#I approve of everything you're doing Tim | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-cant-sing · 1 month

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Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

#rich man has weird ways of adopting kids that dont consent to adoption #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc #batfam x reader

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mochinek0 · 5 months

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Time to Go

Marinette had known since she was born that she was the only daughter of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul. She was also Damian's little sister, by three years.

When the strike on Ra's Al Ghul was taken, Talia quickly hid her away. Marinette knew her family's lives were on the line. She knew Damian would be on the front lines and prayed for his safe return. Although she knew she wasn't her grandfather's favorite, she still mourned his death. Damian seemed to take it especially hard.

Talia had told Marinette and Damian that they would be seperated for the time being. She needed Damian to go with his father to continue his training, while she picked up the pieces of the League.

"What about me, Mother?" Mari questioned.

"You will be on a mission, all of your own." Talia explained, "You're mission is to go undercover. You will act as a daughter of other people. This will keep you safe. Not many know of your existence, but I need to make sure all that wish to harm us, are gone."

"I do not approve of this." Damian snarled.

"I understand." Talia whispered, "I have folders for each of you with detailed instructions. Until you are in your new lodgings, you are not to open them."

Marinette nodded sadly and cried herself to sleep in her big brother's arms. She knew it would be a while before she saw him again. Talia gave them their moment. It hurt her dearly to tear her children apart, but Slade had to pay for his crimes. The League had to be rebuilt and become stronger than ever to give them both their inheritance. With Ra's gone, she would train Marinette to become as deadly as her, when she came of age.

Marinette smiled at the envelope in her hand.

'Another letter from mother. I wonder what my orders are this time.'

Marinette,

The time has come for your father to pick you up. He and Damian will pick you up in three days time. Prepare for his arrival.

Marinette smiled, happily. Lila had been a pain in the ass, as of late. Sabine and Tom took everything her so-called friends said at face value. They would laugh at the implications over dinner. Marinette would tell them all of the lies and how brainless the class truly was. They both knew that if Marinette was really bullying Lila, she could have done far worse. Tom and Sabine had disagreed with Adrien's decleration, but told Mairnette to keep the piece while they reached out to Talia. Only her mother's orders were absolute. If her mother said she could kill her, they wouldn't stand in her way.

"Maman. Papa." Marinette called out.

"So, what did the letter say this time?" Sabine asked.

"Father and Brother will be here in three days time to retrieve me." she answered.

"Well, let's start pulling you out of that horrible school and get ou all packed up." Tom laughed, "I'm sure they will be happy to see you."

'Damian, perhaps. Father; I don't know if he even knows of my existence. Surprise, Father.'

Bruce sighed, "What do you mean you have a sister?"

"It's just as I stated." Damian declared, "Mother has insisted it is safe to retrieve her."

"You've been talking to Talia?" Dick questioned.

"No." the young Wayne heir answered, "She gave us both instructions before we left."

Damian held up the letter.

"There are certain dates for me to open these letters." he explained, "Most of them coincide with our birthdays. Today is Marinette's; she turns fifteen."

"So where is she?" Jason asked.

"Paris, France." Damian stated, "She has been under watchful eyes and was assigned to live as a normal child. No assassin work. Grandfather wasn't too happy that he didn't have two grandsons. Mother taught her self-defense, but she helped out around, mostly as a servant. I was to ignore her if I saw her unless we were alone."

Bruce rubbed his head.

"I have already prepared another room, Sir." Alfred smiled.

"Please, don't let there be two of him." Tim pleaded as Bruce stood up and walked out of the cave to pack.

Marinette handed over her ledger of Lila Rossi to Bruce.

"The school needs to choose their staff more carefully." she spoke, "Tom and Sabine have tried stepping in with the Principal, but I bellieve the Board needs to know what is going on under their noses.

Bruce looked at it and quickly read through it.

"I agree." he snarled, "I'll be taking it with me to the board. I need to legally sign you out of that school, anyways."

Marinette turned to her brother and hugged him.

"I missed you." she whispered.

