#Also Tim can and will fall asleep anywhere if he is tired enough

[weewoow-20706030]

All goes in love, war, and the batfam. However there are a few rules no one dares to break. One of which being, if Tim is asleep, let. Him. Sleep.

He fell asleep on the couch? No one can watch TV until he wakes up.

He passed out at the bat computer? Better hope nothing big comes up cus you have no access to the computer.

He is asleep on the stairs? Guess no one's going upstairs.

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

Batfam Napping HC

requested?: No

HC: How does the Batfamily nap?

I had a very good nap today and it sorta inspired me so here we go!

Bruce takes "im just gonna rest my eyes for a second" naps. He sometimes dozes off in the office chair in front of the Batcomputer with his head tilted back. He totally snores. He will also sometimes fall asleep in WE meetings (this one is canon).

Dick can sleep anywhere and everywhere. Couch, bed, car, sitting in a chair, standing or hanging upside down. When he was younger he used to sometimes nap during the galas Bruce took him to. He would just stretch out over two, as he grew three chairs he moved together and sleep until they would go home.

Jason naps curled up because it reliefs his backpain. It is not as bad as it used to be when he first got free from the Joker, it got better when he started healing, but being Red Hood is exhausting and some days are just bad days. The napping mostly happens on accident, he just wants some pain relief for a few moments and suddenly he is out like a light.

Tim is chronically tired, we all know that. Sometimes he falls asleep at his desk either in the cave or at WE. Dick normally wakes him up or carries him to bed. Sometimes, when Dick spots Tim getting tired he gives him some headpats, some nice words and finally gets him to lay down with him. Dick and Tim like to cuddle, both of them are touch-starved as hell and they fight it off together. They can occassionally be spotted in either Dick's or Tim's room, Tim laying down on his older brother with his head tucked under Dick's chin. Their naps sometimes extend over multiple hours.

Damian sometimes naps in the barn with Batcow. He leans against her warm body and sometimes Alfred the Cat sleeps on his lap or Titus and Ace lay down with him. Damian gets very calm in the presence of animals and because the barn is a little away from the Manor, noone really ever caught him sleeping there. Only Alfred caught him once, he took a picture of it and keeps the moment treasured.

Babs has a couch in the Belfry right under the clock face where the sun shines through the stained glass lightly. She isn't bothered by light so she likes to nap while the sun warms her body. She thinks that warm sunlight is the ultimate weapon against deep aching cold in her bones. It is her treasured place.

Steph is a sucker for car naps. She sleeps best when she sits in the passenger seat of a car with someone trusted driving. When she still was Robin she used to fall asleep in the Batmobile after patrol sometimes. Batman never admitted it but it made him quiet emotional that Steph trusted him enough to sleep near him.

Cass, in general, only sleeps in her room with the door locked and the curtains closed. She naps the same way she sleeps, she needs the safety of her room. She sleeps on her back with her hands over the blanket or without a blanket at all. It's a habit from her assassin training that she can't quiet get rid off. She also puts a timer on 20 minutes because that is appareantly the optimal length for a nap. She sleeps through the alarm at least half of the time.

Duke is basically the only one that is not afraid to sleep in front of the rest off the family. One of the perks of joining the family late, is that they figured themselves out more or less so nothing bad happened between them (yet). Duke sometimes naps when he overused his powers and needs a quick energy refill. He mostly naps sitting up on a couch with his arms crossed on the backrest and his head resting on his arms. The rest of the family is always surprised if they find him sleeping just in front of everyone.

[arobinwithoutbatman]

NAME: Tim Drake AKA Robin

RESIDENCE: The Belfry

TYPE OF BED: A big one? He doesn't know the exact size. He's got enough space to move around in his sleep and starfish.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Typically, just one heavy one. In the winter, he'll put a fleece blanket on his mattress to help trap heat. On rough nights he'll switch out the heavy blanket for a weighted one.

NUMBER OF PILLOWS: Two. Three if you count his sensory pillow

TYPE OF CLOTHING: Comfy pajamas.

DO THEY SLEEP WITH COMPANY?: If he's with his friends? Yes. Sleepovers almost always end in a huge puppy pile. He also wouldn't be against taking a nap with one of his siblings either, he just feels like a baby when he thinks about asking for that.

DO THEY SLEEP BETTER WITH COMPANY?: He falls asleep quicker and stays asleep longer.

DOES IT MATTER WHERE THEY SLEEP?: Nope. Long as he's cosy and feels safe or is tired enough, he can sleep just about anywhere. He's drifted off on the workout bench a couple of times after accidentally pulling all nighters simply because it was horizontal enough and in a sun patch.

WHAT DO THEY DO IF THEY CANNOT FALL ASLEEP?: Stay up for the rest of the night and hope he's tired enough tomorrow.

FREQUENT DREAMS, NIGHTMARES: Swinging across Gotham typically. As for nightmares, whatever went wrong in patrol that night.

DEEP SLUMBER OR NAPS: Naps. So many naps. He needs them. If he manages deep slumber for more than 5 hours, he celebrates.

WHEN DO THEY SLEEP: Early hours (patrol, late night homework, just struggling to turn his brain off) or not at all.

WHAT COULD WAKE THEM UP: Too hot, too cold, an unexpected sound, a weird dream, about half a dozen other things. He's a surprisingly light sleeper at times Not all the time though, sometimes he sleeps deep enough to sleep through multiple rogues attacking the city (not literally obviously).

EARLY OR LATE RISER: Early riser. He still has classes that he attends personally so he still has to get up with his alarm. If that means going to school exhausted, so be it. Can't break the routine.

Tagged by: @thedickgraysonrp

[1987vampire]

Proxies x reader NSFW HCs

alot of these scenes will actually most likely end up in this story im writing lmao, so stick around if you want to see them fleshed out

Let's get the obvious beginner out of the way.

Toby is a tits man, Brian likes ass, and Tim is happy with whatever (he likes tits more he just doesn't want to be rude)

Now, let's start with Toby

Toby is the most submissive bottom you will meet in your life.

Has slipped a bit too far into subspace a few times, and you've had to stop immediately once you realized.

Motherfucker just wants to be dommed and dommed hard. Just tell him what to do, please.

Has the biggest fucking mommy kink (which contributes to his love for tits because the motherfucker will lavish those bitches like no other when given the chance)

Also has the biggest praise kink you will ever see. Has came embarrassingly fast because you called him your good boy.

99 percent of his knowledge of sex comes from porn so,, he's going to have to be retaught most everything.

Has definitely groped your tit too hard on multiple occasions because he thought it was the right thing to do.

Surprisingly good learner, though. Just wants to make you happy.

He's the best one for quickies out of all of them only because he cums extremely fast while still prioritizing you.

(He makes up for how fast he cums by how many times he can do it. Motherfucker will paint you white all over before his body gives out. Plus, his CIPA makes it to where he can't feel the burning in his legs as he fucks you for hours. Has literally kept going until his body gave out because you wanted him to.)

All the boys have very specific thoughts on oral. Toby will give or receive, whichever makes you happier, but when he's allowed to go down on you, it's like you're his last meal.

It's one of the only time's he'll disobey your commands because it doesn't matter if you've already came three times??? He's still eating, lady, shhh.

Tried to dom one (1) time. Not doing that again. Dude started crying half-way through because he thought he was hurting you and your feelings by ordering you around.

You had to pause and take a bath with him afterwards while he calmed down. He spent half the bath blubbering into your neck and apologizing more times than you could count.

Now, Brian is the exact opposite of Toby.

You asked to try and let him be the bottom a single time and he fucked you so hard you couldn't walk the next day.

A little shithead who loves blowjobs. Will give you head, but much prefers you on your knees with him stuffed so far in that he’s tapping the back of your throat and you’re gripping his thighs while he uses you for nothing more than his pleasure in the moment. 

Will mix degradation in with praise like he's been doing it his entire life. Has given you whiplash multiple times because of it.

He's so loud, too. Toby is whiny and begs, but this dude is in your ear with low grunts and groans, his voice spilling the foulest words he can think of.

Has you seeing stars while mumbling into your neck shit like "your pretty little pussy's taking me so well - like you were built to be my cocksleeve. Just a cumslut who takes whatever I give you. Look at you, all fucked out of your mind, pretty little baby. Can't wait to paint your fuckin' insides. It's what whores like you deserve."

He's also the best at aftercare, though. You normally have to take care of Toby after, and Tim does jack shit unless needed.

Brian, though, has his dresser packed with shit to take care of you with after. Will bathe you, dress you, tell you little reassurances, make sure you're okay.

He's also best at knowing when to stop. He can sense your hesitation as if he's the one feeling it.

Because of his dirty mouth, he's had to break off sessions early a few times. The biggest was when you started crying halfway through him fucking you missionary, and not the kind of crying he liked (because let's be real, this motherfucker loves to see you cry and beg to cum.)

He had called you a whore a few too many times through the session, and you had taken it a bit too close to heart (it was something that hit a bit harder than needed since you were dating multiple men at once.)

He spent the whole night cuddling you and reassuring you that he didn't really mean it. He loved you, they all did, it was just for the roleplay. "Stop crying, pretty baby, we're okay. I'm not actually mad. Let me see a smile, c'mon, doll."

Also, let me mention that because y'all are so fucking loud, Tim has banged on the door quite a few times trying to get you to calm down.

Tim made the mistake of grumbling to himself during dinner one time in front of you and Brian that 'you're so fucking loud it sounds like you're recording a goddamn porno in there.'

If you hadn't been choking on your food so hard, you might have noticed the sly grin that crossed Brian's face, though it was brought back later when he ended up filming you quite a few times from that night. It wouldn't be posted anywhere - fuck that, you were theirs, and no one else's.

(he did accidentally share a video of you cumming to the group chat all four of you were in on accident while sending cute pictures of the two of you. The mortification of hearing your moans come through the speaker of Toby's phone while he stared at it dumbfounded was enough for you to not talk to Brian for a whole week. It didn't matter if they had seen you like that before, it was still embarrassing!)

(Brian didn't tell you that the other two - Tim especially - had been sent worse videos than that.)

SPEAKING OF TIM.

Let's get started with this man. Tim is the laziest motherfucker known to man but it is nice. 

Really, he’s not lazy, he’s just tired a lot, and he doesn’t want to put the effort in the fuck you senseless when you’ve got two others for that. 

He prefers sleepy fucking where you’re both half-out-of-it and breathless. He enjoys both of you on your sides with him spooning you, his hips moving just enough to give enough friction for the both of you to cum after a while. You can and will fall alseep right after with him still buried inside of you.

Speaking of, what’s the best way to get y’all’s sexual tension out while still being lazy (besides just making you ride him which he does very often) ? Cockwarming. 

He won’t even just do it in bed when it’s the two of you. He’s shimmied his pants down just enough for his cock to slip out and pushed your panties aside (since you were only wearing an oversized shirt and underwear. I mean, what did you think would happen?) and made you sit on him in the middle of the living room while the other two were lounging around, too distracted to notice. 

However, if someone does notice (Especially in the beginning because you were horrible at hiding your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing from understimulation) he would not hide it.

“H-hey, y/-y/n, what’s-sss-s with the f-fa-face?” Toby had asked innocently one night while you were all watching TV together. You knew Tim was smirking behind you as he lifted the hem of the big shirt just enough to let Toby know what was going on. Boy blushed so hard and covered his eyes, smacking his face harshly in the process, and Tim and Brian snickered (because of course Brian already knew.)

Cockwarming also means that the second you finally - finally - start fucking, it’s over for the two of you in less than a minute, your fingers clawing at him as you finally get your release after hours. (the longest he’s made the two of you wait was four hours because we’re watching Toby’s favorite movies, we can’t interrupt him, now can we, darlin’?’

He’s also a huge fan of facesitting. Not the biggest fan of receiving blowjobs only because it makes him feel too vulnerable, but he could have you sit on his face for hours and not complain, his hands gripping your ass tight enough to leave bruises as he laved his tongue over your clit over and over. 

The only - only - times Tim has fucked you rough was when it wasn’t even really him. You had been half-asleep with your back to him one time as he rutted into you slowly when you suddenly felt yourself flipped so you were ass up with your face being pushed into the mattress, his hips jutting at a speed you didn’t know he could reach.

You didn’t even have to look back to know that Masky - his alter that didn’t show himself too often around you - had taken over. 

During getting fucked that time by Masky, you ended up so deep in subspace, trying to please the man you didn’t get too see that often that you let him him rip orgasm after orgasm from you until you couldn’t think straight and you entered a space where all you felt was pleasure, and you couldn’t even see straight.

You were brought out of it by Tim pressing a cold rag to your forehead, whispering sweet nothings to you as he tried to get you to come to, apologizing profusely for letting it happen. You had just grinned and - though your voice was thoroughly fucked up from screaming - told him to let Masky know he could do that again any time. Tim had gotten so flustered that he walked out of the room for a few minutes. 

Speaking of alters real quick.

Tim and Brian are the only ones to have them - Masky and Hoody respectfully, of course - and they come out around you very little. Hoody comes out more than Masky though, and you can tell the difference in how quiet Brian will get. 

Hoody and Masky have fucked you both separately and together (so have Tim and Brian but we’ll get to that in a second)

Masky loves you ass and prefers to have you in doggystyle over anything while Brian’s love for blowjobs is only intensified in his alter who will have you gagging on him until you almost pass out. He’ll give you a moment to breathe in just a second, just hold on a little longer, okay?

Hoody is almost always silent besides grunts that let him communicate with Masky. This is apparent even when you’re not fucking, and the three of you have to teach yourselves how to decipher the man’s made up language. 

Masky is quiet too, but will grumble to himself more than anything, calling you the worst name’s he can think of while he slams into you so hard that you don’t even have to move yourself to give Hoody a proper blowjob, his grip on your hips and force of his thrusts are enough to have you bouncing back and forth quickly. 

It’s not like you could really move anyways, not when Masky’s picking you up by your thighs and holding your hips up as he plows into you.

They love spitroasting but have definitely done double penetration even if you complain that you’re not prepped. Who cares? You’re obviously ready for it, look at you already cumming even though they haven’t moved. 

Now, as for threesomes and or foursomes

Nine times out of ten, Toby is too embarrassed to do anything in front of the other two. Maybe if you coax him enough, reassure him that nobody will judge, he might join in for the night, but it’s an incredibly rare occurrence. Watching Brian boss you around is enough to make him squirm. You were supposed to be in change, not him? But there you were with your tongue sticking out as you rolled your hips against Tim, ready to fit either of them in your mouth. The other can always take another hole. 

Toby not wanting to join doesn’t really both the other two though, and though it’s still not as common to have a threesome compared to one on one, Tim and Brian are always ready to share. Especially when you look so pretty whining into the air as you take both of them at once. 

You don’t mind if Brian takes a few photos, right? I mean, just look at you! This is a perfect moment to capture. Ignore the fact that you’re now Tim’s home screen, your pretty tits out in the open as his cock is buried inside of you, Brian’s hand gripping the flesh of your hip. Why wouldn’t he want to see it all the time?

The same applies to them as their alters. Spitroasting is their absolute favorite, though Tim prefers it if you ride him while you slobber all over Brian instead of him having to use his energy to fuck you into oblivion. 

They love double penetration as well, but once they tried to fit both of them in your pussy instead of one in your ass and you came so hard that you passed out. It’s brought out on special occasions after a l o t of prep.

really, overall. you have a boy for whatever mood you're in and you're literally never horny because the second you mention it someone is on top of you.

[shiroganeryo]

Komui's Discussion Room content (DGM 27)

Volume 27 has been released recently here in Brazil and I realized the remaining of Komui’s Discussion Room were nowhere to be found in English, but after reading all of it, I thought there are very interesting things hence why I wanted to share!

Please bear in mind this is not a direct translation, but a summary.

I have a lot of criticism when it comes to Viz Media’s release (official English), but I’m quite content with the work Panini, the distributor of D.Gray-Man in Brazil, has done so far with the official Portuguese release. If there are any mistakes, please bear in mind I translated the information directly from their version.

There are 11 questions covered in this summary. For the others, please check Jeidafei’s translations on them (totally recommend it!): Part 1 | Part 2 | Author's note & Thanks Corner | Extra

Without further ado, let’s get into it! This got very long.

≫ Kanda hasn’t reached the “critical point” in synchronization yet (+ why Allen isn’t a General)

In the question “How did Kanda hide having gone past the critical point”, Tiedoll answers that he actually has the potential it takes to do it but hasn’t done it yet. Still on the same question, they answer a related question about Allen’s critical point: “If Allen has reached the critical point, why wasn’t he appointed to become a general during the Order’s reconstruction?”

Allen replies that it was impossible at that time since Central was keeping watch over him. Tiedoll adds that he’s also too young and the only one able to operate the Ark, the latter making Central even more suspicious of him. General Cross’s reputation also seems to have played a part in this, having the higher-ups deem Allen as someone they couldn’t trust enough.

Ryo’s note: Allen thanks Tiedoll for putting his thoughts about Cross into words and Cross simply laughs it off. XD

≫ Sleeping positions

They get asked about their sleeping positions. Tiedoll describes how Kanda sleeps with detail (when younger, in fetal position; nowadays, he sleeps lying on his side, preferentially the right side).

Allen comments that Johnny sleeps sprawled on the floor or the desk and that everyone in the Science Division sleeps like this; when he first saw it, he got concerned thinking something tragic had happened. Johnny says it’s comfortable to sleep like this, but Allen isn’t so sure.

