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This area was densely populated, but it has become just like a desert. Note that this was a lively city full of residential units, and today it has become a desert due to the Israeli occupation.

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😃

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i do love the whole 'batkids all treat dick like he's a slut' but only when it's ironically. i like dick grayson who is a bit of a prude and his siblings mock the fuck out of him for this by making out like he's a complete manwhore. dick is... so tired.

dick: *steals tim's toast* tim: you fucking whore. dick: dick: tim i have slept with three people in my life and i was in long term relationships with all of them. tim: tramp-core. dick: ??? - dick: *walks in a room* are we ready to go? damian: are you really going to go outside wearing that, grayson? you look like a trollop. dick: I'M WEARING A TURTLENECK. damian: and? dick, pointing miserably at jason: HE'S WEARING A CROP TOP! jason: and fucking slaying, your point? - tim, walking into jason's apartment: hey jay, can i ask you someth- *notices dick* oh never mind. i'll ask later. dick: ??? why can't you ask in front of me? jason: is it similar to what you asked me about last week? tim: yeah. jason: ah. gotcha. we can talk later. dick: NO WHAT THE FUCK?! i'm your older brother too tim, whatever you want jason's help with i can help with too! tim: tim, sarcastically: you know what? sure. tim: got any advice for your younger brother who wants to give his new boyfriend his first ever blowjob? dick: jason: *grinning wildly* dick: tim: i'm waiting. dick: jason: it's alright, buddy. i gave damian the talk, i handled all of duke's dating questions, i can take this too. dick: i'm going to leave now. tim: yeah i bet you are. dick: i'm going to pretend this conversation never happened. tim: uh-huh, you know where the door is, slut. dick: dick: hOW THE FUCK AM I-

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how we feeling intermissionists

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@bootpoot your davekat is very dear to me

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happy 11 years of fnaf 😛

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[id: sex with a talking brain tumor]

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i spelled everything wrong bc i did the text in a rush and im not fixing it 👍 its bedtime

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my forever chopped son

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Mississippi: “We’re declaring a public health emergency because our infant mortality rate is the highest it’s been in over a decade.”

Also Mississippi: closes rural hospitals, slashes healthcare programs, and acts confused when babies die.

9.7 babies per 1,000 births

didn’t make it to their first birthday in 2024. That’s not just a statistic, that’s a state-sized obituary.

Since 2014, over 3,500 Mississippi babies have died before turning one. But sure, let’s keep debating whether healthcare is a “luxury.”

Every dead infant = a devastated family.

Every devastated family = a broken community.

Every broken community = a policy choice dressed up as “oops, public health emergency.”

It’s not an emergency if you saw it coming for ten years. It’s negligence with a press release.

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𐔌 ⋮ “Best Two Out of Three”

“Let’s try that one timmytomby—“ “I told you to stop calling me that”

Neon Arcade , Gotham – 7:12 PM

The lights were loud. The music was louder.

Tim had claimed he hadn’t been to an arcade “in years,” but the way his fingers flew over the buttons of the Street Fighter II cabinet told a different story.

“Tim,” you groaned, laughing as his character landed another impossible combo on yours, “you said you’d go easy on me!”

“I am going easy on you,” he said with a grin that was one part smug, one part oh-God-I-can’t-believe-she’s-laughing-at-my-jokes. “You just keep walking into my attacks.”

“That’s because I’m distracted by your smug little face!” you shot back, shoving his shoulder.

He chuckled, and before you could start round three, he tugged you away toward the skee-ball machines.

Tim lined up his shot like he was planning a heist. Meticulous. Focused. Calculating trajectory, force, and velocity in his head. You knew because you caught him mouthing numbers under his breath.

The first ball rolled smoothly, landing neatly in the 50-point pocket.

“Show-off,” you teased.

His smile was soft this time, eyes glinting in the blue arcade glow. “Your turn, hotshot.”

You dramatically missed your first shot, sending the ball into the 10-point slot. “I’m just letting you win,” you claimed.