Damian said nothing, but held her close.

Tom and Sabine stood by as they watch the girl they help raise, reunite with her family. Marinette let go and realized they were holding something.

"We have a copy of all of the recipes we've made over the years." Sabine declared, "Both in the bakery and just for the house."

"Family eyes only." Tom smiled.

"Thank you." Marinette replied, taking it and holding it close to her chest.

"I will make sure it is handed over to our grandfather and he will keep it locked up and safe." Damian declared.

Tom and Sabine smiled.

"I need to take my stuff back to the school." Mari spoke up.

"Go." Damian replied, "Father should return soon. I will tell him where you are and we will meet you there. I will put your belongings in the car so we can leave immediately."

Marinette walked into class and handed her class books over to Ms. Bustier.

"Marinette, why-" Caline began to question.

"I resign as class president." Mari announced.

"What?" Caline whispered in shock.

"Marinette?" Adrien called out, "Are you okay?"

"Is this why you haven't been in school?" Alya asked.

Caline laughed awkwardly, "Marinette, I'm sure-"

"I will be leaving this school, as of today." she announced, leaving the class stunned.

"Oh, Marinette!" Lila called out, standing up, "Did I do something? I only wanted to be friends!"

"Yeah!" shouted Kim, "What the hell?"

"I'll be moving in with my birth father and older brother." Marinette stated, "Mother says it is time for me to go with them."

"Sabine kicked you out?" Adrien questioned, confused.

"Sabine and Tom are my guardians, not my parents." Mari declared, "My birth father listened to me. I have always had a keen eye for detail, as many of you know from asking me to design for them."

"Are you till going on about 'Lila stealing from you'?" Alya asked, "We know it was you who stole!"

Lila paled and sat back down in her seat.

'What?'

Marinette looked at Lila and smiled, "Why do you think Ms. Bustier doesn't want me to stop being class president? It's because I make detailed plans for all the school trips, fundraisers, plan the fire drills, and escape routes. I even know where everything in this school is, including the security cameras. I have kept a record of every lie you said sice you got here, where and when. My father turned the evidence over to the Board of Governers."

Lila's jaw dropped.

"If the cameras aren't working, then they'll just go after that gullible man. Pretty sure embezzlement won't keep him in position." Mari shrugged.

"Huh?" asked Nino.

"How many times do you think the mayor pays him to look the other way when Chloe's being a bitch?" Marinette declared.

"Excuse me!" Chloe shouted.

"Maybe Lila can lend you her hearing aids." Marinette retorted.

"This is why you're a bully." Alix glared at her.

Marinette simply smiled.

Bruce and Damian walked in. Chloe smoothed her clothes and fluffed her hair, quickly. She stood up and smiled.

"I'm-" She spoke.

"Your voice is like nails on a chalk board." Damian commanded, "Be silent."

Chloe closed her mouth and sat down in embarassment, leaving everyone speechless.

Marinette giggled, "You always did know how to make an entrance, Big Brother."

Chloe's jaw dropped.

'She's a Wayne!'

Marinette turned and smiled at Chloe, "Goodbye, Daddy's Little Princess." before turning back to her family, "Father, I am ready to return home."

"Very well." Bruce spoke.

All three of them left the class without another word. There was a lot they had to discuss. As far as Bruce knew, Marinette had no idea about him being Batman and Damian being Robin. She had grown up with some semblance of a normal life and he wanted to keep it that way.

The class looked at the door confused.

"Chloe?" whispered Sabrina.

"Shit!" Chloe screamed, slamming her fists onto the desk.

"Chloe, are you okay?" asked Kim.

"No!" she yelled back, "Do I look okay? So you know-You don't know who they are? Of course you Pea Brains, don't! That was Bruce and Damian Wayne. Which makes.....Baker Girl is one of the richest people in the world."

Lila sat in her seat, enraged.

'What?'

"What?" questioned Alya.

"They have more money than mine and Adrikins' family combined." she scoffed, "Her father could buy Daddy's hotel like it was nothing!"

