#utterly speechless

[anpanman95]

“this time, let me do it”

is anyone surprised they delivered? because I’m the fuck not.

[blairdii]

if kavi says her fic is not depressing. do not believe her, she is LYING! TELLING FIBS! SPEWING FALSITIES!

[wolfjackle-creates]

Something Next to Normal Chapter 2

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Summary:

Tim's having a regular day at school when a classmate ropes him into helping with the school play as the light technician. Tim agrees to one rehearsal, but his responsibilities as Robin keep him so busy. He knows he'll have to turn down the position. Then he learns what Next to Normal is about. A dead son, a mother who can't cope, a father struggling to keep everything together, and a forgotten daughter. Tim absolutely cannot do this. --- Alfred is proud of Tim for taking on an extracurricular. The boy spends so much time alone. Having an excuse to spend time with other students his age can only be good for him. He wants to go see the show, but Tim counsels against it. After looking it up, Alfred spends a night in sleepless grief. But when day comes and he's face-to-face with Tim, he realizes the living boy in front of him needs him and something has to change.

Chapter 2 word count: 4.9k

Content warnings: continuation of chapter 1. Discussions around loss and grief with an undercurrent of Bruce being a bad mentor to Tim.

We switch to Alfred's POV for this one which is another first for me. Hope you enjoy!

-----

“I am glad you decided to join the play, Master Tim.”

Alfred watched out of the corner of his eye as Tim shrugged and looked out the window of the car. “Yeah.”

Alfred sighed internally and wondered how else to get through to the boy. He was so much more reserved than either Dick or Jason had ever been. Tim kept quiet and made himself unobtrusive.

He was more similar to Bruce, but even Bruce had been opinionated and passionate as a child. He never held back his opinion, scathing though it may be.

“Perhaps Master Bruce and I could see one of the performances,” tried Alfred. “I believe you said they begin next month? What dates?”

Oddly, Tim seemed to tense at the question. “Oh, um. I don’t think that’s a good idea?”

Decorum, and the fact that he was driving, kept Alfred from furrowing his brow and examining Tim more fully. “I assure you, I’d be very interested in seeing your work. I enjoy musicals, whether put on professionally or not.”

“It’s not that…” started Tim before trailing off.

“Then why do you not wish for us to go?”

“I just. We’re doing a show called Next to Normal. Do you know it?”

Alfred hummed as he thought back. The name sounded somewhat familiar, but he’d certainly never seen it or listened to the soundtrack. “I’m afraid I do not.”

“It’s about… Just. Look up the summary. You don’t want to see it. And Bruce absolutely should not see it. It’s fine. But we perform the weekend before Thanksgiving, so I’m going to need Friday and Saturday off patrol that week. And maybe some evenings the week before depending on how long rehearsals run.”

“I’ll make sure to mark it in the calendar. How was the rest of your school day?”

Tim shrugged. “Fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Alfred let them fall into silence as he continued the drive to the manor. After a few minutes, Tim put in his headphones and tapped along to whatever he’d put on.

---

That night, after their patrol had ended and Tim had returned to his own house while Bruce climbed into bed, Alfred opened his computer and searched for the musical Tim had mentioned.

And realized instantly why Tim had said he and Bruce shouldn’t go. The musical was about a family struggling with the death of their son. The mother, especially, could not let the boy go.

Jason’s face danced behind his eyes as he read through the plot synopsis. “Master Jason,” he whispered. “Did you know what your death would do to this family?”

Alfred closed the page without listening to any of the songs and realized he agreed with Tim. He did not wish to see such a play. And it would be best if he did not mention anything about it to Bruce.

Besides, surely the boy’s parents would be back in town by then. It was just days before Thanksgiving after all, and they’d want to see what their son had been up to.

Mind made up, Alfred changed for bed and laid down for another restless night. One of many he’d had since Jason had been taken from them.

---

“Good night, Alfred!” called Tim as he prepared to leave the cave.

Alfred smiled at him and wished he could convince both Tim and Bruce that the boy should spend the night sometimes after patrol. He hated sending him away into the night alone. Even if he was just going next door. “Good night, Master Tim. Will your parents be worried about your late return?”

“Nah, they’re not home tonight.”

Alfred frowned. “Will they be returning tomorrow, then?”

Tim cocked his head. “I don’t think so, why?”

“To see your work for the school musical. Are they not interested in seeing what you’ve been working so diligently on this past month?”

Tim shrugged. “I mean, they are”—Alfred’s stomach sunk as he realized the boy was lying—“But work is keeping them busy. Can’t leave a dig site just to see some high school play.”