Cross comments on how Allen sleeps; he mentions he likes to sleep hugging something and when he can’t do it, he complains until falling asleep. Allen gets flustered and claims that he got used to sleeping with Tim because he used to be big, but is over it nowadays. Johnny remembers Link used to tell him not to sleep with the piggy-bank, to which Allen replies that it was “not a sleeping position, but survival instincts”.

Kanda comments on how he brought a ton of food to the infirmary one time and says it was annoying to listen to him eating nonstop. Allen replies with sarcasm (“sorry for needing to eat to recover my energies”).

Cross sleeps naked, with his arms open (according to Allen).

Tiedoll sleeps on his stomach, blanket over his face.

Ryo’s note: The time Kanda is referring to is in Chapter 135 (135th Night: Repose, Partly Cloudly).

≫ The symbol on the CROWs' foreheads

Cross replies that it’s probably the compulsory mark of the procedure that transforms regular people in CROWs. Tiedoll says that Cross knows a lot, as expected of someone who’s able to use magic –he shrugs off the compliment – and Kanda asks when and how exactly someone like him learned it. He angrily says he didn’t learn it anywhere and ends the question at Allen’s remark that he always gets angry when people ask.

Ryo’s note: This is interesting. Could imply he was the one to teach magic to Nea (and the Earl himself?), and not the other way around. But, it’s also possible he just didn’t want to answer.

≫ “What is something you find impressive on the other, but have never admitted?”

Johnny decides to start with Kanda and Allen, and the two exchange insults for several lines.

Johnny then passes the baton to the Generals, who do the exact same as their apprentices.

Johnny ends the question with a thank you and sweating nervously.

Ryo’s note: By “insults”, I mean things like Kanda calling Allen a crybaby, and Allen saying Kanda’s dumb. Tiedoll calls Cross a delinquent; Cross calls him “doting dad”. The list goes on…

≫ The time Kanda spent with General Tiedoll right after becoming his apprentice (+ Allen’s time with Cross)

They are asked what was the most outstanding episode from such a time, and Kanda absentmindedly says he forgot. Tiedoll seems disappointed, stating they had made so many marvelous memories together, to which Kanda replies “please stop talking in this weird way”.

Allen asks how the travels were, and Tiedoll says the most important at that time was to take care of mending Kanda’s heart. They spent much time talking about amenities, having contact with plants and animals and admiring beautiful landscapes. Tiedoll believes that getting in touch with beautiful things can help to connect with the world, despite carrying the burden of being a Second; he wanted Kanda to feel like regular people feel about the world.

Johnny and Allen are touched, and the latter comments how jealous he is. Cross then reminds Allen of how many bedsheets he had to wash because of him, making him flustered. He then goes on to remind how not only he did that but also had to feed him – Tiedoll comments on how it seems impossible to imagine Cross doing all that – and even help him change many times.

Allen’s embarrassment reaches the maximum and he threatens to beat Cross if he keeps talking about that.

≫ Stories of when Kanda and Lenalee were little

Kanda tries to shrug the question off, but Johnny insists they answer. Tiedoll says that the two of them were really cute, just like two lilies that bloomed inside the gray scenery of the Order; Kanda tells him to stop.

Allen is uninterested in Kanda, but wants to hear about Lenalee. Cross asks him if he likes her, and says he thought he had a girlfriend in the Asian Branch already. Allen denies it and says both LouFa and Lenalee are his friends; Cross laughs, saying he doesn’t judge, and Allen nearly snaps in irritation (again).

Johnny moves on to answer the question; Kanda is against it, but Tiedoll holds him in place. Johnny tells that Jiji told him that at first, Kanda would be asked if Lenalee could train with him, but he would shrug her off saying he didn’t want to train with a girl, which would make her cry.

Every time Kanda made Lenalee cry, she would run off to Reever. In reality, Johnny thinks she wanted to talk to Komui instead, but she thought he was busy and didn’t want to bother him, resulting in her crying at Reever’s desk. Tiedoll and Allen are weeping at it (they thought it’s cute).

While Reever comforted Lenalee, Marie would appear bringing Kanda along, who had no idea how to apologize, while Lenalee would bashfully hide inside Reever’s lab coat. This kept happening until he eventually accepted to train with her.

Johnny starts telling another story involving Kanda’s meditation and Lenalee coming back tired from a mission, but Kanda interrupts him. Allen says it’s being fun and tells him not to bother.

Kanda tells him to shut up, calling him a bedwetter. Allen snaps (again).

Ryo’s note: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

≫ “Who amongst the Noah would Allen best go along with? Hypothetically speaking.”

Allen and Kanda are worn out from fighting (see the previous question); Johnny is giving them calming tea. Tiedoll says that it seems Allen and Tyki Mikk looked friendly when talking to each other, and Allen interjects saying they’re not friends and that Tyki doesn’t respect the notion of personal space.

He then goes on to say he doesn’t imagine himself being friends with any Noah because they lack common sense. Cross mentions Road and how she’s always being flirty with him, which makes Allen tell him to stop implying things, while sounding unsure about being friends with her or not.

Johnny asks if Allen is embarrassed and reminds Road kissed him. He denies being embarrassed and says that kissing is just a form of greeting for her (he’s sweating nervously while saying so). He adds that, on top of that, he feels like Road sees someone else when she looks at him.

Cross seems amused.

Ryo’s note: This answer is very interesting. It seems to confirm the theory that Road had some kind of connection with past!Allen. We won’t know for sure until it’s revealed, but it does seem to imply such a thing.

≫ The taste of Innocence + the Crystal Type Innocence + Exorcist supplies + Cross suspiciously knowing about the Bookman clan

A reader asks how did Innocence taste like when liquefied; Kanda says it tastes like nothing, similar to water.

Johnny points out the wounds that formed after their Innocence became Crystal types and if they don’t hurt. Kanda says that at the time they don’t, but such wounds won’t heal even with his healing ability – which he concludes makes sense since it’s from where the blood comes out to form the weapons.

Johnny mentions that the Science Division (Komui, more specifically) made Lenalee pills that will prevent anemia. Still on that subject, Allen remembers people had asked what goes inside the bags the Exorcists carry on their uniforms. Johnny says they carry first-aid kits, disinfectants, anti-hemorrhagic meds, and things of the sort. Miranda and Timothy carry sweets with a high intake of calories, Krory carries Akuma blood sweets and Lavi and Bookman asked for migraine meds.

Tiedoll says they are nothing without the support of the Science Division and thanks them. Allen asks about Lavi and Bookman getting migraines. Cross mentions it’s probably from an occupational disease because storing that much information and memories can wreck your head over time.

Allen comments again that he seems to know a lot about the Bookman Clan, and that it’s very suspicious. Cross magnificently shrugs off the question.

≫ Allen’s cheating

Allen gets asked if he becomes bad at luck games (i.e gambling) in case he doesn’t cheat. He says that a bet on luck always rewards something even if gains are small, but Johnny says he’s really bad at things like rock-paper-scissors. Kanda thinks he was just in denial about admitting he’s unlucky.

When scolded by Kanda, Allen says it was a matter of survival and that he never cheated good people on; just bad people.

Johnny says living like this is dangerous and that he should stop; Allen apologizes and says he needs money, and if anything, he can use his Innocence.

Cross is amused and sounds proud. Tiedoll regrets Cross’s influence on Allen.

≫ About Link

Allen gets asked if he has ever seen Link smile, to which he responds he has tried making him laugh/smile, but never could do it. Johnny says that everyone from Central is very serious, especially Link. Tiedoll thinks that it might be forbidden to smile when their superior is Director Lvellie.

Allen goes on to ramble about how Link complained about everything: when he had food on his face after or during eating, asking him to redo reports because they were illegible despite Reever being able to read, scolding him for not drying his hair after going out of the bath because he could get a cold, and how he was a shame for not folding his uniform properly before putting it away.

Cross asks him, “what was he? Your mother?” and Allen says he didn’t get annoyed at him. He wonders if all moms are like this.

Johnny says people were worried when he was assigned to watch Allen, but in the end, Link went along well with everyone and confirms that Allen liked him as well. He also states that Allen’s reports became a lot easier to read thanks to him.

Ryo’s note: Ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary folks: it’s Link appreciation time! *tips hat* Also Allen wondering about how mothers treat their children was just precious, even if it’s a throwaway comment.

≫ The vibe at the Black Order

In the question “Who runs faster, Komui or Reever?”, Johnny says that he thinks Reever is faster; Allen adds that Komui cheats by using Komurin, though. Kanda gets annoyed and tells them they (at the Science Division) should make Komui behave accordingly to his role. Johnny sniffs and says that they try.

Tiedoll says that it’s actually good that Komui is cheerful because the Order used to be a very different place until he took over the post, and that he (Tiedoll) disliked the gloomy aura it used to have. Allen remembers Lenalee commented about it once and asks if the Order was really this different back then. Tiedoll says that even if it’s been built with a noble purpose, human beings aren’t perfect and a lot of things get distorted over a hundred years. He recommends Allen to ask For about it, as she has existed ever since the Order was founded and protects it to this day.

Allen is sad and comments he wants to visit the Asian Branch again someday. Johnny says he’ll go with Allen, but the latter says he would want to eat Jeryy’s food again before that. Cross sneers and wishes good luck.

They wrap it up at this, and both Kanda and Allen look very happy about being done with the Discussion Corner (as noted by Johnny). Tiedoll bids Cross adieu, and says “rest in peace, Marian” – to which he replies “don’t treat me like a ghost”.

Allen says he knows Cross is an illusion created by his weakness, but that he was happy to see him (in reference to the 222nd Night: Searching for A.W - Hypokrisis). Cross tells him not to exaggerate.

Johnny is content that they could finally keep it to the ideal number of pages – something the Discussion Corner is known to usually have trouble with. Tiedoll says that if they had gone overboard, the next issue’s Discussion Corner would be canceled, and wraps up thanking everyone who has cared about Yu so far and asks that people keep cheering for him.

Johnny thanks the readers for sending their questions. Allen and Kanda are relieved it’s over.

Ryo’s note: And that’s it! Man, this got LONG. Thank you very much for reading until the end. Can’t wait for the next Discussion Room, the way Tiedoll worded it makes it seem like it’ll be on the next volume, 28. I’m excited!

If you're interested in seeing more DGM content from me, feel free to check my masterlist here.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

After the Circus Part 4

Some thoughts from Tim.  I did not edit this, sorry.  

@janekfan

cw: strained friendships, arguing, fainting, dizziness, trauma, references to Jon's getting covered in lotion, disassociation, food mention, mentions of panic attacks (none in the story), canon typical season three Tim headspace (although he's being less mean!)

Tim’s eyes are burning.   He rubs at them absently.  Christ, his back hurts.  Elbow numb from pressing it into the break room table. 

He feels like he hasn’t closed his eyes longer than to blink since after Prentiss with those pain killers knocked him flat.  Feels like he hasn’t even blinked since Martin found out that Jon was kidnapped.  Didn’t even have that small bit of respite that is due to most creatures.  

He can’t take his eyes off Jon’s fragile form.  

He’s asleep on the couch.  Jon, that is.  Martin has dozed off at the table.  Chubby cheek smashed into it.  He’s pale, Martin is.  And tired.  There are deep circles under his eyes, almost starting to rival Jon’s.  Tim wants to brush the hair off his forehead.  Wants to tell him that it’s going to be okay, but Tim doesn’t believe that it’s going to be okay.  In fact, he’s fairly certain it won’t be.  Especially not after the Unknowing.  

Maybe… Maybe he could try.  For Martin.  Maybe.  

A quiet voice from deep within says that maybe he could even try for Jon.  Maybe.  

After all, what had Martin said?  Something about not letting the Circus claim any more lives.  A voice that sounds suspiciously like Martin whispers that that includes Tim’s life too.  

Imagining things.  

Christ, he needs to sleep.  

Nothing keeping him here now.  Not really.  Just… worry that he though he was done having.  

He really thought he could quell his care for his …the people who used to be his friends.  

The people he wouldn’t mind trying to be friends with again.  

Which leads him back to Jon.  Who he’s been staring at since …well he’s lost count.  

He’s asleep on the couch.  He’s shivering, but Tim isn’t going to take the blanket from Martin.  

Tim might almost want to care for Jon (while aggressively pretending not to care, of course).  But… but he hasn’t earned blanket rights.  Not after every hurt Jon has caused.  (The Martin in his sleep deprivation induced imaginings reminds him that most of the hurts were not caused by Jon.  Most, actually.  Jon caused some, but not most).  But Tim isn’t ready to believe that.  Or even if he believes it, not admit it for long enough to give Jon the blanket.  

In any case, Martin deserves it more.  Poor, optimistic, besotted Martin.  Tim tries to call him stupid.  Just in his head.  But a phantom, imagined voice (maybe Sasha’s?) shuts that thought down.  Christ, he’s losing it.  He needs to sleep.  Take a double shot of sleepy time cold medicine and hope that knocks him out.  

He’d do that now… but he isn’t leaving Martin here.  

And Martin isn’t going to leave Jon.  Not like this.  Not in a million years.  

Apparently Martin is A-Okay with someone stalking them and just going back to calling him a friend.  

Stop it, Tim.  Not helpful.  

And Jon really just looks frail and pathetic.  And that’s just made him angry recently, but right now… right now it makes him angry at the Circus.  

Which… not the best way to fix a friendship… if that’s even what he’s trying to do.  And he doesn’t know that for sure.  He isn’t sure of anything.  Head and eyes full of sand.  Burning and heavy and gritty.  Can’t think.  Doesn’t know if what he’s feeling makes any sense.  

The feelings don’t even feel like they belong to him.  Not at this stupid hour.  

What time even is it?  His phone ran out of juice, he thinks.  Died not long after Jon fell asleep again, before Martin fell asleep, before Tim took up his vigil.  Feels like he’s taking over for Martin.  Trying to care in his stead.  Trying to care enough that Martin will let himself get some proper rest.  

Which… which means Tim needs to do something.  And by something …well that probably means he needs to open his home to both Martin and Jon.  

Martin’s flat is too small for just one extra person, even as small as Jon, and there is no way in hell that Tim is going to let Martin alone with Jon.  Not when he knows Martin will give everything he has left to watch out for Jon.  Martin is quickly running out of things to give.  

Not that Tim has much to offer, but he can’t let Martin burn himself out completely on Jon.  

And Jon… well Tim hasn’t exactly been paying attention, but he thinks Jon is essentially homeless.  If him going back to sleeping on a shelf is any indication.  Or intending to, if he hadn’t passed out before reaching it.  

See, Tim isn’t that bad.  He brought Jon to the cot.  Miles better than a shelf.  

Probably, anyhow.  

Jon might have a mattress by now.  

He idly wonders if that hypothetical mattress would be like the one Tim used to host sleepovers on.  

Like the one Tim and Sasha and Jon shared on late nights after drinks and days full or research.  

And then he feels decidedly ill.  Because the Sasha in his memory isn’t the right one.  

He’d be sick if he had the energy.  

But he doesn’t.  

So he just readjusts and ;ays his head down on folded arms.  Back glad of the movement, but still protesting the new position just as much as the last.  

He’s decided, though.  When Martin wakes up, all three of them are going back to his flat.  

Until then he’ll watch the delicate rise and fall of Jon’s chest.  The rest doesn’t look easy.  Hasn’t since he got back.  Tim has to wonder if it’s been that way since Prentiss.  But he’s too tired to think.  Only has it in him to watch.  

Watch Jon whimper in his sleep.  Too weak to move about, like Tim knows Jon does when he isn’t weighed down by another person or his weighted blanket.  

He considers going to grab that blanket for Jon now, but he doesn’t have the energy to move.  (And a private part of him is worried that Jon will vanish if he looks away for even a moment.  Like he will be stolen away again.  Or that he will just… stop breathing.  Just fade away quietly without anyone to notice.  Or… care.  

So.  So Tim tries very hard not to think about where else he’s heard these words as he waits, and he watches, and he listens.  

When Jon wakes with a strangled scream, Martin nearly falls out of his chair.  Tim barely blinks.  Too tired to even move at that point.  He doesn’t want to think about how long he’s been awake.  

Martin’s by Jon’s side by this point.  A hand smoothing down his hair, and Jon’s crying again.  

Distantly he thinks he should probably try to get Jon to drink something or eat something.  Get some salt and water into him somehow.  But Tim is too tired to do that, and Jon’s crying too hard to do anything.  

Tim gives himself 30 seconds.  30 seconds to close his eyes, then stand up.  

He should be alarmed by the head rush that nearly takes him back down.  That’s not something he experiences too often, but… well he hasn’t exactly been taking care of himself.  

He trudges off to see if he can remember if he brought anything in with him.  If he did, he’ll grab that and anything that Martin might have brought in, and after that he’ll grab Jon’s weighted blanket.  

his feet feel like lead and he’s trying not to stumble over himself or the trailing blanket.  He’s got Martin’s bag over his shoulder, with the Tim’s water bottle and phone charger shoved in on top of Martin’s stuff.  Keys in his pocket.  Phone is his pocket.  Stifling a yawn in Jon’s blanket.  

He prods Martin with his shoe.  

“Come on, Marto.  We’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving him!”  Loud and sudden and panicked.  

It starts Jon whimpering again.  

Pathetic, he thinks before he can stop himself.  

“He’s coming with us.  You can take the blanket or Jon, but either way, both are coming with us.”  

Martin glares at him in bleary suspicion.  “Where?”

“My flat.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t fall asleep at the table again.  And if that means getting Jon and you on my spare mattress or in my guest room, then so be it.”  