"But-" whispered Mylene.

"Marinette is a Wayne." Chloe stated, "The Waynes own an international business and have their hands in everything. They are old money. Bruce Wayne practically owns a whole city and just doesn't wanna be mayor."

"What about her brother?" asked Alix.

"He's known for being violent and lashing out. He hates the press." she remarked, "One thing about him on social media and he hunts you down and sues you."

"That's illegal." Alya claimed.

"Sorry. Would you prefer to be thrown in jail or settle for a million dollars to delete what you have?" the heiress questioned, "The Wayne family is known for the high IQ and attention to detail, which means....we're all screwed."

The class learned that everything Marinette had said was true. Lila's lies were all exposed. She was expelled and taken to a juvenile detention center, ontop of being sued by various people. Principal Damocles had been fired, as he had zero authority to expell anyone. Their teacher, Caline Bustier, was fired for not doing her job. She never informed the nurse about Lila's illnesses or disabilities, so there was never any confirmation that any of those were true. She also never sent Lila any homework during her 'travels' and so she was far behind the class in her studies.

Chloe believed she was suffering the most. Adrien was no longer in school with her. The people that let her do what she wanted was removed from the school and she was being forced to sell clothes out of her closet because her mother was upset by how much she 'embarassed them' in front of the Waynes.

'Stupid Marinette! This is all her fault! If she had just acted rich, like me, everything would be the same as it always was.'

The class was in disarray. Not only had Ms. Bustier let Lila slide on so many things, she was behind on their lessons as well. They now had mandatory after school tutoring and study sessions. Adrien Agreste had been pulled out of the class due to his high marks. He was also at the level they all should have been at.

"Dude, how did you pass?" Nino asked, "We all listened to Miss Bustier! You're higher than anyone, including Max!"

"Well, I was homeschooled and Natalie was a tough teacher compared to Miss Bustier. Also, I wanted to be at the same grade level as Chloe. I sorta knew mostly everything, already." Adrien admitted, "I actually could have skipped a few grades if I wanted to."

Nino was surprised, "Would you be willing to tutor us?"

"I wish I could but the board made me take a test and Father demanded I answer every question I knew correctly." Adrien sighed, "I'll be going to high school and if I continue the way I am now, I'm set to graduate in two years."

They realized it would never be the same. Everyone else still had four or five years until they graduated.

Bruce thought that another child would tip the balance of the manor, but he was wrong. It felt like all they had been missing, was her. She adjusted perfectly to the chaos. His sons insisted that Marinette learn self-defense, at the very least. She refused to walk in their footsteps and become Robin or any other sort of vigilante. It hadn't taken long for Marinette to be announced as Bruce Wayne's daughter and Damian's long lost biological sister. Marinette had taken Gotham by storm as Gotham's Angel and was designing under a new alias: Serpentine. She was taking the fashion world by storm.

Everyone loved having Marinette around, but Damian Al-Ghul Wayne knew better. Marinette was as deceiving as their mother. She looked innocent in everything she did, but her mind was a war zone. Their grandfather never appreciated her mind, but he had gotten some of his best stealth mission ideas after talking with her. He could see her slithering into every crack in their new home. She was flexible like Grayson, loved motorcycles like Todd, talked business with Father and Drake. She even won over Alfred, Brown and Cain with her cooking and baking skills.

Damian watched as Marinette smiled at her computer. The look at the screen, the smile; it was his mother's smile. He could see Gabriel stocks were plummeting after their reunion in Paris. Style Queen was barely hovering above water. For Marinette, it was never about becoming Robin. It was about ruling the world and she was going do it through fashion.

Damian would never tell anyone, but he was scared of his little sister and he would take it to his grave. The smile that would lead anyone to death: The Arabian Helen of Troy.

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 month

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Devastation

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: You leave Tim because he takes out his frustration about a long day on you. The next day, everyone in the station can tell you're both miserable. A surprise calls sends Tim into a devastated spiral as he wonders if what he said was worth it.