“Uh-huh.”

But then you nailed three 100s in a row, and Tim nearly dropped his next ball in shock.

“Beginner’s luck,” he muttered.

“Or maybe I’m just a natural,” you said, bumping his hip with yours.

He spent $5 dollars trying to win you a stuffed Red Robin.

By the end of it, the Red Robin plush slipped out of the claw for the fifth time, and Tim sighed in defeat. “I’m convinced these things are rigged.”

You reached up and kissed his cheek. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Yeah, well…” he mumbled, ears turning pink, “…still wanted to win you something.”

When you beat him at air hockey, Tim insisted on “best two out of three.”

When you beat him again, he demanded “best three out of five.”

By the end, you were both laughing so hard you could barely keep track of the score. He threw in the towel and dragged you to the prize counter.

With your combined tickets, you got the cheapest, silliest thing they had—a matching pair of glow-in-the-dark jelly bracelets.

He slipped one on your wrist himself.

“It’s official,” Tim said, grinning like he’d just cracked the Riddler’s toughest cipher. “We’re arcade champions.”

You laced your fingers through his and smiled back. “Best two out of three?”

Outside of the Neon Arcade,Gotham – 11:07 PM

The air outside was cooler than you expected, sharp with the faint smell of rain on pavement. Tim unlocked the car, and the two of you slid inside, still grinning like idiots from the last round of air hockey.

He set the milkshake between you in the cup holder—vanilla, one straw, because apparently “two straws is less efficient” according to Tim’s logic.

“You know,” you teased, leaning back in the passenger seat, “if you had let me win a couple of those matches, you’d have looked like the perfect gentleman.”

Tim smirked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other snagging the straw for a sip. “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t know I’m a competitive disaster. Honesty’s important in a relationship.”

You laughed, taking the milkshake from him and trying it yourself. Vanilla, cold, sweet—somehow better because it was half his.

For a few minutes, you sat there, sharing sips and trading little jabs about who really won the night’s games. Outside, the parking lot had gone quiet, the arcade’s neon sign buzzing softly in the distance.

Tim drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes flicking between you and the windshield. “You know,” he said finally, “I… really like nights like this.”

You tilted your head. “Arcade nights?”

“Yeah. The games are fun, but…” He hesitated, then smiled a little. “Mostly I just like seeing you laugh that much.”

Your heart did that stupid skip thing. “You’re ridiculously sweet, you know that?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured, leaning back in his seat. “Ruins my image.”

The milkshake was gone by now, just a cup of melting ice cream. You’d ended up sitting sideways in the passenger seat, legs tucked up, your shoulder against his arm.

He was talking about something—some obscure video game fact or how the claw machine really is rigged—but his voice had softened into that low, comfortable register people only use when they don’t want the moment to end.

At one point, you rested your head on his shoulder.

He froze for half a second. Then you felt him relax, his cheek brushing the top of your head. “We should do this again,” he said quietly.

“Next week?” you asked.

“Tomorrow,” he countered.

You were about to suggest heading home when he tapped your knee lightly. “One more game?”

You looked around, confused. “In the parking lot?”

He grinned. “Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to keep the bracelet.”

“Tim Drake, you’re on.”

You lost.

And still somehow kept the bracelet.

Because Tim claimed “it looks better on you anyway.”

🔖 𓂃⋆.˚:taglist!!: @simpingmyassoff @shootingstargirl2001 , @dreamerwhofell , @gothamwing , @amiratheangel , @virtaideen , @asterwriter221 , @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore , @supahnohvaa , @vivian-555 , @piatosniathenie , @sonyboos (if you want to be added comment down below!!)

A/N: MY FIRST TIMMYTOMBY POST EVERYONE!! very very late gift for my dear @yintous toes iloveyousomuchwifey o(*￣▽￣*)ブo(*￣▽￣*)ブ

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Spirit Halloween is defrosting as we speak