“I see.” Alfred did not see. Master Jason had been in one play, a small role as he had still been a sophomore, and Bruce had gone to all three performances the school put on. Everything else—Wayne Enterprises, the Justice League, even Batman—had been pushed to the side.

Tim, of course, didn’t know the direction of Alfred’s thoughts, and waved before leaving. Heading back to his empty house.

Once again, Alfred imagined leading him upstairs. Giving Tim a bedroom of his own and keeping him close and safe.

But then he looked over at Bruce.

Bruce was still in uniform, sitting before the bat computer. He hadn’t even looked up as Tim had left, let alone done something as cordial as say his own goodbyes.

“You could at least tell the boy ‘goodbye’ or ‘good night’ when he leaves,” scolded Alfred.

“He shouldn’t even be here. And the sooner he learns that, the better.”

“If you were more in control of yourself, perhaps he wouldn’t be here,” retorted Alfred. And the thought shot straight to his heart. Tim might not have been around long, but he’d wormed his way into their family just the same. His quiet presence in the dining room doing homework or researching cases was a balm on Alfred’s wounded heart.

Already, Alfred could not imagine life without his newest charge in it. But Tim was right, too. Bruce would not appreciate it if he spent the night.

Bruce barely wanted a Robin, he definitely wasn’t ready for another boy in the house. The odd night after Tim had received an injury on patrol was fine. But anything more permanent?

Still, Alfred couldn’t help but imagine himself bringing breakfast to a sleepy Tim who’d just come downstairs from his own bedroom. One day, perhaps, he’d be able to treat his newest charge the way he deserved.

The way his parents so clearly refused to.

Bruce had turned back to the computer screens, not interested in discussing Tim any more.

Alfred bit back a retort and retreated to his own rooms. Once more, he looked up the musical Tim’s school was putting on.

---

For the entirety of the next day, Alfred debated with himself. When he informed Bruce that he would not be making dinner that night and got in his car to drive to the school, he still wasn’t sure he’d actually make it inside the theater.

He sat as a stop light, mind still in turmoil, when the sign of a florist’s shop caught his eye. His blinker was on before he’d even finished reading the sign.

Due to Bruce’s issues, Tim hadn’t spent much time at the manor, but Alfred had gotten him to stick around a few times. Especially just before and after his European training tour. He’d come over to report to Bruce then stay for an afternoon with Alfred. The two had spent many a lovely hour in Alfred’s gardens.

Alfred pulled into the parking lot and entered the store. The attendant greeted him and asked if he required any assistance, but Alfred waved her off as he examined the premade bouquets.

The roses were proudly displayed front and center in every color. Tim had spent some time in Martha’s rose garden, but they’d never truly captured his attention the way they had Alfred’s.

In fact, one of the first questions Tim had asked had been which flowers were native and which were imported. Alfred had been almost ashamed to admit he’d planted flowers he’d loved as a child so most were of English and European descent.

Tim hadn’t said anything critical, but the hum he’d let out was as damning as any of Bruce’s.

The very next day, Alfred had asked if Tim would like to help him plan a new garden for the manor consisting solely of native plants. The boy’s eyes had lit up and he’d begun researching flower breeds on his phone immediately.

So when Alfred saw the small selection of bouquets featuring Black-Eyed Susans against a side wall, he didn’t hesitate to walk in that direction.

Only one bouquet combined the yellow of the susans with the red of coral honeysuckle and columbines. Enough greenery was mixed in with the flowers to fill it out very nicely—all native flowers in Robin’s colors.

Alfred didn’t even look at the price tag before taking it to the checkout counter.

“Oh, good choice!” said the cashier. “They’re all native flowers, you know.”

“I know,” said Alfred. “The person I’m getting them for has an appreciation for native plants over foreign ones.”

“So does Laura, the owner. She’s big into conservation and is so disappointed that people don’t tend to buy the native flowers as much.”

Alfred hummed and glanced down at his bouquet again. “Tell her she should consider labeling this the Robin Bouquet. Native flowers for a native hero, might entice more people to buy it.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s brilliant. I’ll absolutely let Laura know. Thanks!”

With a quick goodbye, Alfred resumed his trip to the school. Though he made a mental note to return to the florist in the future.

The closer he got to the school, the harder his heart beat. Would be actually be able to make it inside the building? When he pulled into a parking spot at the school, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he forced himself to let go of the steering wheel. A glance at the clock showed it was six forty-five. Fifteen minutes before the play would start. As he stared at the clock, a minute passed. Before he knew it, it was six fifty.