Warnings: ANGST, arguments, break up, death, mentions of execution, brief fluff at the end bc Tim deserves a break

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Los Angeles is seeing an intense spike in crime rates.”

“The Los Angeles Police Department has received more calls today than in the last two months combined.”

“A new, temporary emergency line has been announced. In case of emergency and busy 9-1-1 lines, please call…”

“Nearly 5,000 police officers are on the streets of Los Angeles city limits, with more dispatched throughout the county.”

As residents lock themselves into their homes in an attempt to be protected by the crime spike, you respond to call after call with no break in between. Some of the stops you’ve made were false alarms, but you’ve also been shot at, yelled at, and engaged in two fights between those pointless stops. Though overtime was approved, you’re nearing the end of your sixteenth hour in the shop and need a break. Grey called the officers from this morning to return to the station before heading home. You only get eight hours off before you have to come back, but you’ll take what you can get.

Tim’s place is closer to the station, so you plan to go there rather than your home on the other side of the city. The more time you can find to sleep, the better. You’re sure everyone is just as tired and in need of rest, so you would like to do something special for them in the morning. If you can wake up in time, that is.

“Hi,” you greet when Tim opens his door.

He is obviously surprised to see you but invites you in any way. You thank him as you walk toward the couch.

“Can I crash here tonight? It’s closer and I’m exhausted.”

Tim scoffs before he nods. He returns to the kitchen and continues cooking as you set your bag down.

“How was your day?” you ask. “I had endless calls, so I can’t imagine how hectic it was for you.”

“Of course you can’t,” Tim replies without looking up. “Considering you’re just a glorified meter maid.”

Tim is tired and stressed, you remind yourself, but the words still cut through you like the knife in his hand. You were in dangerous situations for most of the day, and though you haven’t been a cop as long as Tim, your job is still important. And you’re good at it.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask after a tense moment of silence.

“What I said. I do more than you, but if you’re so exhausted that you can’t even drive home-“

“Tim, that’s-”

Tim finally looks up as he cuts you off to say, “You barely passed your rookie exam, you haven’t made a decent-sized arrest in months, and you think they attached you to any decent calls? This city is ripping at the seams right now and trust me when I say you are chasing garden fluff because no one trusts you to do any more. You’re lucky they were desperate enough to bring you up from writing traffic tickets. We just needed help and you were there.”

Tim’s jaw clenches as he steps toward you, and you try to remember that he is just emotional from a long day. You are, too, but you’re not taking it out on him.

“I don’t want to fight with you about this,” you offer.

“Well, sure. Because it can’t be your fault, right?” Tim asks.

His voice is rising, and only the couch separates you. His eyes are dark, and though you don’t want to give him an excuse to keep going, you refuse to be treated like this.

“Why does everything have to be about who is at fault with you?” you demand. “Are you aware that things just happen sometimes?”

“Not to you, though.”

“If you think my life is so perfect, why do you insist on worrying about me so often? No one asked you to do any of this! You could have just asked me to go home if you were this upset about a bad day.”

“You don’t even know what a bad day is! What did you do today? Respond to all of the scared housewives in gated communities?”

You could tell him the truth, that you were inches away from a bullet intended to kill you, but you think he’d somehow find a way to blame you. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and though you want to stop fighting, you also need to remind Tim that you’re not a rookie he can walk all over you and blame for every little thing that goes wrong in his life.

“If that’s what you think I do, I can’t change your mind,” you reply.

“Well, those of us who actually acted like cops today went through more than you’ve seen in your career. You’re a bad cop, which makes it harder on the rest of us, to carry your weight, but no one admits it after they see your pretty smile,” Tim snaps loudly.

“I’m done, Tim!” you yell.

You’re surprised by the volume of your statement, but it gets Tim to fall silent, if only for a moment.

“With what?” he asks.

“This! I am done coming back to you every day just for you to pick fights over nothing!”

“Oh, so now it’s nothing? You can complain about your day, but I can’t?”

“That’s the difference, Tim! You’re not complaining about a long day to share something and ask for comfort. You’re tearing me apart because you can’t handle your own emotions. I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it.”