Martin slumps.  Partly because Jon is needing something or other, and early because …well… he looks basically dead.   

Tim can see when he gives in.  

Marin nods.  

Tim can also see when Martin realizes there is no way he can carry Jon, at least not until he’s gotten some proper rest.  And Tim doesn’t make Martin admit it.  

He hands off the backpack and the blanket, and scoops Jon up himself.  

Jon’s eyes flutter shut.  Heart racing against Tim’s chest, head lolling against his shoulder.  Fainted again.  It’s… starting to get worrying, in all honestly.  He hasn’t seen Jon this badly off since… well the few times he was running some truly scary fevers and the one time he didn’t sleep for an entire week.  

Jon isn’t feverish.  At least Tim doesn’t think he is.  Which means, it’s not a fever or it’s very low.  So Tim has to guess whatever Jon went through lead to a hell of a flare up.  

Nothing to do for that now.  

Maybe he can stop by a charity shop and get Jon a temporary cane tomorrow.  After he’s slept.  After he’s certain he won’t pass out from lack to sleep, himself.  

Get Jon a new cane, and hope Jon is up for solid food, because damn Tim wants crepes.  

He would sell his soul for some crepes.  

Martin is struggling to his feet.  Just as warn out as Tim.  

It isn’t a long walk to Tim’s flat.  He tries to hail a cab, but… he guesses it’s a weird hour on a week night.  No one is out.  

It isn’t a long walk.  

But Martin stumbles into him every few steps.  Trying to lean over to check on Jon.  

Jon is… conscious?  Maybe?  

But barely.  

He nudges Martin onto the couch.  Then drops Jon into his lap.  That should keep Martin from going anywhere.  

Then Tim drags out the sleepover mattress.  It hasn’t been out since… since Sasha was alive.  

Since before the Archives.  

It smells a little musty.  But… it feels like home as he tiredly wrestles some sheets onto it, and kicks his coffee table out of the way to make room for it.  

Martin stares at him uncomprehendingly.  

Tim leaves him to it.  

Tim fetches a lucozade for Jon, and two glasses of water.  

He goes and showers.  He brushes his teeth.  He throws on some sleep clothes.  

Martin still hasn’t really moved.  

Tim lifts Jon off his lap and onto the mattress.  He sets Jon down with more care than he can really take in right now.  And takes his place on Jon’s side.  

Jon looks to be sleeping, not unconscious now.  Good.  

“Marto you can shower if you want.  Feel free to find some clothes if you do.  Something should fit.  Or you can just… take a load off and join us.  Whichever.  But I’m going to sleep.”  

It’s been ages since he’s slept with Jon.  But… it feels like home.  Or… something like home.  He buries them both under Jon’s blanket, and under the spare duvet.  Drawing and arm around Jon, trying not to get lost in the tight feeling in his chest when Jon snuggles up close and tucks his nose against Tim’s clavicle.  

Tim pats the empty side of the mattress, and giving Martin something adjacent to a smile.  

When Tim wakes up.  Martin is sound asleep in some sweats that are oversized on Tim.  

He feels… heavy.  Both from exhaustion and from the weighted blanket.  

He can’t tell what time it is.  Blackout curtains are drawn against any light that could be.  It’s just… a dim grey… meaning there must be light spilling in from the kitchen.  Probably light out, then.  

Then… then he spares a glance for Jon.  Looking small and beaten in his arms.  

His eyes are open, and… he might actually be lucid this time.  

He makes a small question sound.  

It damn near breaks his heart.  

“Why are you being so nice?”  His voice is still wrecked.  It looks as though Jon might have burst a blood vessel whilst sobbing at the Institute, but he can’t be sure in this light.  Still.  It hurts.  

He also doesn’t have an answer.  

Pity is the wrong answer to give to Jon, and he knows it.  

But… it was some pity.  And some for Martin’s sake.  

He doesn’t know what to say.  

His silence, however is scaring Jon.  Jon who is starting to hyperventilate.  

“Hey.  Hey.  It’s okay.  I… I don’t know why.  But… I couldn’t leave you there.  And I couldn’t leave Martin even if I could.”  

Jon finally seems to notice that Martin is basically spooning him.  And makes a small sound.  

He looks back at Tim, a little teary.  

“Glad to see you awake, but maybe you should rest a little more.  I’d get you something to drink, but I don’t think I can get out without waking Martin.  But… but if you do need anything, I’ll risk it, so uh.   Let me know?”

Jon just shakes his head, and buries his face in Tim’s chest.  

Tim is… surprised.  Last time he was this close to Jon, Jon flinched away.  And that kind of makes him feel sick to think about.  And this… this makes something melt in his chest.  Something he hadn’t felt in a while.  

“Get some sleep, bud.  I’ll be here when you wake up.”  

Jon hmms, and Tim lets himself sleep.  

[dented-nado]

I'm cramping like a binch so may I request some superwonderbat softness pls tysm ily?

I’m also cramping like a binch tonight! So writing this in solidarity!!!

---

-This is an AU where all the batkids are around the same age, still kids, and adopted at the same time. Damian is a baby, and Bruce is a tired dad but loves all his kids and his husband and wife-

----

Even if it meant Batman was on the back burner with limited outings… moments like this were more than worth it to Bruce.

He was sitting in the living room, watching the snow fall outside. Damian had fallen asleep in his arms holding onto his finger after a long bout of crying in his nursery from not knowing where his papa had went.

Bruce had bolted upstairs so fast he, in all his coordination still nearly managed to trip on the manor stairs twice.

Damian was a very needy.... clingy baby Bruce had found. It made sense… he was separated from his mother when he hadn’t even been weened yet. So Bruce and Alfred found themselves running to attend to him quite often.

Bruce had been feeling a little guilty lately however… this baby had been… unexpected. He hadn’t planned on also having a baby when he’d just adopted several children a few short years ago that he couldn’t bare to separate when he went to adopt one child at the orphanage. They were so young but all seemed like a family already. And the Orphanage… well, frankly he was in the process of trying to get it shut down for poor conditions and get a better one funded and built.

He’d planned to give Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, Cassandra and Stephanie all the attention he possibly could. His train of thought was… well… the manor is big enough… Alfred will be around and maybe….

Diana and Clark.

Well, when he told them he was planning to adopt, start a family by taking in kids that should get the childhood that he himself had taken from him… they were overjoyed.

Clark was especially excited, Bruce had often caught him smiling fondly at families with their kids when they passed them by on the street, or chuckling and watching a baby smile back at him from a stroller. Clark was a man practically born to be a good father.

Diana was also thrilled at the idea, and both of them helped Bruce set up what was going to be the one child’s room. Then had both rushed to help even after having just been on a Justice League mission when Bruce sheepishly told them he had somehow managed to adopt six children. Then when Damian had showed up a few years later… a baby formed from Bruce’s DNA that Bruce himself hadn’t known about (Clark certainly knew how that felt)… they helped him set up the nursery, and Diana and Clark tagged teamed with Alfred to help poor Bruce figure out how to provide all the basics a baby would need.

It made Bruce laugh a little bit thinking about it. Clark had panickily started scrolling through youtube videos by typing “How baby HELP” into the search bar when Damian had started crying.

Speaking of Clark and Diana… Bruce stood carefully as to not wake Damian as he heard the door open in the other room, the sound of the winter wind hinting at the snowfall outside leaking in the entrance as Clark held the door open for six kids, managing to walk in formation from youngest to oldest, all holding what seemed like little hot chocolates carefully in their mitten covered hands. They were followed by Diana who shook her head slightly to try and shake some of the snowflakes from her long, thick hair. She also held two cups in her hand and tried to close the door behind her with her leg until Clark took the initiative and closed it for her with a chuckle.

“No one spill okay? Don’t tip your cup so much Tim.” Clark said trying to help keep the kids in order.

The young six-year-old looked down at his hands with wide eyes and straightened his cup realizing he had nearly lost precious hot chocolate to the floor.  “Oh! Okay!”

Diana crossed into the living room with the two cups, walking a little slower and quieter when she entered and realized Bruce was still slightly bouncing a somewhat stirring but still napping Damian.

“I got you a peppermint hot chocolate since you said your throat was feeling a little irritated.” She whispered holding out the cup to him.

“Oh you’re a lifesaver.” Bruce replied taking the warm cup and immediately taking a long sip of the hot – but just cooled down enough – drink, immediately feeling some relief.

“Were they good?” He asked, referring to the kids ranging from 6 to 12.

“Jason and Dick were arguing over if Cereal is a soup or not, but they stayed civil.” She explained with a small chuckled. “They were all very well behaved and stayed together.”

Bruce smiled, bouncing Damian a little more as a small hello as the baby opened his eyes and began cooing and babbling to his father in a baby language that made no sense to Bruce, but Bruce was sure made perfect sense to Damian.

“Thank you again for taking them out for a while.” Bruce said, leaning forward as Diana did as they shared a peck on the lips. “Damian finally slept for a while once I sat down and held him.”

Diana chuckled and looked at Damian and stroked his small head. “You love your papa don’t you? Never want him out of your sight...”

Damian babbled in response.

Clark joined them as he took off his winter coat that he didn’t really need physically, but wore every day of the winter season since Bruce gifted it to him. The kids had all run off to the kitchen when Alfred had called them, begging them to “Please not have their beverages anywhere near the carpet”.

“Hey B-B.” Clark greeted with a grin, putting his arm around his bat and kissing him on the cheek.

“Hello to you too smallish bean.” Clark followed up grinning at Damian who reached up towards the curl that stuck out from Clark’s hair curiously as he always did.

“Thank you… both of you…” Bruce began, looking down at Damian fondly. “I… I know when we… well… you didn’t sign up to be helping me take care of a bunch of kids.” He mumbled guiltily.

Clark and Diana shared a glance and Clark squeezed his shoulder. “B, we vowed to stick with you through everything.”

Diana squeezed Bruce’s hand that shared the same ring that the three of them all wore. “And we wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Bruce found himself genuinely beaming at them both with a soft smile, heart fluttering. How did he get so lucky as to have these two in his life?

It was then that Dick came running into the living room. “Daaaaaaaaaaaaad! You have to help me out here, Cereal isn’t a soup, right??”

Jason marched in after him. “It is too! It’s just milk soup with chunks in it.”

“But it’s cold!” Dick insisted.

“There’s soup that you eat cold!” Jason looked up at Bruce. “Right? Tell Dick he’s stupid and wrong.”

“Tell Jason he’s a buttmunch.” Dick replied sticking his tongue out.

“I’m not saying either of those things.” Bruce replied very matter of factly, deciding not to even touch the cereal may or may not equal soup debate.  

The two boys went back to arguing as Tim ran in, closely followed by Stephanie and Cass who began chasing him around the living room.

“Hey, Hey, you three, if you’re going to play tag go outside.” Bruce chided.

Stephanie paused. “It isn’t tag.” She argued with wide eyes.

Cassandra nodded. “It’s cowboys and aliens.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow and Clark and Diana managed to both tilt their heads in amusement at the same time.

“Tim is the cowboy and we’re the aliens.” Stephanie said very knowingly.

“Ah…. I see.” Bruce responded. “Cowboys and Aliens…” He mumbled before looking at Clark. “What does it mean since you’re both?”

“I’m unstoppable.” Clark responded instantly.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Well we all knew that.”

He ignored Clark who started cackling and turned back to the kids. “Well still, don’t run in the house… or at least not in this part of the house go in the ballroom that never gets used or something.”

“Why have a ballroom with no balls?” Clark mumbled teasingly, earning a half-hearted glare from Bruce.

Stephanie gasped. “Can we have a ball?? Like in the movies????”

Bruce sighed and took a long sip of his hot cocoa. “I’ll think about it, now go, your cowboy is getting away.”

Stephanie and Cass whipped their heads around to see Tim running out into the hall with a laugh and immediately bolted after him.

“Hey wait! I want to catch a cowboy too!” Jason shouted after them, completely distracted from his argument with Dick and running after them.

Dick followed close behind, before pausing, turning to Bruce and putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t worry, I’ll be responsible and make sure they stay out of trouble.” He declared with a proud grin that brought a wide smile to Bruce’s face.

“I know you will chum.”

It was then the eldest child ran off to join the game.

“They really are wonderful kids.” Diana noted with a soft smile, wrapping her arms around Bruce and kissing his cheek several times, leaving red lipstick stains behind.

Bruce nodded. “They are… I’m very lucky.”

Clark pressed a long kiss to Bruce’s forehead. “So are we.”

Bruce sighed gratefully, Clark and Diana by his side, the manor echoing with the sound of kids playing, and Damian babbling away in his arms….

He looked up to the portrait of his parents that hung above the fireplace and smiled fondly at them.

What had been lost… had been found once more.

[awhitehead17]

100 ways to say I love you - TimKon edition:

Number 15 - “I made your favourite.” 

Enjoy! :D

“I’ll see you when you get home yeah? Even if it’s a little later than normal… Tim don’t worry about it, it happens. Tim I don’t care, I promise. I’ll see you this evening, okay? Yeah, love you too, bye.”

After hanging up Kon turns his phone off and places it down on the table with a defeated sigh. Not for the first time Tim will be late coming home from the office, having to stay later to catch up on reports and meetings and other stuff Kon didn’t really understand.

Knowing this, Tim had rung him during a short 10-minute break he’s giving himself that busy afternoon to tell Kon this information. Kon appreciated the thought but wasn’t pleased with what he’s being told and unfortunately not even the powers of Superman could help him free his boyfriend from the evil clutches of the group known as businessmen.

Tim sounded tired on the phone and stressed. It makes Kon’s heart ache. Just the thought of Tim pushing and forcing himself to get through the day when he’s clearly struggling with a lot makes Kon feel terrible.

While Kon wouldn’t be able to help ease the workload, because he has no idea of the functions that run WE, he could try and help Tim relax once he was home for the night. To his knowledge neither of them were supposed to be going out that night meaning they could have a lazy night-in. Perhaps he could treat Tim to something special. Make him dinner and desert, stick on his favourite film and place his preferred blankets over the couch where they could snuggle up together until they fall asleep.

Kon smiles, with that in mind he knows he’s got some work to do before Tim gets home that evening.

----

“Y’know, even now it still surprises me about how well you can cook.” Tim comments with a satisfied smile.

Kon raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’ve known me for how long by now? You also know that there’s no way Ma Kent would let me be useless in a kitchen.”

Tim laughs lightly and gets up from his seat, heading for the sink where a pile of dishes were waiting to be washed. Before he could get there Kon grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around and nudges him towards the living room.

“No way, you’re not doing the dishes, the only thing you need to do right now mister is go and collapse on the sofa and wrap up in the blanket I’ve laid out there.”

“But you made dinner Kon! I have to do something!” Tim protests, trying to get around Kon to get back to the sink.

Kon puts the tiniest bit of super-strength into his actions to force Tim towards the living room. “Yeah… no. Sofa, blanket, movie, now. I’ll do the dishes, you just go and relax, I’ll be there in a moment.”

Tim finally gives in and turns around while he mumbles under his breath. Kon smiles in victory and turns to the dishes.

Unknown to Tim, Kon had something waiting for him. The surprise dinner had gone down well with his boyfriend but there were something else Kon had hidden away. Something else that he hopes will brighten up Tim’s otherwise grey day.

That afternoon, after the phone call with Tim, Kon had made Tim’s favourite pie following one of Ma’s recipes. Grabbing it out of the cupboard he prepares two slices before moving onto making some hot chocolate.

The hot chocolate itself wasn’t special but the extra’s Kon adds to it makes it different. He piles on two mountains of squirty cream onto the liquid before drizzling some caramel syrup over it. To finish off Tim’s drink, he then adds several marshmallows to the mountains while he keeps his plain.

Kon doesn’t get it, Tim’s adoration for the things. He absolutely loves marshmallows. Like anywhere Tim goes, he’ll either find marshmallows to eat or even take a bag of the things with him. It’s cute in a strange way.

Using his telekinesis, Kon balances the two plates of pie on his forearms while he carries the drinks in his hands. He walks into the living room to find a Tim burrito on the couch staring at the title menu of Frankenweenie on the TV.

Kon smiles and makes his way to the coffee table, placing down the treats. He doesn’t miss the way Tim’s eyes widen at the sight of them and the way his mouth drops open.

“I know that you’ve had a rough day, and to try and brighten it up I made your favourite. As well as the pie I made hot chocolate too, even added those marshmallows you like so much.”

There’s a moment of silence between them as they stare at one another. It stretches on long enough that Kon begins to doubt his actions. Maybe he had pushed too far?

However before those thoughts could go any further, they were instantly derailed when Tim lunges at him and captures him in a hug. Kon relaxes, his arms immediately circling his boyfriend. Tim pulls back after a few seconds and look up at Kon with wide eyes and a bright smile.

“You always brighten my day no matter what. I love coming home to you after a grilling day at the office. This is amazing, thank you so much Kon.” He finishes speaking by pressing a loving kiss to Kon’s lips.

Kon smiles back, relieved that he hadn’t over stepped. “I want you to be happy. Now come on, lets cuddle on the couch, eat our deserts and watch the film before calling it a night.”

[sparkleofpizza]

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 5/?

Requested: no

Warnings: Death, blood, cursing, mentions of Arrow tv show

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000 @malfoys-demigod @n1ghtsh4d3-67

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake

Word count: 2.999

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

The wind was harsh against the skin on the cold autumn night, the trees's leaves kept making the same noise. The dirty floor was cold against your knees as you haplessly stared at the man in front of you. Your head was still dizzy from the car coming to an abrupt halt a few minutes ago, making you hit your head hard. There was a few drops of blood coming out from the cut on your forehead.