And so, not even ten minutes before curtain, Alfred strode into the school, bouquet clutched in his hand. Most everyone had already purchased their tickets so no one was still in line when he approached the table for one. He thanked the woman who gave it to him, but avoided interacting with anyone else.

When he entered the auditorium, he slipped into the back row. No one sat near him, to his relief.

Three minutes before seven, the lights dimmed and brightened and Alfred couldn’t help the fond smile. Tim really did take this seriously.

Then the play started.

Alfred cried. He knew he would. Dan’s song about struggling to help his wife cut deep.

But it was Natalie’s song that cut the deepest. It highlighted all his own failures in defending the newest addition to their family. Tim shouldn’t be forced to deal with Bruce’s moods, to manage him and keep him from killing himself.

When her mother told Natalie she loved her “as much as she can,” Alfred buried his face in his hands. Had they done anything to make Tim feel like anything other than a placeholder?

Alfred vowed, then and there, to take better care of the boy.

The musical continued, though. Natalie’s grief fading into Gabe’s ghost singing about how he was still alive. And Alfred couldn’t help but think of a closed door and a room that hadn’t been touched in months. Except for the times he caught Bruce sleeping in it.

Of the way Bruce’s eyes sometimes lit up if he saw Tim in the kitchen from his back, only to fall when he remembered Jason was dead. Alfred had only allowed it to happen twice before he started encouraging Tim to work anywhere but the kitchen.

By the time the musical had finished, Alfred’s handkerchief was wet with his tears. He kept his seat as the auditorium emptied around him before grabbing the flowers again and looking around for where the lighting office might be.

Which is when he saw a door only a few rows away open and Tim stepped out.

“Master Tim,” he called.

Tim stilled before turning to him slowly. “Alfred? What are you doing here?”

Alfred approached him and held out the flowers. “Because you have spent a month learning a new skill, and I wished to see you exhibit it. Excellent job, my boy. You did very well.”

Hesitantly, Tim reached out to take the flowers. “These are for me?”

“Of course. Flowers are traditional after a performance, are they not? And I remember you enjoyed these from our discussions this past summer.”

Tim seemed to notice what the flowers were for the first time. “Wait, these are black-eyed susans. And coral honeysuckle.”

“And columbines. All native flowers. And I thought the colors apropos.”

“Apro— what? What does that word mean?”

“It means fitting. That they are suitable to the current situation or conversation in some way.”

Tim nodded, but still didn’t look up from the flowers.

“Are you hungry? I know of an excellent diner nearby if you’d like to grab something with me. I must admit, I did not have dinner before leaving this evening.”

“Don’t you have to get back to the manor?”

Alfred sniffed. “I do believe Master Bruce can handle himself for one night. Tonight is about your achievements and I would like to celebrate them.”

Tim finally looked up at him, but the poor boy looked so confused. “I wasn’t on the stage. I really didn’t do that much.”

“My boy, without your work, we would not have been able to see anything that was done on that stage. Your contributions were vital to the experience.”

Alfred bit back a smile at the way Tim blushed and kicked the floor in embarrassment. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“Of course, Master Tim. Now, will you allow me to treat you to a late night dinner?”

“I— Okay. Yeah. That sounds nice. I just need to say bye to Mrs. V and return the key for the lighting room.”

“Very well. Take as long as you need; the diner is open twenty-four hours.”

Tim had Alfred wait with the flowers at the entrance to a hallway that led deeper into the school while he ran off to take care of everything he had to.

As soon has he returned, he shyly took the flowers back from Alfred. “Thanks again. You didn’t have to come. I hope the show wasn’t too awful for you.”

Alfred clicked his tongue and waved a hand dismissively. “Indeed not. I will admit it was a difficult show to watch at times, but I do believe it helped me realize a few things I had been neglecting. What was it Diana sang in the last song? I don’t have to be happy to be happy I came.”

Tim examined him for a moment, perhaps trying to see if he was lying. But after a moment, he nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure?”

Alfred wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “Indeed I am. Now come, let us get dinner.”

They sat in a corner booth, the diner nearly empty at this time of night. Tim was avidly reading every entry in the menu, biting his lip in concentration as he considered.

“Order whatever you like, Master Tim,” said Alfred, afraid Tim was trying to make a decision based on what would please Alfred rather than himself. “After all, tonight we are celebrating your achievements.”

“Oh?” broke in the voice of their waitress as she set two waters down on the table. “What are we celebrating tonight?”

Alfred smiled proudly at Tim. “This young man managed to learn how to operate the lighting equipment in his school’s auditorium in just one month so they could actually perform the musical. The previous student had to transfer suddenly, so he only had a week of training at that. And, as someone who has seen a number of professional performances, he did a wonderful job.”