“You love me but I’m not worth it,” Tim says with a sarcastic shrug and set jaw.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

“Well maybe I’m just as stupid about emotions and relationships as you are about police work.”

You pick up your bag and pull it onto your shoulder quickly. As you brush past Tim, you murmur, “I’m not doing this anymore.” The door slams behind you as you leave and severs the connection you and Tim had.

After you leave, Tim sits in his anger for a while. He blames you, picks apart everything you said, and misremembers your words to make you seem like the bad guy. Suddenly, though, Tim hears your genuine I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it. He remembers the look in your eyes as he yelled at you. You never wanted to fight; you asked to stop because you just wanted to relax before returning to work. Yet Tim treated you as an emotional punching bag, something he promised himself he would never do.

Tim drops his head into his hands and sighs. He needs to apologize but can’t take back a word he said. You said you weren’t doing it – your relationship, he presumes – anymore, so Tim gives you room. The clock ticks slowly as he thinks about you, but his next shift grows nearer quickly. He texts you an apology, knowing it’s less than the least he can do. You deserve a grand gesture, a middle-of-the-night, in-person apology from the heart. But with an early morning shift, Tim knows you and he both need the break Wade sent you home to take. So, he sends a few simple words before sitting back in his misery.

In your room, you sit alone to wallow. Your phone buzzes, and you read Tim’s apology before you toss your phone to the side. It’s not enough to forgive or forget everything he said, and you can’t return to that environment yet. So, you don’t answer.

You fall asleep at the same time as Tim, though far away from the comfort you craved, with only a few hours before you’ll be forced to see each other again. Maybe another seemingly endless shift will distract you from your sadness.

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station the morning after your fight with Tim, your injured pride and broken heart go nearly undetected. You attribute this in part to the specialty donuts you brought in; you couldn’t sleep anyway, so you left before your alarm went off to try to make everyone else’s day better than yours. Lucy talks to you in the locker room like it’s just another morning, even though you are heartbroken. Tim, however, is the talk of the station. His visible devastation and misery draw the attention of every officer in the building. When you step out and unintentionally make eye contact with him, the people closest to you can see what you’re hiding a little better.

“I should have seen it before,” Lucy tells Angela. “She was acting a little different, but I thought she was just tired.”

“I’ve never seen Tim like this before. He is miserable,” Angela says. “And he will take it out on you.”

“That’s fine. But… will they be okay?”

Angela shrugs. “I wish I could say yes, Lucy.”

Wade notices you and Tim sitting on opposite sides of the room during roll call, and he’s the last of them to be pulled into your shared misery. Now that you have seen Tim, your misery is just as obvious, and even the people who don’t know you or Tim well can see the difference.

“Nolan,” Wade calls before he instructs John to ride with you for the day. You’re unsure if it’s because of you and Tim or something else you don’t know about. Regardless, it’s because your emotions play a role in your ability to be a good cop… but maybe you were never one of those, to begin with, like Tim said.

At least I won’t have to talk. Nolan can carry the conversation for both of us, you think.

“What’s up with Tim today?” Nolan asks.

“We’re not talking about Officer Bradford,” you reply quickly.

“Okay. Then what’s up with you? The donuts were nice, but I assume you had the time to get them for a reason.”

“Nolan, we’re not having this conversation,” you snap. “We’re cops, not friends.”

“Sounds like I’m with Bradford,” Nolan mumbles.

“You have no idea,” you reply.

Meanwhile, Tim and Lucy are stuck at the station doing paperwork. Today is slower, and there’s a lot to catch up on from the chaos yesterday. Lucy knows better than to pry after spending so much time with Tim, but she can see that something is weighing on him. More than whatever invisible burden he’s carrying, Tim is devastated. She has seen it before, briefly when one of Tim’s former partners passed away, but this is different.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucy offers.

“No,” Tim replies immediately.

Lucy nods before her phone chimes. It only makes noise when another cop contacts her, and she rushes to read the message.

