leo doesn’t even recognize Tim’s voice through the low ringing in his ears. His mind is filled with all kinds of humiliating images involving strangers trying to help him and then realizing just how pathetic he is. A waste of their time. They should have just passed by without giving him a second glance.

Then a warm hand lands on his shoulder, and he knows. The images don’t subside, not right away. Still, he relaxes a little into the touch, despite the stupid scene in the club, despite everything.

���Do you need some water? Are you choking? Should I slap you on the back? Was there something in your drink that you’re allergic to?”

I’m fine, stop fussing, is what Leo should say. What he’s going to say.

Instead, when he opens his mouth, out comes a bitter, “Like you care.”

Tim’s fingers slide down his arm and he takes a step back, a sliver of damp, cold emptiness between them. Leo wipes at his face, once, twice. Rolls up his turtleneck’s stained sleeve before turning.

“Of course I care,” Tim says as soon as their eyes meet, and he already sounds defensive. A great start. They’ll be snipping and yelling at each other in no time. That’s how it always ends, or at least that’s how it ends half the time, which is half the time too often. Why do they even bother?

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Tim should be sorry, too, but he won’t be, will he? He never is. “I’m probably coming down with something. I’d better head home.”

Disappointment flashes in Tim’s eyes, but he nods. “Okay. My place or yours? And, um, I forgot my jacket.” He points his thumb toward his club. “Do you mind if I go grab it real quick?”

“You don’t have to go with me.” Why would Tim even offer? It makes no sense. “You’ve been clearly having fun. So go on. Have fun.”

Tim frowns. “I just stepped away to play one quick game.”

“Yeah,” Leo agrees. “That’s how it always starts.”

“I did ask you to play with me!”

“I don’t know how! And you told me you don’t like teaching people to play!”

“What? Fuck’s sake, Leo, it was months ago.”

“Well, sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to learn—”

“That’s not what I mean! I don’t mind teaching you!” 

A bird croaks and flaps its wings, spooked into the sky from the top of someone’s car. In the dark, Leo isn’t sure if it’s a rook or a crow. Either way, this reeks of a bad omen. 

Tim’s shoulders are hunched, fists pressed against his thick studded belt. “I don’t mind at all,” he says again. “I told you things are going to be different this time.”

Leo is beginning to feel like a bad guy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t lessen his the anger.

“I know. I want to believe you.”

“But you don’t.”

The best Leo can offer is a helpless shrug.

The sky stops spitting drizzle at them and barfs forth a proper rainstorm, complete with distant flashes of lightning.

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the funniest parts about the whole “Leo not giving Draxum any grace” idea is that Draxum is one of the ONLY notable older men in the show that Leo isn’t willing to give a proper second chance to OR really hear out in the first place.

No seriously it’s genuinely a Thing.

[one-hit-boy-wonder]

Bernard, upper middle class, runs in mainly civilian circles: do you believe in the Illuminati?

Tim, CEO of a multibillion dollar company, former member of the League of Assassins, at least two brothers who’ve joined the Court of Owls, personally knows Big Brother (Oracle and Cyborg), runs an independent paramilitary group that can canonically take over a country, regularly obstructs justice and chain of evidence to get people arrested:

Tim: no

[vedicpriestess]

KETU themes . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

• detachment of the physical self

• liberation of the body

• divine intuition

•a deep well of endless wisdom

•the power to leave the body

• receiving spiritual messages symbols and images through prophetic dreams and astral realms

• (unhealed) escapism through coping mechanisms of toxicity: alcohol, exercise addiction, maladaptive daydreaming

• feeling most powerful when alone

•intense isolation

these nakshatras are highly prevalent within gothic subculture, darker aesthetics and literature

{aswini sun robert smith) ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

{magha sun and mercury michael jackson} ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

tim burton magha moon reflects the intense eccentric, offbeat, inquisitive, unique and rebellious characteristics of the Ketu natives

• completely detached from reality

• intimidating yet detached

• yet connected to everything

• breaking through the veil/surface level of everything

• intense questioning

• an intense aura, impossible to ignore

• penetrating the core of every topic

• the real power lies within their ability to transcend human emotions and the physical plane through integrating higher knowledge gained through dreams and innate insights

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　• returning to the ashes

• a commitment to spiritual life lessons to ascend humanity and reincarnation

• non duality- accepting everything as it is a major theme 　　　　　　　　　　

• intricate awareness of the artificiality of external appearances

• embracing removal of need for attachment to material items, listening to the inner beauty opposed to external self

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

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　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　

　　　　　*　　⠀.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　　

　　　　　　　　

[gender-premium-tm]

these guys are literally all i draw nowadays. what the fuck

reblogs>>>likes