“In just a month? You must be a very bright boy,” commented the waitress.

Alfred bit back a smile at how red Tim had turned as he mumbled his thanks and buried his face further into his menu.

“Well, I’ll give you boys a bit more time with the menus. But if you’re celebrating, I’ll let you know we’ve got some fantastic pancakes. Or, if you’re not interested in breakfast foods this late at night, our fried chicken sandwich is always a favorite.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” replied Alfred. “We will certainly take your recommendations under advisement.”

Tim waited until she’d left before asking, “What should I order?”

Alfred frowned. “Why, whatever you want, Master Tim.”

“But my diet? To keep up with, you know.”

Alfred clicked his tongue. “My boy, celebrations are chances to break any diet. You may order whatever you like, however much sugar or fat it may contain. I will happily pay for anything on this menu.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at him. “Even if I only order dessert?” he challenged.

“Even if you only order dessert,” agreed Alfred.

Tim hummed and looked over his menu again. “All right.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes until the waitress returned to take their oder. Alfred ordered the chicken parmesan. He bit back a smile when Tim ended up going for the pancakes, covered in fruit and whipped cream and chocolate sauce.

When they were alone, Alfred asked, “Master Tim, I must ask, what is your favorite song from the show?”

Tim froze. “Oh, um. I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Because I am curious. For myself, I don’t know if I have a favorite song, however, Dan’s song after Diana’s suicide attempt touched me deeply.”

“That one’s called ‘I’ve Been.’ Did you really like it?”

“Indeed. The young man who played Dan did a wonderful job of conveying his character’s devastation to the audience.” Though Alfred thought even if the boy hadn’t been a talented actor, he still would have failed to make it through the song without more tears.

Alfred could truly empathize with a person who continually pushed aside their own needs to help someone who was hurting more openly and destructively.

Tim grabbed his drink and took a long sip. “I… It was ‘Superboy and the Invisible Girl’ for me.”

Alfred’s stomach sank and he resisted the impulse to close his eyes in regret. Of course Tim related so strongly to Natalie. He’d seen the parallels himself while watching. They’d truly been ignoring Tim in favor of Bruce for the entire time the boy had been in their lives. “We truly do not deserve you, Master Tim.”

“What are you talking about, Alfred? You’ve been great.” He grinned, excitement clear, even if there was an undercurrent of confusion still lingering. “I still can’t believe you came tonight. I’ve never had someone come to my events before!”

And Alfred had to smile even as he felt his heart breaking. He vowed then and there that he would make more of an effort for Tim. “I wish I could have brought Master Bruce.”

But Tim just waved him off. “Oh, God no. That would’ve been a disaster! He’s been almost calm this past week. Only two hospitalizations. Seeing Next to Normal would’ve sent him spiraling again.”

Alfred wished he could refute the claim, but Tim was correct in his assessment. “And Master Bruce should be able to put his grief aside to support you the way you deserve. I am glad I was able to be there for you.”

Tim’s brows furrowed again. “I’m not his kid, though. He’s supposed to supervise my training, but that doesn’t include going to silly school plays or anything.”

“After everything you have done for him, both in and out of the suit, he should be doing the bare minimum to express an interest in your life. Has he even asked you a single question about the show?”

Tim shrugged and looked down. “He asked to know when and how rehearsals and performances would affect my nighttime availability.”

Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did. Well, let me offer my sincerest apologies on his behalf.”

“But why does it matter? I would’ve lied if he’d asked. Not like I’d actually tell him anything about the musical.”

“Be that as it may, he owed it to you to at least ask. And I shall be having words with him.”

“No! You can’t!” protested Tim, eyes wide with panic. “He’ll hate that.”

A creeping fear made it’s way up Alfred’s spine. “And what do you believe the consequences will be?”

Tim shrugged and didn’t say anything.

“Master— Chum. Please. What do you think Bruce will do should I speak to him?”

“He’s not going to do anything,” said Tim. Alfred couldn’t help but fear he was lying. “He’ll just start paying more attention and be harder on patrol. And things are going well right now.”

“How will he be harder on patrol?”

Tim shrugged again. “He won’t slow down so I can keep up. Then he’ll be mad I fell behind. He’ll keep a much closer eye on me and notice more of my mistakes. And I’m trying. But I know I’m not as good as J— as his previous protégés. So I keep not measuring up.”