Oliver was yelling something, staring down the man in front of you with pure hatred and disgust in his face. He too had his hands tied, trying to brake free from the ropes around his wrists. Your brother took a glance at you, his face only hardening even more as he saw the fear in your eyes.

You stared at your mom, also on her knees in front of you. 

What was going on?

Before you could even process it fully, a sword ripped trough her chest, making her completely fall on the floor. You think you screamed, you couldn't really remember it. Oliver yelled something as you watched the blood pull around your knees and your mom's lifeless eyes stare down at you.

You adverted your gaze, watching Slade Wilson give you a sly smirk before disappearing in the shadows. 

You sat up abruptly on the bed, sweat dripping off your forehead as your chest rises and falls quickly in heavy breaths. Your hands were shaking.

"Pretty bird, hey..." Tim grabbed your hands, making you look at him "It's ok, it's ok. I'm here."

You allowed him to embrace you in his arms, caressing your hair softly and whispering sweet words in your ear. You gripped his shirt into your fists, letting a sob rack your body. You hated, hated, when you had nightmares about the night your mom was murdered right in front of you. You still remembered if vividly, how you couldn't properly sleep for weeks and that Roy would sit wit you awake playing video game with you, just trying to cheer you up, how Oliver closed himself up until Dinah pointed out to him that drifting away from you was doing no good to the both of you. 

"I'm s-sorry." you hiccuped, breaking free from the hug "Did I wake you up?"

"You don't have to apologize." Tim smiled at you, his eyes showing concern, his hands wiped away your tears "Do you want to talk about it?"

You looked away. Tim already had so much to deal with, and here you were disturbing his sleep and making him worry about you. There are other things to be worried about right now, such as the massacre at the Casino two nights ago, and lots of other cases to deal with. 

"Hey, don't give me this look." He pulled you even closer, you rested your head on the crock of his neck "You can talk to me about anything you want. You are not bothering me."

You sighted "I just had a nightmare about the night my mom died. I know its been years, but I still remember watching Slade..." your breath got caught up in tour throat 

"It's ok, you don't have to say anything else." he kissed your forehead "Do you want anything? Some tea or watch tv? Anything and we'll do it together."

You smiled against his neck. He truly was an incredible person. You shook your head, slipping your arms around his torso and inhaling his perfume.

You and Tim had been at his room watching a movie when you started falling asleep. You decided it wouldn't be a bad thing to sleep next to him again, so you just lied in his bed and allowed sleep to hug you. What you didn't expect was to have a nightmare and wake up the boy who so desperately needed to sleep. 

"Let's go back to sleep." you suggested, pulling away from him and ready to leave his bed when he grabbed your arm pulling you back, your back hitting the mattress as he hovered above you

"Where do you think you're going?" he frowned, staring down at you

You felt your cheeks heat up with how close your faces were, if you moved your head just a bit, you could kiss his lips.

"To my bedroom. I already woke you up, I don't want to risk it having another nightmare and waking you again."

"No. You're not sleeping alone after having had a nightmare." he shook his head "I don't care if you wake me up again, I know how bad nightmares can be. I want to be here for you."

His hands cradled your face, gently running his thumb over your bottom lip. You stared at him, waiting for his next move. Your heart beating like crazy inside your ribcage.

He leaned down a bit, lips just about to brush. Tim hesitated, was it ok to kiss you right now? He didn't want you to think he was taking advantage of your fragile state, but then your lips met him halfway there.

He hummed in contentment when your hands found his hair, letting your fingers massage his scalp. He angled your head so he could slip his tongue inside your mouth, tasting your toothpaste. The kiss was sweet and nice, everything you needed right now, and everything you've been expecting since the almost kiss at the batcave a few weeks ago. 

When you two pulled apart, you both had matching grins on your faces. 

"I'll stay." you said "I want to be here for you, too."

Tim smiled, pecking your lips two more times, before lying down beside you. He tugged at your waist, pulling you closer to his body. You curled yourself around him, enjoining his warmth and the safe feeling you got with his arms around you. 

Dick was blabbing about something you couldn't quiet comprehend. After having woken up almost at the time you should be up for class, you are pretty tired after three two hour lectures. You were sitting at the counter on the Wayne Manor kitchen, drinking some coffee and trying to keep up with what he was saying.

Tim seemed to understand him pretty well, he stayed up the whole night even after you had fallen asleep, just making sure you were alright. That was very sweet of him, but did too little not to make your heart ache knowing today his lack of sleep was because of you. Your boyfriend (or so you hoped to be boyfriend) was way better at going trough his day without sleeping properly, or sleeping at all. You, on the other hand, were feeling a bit cranky and you doubted that had only to do with the fact that you didn't sleep very well. 

At one of your lectures, you met this really stupid boy that didn't seem to know when to shut up. Also, he thought it was ok to catcall you, even after you told him you had a boyfriend and asked him to back off. That only infuriated you further, and being a Queen meant you were a public figure, hanging out with the Waynes only made you be even more on the spotlight, so you couldn't punch him and break his nose unless you wanted end up on the headlines of every gossip blog out there. 

You looked up from your third cup of coffee in time to see a man walk into the kitchen right beside Bruce. You'd know that face anywhere, even if it was a bit bruised.

"Oliver!" you exclaimed, jumping out of your sit and into your brother's arms "You're back! I thought you said you wouldn't be back until next week."

He chuckled, hugging you back.

"Well, the mission was cut short." he patted your back, you let go of him, inspecting him real close "I missed you, kiddo."

"Are you hurt? What was the mission about? And, I missed you too."

Oliver smiled down at you, but you weren't going to let him out with just a smile. You wanted to know what the mission was and why he didn't take you with him. 

"We'll talk later, in private." 

You nodded, watching him move around you to say hello to Dick and Tim. 

You looked over at your boyfriend-not-boyfriend and saw his wide eyes stare back at you. You had to bit back a smile, he was nervous to see your brother, even if they had met before. 

"Ah, Tim. It's good to see you again." Oliver said, patting him a bit harshly on the shoulder "I heard you and my sister have been getting along just fine."

Oh boy. Who ratted you out? You bet it was Jason who gossiped about it with Roy who snitched you out to your brother before you even got the chance to tell him yourself. When you see that man, he won't even a chance to think about the arrow flying his way.

"Hi, Oliver. It's nice to see you too." Tim smiled thought his distress "Yeah, me and y/n have been getting a long just fine, she's amazing, impossible not to like."

Your brother seemed satisfied with the answer, for now. You know he will come back once he hears more details coming from you. For now, just letting Tim know he knows was enough to say I am her big brother and I've got my eyes on you. At least, he didn't pull up an interesting scary fact about his archery like he did when you met Bart Allen - all the poor boy did was compliment your outfit.

You smiled at Tim once he glanced back at you, his shoulders seemed to relax. You resumed to your place beside him, quietly slipping your hand into his under the table, squeezing it to let him know it was alright and he did a good job at shooing your brother away from making more awkward questions.

"I have some League business to discuss with Bruce, but once we're done, we can go out for dinner." Oliver said, smoothing your hair and smiling at you 

"Sure. I'll see you soon." you smiled back at him

The two older man left the room, leaving you alone with the Wayne boys one more time.

"That was so adorable, you told Oliver about you and Tim!" Dick exclaimed, he placed his elbow on the table, leaning his face over his hand "So tell me, what is exactly going on between you two?"

You frowned "I haven't told Oliver anything yet, someone blabbed it out to him before I could."

Dick frowned back. 

"Ok. So you can practice by telling me." He smiled again

Tim shook his head, pulling you off your sit and dragging you out of the kitchen. 

"What is going on between us is none of your business, Dick." He called over his shoulder, dragging you up the stairs and into your room

He closed the door behind you, sitting on your bed and staring at you. You frowned, sitting beside him.

"What's going on?" you questioned him

Tim sighted, shifting in bed so he could look better at you. You eyed him apprehensive, not knowing what to expect from his sudden atitude. 

"I, uh." He stuttered a bit before taking a deep breath "I think I am falling in love with you. I really want to do this with you, us, I want us to be in a relationship."

You smiled at his words, leaning in until your lips touched in a sweet kiss. That was all you wanted to hear from him for a while now. You were glad his feelings were going in the same direction as yours. When you pulled apart, you were still smiling while he had his eyes closed, still amazed by the kiss.

"Yes, I want this too."

The Big Belly Burger smelled like fries and ice cream. You were sitting in a booth at the far end of the fast food restaurant with your brother right in front of you, and big burger, fries and milkshakes. You two were finally having some sibling quality time after he'd been away for two months straight. 

"So... Are you going to tell me everything now?"

"You sure are curious." he laughed, shaking his head "I know this doesn't look like the place to have such a serious conversation, but I thought a scenario like this could be good for what I have to tell you."

You became wary of what he was going to tell you. What could've happened that was so bad? You sure had been trough a lot of bad situations since he became the Green Arrow, you were traumatized for most part because you were very young in some of the things that happened, but you did learn how to deal with it. This is just Oliver being a big brother.

"I am guessing you remember the whole Ninth Circle thing with Emiko and all." he started

You nodded your head, of course you remembered everything. That little shit you call sister tried to kill you all.

When Emiko first showed up you were delighted you had a sister, then you were a bit weirded out you had a sister, then you were sad your father had had an affair with this woman called Shado and proceeded to hid the fact that he had another kid. Emiko had to live trough a lot of shit just because your dad didn't have the guts to tell your mom and everyone else that he had another daughter. 

Shado hated your father for it, for turning his back you her and their daughter. She was part of this secret organization called the Ninth Circle and formed the perfect plan to kill you and your brother. She sent Emiko to infiltrated your lives and then kill you both, but fortunately, your sister was against her mother's ideas and forged Oliver's death for a while just to lure her out so you all could fight her. 

That all happened nearly a year and a half ago, ever since the Ninth Circle has been silent as hell. Of course, you were a bit suspicious as to why they haven't tried to retaliate yet, but you sure weren't going to complain having a bit of peace in your life, that's until the massacre at the Casino three nights ago.

"You were on a mission investigation them? Is that why you took Emiko and not me?" you questioned, assuming this is were the conversation was leading to

"Yes." Oliver nodded his head "Ever since finding out Malcom was involved with them as well, I assumed it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep a close eye on him, that led us to finding out some of the locations they have meetings. We've been following this lead for the past two months."”

You frowned "And you think they didn't realize it?"

"Well, yeah, that's were I got this black eye from. But we did manage to get some useful informations on them."

"Such as...?"

That's when his posture changed. Oliver suddenly wasn't telling you just a normal mission like he always does. It was something bigger, something more that you didn't know what to expect. 

"We got into their data base and found out the list of the members and former members of the organization."

You smiled "Oliver, that's great. Why are you sounding like it is so bad?"

He sighted "Because this is one of the names we found on the list."

He slid a paper towards you trough the table. It had a very long list of names, some of them were highlighted in pink, which made you realize it was people you knew. But then it struck to you, right by the end of the paper was a name you didn't think you'd ever read in a list like this.

Moira Queen.

Your throat was dry and it felt like the whole world stopped spinning for a few seconds before it all came crashing down into you.

Ok, maybe she was part of it before everything else. Maybe it was all Malcom's fault, they were friends before she died, maybe he persuaded her into associating herself with them. There was no way your mom would do that. 

You blabbed your thoughts out loud to your brother, hoping he would nod and you two could laugh awkwardly about it and then move on with the investigating as if that information meant nothing. 

"She's alive, Y/n."

Oh well, that was so much worse than reading her name on the list and your previous thoughts. 

"That's not possible! That's... That's impossible, Oliver!" you said in disbelief "I saw her die, I watched Slade rip her chest with his sword. There is no way that mom is alive."

"I know, I know this sounds absurd, but it is true." he kept his calm while you were freaking out "I saw her, Y/nn, I talked to her."

You shook your head, chocking on your breath as you swallowed your tears. 

"No, mom is not part of this. She had nothing to do with the Casino slaughter."

He didn't question you what you were talking about, he probably talked to Bruce about this earlier while they were discussing the League business.

"She is, unfortunately she is." he said in a soft tone "The whole League of Assassins stuff was her idea, she suggested to Malcom for you to be held as the prize and be taken to the League with him for training. She wants us by her side, even if Shado says no, we are her children. Mom wants us to be part of it."

You shook your head.

"You're not going to treat mom like a criminal."

"She is acting like one, Y/n."

You abruptly left the table. This was too much to take all at once.

"Don't you dare follow me." you hissed as you left the establishment 

You wanted to scream so badly. 

[neworleansspecial]

Summary: Nancy isn’t coping after Tim’s death

Warnings: implied alcohol abuse, suicide attempt, ptsd, emeto

WC: 4.5k // AO3

Tags: @heartofmarjan​ @bristrandd​ @blakestrand126​ @fedoralaura11

-

Nancy has to be dragged away from Tim.

She tries to work on him, save him, do something for him, even if it’s already too late by the time they follow Owen’s scream to Tim’s body, pinned beneath a massive piece of ejecta. Nancy drops to her knees by his side and grabs for it with her gloved hands.  When she can’t move it, when her gloves begin to melt into her skin, she peels them off her burned hands and feels frantically for his pulse. 

“Starting compressions,” she cries, getting up on her knees, but she doesn’t know where to put her hands. The ejecta had initially covered Tim’s chest, right where she would do CPR, but has since melted through his body to singe and sink into the dirt. She thinks she might be screaming when she grabs Tim’s scorched face and tries to wake him up.

She cries, she screams, desperate to help him, desperate for someone to do something, until Owen says something and Paul and Judd grab her arms to pull her away. She fights them. Of course she does, because she’s a Goddamn paramedic and she needs to get to Tim to save him, but they’re both holding her back as Marjan and TK move to block her view. There’s tears in their eyes. They have no right to cry when they won’t let her see him, help him. Save him. She has to save him. 

“No!”

Owen stands in front of her so that all she can see is his worn face and blue eyes, not Tim. Not even the people blocking Tim. Just him, and he puts his gloved hands on her shoulders above Judd and Paul’s hands. 

“Nancy,” he says gently, “there’s nothing we can do. We’re going back to the station now, okay? Let Tommy patch up your hands on the way.”

“We can’t leave him!”

“There’s nothing we can do,” he repeats. “Judd, drive the ambulance?”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

Usually Tim drives. Nancy makes an inhuman wail and doubles over, only held up by Paul and Judd’s strong grip, until they carefully lower her to the dirt. She claws at her face in her grief, desperate to feel something, until they seize above her burned wrists and hold her still so she can’t hurt herself anymore. 

“Breathe, Nancy,” Tommy says as she kneels in front of her. She has her medical bag. Did she have that when they came over and found Tim? Why didn’t she help? “It looks like second degree burns, you’ll need to go to the ER, but I’ll get it all cleaned up and bandaged for you.”

“Tim needs to go to the hospital,” Nancy counters. 

No one responds to her.

She stares down at her hands as Paul holds her right still for Tommy to rinse with saline and wrap heavily in cool white gauze until she can’t move her hand at all. Paul steadies her left. She’s been made useless as they guide her to the back of the ambulance, where Tommy helps her onto the gurney and sits beside her as Judd goes to start the engine. Everything is very quiet. Nancy prefers this to fake condolences when they wouldn’t let her see or help Tim, and curls up on her side on the gurney so she doesn’t have to look at Tommy. 

“There was nothing we could do,” Tommy says. 

“I think I’m tired of hearing that.”

They drive for a long while, to the point that Nancy realizes they’re at a clinic and not the station. “It’ll be faster than the ERs,” Judd says when he opens the doors. He and Tommy help Nancy down from the gurney and the truck bay, and lead her into the clinic. They stay with her while she’s seen. She’s given medicated ointment, painkillers, and antibiotics, as well as a fresh dressing on her burned hands. Looking at them, they remind her too much of Tim’s skin and she has to turn away. 

Then they take the ambulance back to the station, where Nancy has to meet with Owen and the department chief and tell them what she saw. What she did. They all stare at the bandages on her hands the whole time. Finally, she’s allowed to go sit with the rest of the crew and hold a pillow to her chest while they talk. 

She says they should have saved him. Worked on him. Helped him. 

“There wasn’t enough of him left to work on,” Judd says sadly. 

She wants to hit him. Instead, she throws the pillow at him and goes to clean out Tim’s locker because no one else will. It’ll be difficult with her hands, but it isn’t as if anyone else will do it. No one really cared about her and Tim except for Michelle, and she’s not here anymore. 

Oh God, Nancy has to tell Michelle. No one else will think to call her. 

She carefully takes down all of Tim’s hoodies, a feat made difficult by her bandaged hands, and cries until Tommy comes to help, and promises to look after Buster. She also offers to drive Nancy home, something which she has no choice but to accept since she can’t drive with her burned hands. She doesn’t want to be comforted. This is something which Tommy seems to sense. There is no radio, no speaking. No nothing. 

When they get to Nancy’s house, she hands over her phone with sad eyes. 

“Can you call Michelle for me? I need to tell her.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Tommy says. 

She helps Nancy out of the car and into the house, fiddling with the keys much slower than Nancy is usually able to do this, and lets her in. 

“Do you need anything else tonight?”

Nancy shakes her head. She wants a shower, but she can’t take one with the bandages like this and refuses to ask for help with that. After a long moment, Tommy leaves. Now, Nancy is completely alone, and she collapses on the floor to sob. 