“Tim, Nolan said he needs us to meet them. He just said they’re trapped and it’s really dangerous,” she relays.

“Let’s go.”

Tim runs through the station to reach his shop, and his mind races with every step. Tim lost you last night, but he refuses to lose you forever. If – when you both get to the other side of this, Tim will give you the apology you deserve, he tells himself. And he will never be in this position again.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” Nolan asks over the nearby gunfire.

You’re a bad cop, Tim says in your mind.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Nolan,” you admit. “I can’t do this.”

Nolan’s eyes widen. He knew you were acting differently, but your sudden and complete lack of confidence shocks him. Both of you are pinned in the corner of a warehouse, in danger of being tortured, executed, or some sick combination of worse things. You know you need to act, but your pride and your abilities are shot, thanks to Tim. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get shot, too.

“You can do this,” Nolan assures you. “You have to. Whoever said-“

“Move!” you demand.

Nolan ducks, and you fire through a nearby doorway. It draws attention to you and Nolan, and your confidence takes another hit as three men aim rifles at your chest. The red dots form a perfect triangle around your heart. Things could have been so different if you had just gone home last night instead of giving into your never-ending craving for Tim’s comfort.

“Tim,” Angela calls when he and Lucy arrive. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“Yes, I do,” he replies.

She pushes a hand against his chest and shakes her head. Despite Tim’s grumbling, he trusts Angela as a friend and a fellow cop.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

Angela looks to her right, and Tim follows her line of sight. Your shop is standing wide open as CSU combs through it. The windshield is shattered, and the interior is riddled with bullet holes. Tim’s attention catches on the blood coating everything. No one could have survived that blood loss.

“Where is she?” Tim demands.

“We don’t know,” Angela admits. “She wasn’t here when we arrived. Neither was Nolan.”

“Let me help.”

Angela looks around before she whispers, “You’re too emotional.”

“She left me last night, Angela. It was all my fault, and I didn’t even get to apologize! So, I am helping, whether you want it or not.”

Angela nods as Lucy returns to Tim’s side. He looks back to your shop and knows. He knows he is too late. That realization changes everything.

“You’re right,” he tells Angela. “I’m too close; I shouldn’t help.”

“Timothy,” she begins.

“No, I- she’s gone. We both know that. And I can’t do this, not knowing that she died out here thinking that I didn’t love her. That I didn’t fight for her.”

“Let me know if that changes, Tim.”

Angela walks away to continue investigating the scene. Lucy lays her hand on Tim’s back to provide some comfort, but he shakes her hand off before he moves toward the shop. Crime doesn’t stop just because Tim’s world ends, and if throwing himself into his work will distract him, he’ll let it. But being busy and tired will never get between you and him again.

“Snipers,” Lucy whispers as she reads something on her phone.

“What about them?” Tim inquires.

“Oh, uh, just something Angela sent me.”

“About her?”

“Yeah.”

Tim nods, and his knuckles grow white as he grips the steering wheel. “There were snipers?”

“Three of them, from what they can tell. A gun left behind matched the ballistics of the bullets in her shop. It seems like… like someone was executed in her shop.”

“Let’s take another call, Chen.”

Lucy nods and requests dispatch to begin sending them calls again. The first is a bank robbery in process, and Tim only hopes that adrenaline and devastation mix well.

“Gun!” Lucy yells before ducking behind the armored personnel carrier outside the bank.

Tim doesn’t hesitate to raise his arms and shoot. The sniper falls backward, and Tim wills his mind not to wonder how different things would be if he’d been with you instead of Nolan. Snipers took you from him, but this taste of retribution doesn’t help Tim. He walks away as soon as the bank is cleared. He wants to punch something, yell, cry, and maybe do it all at once, but it won’t bring you back. Nothing short of an apology that he can’t give will.