The pit in Alfred’s stomach grew. How had he failed another boy so badly? Tim should not be worried about measuring up to Jason or Dick. He wasn’t them. And he was twice the detective either of them were, far more patient on stake-outs and he picked up on details both of them would have missed. “Listen to me, chum. If Master Bruce ever acts like that again, I want you to tell me. Immediately. Understood?”

Tim looked up in surprise. “What? Why?”

Alfred took a steadying breath. He did not want his anger to come out at all. Tim would likely not understand it wasn’t directed towards him. “Because Master Bruce should know better. You are doing a phenomenal job and I can only offer my most sincere apologies for not ensuring you knew that sooner.”

Before Tim could reply, their waitress returned with their food. “Anything else I can help you boys with?”

Alfred smiled at her. “I believe we are both quite satisfied, thank you. Everything looks positively delightful.”

She nodded and left.

“Why— why are you bringing this up now?” asked Tim after he’d taken a few bites.

“Because, my boy, I have been remiss in my duties.”

Tim shook his head vehemently. “No! You’ve been perfect.”

“Indeed I have not been. I love you, Tim. And I have done a rather poor job of showing you that.”

Tim’s fork fell from his hand and he stared at Alfred in open shock. “You— What?”

Alfred got out of his seat and knelt on the floor next to Tim’s side of the booth. He took Tim’s hand in his and smiled sadly up at the boy. “You came to me during my darkest hour and were a ray of light I could cling to. Tonight, I was confronted with my failures. I cannot change the past, but I swear to you, I will do better going forward. I love you, chum. No ‘as much as I can.’ Just, I love you. End of.”

For a moment, there was stillness between them as Tim stared at Alfred wide-eyed. But then his boy was barreling forward and sobbing into his chest. Alfred wrapped his arms tightly around Tim and held him close.

“Shh, my boy. It’s all right.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred noticed the waitress approach. She mouthed, “Is he okay?” at Alfred.

Tim wasn’t, of course. None of them were okay, but he smiled wanly and mouthed back, “He will be.”

She nodded and silently backed away, leaving the two of them on the floor in the corner of the diner.

Alfred didn’t know what else to say to Tim. He’d never been skilled at comforting grieving boys, no matter how much practice he’d gotten over his long life. After a few moments, though, he became aware that mixed in Tim’s sobs were choked off apologies.

Alfred brushed a hand through Tim’s hair. “There is no occasion to apologize, my boy. Take as long as you need; I won’t leave you.”

Despite Alfred’s assurances, it wasn’t long before Tim stopped crying and was pulling away. He rubbed his eyes against his sleeve and stared at the ground. “Sorry to ruin dinner.”

Alfred clicked his tongue. “The food is still here. Mine even appears to still be warm. You have ruined nothing, my boy.”

Tim shrugged and climbed back into his side of their booth. Alfred bit back a sigh as he took his own seat.

They’d both sat in silence for a minute when the waitress bustled back over with a pitcher of water to top off their glasses. “Anything else I can get you both?”

Alfred declined. Tim looked down, though, and said, “I’m sorry for causing a scene, Ma’am.”

She tutted at him. “None of that now. You’re hardly the first person to cry in this diner, won’t be the last. Why, just the other week, I had a woman cry on me about her ex there at the counter.”

Tim stared at his hands and nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Their waitress hummed. “You know, though, we do have one rule.”

Tim’s eyes were wide as he looked up at her in alarm. Hesitantly, he asked, “What’s that?”

“If you cry, you get a free milkshake. So, what’s your poison, kiddo?”

Tim blinked in surprise. “What?”

Alfred smiled at the waitress gratefully, then nudged Tim’s foot under the table. “Looks like you’re getting even more sugar tonight. What milkshake do you want? I believe they have quite the selection.”

“Sure do. Obviously we have the three standard: chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. But there’s also mint, butterscotch, rocky road, black cherry. Or you can mix and match. My son loves chocolate mint.”

“Um, could I mix chocolate and strawberry, please?” asked Tim.

“Course, kiddo. Be right back.”

“Now, Master Tim,” said Alfred. He waited to continue until Tim was looking at him. “I believe you said your parents will not be back yet tonight.”

Tim shook his head. “No. They’re coming back Tuesday.”

Well, at least Tuesday was before Thanksgiving rather than after. “In that case, I must insist you come back to the manor with me tonight. I should much prefer to have you close.”

Tim’s eyes widened, and he vehemently shook his head. “I couldn’t! Bruce would be so mad.”

Alfred didn’t let his anger as his charge show. “I understand you concern. However, I did not mean that I would bring you to a room down the hall from Master Bruce where he should see you should you need to use the lavatory in the middle of the night or some such.”

“What?”