The next morning, she wakes up to a knock at the door. Nancy fumbles with the lock and the knob for a moment before opening it to see Michelle, red-eyed and somber. “I thought we could both use some company.” In her arms are grocery bags full of ice cream and tequila, so Nancy steps to the side to let her in. 

Michelle eyes the hand shaped bruises on Nancy’s biceps from the restraint, but doesn’t say anything. Instead she sets up two glasses full of tequila and spoons for the ice cream on the couch, with a soft offering of help if Nancy needs it. This feels like breakup protocol, but cold ice cream and hard liquor don’t seem like such a bad idea to soothe the burn inside of Nancy’s chest at the loss. For her, there is no grace period in which it doesn’t seem real. She touched his body. She burned her hands trying to help him. She could not save him.

“Owen tells me they had to pull you away.”

“I had to try and save him.”

“I would’ve done the same.”

Nancy manages to get the glass to her mouth and drains it all in one go. Michelle wordlessly refills it. They will likely get fucked up, and pass out on the couch, but it’s not as though Nancy has anywhere to go. Everyone got a few days off for the grief, and Nancy has a couple weeks while her hands heal. She’s lucky she doesn’t need grafts or it would be longer. Instead, she’ll simply get blisters and pus for a while, and then it’ll turn into scars spanning the entirety of her palms.

“Who’s taking care of Buster?” Michelle asks. 

“The new captain took him in. I think she feels guilty.”

“She should. She lost someone.”

They pretend it’s fair to blame Tommy, because that’s easier than blaming no one, and Michelle starts drinking straight from the tequila bottle. Luckily there’s another, which Nancy begins to do the same from. It burns going down in a new sort of way, but Nancy loves the sting of it and the way her head begins to get too fuzzy to really feel sad anymore. She falls asleep next to Michelle and wakes up alone.

Tim’s funeral comes a week later, when the firefighters of the 126 are out fighting some wildfire. None of them come home to attend. Nancy, whose hands are somewhat healed and require much less thick bandaging, is able to dress herself and pull her hair out of her face before she goes. She wears sensible flats instead of heels because Tim always said she walked like a baby deer in her heels. This is true. She thinks it would honor his memory to stand up straight and serene rather than stumbling and losing her balance like a drunkard. 

The thought reminds her that Michelle has left some alcohol in the house for her, so she hunts down the bright pink bottle of fruity vodka and brings it to her lips. Drinking doesn’t burn as much as it used to, and she downs the equivalent of four shots with ease, licking the remnants off her lips after. It will make the funeral easier to bear. Then she goes out and sits on her front porch, under the bright blue and unfairly sunny sky, and waits for Tommy, who promised to drive her. 

Tim’s family will be at the funeral, Nancy realizes, and the thought terrifies her. They’re going to ask her why she didn’t do more to save him, and she will simply look at her burned hands and shrug because she has no answer. She did all she was able before she was stopped. Part of her knows, rationally, that there was nothing to do; Tim was dead before she got to him, they say, but most of her believes there was something she could have done. Anything, really. She doesn’t believe herself to be blameless in this, and she doesn’t expect others to believe it either. 

“How are you doing?” Tommy asks in that gentle voice that everyone who called Nancy with condolences has used. “Been sleeping okay?”

“Fine.”

Tommy doesn’t comment on her unusually brusque behavior, which is good, because Nancy is too exhausted and hurt to try to put on the niceties and act like she hasn’t been on a small bender between drinking and her painkillers for the last few days. Michelle has been kind enough to stop by a couple more times, so the two of them could grieve together. Unlike the current 126, Michelle will be coming to the funeral. 

When Nancy and Tommy arrive, she gets out of the car and joins Tim’s family. They had asked her to be a pallbearer, and though it broke her heart, she said no. She can’t carry his corpse to the grave. There is a large procession, given the times, and Nancy takes Michelle’s hand while two police cars lead the funeral procession. Four paramedics from another house, people who vaguely knew Tim, carry his casket. Their white masks look so awful compared to the dress blues everyone wears for the occasion. 

Her own feel too itchy and tight without Tim beside her to make a joke, and Michelle leans close to whisper in her ear. She expects reassurance. Instead, Michelle murmurs, “Have you been drinking?”

Nancy doesn’t bother to respond. Of course she’s been drinking. Her best friend is gone, and without him, she doesn’t know how she can ever walk into the firehouse again. She doesn’t know how she can live again. It feels like the past few days, she’s been wading through glue, waiting for some miracle news that Tim is alright. 

He’s not. 

The tears come quietly instead of the loud, ugly sobs she’s suffered through recently. Michelle squeezes her hand. Tommy takes the other and holds on tight. Between the two of them, they attempt to anchor her, but it feels too much like being dragged away, so she lets go and crosses her arms protectively in front of her chest.

Her eyes burn and her cheeks wet her mask while the procession goes on, ending with Tim’s flag being taken off the coffin and handed to his mother so he can be buried. This is it. There is finality in his burial, proof that he will never ever be coming back. The feelings of the past week all hit at once and Nancy’s legs give out. Michelle and Tommy have to hold her up. Though she doesn’t much want to be touched or held in any capacity, she allows them so she can stand through Tim’s funeral, and leans against Michelle when it’s over. 

“Let it out,” Michelle says, and the sobs come once more. They’re the same ugly, desperate things as the night it happened, but no one is cruel enough to accuse her of theatrics. Thank God. She couldn’t handle her pain being questioned right now, she knows, and it’s lucky that Michelle shoos away anyone who comes to ask. She seems to sense how fragile Nancy feels right now. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright.”

“No, it’s not! He’s dead!”

Everyone quiets at her shout, and Michelle guides her away from the crowds to grieve in peace, if there is such a thing in a world without Tim. 

It’s another two weeks before Nancy is cleared to return to duty, although part of her wants to just stay home rather than go to a firehouse where Tim no longer works. Still, she puts on her uniform and pulls back her hair to drive herself, something she hasn’t done since she was injured. She needs to go grocery shopping, she thinks, but it doesn’t seem very important in the wake of the past few weeks. 

She’s vaguely hungry when she parks and walks into the firehouse, especially once she smells the pancakes Paul is making and the nice syrup Marjan has cracked open. “We made a little welcome back breakfast,” Mateo explains. He’s dusted with flour. “Pancakes with the good syrup from Cap’s farmer’s market, and powdered sugar, and raspberries, your favorite!”

Raspberries were never her favorite. She ate them voraciously as an inside joke with Tim, who was really the one to like them. Nancy forces a smile and a thanks even though she feels hollow inside. Judd asks if she wants a hug and she says no. His arms will remind her too much of that night, and she can’t afford to break in front of everyone any more than she already has. She’s too sober for this. She can’t drink on the job, though. So instead she sits down with the team for a delicious breakfast that she can tell they poured a lot of love into. 

It tastes like sawdust. 

She eats it anyways though. Judd gives her a second helping, which she carefully picks through to make it look like she has more than she does. They all usually take seconds, sometimes thirds, because of how much energy the job takes. Everyone else certainly has plenty. Tommy gives her a look. Nancy looks back and gets up to scrape her plate into the trash. They don’t put her on dish duty today. 

Marjan follows Nancy to the rec room and sits beside her on the couch. They don’t speak. It’s much easier to be quietly upset than it is to talk about what losing Tim felt like, which Nancy knows everyone will be asking. She completely broke down in front of all of them, and regardless of how rational that may have been, she doesn’t want to contend with trying to relive all the agony when she’s just learning to push it down with lots of alcohol and little sleep.

“Do you have nightmares?” she asks Marjan. 

“Sometimes. They’ve gotten worse since… I dream of him, as I’m sure you do.”

“Every time I close my eyes.”

Marjan nods and holds out her hand. Nancy takes it, only because she doesn’t know what else to do, and revels in the small amount of comfort for as long as Marjan will give it to her. It’s nice to just have something instead of being asked if she’s alright, or instructed to talk about the death of a loved one. Owen wants Nancy to go to a department counselor to talk about it, but she imagines that unleashing the beast will only make things that much worse. She doesn’t want to deal with letting that monster out of its box any more than she already has. 

 The two of them stay together in a heavy silence after that until the bell rings, and Nancy rushes to the ambulance in the bay. She goes to hoist herself into the truck, passenger side, and her heart stops. 

Tim isn’t here to drive the ambulance. 

She freezes until Tommy comes up behind her and places a hand on her back. 

“You alright, Gillian?”

“Fine.”

Nancy goes to the other side of the truck and pulls herself into the cabin, having to briefly adjust the seat for her longer legs before she can drive. It feels like erasing Tim from the ambulance. It feels like abandonment. But she does it nonetheless, and ignores the tears that wet her cheeks as she pulls out of the bay to follow the fire trucks. Tommy sits beside her, when there’s no patient in the back of the ambulance, and luckily doesn’t comment on Nancy crying. It hasn’t been long since Tim’s death. She thinks she’s allowed this. 

When they pull up to the call, it’s at a pool, because of course it is. Some little kid slipped and fell, breaking her leg and hitting her head. It’s broad daylight and nowhere near as hot as it was that night, and the pool is a classic neighborhood rather than a rooftop. It’s not the same at all. But it’s close enough that Nancy freezes up completely. All she can think about is Tim’s body next to that kid on a backboard.

“Gillian.”

Nancy shakes her head and goes to kneel beside the patient to help Tommy. The fracture isn’t too bad, but the head injury is bleeding a lot. Head injuries do. Nancy secures a c-collar over the child’s neck and gently feels the injury on the back of the head. 

“Six inch lac,” she reports to Tommy. “Minor swelling.”

She avoids looking at the pool because it hurts to think about. So she focuses on the child, someone she can save, and pushes all her emotions as far down as she possibly can to make this easier. 

They load the child up onto the stretcher and her mother joins Tommy in the back of the ambulance. Once again, Nancy faces the daunting task of sitting in Tim’s seat and doing his job, but much to her surprise and upset, she doesn’t feel it as strongly. That in of itself is a betrayal. Of course she drives, does what she’s supposed to, but it’s too easy in a way that makes her want to throw herself out of the car entirely. 

The rest of the shift is the same, and as it gets easier to get behind the wheel of the ambulance without crying, Nancy hates herself a little bit more. She shouldn’t be forgetting him so soon. She wants to slam her face into the lockers and remember his laugh and think about her best friend as he was alive, not the night he died. All her memories of him are too heavily tainted by the sight of his corpse and it simply isn’t fair. 

She starts drinking more, though she’s careful not to drink before she has to be on shift. It is the only time in which she gets any peace of mind, any quiet to her thoughts. She’s willing to do whatever it takes to ease the pain, and this helps. She doesn’t go out to the bar with the squad, because she knows they’ll notice her drinking too much and mourning Tim’s absence, instead going home to drown her sorrows in solitude. 

She takes a lot of baths, too, and realizes one night when she nearly passes out in the water that she could have died. Such a thought ought to scare her, but instead it brings a strange amount of relief. If she’s dead, she won’t have to be in pain anymore. On a logical level, she recognizes the danger of this feeling, and she wants to tell someone. She wants someone, anyone, even Tommy to see how badly she’s spiraling, but at the same time, she doesn’t want anyone to know until it’s too late to do anything about it. 

That night, she sits on her bed with a bottle of pills and a decanter of whiskey and considers it. This is the coward’s way out, and there is nothing here to make her remember Tim in her last breaths. These few weeks without him have been hell and she just wishes she could tell him one more time how much she loves him and what his friendship meant to her. He was her world at work. Her best friend. Her lifeline. She doesn’t know if she ever told him any of those things, but at least now she’ll get the chance to. 

Nancy makes a plan.

She writes out her suicide note on her computer, double spaced, and prints it out before folding it up and putting it in a sealed envelope. It is short. Most of it is words to Tim she wishes he could read, but some of it is taken up by apologies to her firehouse and a brief explanation of the agony she’s been in for so long. She tucks it into her backpack instead of her cell phone when she goes to work, and irons her slacks an extra time before pulling them on. It will be her final dress, after all. Nancy plasters on a smile and forces herself to just be normal when she gets to the station and everyone says hello.

Paul watches her. She thinks he knows something is wrong, but they aren’t close enough for him to say anything to her. Besides, he reminds her of that night when she looks at his hands and thinks about the way they felt on her arm, pulling her away from Tim.

Instead of sitting down to breakfast with the others, she goes to the bunks and lays down on the bed that used to be Tim’s. It hasn’t been his in weeks, and the other shift uses the same beds as them anyways, but it feels like connection when she lays down on the soft mattress and cracks open two bottles. 

She takes ten pills four times, chasing them each time with vodka snuck in via her backpack. It’ll take time to kill her, but hopefully she can die before a call comes in and someone runs looking for her to get up on the ambulance and come with. She will not drive Tim’s ambulance again. 

Nancy peels back the covers and curls up under them, content to die warm and safe. The pill bottle and the rest of the tequila sit proudly on the nightstand beside her suicide note and she realizes she’s at peace. She doesn’t mind dying. It’s a respite from the pain, but it is also the ending of a book at just the right time. All her storylines are complete. Her life is at its natural conclusion. 

“Hey Nancy, Cap wanted me to-”

She looks at Mateo. He looks at her. He looks at the bottles on the nightstand and the note ready to be read and turns and runs right back out of the room. He’s getting help. She covers her face and sobs. This isn’t fair. They’re going to make her throw up the pills and take her to the hospital, where she’ll be treated whether she likes it or not.  

Tommy comes in with her medical bag, Owen and Mateo flanking her. The others must have been told to stay away. She pulls out her blood pressure cuff and reaches for Nancy’s arm, only for Nancy to pull away and draw her knees up to her chest. Owen picks up the pill bottle and reads out the drug and dosage to Tommy.

“How many did you take?” Tommy asks her. 

“I refuse treatment.”

“She’s a threat to her own safety,” Owen says. “Treat her anyway.”

“I refuse treatment,” Nancy repeats, and scrambles away when Tommy reaches for her again. “Don’t touch me.”

Owen watches her nearly fall off the bed. “Mateo.”

“Captain, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tommy interjects.”

“Got a better one?”

So Tommy nods at Mateo, who grabs her arms and holds her down against the bed. Her heart is pounding. She screams no, tries to throw him off of her, does anything to be able to escape this just as she did the night Judd and Paul held her back, but Mateo is stronger than her and has more leverage. Nancy screams and thrashes the entire time they take her vitals. She cries when they drag her out of the room and to the gurney where she’s strapped down with soft restraints in front of everyone. The weight of their eyes is just as heavy as Mateo’s weight on her body had been. 

Tommy sits in the back of the ambulance with her and stares at her as she takes rapid, panicked breaths. During the drive, Nancy starts to feel dizzy with the pills, and thanks God that she might die before they get to the hospital. She should have slit her wrists, she thinks. It would have been faster. Maybe even successful before she was found. 

“I need you to stay awake, Nancy,” Tommy tells her.

“Fuck off.”

She’d never normally say such a thing to her captain, but she’s angry and ready to die, tied down to a gurney in the back of an ambulance and waiting for the meds to do their job. Nancy purposefully ignores Tommy’s speech about how precious life is and how many people love her, tuning it out in favor of the dull hum at the back of her mind that’s slowly rising. She wants it to overtake her. She’s ready for it. 

Unfortunately, she’s still mostly awake when they arrive at the hospital. She shuts her eyes and tries to calm herself down, fake dead so they leave her alone, but that just earns a doctor rubbing painfully against her sternum to rouse her. 

“Nancy? My name is Dr. Reese, I need you to open your eyes for me.”

Nancy shakes her head, which makes her feel sick. She gags. Her stomach is rebelling against the drugs she took, or maybe they put something in her IV that makes her throw up, because she’s suddenly leaning over a blue bedpan and throwing up bile. 

She’ll survive this attempt.

She’ll try again.

[blackberrydothings]

Duke Thomas vs the non-verbal vocabulary

Duke Week (but like a week later) of @duketectivecomics day 6: All in the Batfamily.

Summary: When Duke joined the family he knew he would have to learn lots of things, including survival skills and where Alfred hides the cookies. He never thought that he would need to master the unspoken language that lies under every action of the bats.

Or

Duke finds himself trying to understand his new family’s ways of communication, until he starts doing the same.

Notes: sorry for being late!  wanted to make this fic without dialogue but gave up at the first try. If u see any mistake, u can go ahead and tell me, my English is far from perfect. Well, that’s all, thanks for reading! (I don’t own any of these characters, they belong to dc comics and that stuff)

….

The sun is setting when Duke arrives at the cave after a long but quiet day, his body aching for a nap or one of Alfred’s meals, whatever comes first. 

If it weren’t for the blue light coming from the computer and the sound of typing he would have thought that the place was empty. But Duke can distinguish Bruce profile from where he stands, taking off his helmet. The older man is sitting without his cowl, his posture the one of someone who is trying not to fall asleep. The bags under his eyes a confirmation that Duke does not need. 

“Long day in Wayne Enterprises?” He tries as an attempt at small conversation. As usual, it does not work. Bruce gives him a side glance and murmurs something to himself, not bothering to clarify what it was. Even so, he notices the man relaxing a little in his presence, which Duke counts as a win. 

He knows that he can’t fool anyone (much less the Batman) but he takes longer to put his things aside, pretending that he has to stay in the cave a little more time than necessary. When there is not any excuse left, he heads towards the exit. Bruce has not spoken or abandoned his position in front of the computer yet, an open case in front of his eyes. 

“Have you ever thought about going on patrols during the day? You know, for a better sleep schedule.” Duke asks, fully aware of the answer and when Bruce gives him a grunt, he has to suppress a laugh.

He is too far away to listen when in a low voice, the man answers: “It would ruin the aesthetic.”