“I have a suite of rooms reserved for my own use. Master Bruce does not enter without permission and I am permitted to bring anyone I wish or do anything I wish to them. I have a second bedroom in my suite. If you will take it, it is yours.”

“Bruce really doesn’t go there?”

“Not once in his life has he come by without my express permission.”

Before Tim could answer, the waitress returned with his milkshake. “Everyone feeling better now?”

Tim smiled at her as he took it, his face picture-perfect in a way that must have been trained into him. “I am. Thank you for your concern.”

She laughed. “Such a serious boy! You just take care now, okay?” Then she turned to Alfred. “And you look out for him.”

“I intend to, Ma’am.”

“Very good. Then I’ll leave you boys to it.”

Tim took a sip of his milkshake as the waitress left. Once they were alone again, Tim asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you there, chum. I really will feel much better if I know you have a place in the manor you feel comfortable. And if you cannot feel that way with Bruce, I want you to feel that way with me.”

Tim stared at him a long moment, likely trying to detect any deceit in Alfred’s face. Whatever he saw must’ve satisfied him, because eventually Tim nodded. “Okay. I’d be happy to go home with you.”

Alfred couldn’t have stopped his smile if he’d tried. “Excellent! Currently, the furnishings are rather utilitarian. However, perhaps next weekend you and I can go out and purchase some things so that you might feel more comfortable.”

And back was that heartbreaking, wide-eyed stare. “You don’t have to go to any trouble for me, Alfred. I’m sure it’s just fine.”

“Nonsense. I want you to stay which means you must be comfortable. At the very least, you’ll want bedding that does not look like it was chosen by an old man. And I’m sure there’s some movie or band who’s poster you’d like to hang on your wall.”

It took all of Alfred’s skills, but he did get Tim to confirm his favorite colors at the very least. And he spent the rest of their meal discussing furniture options with his boy.

When they’d finished eating, down to the last sip of Tim’s milkshake, Alfred stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go home.”

And Tim grinned shyly up at him and took his hand.

-----

When I asked my friend @greensword101 to beta for me, he messaged me after reading that I did such a good job with the meaning behind the bouquet. I was surprised because I literally picked the flowers out based of their colors from a list of native Jersey flowers that @flipwizardstarlight (edit: fixed your username. Originally copied over your AO3 name by mistake) found. But, uh, he was right.

Black-Eyed Susans: In Native American folklore, the flower is regarded as a symbol of justice and truth. It is believed that the bright yellow and black petals of the flower represent the sun and the judgment of truth. Additionally, this flower is also considered a symbol of protection and can help ward off negative energy [source]. From another site: these flowers are considered a symbol of encouragement to stay strong and persevere during difficult times. They represent the idea of resilience and the ability to overcome obstacles [source].

And how perfect is that for Robin and Tim's Robin specifically? Totally unintentional.

The line from the musical that Alfred paraphrases actually goes, "And you find out you don't have to be happy at all,/ To be happy you're alive."

Which, just. Ouch.

Let me know what you think in the comments!

[wintersportism]

tarjei “i shall do my fucking best and beyond to get my brother a good position” bø takes back 19 seconds on the track in second lap and goes from 17th to 3rd. jesus fucking christ

[urdadsnewgiirlfriend]

“And maybe, if you’re real good, you can watch me fuck him, too…”

Random conversations with rockstar eddie while high that obviously lead to something dirty 👀

ty for requesting :D — eddie asks you who you'd most want to have a threesome with and confessions are shared (band!au, established relationship, mentions of weed and smut 18+, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It started out all cute, in your defense. 

The tour bus was parked in Colorado for the next couple of nights, and the mountains and trees were aflame with a very distinct golden color. You and Eddie chose to bask in the orange while the rest of the band spent the evening in the hotel.

Your night alone was an innocent one — despite the cheeky taunts and whistles from the rest of Corroded Coffin. Squished together in your bunk, the two of you got high and proceeded to talk about everything and nothing all at once. 

You share one pillow, noses mere inches apart, just barely fitting together on the small mattress. The skunky smell of weed and Eddie’s musky cologne is all-consuming, suffocating in the best way. 

Your poorly concealed giggles fill the silence of the bus as you press your palm against Eddie’s pale one, comparing the size difference between the two. It shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does.

“Would you still love me if Roger Taylor asked you out?” Eddie blurts, growing suddenly serious about the question that only just popped into his mind. 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He thought it, and the words just sorta spilled from his mouth.

Your brows pinch at the sudden question, though there’s still a small smile on your face. You can’t be sure where he’s coming from — if it’s the weed or if he remembers the one time you very drunkenly confessed to having a decade-long obsession with the blonde-haired drummer in your girlhood.

“What?” you wonder, still giggling.

“I mean, like, if he showed up to one of our shows and asked you out, would you say yes?”

You ponder the question. For a few seconds too long, maybe. Mostly because it takes you a little while to understand him through the brain fog.

“Well… no,” you answer finally, voice wavering as your eyes flit to the darkened ceiling.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, more firmly this time. Your gaze returns to his chocolate one, made a darker shade from the black night — they sparkle, still. A grin blooms on your face. “But I think if you really loved me, you’d let me fuck him. Just one time.”

You’re obviously kidding. It’s just a stupid joke made more evident by the dumb, lopsided smile on your face and the pointer finger you hold up to your nose.

Eddie knows this, and he’s sporting his own rosy grin accordingly. A fleeting thought sears his brain. It bubbles up in his throat and tumbles out before he can stop it.

“Only if I get to watch,” he retorts, all boyish and quiet. 

It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not. But then again, it usually is. You decide to toe the line, anyway. “Really?” you hum, shifting on the mattress to face him more intently.

The boy shrugs while you smooth ornery curls from his temple. “Yeah. You’re hot. He’s hot. One plus one equals two… Or whatever that expression is.”

“Fair,” you concede, laughing still.

“Alright. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhmm,” he nods sloppily against the pillow. “Who would you wanna have a threesome with? Like, in a different universe or whatever, ‘cause I don’t think I’m strong enough to share you in real life.”

Again, you giggle. You can’t seem to stop, apparently. You answer quicker than either of you expect.

“Umm… Maybe Nancy,” you answer with a strange sort of nonchalance. “She’s hot… And also she looks like she slaps really hard.”

Eddie’s brain goes blank. And not from the weed this time.

He knew Nancy. Vaguely. Mostly from you. She’s your old friend from high school that you reconnect with every couple of months. You don’t talk crazy often — ‘cause life is too busy for an up-and-coming rockstar and Indiana’s best journalist — but the connection is never truly lost.

And it’s not just that you chose Nancy without having to think about it very hard. He just wasn’t expecting it to be someone you knew in real life. Someone so tangible. That Roger Taylor scenario would only ever happen in wet dreams — his, namely — but Nancy Wheeler? That could be arranged.

The thought alone has him reeling.

You watch him get in his head about the whole thing, though maybe the faraway look in his eyes is just from the weed.

“Well?” you press with an urging lilt and a girlish grin. “You’re turn, Eds. Don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

He goes quiet, which is very unlike your loudmouth boy. He thinks before he speaks, measures his reply before he answers. His absentminded fingers trace up and down the length of your arm all the while, leaving prickling goosebumps in their wake.

“What about Steve?” he wonders with a painfully nonchalant inflection.

Your face screws up instantaneously. You don’t mean to act as shocked as you do, but you can’t help it. “Steve?” you blurt, louder than you meant to. “Like… Steve Steve?”

As in your ex-boyfriend Steve.

As in one of his best friends Steve.

As in roommate Steve the couple weeks out of the year you two aren’t on the road.

It makes your head spin something fierce.

“There another Steve I don’t know about?” Eddie jokes.

Brows still pinched and face still twisted, you question, “So you wanna… fuck Steve? Like, Steve The Hair Harrington?”

“You did,” the boy shrugs, then fakes a soft pout. “Sometimes I feel left out…”

You press your palm to his chest, pushing him playfully away. His arm curls around your back to pull you close again. The proximity is lesser now, so much so that the tips of your nose brush together and your skunky breaths entwine.

It all feels so much heavier now. The intensity of the moment makes you fight back a shiver crawling up your spine. Eddie’s palm smooths up and down the length of it in a slow and measured rhythm. It does little to ease your breathlessness.

“I don’t know. I just think it could be fun,” the boy concludes with a sudden seriousness. His voice is as low as his eyelids. “And I think it’d be real hot to watch him fuck you… ‘Cause we both know he can’t make you cum like I can. Can he, doll?”

Your thighs clench together instinctually, as though to quell the sudden ache pounding between them. You nod slowly, wordlessly.

Eddie’s rosy lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile at your honeyed reaction. He continues — half because the high has loosened his tongue and half because he wants to see how flustered he can make you.

“And then he can watch you fall apart on my dick after, yeah?” he questions like you’re in any space to answer him. “Maybe I can give him a few pointers… Teach him how to fuck you properly, you know?”

The distant ache between your thighs has grown to a full bloom now. It’s a little embarrassing how effortlessly he can drive you crazy — how quickly he can make you drench your panties. You might’ve been a little shameful about it if you couldn’t feel his cock stiffening against your hip.