….

Alfred, as the omnipotent force that Duke has started to think that he is, is there when someone from the family needs him. But even so, he is always surprised to find the man in the kitchen making him breakfast. 

Duke is usually already on his senses at six in the morning, and a few minutes later he is going downstairs, more often than not passing by one of the other bats, still dressed up and yawning. When he arrives at his destination, Alfred is there with a relaxed pose, like waiting for him. 

“Morning, Alf” Duke says while offering his help, just for the man to deny it. It takes a few seconds to be ready but then Duke is drinking his hot chocolate with a smile on his face. 

“Did you sleep well, Master Duke?” Alfred asks while sitting down at his side. It is a rare sight, given the fact that the man is always doing something, and Duke is secretly proud to be able to see him like that, when there are no immediate worries or tasks. 

“As good as one can ask for.” Duke shrugs and then adds “Eight full hours tho.”

“Four more than the average in this house.” The man says, and Duke is not sure if it is the morning or the words itselves, but he laughs. 

The silence that follows is comfortable, and neither of them has a wish to interrupt it. They keep each other company until Duke finishes his breakfast, and when he has to go, Alfred stands up offering a warm smile, before he also starts with his day. 

….

Duke hates nightmares. 

Yes, he fights criminals on a daily basis, he knows pretty well how to manage Two-Face or the Penguin, but nightmares are another type of monster all together. And he hates them. 

They often start as good dreams, the kind of dreams that makes you want to stay asleep, but also the kind of ones where you do not want to realise it is not real. And that does not help Duke when they transform into madness and chaos. When the images of a happy childhood become the picture of a broken family, and the laughs coming from his parents stop fitting them. 

But there is something that Duke hates more than nightmares: waking up from them. Waking up, alone in a bed that is not the one from his home, is just a reminder that there is nothing untrue about his dreams. That he has his parents, but that their minds had gone far away. 

He adjusts in his bed while trying to suppress a sob when he realises that he is not alone this time. Duke should be surprised that Dick is laying on top of his mattress like it is his own, but he is not. In fact, it is more of a common occurrence around the Manor to find more than one bat sleeping in a single space (yes, that includes Bruce); but them appearing in the middle of the night to Duke’s, well, that’s not as common. 

“Couldn’t sleep, yours was closer, I hope you don’t mind” Dick’s eyes remain closed but he speaks in a voice that is too clear to be sleepy. Duke knows he is lying, his rooms are not even on the same floor, but decides not to comment on it. 

“Sure” he answers, and something in the back of his mind relaxes. He might not know if Dick really wanted company or if he has some older-brother-sense that warns him when someone needs him, but he is not complaining. 

Duke’s nightmares won’t go, but he has a family. He is not alone.  

….

Wayne Manor has a library big enough to entertain yourself for months, and Duke has spent several hours on its quietness. But there are days, just like this one, when he prefers to go to the public one, where the things do not seem so immaculate and he is not afraid of stepping on something. 

As almost everything in Gotham, the public library is old, with high ceilings and large corridors that Duke is pretty sure could lead to the underground if he gets too distracted. Dirt gathers on top of the shelves with books never touched, and the light coming from the large windows gives an ethereal aura to the place. 

Duke has been looking for something to read for the last hour, four books placed on one of the tables near his bag, but none of them caught his attention for more than a few minutes. He is already sitting down with a fifth on his hand when he notices a movement at his right. A figure that Duke recognizes appears with their own books and takes a place next to him. 

Jason looks extremely calm when he nods towards Duke as a greeting, like he belongs in the library and its silence more than anywhere else. It is an interesting sight to contrast with his usual booming and alert self.

They stay like that a few more moments, until Duke groans tiredly when the fifth book ends up being as boring as the other four. He is ready to get up once more when he hears a soft laugh coming from Jason. As soon as Duke looks at him he realises that his brother is offering him a book from his pile, a face that might say “I dare you”. Duke is not someone who would back out from an unspoken dare, so he takes it. 

It is apparently an old collection of poems, the cover is worn out and some of the pages have notes in a neat handwriting that must be Jason’s. If it weren’t because he was the one who offered it, Duke would feel like he is intruding. He starts reading. 

Duke spends the rest of the afternoon in the library, with a silent companion. 

….

It is three in the afternoon and the cave is empty. 

Duke has been looking at the ceiling for the last half an hour while trying to tie up the loose ends of a case that had gone cold a week ago. He got it yesterday morning when the Police Department desisted from keeping an investigation, probably remembering that they could send it to one of the bats. 

He has the feeling that helping in cold cases happened more often in the daytime than in the night, where the Police Department (and Gordon) were already used to having the extra help, or were already resigned to it. There are a limited number of times of the Batman appearing in the middle of a crime scene before you get used to it, after all. 

At least three other files were gathered beside him in the pile of “solved”, and its results were already sent to the Police Department (and to the batcomputer record). It was the fourth case that was starting to give him a headache. A young man had been found dead in his home by heart attack, no history of any heart disease in his family. The only clue is a combination of substances that were not part of any known drug. 

Duke hears the steps of someone coming down to the cave, and by the way they move he can bet it is Tim. He looks towards the sound and confirms his suspicions, he catches the grunt that comes from his brother as a greeting before he sits down in front of the computer. He is ready to focus again on his task when Tim speaks, on a tired yet alert voice. 

“Why did you upload this to the computer?” Tim is pointing at the list of substances that Duke looked for just a few minutes ago. Without result.

“A cold case.” 

Tim mutters something under his breath and starts typing with quick movements. The silence seems to be filled with it for the next minutes, while Duke keeps an interested eye on his file. Confusion is shown on his face when, with his powers help, he identifies something flying towards him. He catches the pencil that Tim sends his way with his right hand, and watches it intensely.  

“You know, if you wanted my attention you could have just said something.” Duke comments when he does not find any other reason why Tim would throw him a pencil. His brother, once more, mutters something while asking for Duke to get closer with a movement of his hand. 

When he does it, Duke notices that three files are open on the computer: Duke’s current case, the components of a pill that he does not identify and a new tab in which Tim seems to be working on. He also notes that some of the substances of his case appear on the other two. 

“Okay, I am getting it, but how did you…?”

“Last night patrol, some new drug in town. Apparently it is getting popular between university students that want to keep awake for finals.” Tim answers with a shrug, and before he gets to drink more of the coffee he has on the table, Duke takes it. “Hey, I am helping you.”

“Well, I am returning the favor. Go to sleep, Tim.”

Tim complains about betrayal and annoying members of his family. Duke does not care, he has time to insist, his case is solved after all. 

….

Duke likes Steph. 

When he joined the family, she was the easiest to get along. The majority of them acted nice, but they were also pretty much disinterested, not even batting an eye towards him. It took Duke a long time to realise that sometimes the bats were just like that: silent. Steph, on the other hand, always had something to say, and for Duke that was the little bit of normalcy that he needed. 

He might never admit it, but he suspects that the other reason they got along from the beginning was because neither of them was sure of their places in the family. Yes, for sure they belonged to it, but for completely different reasons they were at the edge of it. 

So, already gotten used to her randomness, it was not even weird when she offered to go on a daytime patrol with him. Duke liked the company, so he accepted, and every once in a while since then he finds himself with the voice of a purple vigilante on his coms. 

“No, don’t take the avenue. It is going to be crowded.” Duke warns when Steph informs him of an armed robbery on Gotham City Bank. 

“Crowded? Of what?” her voice comes muffled by her mask and the white noise. 

“Of people? And their vehicles?” Duke says in his most obvious voice, and then he realises. Without even trying to suppress the smile, he clarifies “You know, people are outside now, going to work and stuff, it is the middle of the day.” Steph does not answer. 

When the day is getting over they sit on a rooftop enjoying the view of a safer Gotham, even when they both know that the night will be as dangerous as always. Steph has been complaining about how impossible it is to hide in the daytime, and Duke has been trying to explain to her how that is kind of the point. 

Duke likes Steph, and loves listening to her speak, but as any other bat, the things that she does not fully say are the one that he appreciates the most. 

….

The sun has setted a few minutes ago and not many people are still in the Manor. Duke has been moving from doing his homework and watching the movie that is being played on the TV. Now that he thinks about it, he should turn off the thing.

He gets startled when Cass appears from the darkness itself and sits down next to him. He has been getting used to her sudden entrances since they started working together more often with the Outsiders, but he was pretty sure that she was not even in the house. 

“How…? Weren’t you on patrol?”

“Changed day with Tim” she says, without further explanation, looking at the papers in his hand and then at the movie, she keeps silent while the screen shows the image of a vast space “What is that?”

“Hmn, that’s Star Trek. This is my math homework.” 

“Star Trek?” she asks while spelling the words with her hands, then just using sign language adds “A space travel documentary?”

“No, no. It’s a movie, a really impressive one. It’s about a futuristic society where…” Duke starts explaining but thinks better of it “But not as impressive now that we have a Superman. You never watched it?”

Cass denies it with her head, and Duke starts telling her the basics while she gets comfortable by his side. She seems confused by some of the things he enthusiastically describes, but she listens nonetheless. A few minutes later they are both watching the movie, homework forgotten. At some given moment Cass nudges him. 

“Other day, you dance. With me.”

Duke smiles, he would like that. 

….

Silence fills his room and Duke is ready to turn off the light and call it a day when he hears the knocks on his door. Damian does not even wait for his response and opens it. 

“Thomas” he says, and his voice sounds mildly annoyed “I am in need of your assistance.”

Duke gives him a questioning look. Damian is not dressed for patrol, and if Duke is not wrong, this has to be his free night. So saying he is surprised by the request is an understatement. But the kid does not explain, instead he turns around and goes back to the corridor. Duke gets up and follows him.

Damian is already going downstairs when Duke gets to him. It must be a weird sight, he thinks, a child all formally dressed at ten in the evening, while the teenager is in his pajamas trying to suppress a yawn. But Duke does not have time to share his thoughts when they arrive at their destination. 

Damian opens the door to one of the many rooms of the Manor, and waits for Duke to enter. If it weren’t because he is pretty sure that the kid at least estimates him, he would be worried. The only two things in the room are an easel and a stool. Damian gets closer to them, and Duke once more follows. 

Now that he sees the easel better, he can discern a pencil drawing on a white canvas. It looks extremely similar to the outside of the Manor. Damian seems relaxed by his side but he can tell that the kid is nervous. Of what, Duke is not sure. 

“Did you draw it? Because it looks amazing.” Damian unsurprisingly does not answer, but he looks to truly relax this time, and Duke is tempted to assure him once more, even when he knows that the kid would dismiss him. Dick older brother’s vibes must be getting to him. 

“It is not finished. I still have to paint it.” Damian clarifies, then, like it hurts him like hell, adds “Your help with the lighting would be… appreciated.” 

It is not a request, more of an obligation, but Duke still acts surprised for a few seconds. He looks again at the painting, he is not sure of being able to tell how the lights actually work, but Damian still looks interested in his opinion. So he explains, he shows all the points where it can come, and how that would affect the whole picture. Duke must admit that he feels pretty dumb doing it, he might have light related powers but he has no idea how to paint, but still, he finishes his overview. 

Damian seems to be in deep thinking for a few seconds, then he nods towards Duke and gives a glance to the door. Of course.

“Your presence is not required anymore” the younger one says. 

“Yeah, almost didn’t notice” Duke murmurs while heading to the door, but thinks that he was able to catch the shadow of a smile on the kid’s face. That will have to be enough. 

….

It was half past six in the morning and Duke was tired. No, he was exhausted. 

Yesterday was a long day, without even counting the meta that has been trying to destroy the Gotham City Museum. Duke has been falling behind with his schoolwork, and the attack has not helped him. Besides, he did not remember about the delivery of an essay for his literature class until midnight, when he started to write it. Not being able to fall asleep before five in the morning was what Duke would put in the cons of being a vigilante. Having to wake up early on the morning was a con of being a daytime vigilante. Both of those things happening on the same day was what he would call a fucking bad day. 

Duke is yawning while he goes downstairs, already suited up and hoping that all of Gotham’s rogues had a night as long as his and won’t be going around the city. For the first time in weeks he is considering drinking coffee instead of his usual chocolate, maybe Alfred actually knows a way of making it tastier. 

He is arriving at the kitchen when he feels it, not because of some bat-sense, but because he hears the loud voices. He opens the door and knows it: Duke lied, the bats are not silent. They can be difficult to read, they might not be good at explaining their feelings, but silent can’t be a word to describe them when they are together. They are loud and dramatic. Duke loves it, but not when he had a long night. Just like today. 

They are all here, still suited up and with sleep deprived faces. Jason’s helmet is on the floor near the door, and the man himself has one arm up in the air grasping a mobile phone, the other holding Dick back, who seems to be trying to get his device again. Both of them are mocking the other with high pitched voices that do not really fit them. Duke is pretty sure that they would have tackled one another if it weren’t for Bruce, standing in the middle of the pair, each hand on their shoulders, but not really doing something to help any side. He has a small but genuine smile on his face. 

Cass is suppressing a yawn while she eats pancakes, she is listening attentively to Steph, who is doing wide gestures to tell a story about an old lady that tried to convince her to date  her nephew. Steph has bags under her eyes and a band-aid on her jaw that seems to be from last night, but still explains the story as it is the most interesting thing of the week. Duke makes a reminder of asking later. 

Damian is sitting in front of Cass with a similar expression. He has Alfred (the cat) on his lap, and Duke can see that he is still wearing his suit pants under a two sizes bigger hoodie that probably belongs to Jason. His cape and domino mask are on a pile at his feet painted with a weird substance that Duke prefers not to know. He looks half annoyed and half amused. 

Duke notices that for the first time Tim looks to be drinking an orange juice instead of a coffee, being the only one not suited nor ready to fall asleep. Tim, of all people. Behind him Alfred is making something (Duke bets that more pancakes), and seems to be the only one to spot him on the door. They exchange a smile (well, the old man gives a smile, Duke a panicked expression), before he resolves that he can get breakfast in some place in the city. Having had a long day and night means that he does not have to put up with all his family this early in the morning, he decides. Duke is going backwards when he hears Damian’s voice.

“Thomas is here” he announces. Damn kid. 

They all stop mid-action and look at him. Bruce clears his throat and gives a step back, probably wanting to come back to his professional persona and failing when he almost trips with his cape. That gets a snicker from all of them, except for Jason who laughs freely. Bruce, with his most poker face, pretends nothing happened. Duke is tempted to remind him that he already knows his not Batman self.  

“You must start your patrol on Gotham Harbor” he reports “We got information that a new drug shipment will arrive in less than an hour, Black Mask henchmen will be there. They will not expect someone in broad daylight.” 

“We found some clues leading to a recently abandoned Scarecrow’s hideout, he might attack before sunset.” Steph adds, pointing at her and Dick with her finger. 

“Poison Ivy is trying some new substance” Damian warns while giving a side glance to his cape. “Might want to prove it.”

Duke looks at them with his most deadpan expression, his body is aching for a rest that he will not get. Well, there it goes his quiet day without rogues. He groans in frustration. 

Everyone understands. 

[panevanbuckley]

Omg the ship game. If you aren't busy, can you do all of them for Boyd/Raylan? (That is, if it's not too time consuming for you.) ❤️

omg hun ily of course i can do my idiot kentucky husbands!! ❤ it's not time consuming at all, i love doing these and i'm too tired to write my fic prompts tonight 😅

raylan x boyd:

proposes: boyd! he's a romantic idiot and raylan secretly loves it. it's nothing huge, just something sweet and small for them two alone but he says some dumb sentimental things that have raylan almost crying (almost! raylan doesn't cry!) and it's super cute

shops for groceries: boyd...i mean, raylan eats ice cream for breakfast okay he is in no way mature enough to buy groceries that will a) last a week and b) make any actual decent meals

kills the spiders: raylan. badass bitch stomps on them with his boots and boyd pretends not to feel sorry for the poor thing

comes home drunk at 3am: raylan. he's always drinking and getting drunk and tim is such a bad influence on him, they'll stay out for hours on end after work sometimes

remembers to feed the fish: boyd, he's actually super good with pets. i stand by my headcanon that they get a cat and it's boyd's baby

initiates duets: boyd. also standing by my headcanon of young boyd pulling raylan into cute little dances and singing (albeit not well)

falls asleep first: raylan. he passes out almost anywhere, the couch, sprawled over boyd, in the passenger seat, you name it. boyd has trouble sleeping most nights but gods does it melt his heart when raylan nuzzles into his lap and starts to snore. he'll just continue reading his book, carding his fingers into raylan's hair

plans spontaneous trips: boyd! this boy loves spur-of-the-moment roadtrips and taking random turns on trips to and from lexington to find new places

wakes the other up at 3am demanding pancakes: raylan (usually if he's been drinking) and boyd will groan but probably do it because he does anything for this idiot

sends the other unsolicited nudes: boyd. he's a tease when he wants to be and unexpected nudes during the middle of the day are the perfect way to rile his man up

brags about knowing karate even though they never made it past yellow belt: raylan! of course! and both tim and boyd are constantly annoyed by it

comes to a complete halt outside bakeries/candy shops: raylan!! boy has a sweet-tooth and we all know it and boyd will totally buy him a load of things from there too just to see his adorable smile

blows sarcastic kisses after doing ridiculous shit: raylan, he's annoyingly sarcastic and flirty when he tries and boyd absolutely loves it. one time he gets mildly hurt on a case and boyd comes rushing to the back of the ambulance where he's being stitched up and raylan just winks and blows him a kiss like he isn't getting patched up and covered in blood. boyd hates him in that moment but is also overwhelmed with relief and love for the man and just pulls him into a hug (everyone else watching be damned)

killed the guy (also, which hid the body): both!! they both kill the guy and hide the body, no question about it

wears the least clothing around the house: raylan. his love for clothes is nothing like boyd's and once he's home he strips his shirt off and walks around without a care in the world

has icky sentimental moments for no apparent reason: boyd. again, he's a hopeless romantic and loves spontaneously spoiling raylan in sweet moments

send me a pairing and i’ll tell you who....

[joeyjoeylee]

Top 10 Male Characters

I was tagged by @purplemagic​ and @jade-marie​ and what a gift not to have to focus on work or writing but instead concentrate on finding gifs of smoking hot non-disappointing dudes.  

1.     Corporal Dwayne Hicks (Aliens)

Maybe the perfect man.  Quiet, funny, respectful, lethal, will jump through a glass wall to rescue you and the random kid the two of you are going to adopt after all this is over, and can fall asleep anywhere.  Also, just say the word, he will waste your slimy nemesis, no problem.  For real, a true formative influence of my youth.  Just look at his face here!  So proud and happy that his almost-girlfriend is such a badass.  

2.     Max Rockatansky (Mad Max:  Fury Road)

There’s so much to say here but what can I say that hasn’t already been said by @feministmadmax​.  (Nothing, they’ve already said it all and perfectly.)

3.     Tim Riggins (Friday Night Lights)

Yes, the Smart Woman’s choice is Matt Saracen and the Mature Woman’s choice is Coach Taylor, but who wants to be smart or mature.  Look at this face.  And the way he looks at Lyla Garrity kills me dead.  I reject any canon universe that has him and Tyra tiredly falling back together as the only two left in town.  REJECT, I SAY.

4.     John Creasy (Man on Fire)

The most badass of the 10 for sure.  Gives zero fucks and WILL shoot a rocket launcher at you in the middle of a crowded street, put an explosive up your butt while you’re tied to a car under an overpass, or cut off your fingers and cauterize them with a car cigarette lighter.  But, like, with style, you know?  The single-minded purpose, world-weary attitude, and protective father vibes are overwhelming.  Also, he looks like Denzel so is therefore irresistible.  

5.     Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

I love the theme throughout the books and show of grumpy loner super warrior Geralt literally and figuratively at the mercy of all the women he comes across, from Renfri and the striga to Calanthe, Yennefer, and soon to be Ciri.  Even his horse is a girl and she also gives him shit.  Amazing.

6.     Ben Wyatt (Parks & Rec)

A literal man genius with a taut, narrow frame like a sexy elf king.  Enough said.

7.     Sam Hanna (NCIS:  LA)

Trapped between angsty Callan and goofy Deeks is perfect man Sam Hanna. Perfect friend, perfect partner, perfect agent, perfect husband.  Look how tired he is here, yet still being so supportive.  He can’t NOT be supportive.  Also, I like when he punches people and his arms bunch up.

8.     Thor (MCU)

A literal god.  Always worthy.  The scene where he’s rescued by the Guardians and they all take turns drooling over him while simultaneously dragging Peter Quill sends me.  I want him to take over the Guardians in GOTG3 and boot Star Lord, please let this happen.

9.    Fitzwilliam Darcy (Pride & Prejudice)

He’s perfection in every scene in the 2005 movie but the scene where he proposes in the rain is god-tier.  The wet clothes and hair plastered to him!  The baffling choices he makes when declaring his love (”Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?”)!  The pointed looking at her lips while he leans in!  Elizabeth’s bosom is LITERALLY heaving and how could it not.   

10.    Jason Mendoza (The Good Place)

Perhaps not the most intellectual but hands down, he would be the most fun (Jacksonville?  Molotov cocktails?  Hanging out with Dance Dance Resolution and Donkey Doug?).  And those cheekbones.  He is a golden retriever in human form.   

I feel like everyone has either been tagged or has done it already?  If not, please do this and tag me so I can procrastinate some more, I beg of you.

[timbers]

{ For The Sleepy Ones }

Name: Timothy Jackson Drake

Ethnicity: Asian American

Residence: Gotham

Average hours of sleep: Ranges from 3 to 6 hours daily until he crashes for what he calls his ‘mini coma’. It’s not that he doesn’t want to sleep, it’s just that he has such bad anxiety that he just can’t calm down enough to do it. 

Type of bed: He owns a hybrid queen sized mattress made specifically to help promote muscle recovery and keep you cool since he tends to run fairly hot when he’s asleep. Basically one of the best mattresses money can buy. 

Amount of blankets: A sheet and maybe a blanket that always ends up on the floor while he’s sleeping. 

Amount of pillows: He’s started to sleep with more pillows on the bed to make it a little more comfier and squishy

Type of clothing: Boxers and a t-shirt preferred, but really he can and has slept in anything from his Robin suit, to a full on tuxedo

Do they sleep with company?: No

Do they sleep with plushies?: No

Do they sleep better with company?: It doesn’t matter. 

Does it matter where they sleep?: No. He’ll fall asleep anywhere from rooftops to roller coasters

Frequent dreams, nightmares?: Nightmares are a lot more frequent than dreams, when he does have dreams they are weird enough to mess with him for a little bit. Sometimes his dreams get so bad or weird that he just will do what he can to stay awake even longer. 

What do they do if they cannot fall asleep?: Tim rarely puts aside the time to sleep when he feels like he has something he should be working on. If it wasn’t for that anxiety and rush to get everything done as quick as possible, he’d have absolutely no trouble falling asleep. He falls asleep fast when he wants to. But when he can’t sleep, he’ll work on cases, check in on friends and family, do some research or organize some files. Something to make him feel useful. 

Deep slumber or naps?: Naps

When do they wake up?: If a nightmare doesn’t wake him up, his anxiety will. Two hours before his alarm. Sometimes he’ll be woken up by another vigilante if he worked himself too hard and went out in the field. Since being out on his own he’s a lot more careful about falling asleep in a random spot in Gotham

When do they sleep?: When he is tired enough. Usually in the afternoon

What could wake them up?: When he falls asleep he is a heavy sleeper. Not much will wake him up unless you are actively trying to wake him up by shaking him and shouting his name. His dreams will also wake him up. 

Tagged by: @jp-todd-rp​ Thanks! Any opportunity to touch on Tim and his sleeping habits I’m all there for it!  

Tagging: Whoever wants it! Go for it

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 26

Concussions

Ao3

Summary: Damian wakes up to find he's being buried alive. Of course, the first thing he does is call Dick.

For the lovely and talented @preciousthingsareprecious <3

-o-o-o-o-

Damian wakes up to pounding. A pounding head. A pounding body. A pounding thudding of something heavy at an inconsistent rate above him.

He groans and tries to shift, but he doesn't get anywhere for a number of reasons. For one, his pounding head. For two… wherever he is, it is very cramped. 

He cracks open his eyes to pure darkness. With a groan, he moves his arm around the tight space around him to reach for his head. When his fingers touch the back of his skull, they come away wet. He winces. He rubs the tips of his fingers together and carefully begins to stretch his body to try and figure out… just what kind of situation he's landed himself in. One thing becomes crystal clear rather quickly, even with his massive headache. 

He's in some sort of box: a wooden box at that, laying on his side next to something lumpy. Above him, the pounding sounds which closely resemble the ricochet of marbles bouncing on tile becomes more and more muffled with every beat.

With a flash of panic, Damian remembers what’s led him to this situation. 

In a fit of adrenalin, he turns to his back and forces himself to ignore the body beside him, slamming his hands against the lid of the coffin as two murderers bury him alive. 

His brain spins with the action, and it's all he can do to press on the coffin lid with his bare hands and knees. There's not enough room to use his feet. 

The lid opens a little, and immediately dirt tries to enter the coffin; some of it lands in his face. He splutters, moves his face, then presses again. 

"LET ME OUT!" He shouts. 

The pounding of dirt slamming down on top of him stops for just a moment. Just a moment long enough for one of his abductors to swear. "He's still alive?!"

"Just keep going, he'll die soon whether he struggles or not-"

The pounding of shovels dropping dirt down on top of him continues, and Damian's forced to stop pressing on the lid as more and more dirt lands in the small space. 

It's already cramped enough in here, with the dead body wrapped in a moving tarp after all. 

Damian forces himself to keep a steady breath as his vision spins. His head really hurts, especially laying on his back like this. That one guy really got him good. Damian will be feeling that for a long time. 

A long time, that is, if he manages to get out of this alive.

He reaches into his pockets with one hand and uses the other to cradle his aching skull. With every passing second, the stress of being buried alive is just making the pain more and more intense. Thankfully though, his hands grasp onto his phone. It seems like these murderers really did think they killed him and just plopped him into the same coffin as their previous victim without even bothering to go through his pockets, civilian clothes and all. 

When he turns on his phone, he immediately winces and cringes away from the stabbing light. Squinting through involuntary tears, he reaches up and turns down the brightness… just to find it was already most of the way down. He rubs his eyes with one hand then uses mostly muscle memory to get to the phone app. He presses the number he's most recently talked to because everything is so blurry and he can't find it in himself to try and actually focus on the squiggling letters and numbers. He can't know for sure if the number he's calling isn't a spam number or not… and he wonders briefly if this is what Richard's dyslexia is like. 

He presses the phone to his ear and closes his eyes, trying to calm his breath and maybe calm the pounding in his skull in the process. The dial tone is so loud. He doesn't remember setting it this loud. 

Shockingly though, the phone picks up on the second ring, so he doesn't have to suffer it long. 

He just has to suffer a new kind of loudness when Richard's voice practically screeches through the speakers. 

"Damian?! Where the hell-"

Damian releases a small breath of relief as Richard continues to yell at him for… disappearing. That… that's right.. Damian was supposed to call the moment he got… somewhere...

The sound of dirt falling on top of him is gone. There's no voices. No shoves stabbing the earth. 

Just Richard's… oh yeah. Richard is yelling at him. 

"-amian anwer me-"

He sounds frantic. Damian bites his lip and then takes a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the stabbing pressure still persistently digging into the back of his skull. 

"Richard," he says. Or slurs. Or something in-between. Either way, he doesn't sound as okay as he was hoping he would. Before Richard's shouting could rise an octave because of that, Damian continues. "I'm... in trouble. Please don't shout…"

And that does the trick. Richard immediately takes a calming breath on his end, and when he speaks his voice is firm, but gentle. 

It still aches in Damian's skull, but at least it's not as bad as before. 

"Dames, what's wrong? Where-"

"I don't know where… where I am… I'm…" Damian chokes down a grunt as the pain spikes. He clutches the phone so hard in his hands that his knuckle bones must surely be showing white. "C'n you track my phone?"

"We already are," Richard soothes, and Damian let's himself relax ever so slightly. "Can you give anything that can help us?" 

Damian almost shakes his head, but then that would make the pain worse. It would also be pointless because he's talking over the phone.

"No… I can't…"

"That's okay, you're doing great. What about the trouble? Are you safe?" 

"I'm..." and it suddenly crashes into Damian that he's just been buried alive. He's trapped multiple feet undergoing in a tight space next to a corpse with blood at the back of his head and the taste of dirt in his mouth. He almost wants to cry. He presses against the lid of the coffin and it doesn't budge. "I've…"

"Dames?"

Everything hurts so badly. He can barely whisper. "I'm in a coffin. They buried me alive."

Richard gasps. As does another voice, somewhere in the background. Damian realizes that Richard had said we. Damian might be on speakerphone right now. Who knows how many members of his family are listening in right now.

Listening in to Damian being weak. 

He takes a deep, pathetically shaking breath. "Richard?"

"I'm here, Dami," Richard replies immediately. "Jesus… I'm here. I just… how are you holding up- wait don't talk too much. You need to preserve your air and- just sit tight. We're zeroing in on your location as we speak..."

Damian closes his eyes and breathes in his nose and out his mouth. He thinks of all the training he's had, and how he does—in fact—know how to dig himself out of a grave. The only issue right now though is what's definitely a concussion attacking the back of his head and the body he's still pressed up against. It's a tight fit inside coffins even without added company. If he tries to dig himself out, there won't be anywhere he can shove the dirt, and he will surely suffocate. 

Drown in earth. 

Down here forever, like a seed that never grew. Stuck. Planted to die and be forgotten about. A shard of pain spikes in his chest.

"Richard-" he gasps without meaning to. It's so quiet, but so loud and painful all at the same time. 

"I'm here," Richard immediately replies. "We're narrowing down your phone signals, Tim and Cass are already heading towards-"

Damian bites his lip to stop himself from letting out what definitely feels like a coming sob.

"All you need to do is watch your breathing okay? We'll find you. Hey, why don't you try breathing with me? How-"

"No." Damian snaps before he can stop himself. Richard falls silent and Damian wants to scream. "Talk. Just... Just talk. I'm..."

Hurting? Aching? Suffering from a concussion? Slowly running out of air? Afraid?

"Please. Just talk."

"Okay. Okay, I can do that. No problem, Dami."

Damian can hear the strained, forced smile in his voice. 

But that's fine, because Richard immediately launches into one of his old stories about his lifelong friends, the original Teen Titans. Damian relaxes his hand pressing the phone against his ear and let's the speaker fall ever so slightly. His hand rests lightly against the corpse… he can feel the roundness of their shoulders and the bulge of a chest. But he forces himself to ignore it all in favor of just... listening to something that isn't cold, unforgiving death. 

However, just breathing and relaxing like this… it seems to do just as much harm as talking, but in a whole new way. 

He's tired. His head really hurts. He's horribly aware of how harder it is to breathe the more time passes. 

But mostly tired. So tired that he doesn't think he can open his eyes again even if he tried. He knows it's bad to fall asleep with a concussion… but right now it's just so tempting. He's sure if he fell asleep now, it will be dreamless. If he falls asleep now, then he'll wake up to the coffin being unburied and him being rescued.

He almost falls into temptation right then and there, but then he becomes aware of someone shouting his name.

"Hmm?" He asks, and Richard exhales sharply. 

"You need to stay up with me, Dames."

"I know…" Damian replies, but he doesn't bother to try and open his eyes. "M Just tired. Head hurts."

"Your head hurts?"

Damian nods, then immediately regrets it as the pain flairs. He gasps and tightens his grasp on the phone. Fighting back tears he tries to explain. "Got hit… shovel."

Richard curses. "I thought you were just going to a friends house… how did this happen?" 

It wasn't a friend's house. It was a classmate's, but it's pretty common for Richard to get excited whenever Damian spends time with children his own age, even if it's just for a English project. 

Damian was going to their house. They only lived a few blocks from the school. But then… something he can't quite recall had him walking towards one of the main roads nearby. There was a… bridge that went over some sort of abandoned parking garage. He went inside, saw… he saw someone… the woman! He saw the woman get killed, and before he could do anything about it the back of his head was smashed in hard enough for him to be barely conscious by the time he hit the ground. 

He wants to explain all of this to Richard. But it's all he can do to keep the phone pressed to his ear and force his eyes to open.

"M'sorry," he mumbles. Because it's the only thing he can work up the energy to say… especially with the air ever so slowly getting thicker and thicker, causing his head to throb with increasing intensity with every passing breath. He can feel the pulse of his heart in his temples. 

Will he die here? No… no he can't. Richard is looking for him and Timothy and Cassandra are searching the radius of his phone's signal. Surely, Barbara must be the one behind searching for his signal. Father must be as well. They're looking for Damian. He won't die here. 

He refuses to die here. 

”-ey, Damian!" 

Damian blinks, startling as Richard's almost panicked voice reaches his ears once again. "Wh-what?"

"Dames... I really need you to try and stay awake, okay? Listen to my voice."

There's a wobble in his tone. Damian’s put that there. 

He realizes he must have missed something said to him to cause Richard such panic. 

"We're so close to finding you, Dames. Just… just stay awake, okay?"

Damian doesn't have the energy to even accidentally nod. So instead, he hums, and listens as Richard slowly goes back into his Teen.Titams story, stopping and telling Damian to tap the phones mic every so often to prove he's still awake.

Damian does for as long as he can. He forces his eyes open, he shifts, he pinches his arms. He even imagines the voices of each character in Richard's stories. Yet, somehow, against his will, he keeps finding himself forcing his eyes open without even realizing that he's let them close in the first place. 

It's getting very difficult to breathe. So much so that through the haze of his muddled, barely able to focus mind, he notices that Richard pauses every time Damian accidentally lets out a traitorous gasp for air. 

It's beginning to smell badly down here too. It's not helping the headache or the slowly growing nausea. He doesn't know if it's the body besides him... or if it's his mind playing tricks on him. 

He's been trapped in coffins before. Yet none of them have actually been buried. 

Or well, the one time he was in a buried coffin he was actually dead. 

But, regardless of that, Damian can say that this is the most terrifying thing he's been through in a long time. Especially because he can feel his own consciousness fading. He can feel the strength in his fingers reducing. He can feel his chest beginning to rival the pain at the back of his head. 

How much longer before he's breathing in more carbon-monoxide than oxygen? How much longer until he's suffocating on his own recycled air?

His phone falls from his cheek and he stares blankly at the lid above him. For a second,.he imagines dying down here. He imagines being found too late. He imagines the grave being dug up to find two corpses. The lid being inspected to find not a single scratch from desperate fingernails. 

The children at his school told him about a famous ghost and how she died like this. Damian knows Bloody Mary is simply superstition and has no proof of reality, but in these dark, trapped moments he can definitely relate to her fear. Her panic. What she must have felt in her last moments. The anger and terror that kept her soul tethered to the earth. 