“Fuck, Eds…” you sigh, the words tumbling from your mouth without thinking. 

With parted lips, you drift towards the boy and his unkissed mouth. He juts his chin slightly backward, only lets your plush bottom lips graze together. You don’t know why he’s teasing you. You’re already a puddle at his feet.

With a smirk and an all-consuming touch along your spine, he makes a quiet promise. “And maybe, if you’re real good, you can watch me fuck him, too…”

[mischievous-thunder]

A very delirious Wade half an hour later:

[ilikethisacompletelynormalamount]

New music video for Sam Fender's People Watching, starring Andrew Scott, out now.

It's amazing, go watch!

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Li Zeyan’s Upcoming Halloween SSR!

“I don’t mind if you forget your reasons at this moment.”

“Of course, I’m well aware of what you like.”

—

[indireneedoftherapy]

.............omg

[nexo-nex]

Eah fans ... how are we feeling today

[presidentkamala]

Year of the fucking tightening noose. And we're almost at June.

[urdadsnewgiirlfriend]

wow this one got me good 😩 I’m not eloquent enough to even attempt to put my feelings about this in words. I will think about this for a looong time fuck

dating steve harrington comes with some perks. one of which being his undeniable strength. and he’s not overly muscular, tummy still soft and a six pack buried beneath, but his arms bulge from beneath the tight hem of his shirts and his hands are the size of fucking saucers, all veiny and just manly.

you find out about his true strength when you’re riding him on the sofa, your back plastered to his chest. and he’s got stamina for days, not even breaking a sweat as you balance yourself and bounce on his sizeable length, whining and whimpering from overstimulation as he pulls orgasm upon orgasm from you, the angle hitting everywhere it needs to and beyond it.

“c’mon, honey, you can do it, m’so fucking close,” he pants into your ear, gripping the outside of your thighs with those godforsaken hands, and you just cry out, tears pricking at your eyes. those same hands you’re cursing slipping underneath your legs, your sweaty skin peeling from his own as he hoists them up, your inner knees to his inner elbows, “guess i’ll just do it myself.”

he physically lifts your entire body from his lap, uses his brute strength to pull you up and down the length of his cock and chase his own high. and you’re not exactly the lightest person in the world, but he lifts you like you are. he bites at your earlobe, chuckles darkly when you scream for him, chanting his name like some sort of mantra. like he’s a god and you’re his servant.

“that’s it, you like it huh?” he grins, grinds up into you as he sets you back in his lap, only to lift you back up again just as quickly, setting a brutal pace, “look at you, all boneless, baby. you love when i use you, don’t you?”

you nod, sob pitifully, grab onto his upper arms for dear life, clawing and drawing blood with your nails as he pulls another orgasm from you, only for him to immediately pull you back down onto him, bury himself tight into the warm, wet heat. bites your shoulder as he rocks into you, wringing out his own release until there’s nothing left to give.

[babyboywilson]

I absolutely love your hilson posts especially the long ones LIKE YES 🗣️🗣️🗣️

nonnie omg ohmygod!! thank you, thank you, thank you so very much!! that means the absolute world to me that you love my hilson posts!! 🥹🥹 sobbing shaking screaming!! being super new to this ship i was so nervous to start writing for hilson and was worried about getting their characterization right and being accepted by the fandom. the fact there’s someone out there like you who is enjoying my long hilson posts makes me feel like i’m doing something right and that means more than i can ever say!! thank you from the bottom of my heart!! 🥺

[judesmoonbeauty]

after reading your translations and your theories on jude’s rude (thank you for all of your hard work 🙏🏽) i am begging for a moment where kate leaves jude flabbergasted. we got moments where he was speechless for a second or where he had this gentle look on this face (i remember the first time i saw it i nearly lost my mind) but i need a moment where kate makes him blush!!! i don’t care how out of character that would be i just need ONE moment like that!!!

Aww, thank you! This just made my day. Right? The first time I saw his soft smile, I threw my phone because I was losing it lmao. Yeah about his blushes, he does blush for different reasons, they’re just really faint, but I’d love to see Kate totally go dom in his route and make him blush…..or maybe even with a soft confession scene and rendered speechless……damn we need his route.

[neeeooon]

*knock knock*

who’s there?

honeydew.

honeydew who?

honeydew you know you’re one of my fav author alive, or should I tattoo it on my forehead? 😤

[icryyoumercy]

bought a purple cauliflower for monster

10/10 would recommend, excellent ratio of effort to delight