He can vaguely hear his name being shouted. But he can't breathe. His head hurts. His eyes really want to close. 

He gasps, and gasps, and doesn't bother to try and find his dropped phone as Richard's voice dips into a strange, disconnected kind of terror. If Timothy and Cassandra haven't arrived by now, then surely they must not be coming at all. 

"I'm- I'm sorry-" he wheezes.

He can see black spots in his vision, even in the darkness of the coffin. 

It soon becomes too hard to listen to Richard scream for him. Too difficult to keep his eyes open. Too taxing to keep his brain thinking. Too demanding to stay awake. 

He slips into unconsciousness, and the pain slips too. 

-o-o-o-o-

He awakens to numbness, trapped in heavy blankets and tied down with wires and sensors. There's something very heavy tied around his face like a muzzle. For a horrifying second, that's what he thinks it is. Panicked, he attempts to grab at what's on his face, but his hands stay weighed down—in both weakness and… and something wrapping around his wrists.

His eyes creek open, and he finds himself squinting and wincing away even in what's clearly dim, soft lighting. He blinks a few tears from his face and looks down at where his hands should be.

Both of them are trapped in a bigger hand. A familiar hand. One Damian could trace the calluses of. 

Richard is beside his bed… a 

hospital bed, his head laying on the mattress near Damian's chest and his arm over Damian's stomach to hold both of his hands. Richard snores softly, and Damian realizes that he must be asleep. 

Instead of waking Richard up right away, he takes stock of his current situation. Besides what he's already found, he can say confidently now that what's on his face isn't a muzzle, but a mask, working hard to resupply his organs with the pure oxygen they need. 

Richard isn't the only person in the room as well… father is here. As well as Timothy. However, Timothy is curled up by the room's window, breathing deeply. Father sits besides him, his head leaning back and his mouth open in silent snores. 

It's so… calm. Dare Damian think domestic?

He wonders where Cassandra and Duke are. He even wonders if Jason… but he doesn't linger on it. 

Perhaps not all of them cared to see him continue to live. 

Which is fine. Damian's never expected them to like him. 

It's fine...

And… and he's crying. He desperately wants to stop crying right this second and take the pressure of the oxygen mask away from his face. But all he can do is twitch and jerk, try to shift in the impossible weight these blankets hold over him. 

Somehow though, in his struggling, he wakes Richard. Then, before he knows it, he's being tugged off from the too fluffy pillows of which he lays. His head spins from the movement, and he realizes there's tight bandages wrapped around the entirety of his skull. However, within a second he finds himself trapped in Richard's embrace. 

No… not trapped. Held. Protected. 

He clutches to Richard before he can even think to do anything else. He vaguely hears Timothy and father wake up and Timothy murmur something about letting the others know that Damian is now awake... saying something about a food court. 

They're all here. Father is here, standing off to the side with eyes so shockingly vulnerable that Damian knows he'll wonder if he’s really seen it later. The others are here, having waited for him to wake up. Richard is here, holding Damian so tightly that it causes a whole new tightness to his chest that's so much more comforting than when he couldn't breathe. 

Damian wads the back of Richard's shirt in his hands.

Just this once, Damian allows himself to be held. Be worried over. Be a child. 

Just this once, Damian let's himself cry openly and unashamed.

He's okay. He's safe now. 

A heavy hand belonging to his father finally lands on his shoulder and Damian melts into the touches. 

And he allows himself to be loved. 

[miss-choco-chips]

Twisted soulmates

BIG Thank you to @iphoenixrising who let me babble on chat about this idea, and to @the-sky-is-a-lie who is an awesome sweetheart and read and edited this for me (THANK YOU!)

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

Tim has three names on one wrist. His soulmates. Tim has one name on the other wrist. His nemesis.

...or are they?

Tim gets his first mark the night the Graysons fell, ‘Richard John Grayson’ forever tattooed on him, the otherwise unblemished white skin of his left wrist almost shining in contrast to the new addition.

Young, he might be, but not stupid; never stupid. Neither of his parents would approve of a circus artist, perfect as he may be in Tim’s wide opened eyes, so he had to be smart about this. His mind hasn’t stopped whirling since the little touch that burned Dick’s name on him and vice versa, all kind of plans on how to broach the subject with the adults, how to make Dick like him beyond the promised love of a soulmate, every possibility dancing through his eyes, while his parents look for their seats at the stands none the wiser.

He's planning on asking his mom to stay after the show, so he might properly introduce himself to this marvelous trapezist, maybe proclaim an interest in the training - anything that could improve his overall abilities was a good thing in Janet’s eyes, and having her on board would be enough to force his father to accept. He’s excited at the prospect, and a part of him thinks Dick, up the trapeze getting ready for his act, feels the same. That he could feel, through the bond that snapped in place when the other kid first touched him, an echo of his own happiness, a joy at finding, so soon in life, something as beautiful as this. 

He’s going to stay after the show. He’ll talk to Dick, introduce himself properly, be as mature as possible- Dick wouldn’t want a dumb kid as his soulmate. Maybe even make friends with this wonderful boy that can fly and is destined to love him.

(Love him, him, him. He can’t wrap his head around this strange concept of being on the receiving end of something strong and wonderful. He might cry.)

Then the tragedy occurs, and  Tim's too traumatized to think about doing anything about it. He can't pester a grieving boy with this. They are kids after all, and it’s not like their bond is going anywhere. 

(I don’t want to wait, please don’t forget about me, please love me.)

---.---

Dick has just been adopted, his entire worldview had changed, adding a soulmate to care about would be just too mean of him. Tim can take care of himself, even when sometimes, after his parents left for yet another trip, he yearns for someone to hold his hand after a nightmare. To brush his hair back and hug him.

But that’s just the child in him. He doesn’t need it to live, it’s just a silly comfort thing to wish for, like the baby blanket his mother had made the servants take away once Tim turned four. So he keeps quiet. He waits. 

Dick’s name is on his left wrist, after all. He is his soulmate.

----.----

He gets his second mark years later, when the Batcave’s security is breached and some strange men attack Bruce. The giant penny is too tall, but he still get a good look at the man below it, and something in his gut twists. It all makes sense a few minutes later, when Bruce is fighting someone else and the man in green robes pushes Tim aside, holding him hostage to get the Batman’s cooperation. 

The skin on his wrist, the one that doesn't have Dick's promised love tattooed on it, burns. He doesn’t dare look down, aware of how taking your eyes from the predator in the room could mean instant death. He doesn’t need to, anyway; he already knows.

Tim’s pretty sure this is his nemesis, because no way he'd be destined to hate Dick and love this criminal, and they are on opposite wrists. So… getting away is the first step on his ‘do not interact with this terrorist until I’m significantly better at defending myself’ plan. Easy peasy.

He catches the side glance the man shoots him, because of course he also felt the burn, and there’s curiosity there. Something akin to amusement, which, Tim can get behind, he’s also seeing the irony of this, the utterly ridiculousness of him being important enough in the grand scheme of things to warrant being tattooed on this man’s skin.

There’s also possessiveness there, which isn’t fun at all. Stranger danger, his mind screams at him.

His nemesis shouldn’t be possessive of him, unless he has a really fucked up view of his enemies, in a ‘their death is mine, and mine only’ way. Because this is his nemesis, there's no doubt in his mind of that. 

Dick is on his other wrist, after all, and he is his soulmate.

----.----

Bruce goes mental when he finds out later, and almost blows a gasket. Ra’s, as Tim later finds out his nemesis is called, is suddenly one upping the Joker on Batman’s high priority enemies list, which means only a glimpse of him anywhere near the city borders would warrant a call to Superman, Bruce’s ultimate last resort. That’s how big this is.

Young Justice has split feelings on the matter. Cissie and Cassie, ever the bloodthirsty ones in Tim’s humble opinion, suggest tracking the man down before he can get to their leader, and taking him out of the game. Probably permanently. Kon seems torn, half with the girls, half with Bart, who finds the whole thing amusing and exciting. Ra’s Al Ghul, one of the most dangerous enemies the Justice League ever faced, and little old Robin is his fated enemy. Not Superman, not Wonder Woman, not Batman himself; just their Rob. That, according to the speedster, is so, so, so crash. The rest of the team, if they have opinions, keep them to themselves. It takes a while to calm the room down and focus on their mission of the day, but he eventually succeeds.

Dick, on his part, comes back from where he was brooding with the Titans after a fight with his mentor to fret over Tim, and everything is right in the world. 

He isn't afraid of Ra's. He has his new family, new friends, and soulmate.

----.----

There’s something on his pillow when he gets back from the weekend with his friends. 

A perfect rose, white as snow, thorns so sharp Tim knows they would pierce skin if touched. Not that he would be so stupid as to do it, not when foes like Ivy existed.

But… there’s a ribbon, and it sends ice through his veins. A red ribbon, tied at the stem’s exact center. A flower with a ribbon, the universal symbol of soulmates.

He’s pretty sure Dick’s back in San Francisco. Which leaves...

No.

He squares his shoulders and searches in his bag for his Robin gauntlets, protecting his hands with them as he disposes of the rose.

His right hand stings a little through the entire process.

----.----

When he gets his third mark, he's honestly surprised. As well as on the edge of unconsciousness from blood loss.

The blood flooding his airways is his, and the building that he believed was his safe place would never feel like that again. His knocked out friends litter the hallways, the bo staff he tried to use to defend himself long lost to the fight, as this man, his hero, his Robin, his apparent Soulmate, tries to kill him.

(Their eyes meet and they feel it at the same time, the twist in their stomachs, which is what stops Jason's blade. Tim’s hand raises up, weakly, and carefully brushes against the one holding the knife. It burns, and everything goes black for a minute.) 

(Jason stops breathing. He has the Joker on one hand, and was markless on the other until now, so this runt has to be his soulmate. No way it's the deranged clown. Which means he almost....)

Jason runs away (this is Jason, his wrist claims, not the mysterious Red Hood any longer) and Tim patches himself up, does damage control with his friends, calls Batman. His heart is beating twice as fast as usual, but he tries to be logical; Jason is on the same wrist as Dick, who is his soulmate, and opposite to Ra's, who's most likely his nemesis. Ergo, Jason's gotta be his soulmate. 

His confused, probably traumatized, totally not in his right mind soulmate.

He's gotta be patient and wait. Jason surely will get better, will come back to Tim, will fix this mistake he almost made, will... will love him.

Dick is his soulmate, and calls him ‘little brother’, which hurts, but he says it with such warmth that it soothes the ache. Dick loves him. 

Jason will, too, someday.

----.----

A few weeks later, he wakes up in the middle of the night, conscious of the feeling of being watched from the shadows of his room. 

There’s the teddy bear Steph won for him at the fair some months ago, sitting on the chair near his bed where he last put it, but… odd. There’s something about it that’s not quite normal, something that wasn’t there when he went to sleep half an hour ago.

It took him less than a minute to spot it, which would still be shameful if Bruce ever found out, but he sees the unusual shine in the bear’s eye and groans, more tired than rightfully angry, feeling like the moody teenager he never actually was.

A hidden camera. This was the fifth of the year, what the hell?

Pissed off, he gets up and takes the scissors he leaves by his bedside (can’t exactly go to sleep with a birdarang there, his dad might check on him at night and freak out, but sleeping without a weapon in easy reach just makes him uncomfortable) and makes quick work of the bear, getting the device out with as minimal damage to the plushie as possible. He’ll fix it later.

Beyond done, one hand opens the window with more strength than absolutely necessary, the other flying back to gather momentum and throw the thing right at the supposedly empty shadow on the roof of the building across the street. He’s not surprised when a dark gloved hand catches it, the rest of the body still perfectly concealed by the night. Fucking ninja.

No words needed, he slams the window shut again and grumbles his way to his desk, turning on his lamp. He’s not falling asleep again tonight, so might as well work on some cases.

----.----

His fourth mark is both exciting and like a bucket of cold water. 

It's a fucking kid.

Is this how Dick felt when he first got Tim's mark? No wonder he avoided talking about the subject, this was uncomfortable as fuck. Granted, it didn't necessarily have to be a romantic soulmate, platonic soulmates were a thing too, but... still. Awkward.

Even worse because the kid didn't have another mark and, as Tim was his first, was convinced he had to be his fated nemesis. No matter how hard Tim tried to explain the opposite; after the heart stilling moment where he extended his hand for a shake and was slapped away, thus providing the skin to skin contact needed for the bond to form, the brat was sure it was nothing but a ruse to get him to lower his defenses or something. God this kid was fucked up. 

So. In short. There were two of his soulmates trying to kill him. Great. 

But... Dick was on the same wrist as them. Dick loved him. Dick was his soulmate. So Damian... Damian had to be, as well. Maybe he'd grow out if his hate, maybe it was just a phase. 

Maybe.

----.----

His mother and father were dead. Steph was dead. His two best friends were dead.

Tim was numb, going through the motions but not really feeling anything. His only source of emotion, nowadays, was his constant rage at Damian, and the adrenaline while fighting a bad guy. 

He barely slept. He couldn’t remember the last time he properly ate. The manor wasn’t comforting enough with the little assassin roaming around for him to get any shut eye, and how could Tim be sure he wasn’t going to poison his food?

Sleeping in safe houses seemed the smarter move, even when they weren’t really safe at all, judging by the ‘gifts’ that kept appearing every time he turned his back. Food - sealed and untempered with - files on whatever case he was working on, a brand of turkish coffee that he would gladly down even if it contained poison…

Flowers, hundreds of them, all white in color, tiny red ribbons tying their stems.

Tim shivered at the meaning, but no longer minded the feeling of eyes on him while he slept. Looking for hidden cameras was too much effort to be worth it, as long as there were none in the bathroom and his walk in closet. He couldn’t care less, these days. 

----.----

Jason tried to kill him. Again. In the middle of a Pit Episode, even after all Tim had done to help him, to mend their relationship.

Damian was even worse, abusing Tim any way he could, any time he got the chance to get away with it. And it was a startlingly large amount of times, considering their family should be more attentive to attempted murder. None of Tim's effort to bond ever bore fruit.

But he's still convinced they are his soulmates, so he's gotta be patient. They have to be. 

Because Dick is his soulmate, and they share a wrist.

Because Dick...

----.----

Dick betrayed him. In the worst possible way, in the most vulnerable moment of his life. When Tim needed him the most.

Jason tried to kill him. 

Damian tried to kill him.

Dick betrayed him (which was, arguably, worse).

Dick was his soulmate. Jason was his soulmate. Damian was his soulmate.

They had to be.

----.----

His quest for Batman would’ve been a lonely affair, if not for the honeyed voice whispering in his ear. The silent eyes he felt on his skin wherever he went, more heavy than his three assassin escorts’ stares.

What a crazy world it was, where Tim’s nemesis believed in him, while his first soulmate, the one he loved almost his entire life, claimed delusion. Where his nemesis sent his people to keep him alive, to keep others out of his way, while his other two sought his death.

What a crazy world indeed.

----.----

-I think we need to talk, Timothy. About this bond we share.

-I’m listening.

Timothy, he said, but it didn’t sound like his name at all. 

In his mind, it echoed something scary, something that made him shiver and tense. 

It sounded like Mine.

----.----

Ra's al Ghul was probably his soulmate. 

He's gotta be. Because there's no way Tim's fated to love three people that are just going to break his heart again and again and again.

When he goes to the League for help looking for Bruce, he steels himself in place when Ra's’ voice in his ear makes him want to flinch. He grits his teeth at the viper like words murmured in soft tones. Makes himself accept when Ra's offers to train him in the ninja arts after he successfully brought his mentor back. Clenches his fists when he's asked to dinner in a dimly lit French restaurant.

Ra's didn't retaliate when Tim blew up half his bases. He kept giving Tim pointers and praises. Seeking his company.

So he breathes in. 

He forgave Damian for being a killer, Jason for being one, too. He surely can find it in himself to forgive his actual soulmate for being a criminal. 

In time.

Right?

...Right?

----.----

Something dark and victorious twists in Ra’s chest when the Detective doesn’t flinch away from his touch, and silently accepts the white rose and red ribbon he presents before guiding him deep into the restaurant. There’s acceptance in Timothy’s eyes, reluctant but hopeful, even if he stirs away from any ‘dangerous’ topics of conversation and very firmly drops a drug test pill in his glass of water the second the waitress turns her back on them. 

Ra’s doesn’t comment on it, merely mirrors the act on his own wine (one could never be too sure, not when an enemy as interesting as this is seated across from him) before raising it for a toast. Not that the Detective was aware of the reason.

He’s got a lot to celebrate. 

Deceiving this one wasn’t easy, after all.

----.----

Later that night, alone in his room, Tim turns in the bed, his back to the cameras on the far end of the room. The movement is slow, lazy, following his usual sleeping patterns. A clumsy hand pats the mattress, blindly looking for a pillow and dragging it to his chest, face hidden by its softness. He goes lax again, peaceful and oblivious to the world around him to any lingering eye.

Once he’s sure there’s no way anyone could see him, Tim lets a slow, dangerous smile creep on his face, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeling so alive it’s almost painful after all the numbness.

Ra’s was looking so smug, like the cat that got the canary. Oh, he tried to hide it, but Tim had made it his life's mission since he was twelve to understand the man to his truest essence, to be able to read him as one would a book, and practice had taught him how to play him like a cheap kazoo.

He probably shouldn’t smile, safe as he is in hiding his face in the pillow, but he can’t help it.

Deceiving Ra’s, soulmate or not, wasn’t easy.