Tim sits on his couch in the dark because it’s as close to peace as he can get. If he closes his eyes too long, he sees you standing on the other side of the room, defending yourself from his emotional outburst. The argument was pointless, and you wanted to stop it, but Tim kept pushing. The more he thinks about it, the more he starts to turn his sadness into self-hatred because he acted like his father. He drops his head into his hands and asks himself why he allowed himself to be driven so far. Despite how he treated you and the horrible, untrue things he said, you told Tim you loved him. He loves you more than anything but didn’t return the sentiment in the heat of the moment. And now he never can.

“I love you,” Tim whispers now. “I’m so sorry.”

Someone knocks on his door, fast raps with no break between them. Tim rubs his face as he stands and walks around the couch-turned-fighting ring to answer it.

“Tim,” Angela says quickly. “We found something. We know where they were an hour ago.”

Tim looks over his shoulder to the cruiser at the end of his driveway. The lights are on, and Nyla is inside, ready to go.

“I wanted to extend the invite,” Angela adds.

Tim nods as he yanks his keys from the table by his door. He doesn’t bother to check if the door locks behind him as he races toward the car, toward you. Nyla drives quickly and parks outside an abandoned house less than fifteen minutes later. While Tim looks at the house, he sees someone move in the window.

“Somebody’s inside,” he alerts.

Nyla nods and instructs Tim to wait while she and Angela approach the house. Before they exit the car, the person walks out of the front door with their hands up. Tim throws the door open and sprints across the yard before anyone says anything.

“Nolan,” he calls.

“What happened here?” Nyla asks.

Her tone makes Tim look around, and he counts at least eight bodies in the front yard. Most are covered, and the desperation, dread, misery, and heartbreak churn in his stomach as he wonders if any of them are you.

“We walked into an ambush. She got one of them down, but we were cornered, surrounded. They dragged their ‘failure’ to the shop and finished him off before they brought us here.” After he explains, Nolan turns to Tim and says, “She asked me to give you this.”

He pulls a bloody piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to Tim, who accepts it wordlessly.

“Where…” is she? Tim wants to say, but he can’t finish the question.

“Uh, she’s inside,” Nolan answers.

Tim hears confirmation that you’re here and runs through the carnage-covered yard and house to find you. He grips the letter tightly as he navigates through the dark house. Tim stops when he sees your badge lying in a corner, and squats to retrieve it. It’s scuffed and bloody, but Tim can’t leave any piece of you behind. He tucks your letter into his pocket to hold your badge.

“Officer Bradford?”

Tim turns quickly and nearly trips over a bloody hammer. He would recognize that voice anywhere. When his eyes finish adjusting in the darkness, and he sees you slumped in the opposite corner, propped up behind the door, he crosses the room in the time it takes you to blink. Tim’s hands cup your face gently as he leans closer to you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Save it,” you reply. “This isn’t over yet. He said he was coming back.”

“Where’d he go?” Tim asks, effortlessly switching back to cop mode.

You smile, and Tim swallows harshly as your injured lip splits and produces a fresh bead of blood. “To rob a bank. As if you weren’t busy enough, right?”

The sniper at the bank, Tim remembers. “He’s gone,” he says quickly. “We got him.”

“You got him?” you clarify.

Tim shakes his head, and you raise your hands to his sides as you lean toward him.

“I could never do this alone. I can’t do any of this without you.”

“Did you read my letter?”

Tim pulls the paper from his back pocket and shakes his head as he reads the two short sentences.

“I forgive you. I love you,” you say as Tim reads the same words.

“It won’t happen again,” Tim promises.

“It might. We have hard jobs, but we can get through it. Right?”

Tim’s reply is a careful kiss to your forehead before he yells for a paramedic. Nolan leads Angela and Nyla inside a moment later, and they enter the door beside you.

“You could’ve mentioned she was alive,” Tim tells Nolan.

“You ran in before I said, ‘she’d like to see your face first, considering she almost died and you were the only thing she talked about,’” Nolan answers.

“Shut up,” you and Tim say together.

“This is the thanks,” Nolan mumbles.

“Can I crash at your place?” you ask Tim. “Without the argument?”

“Wouldn’t let you go anywhere else. The best cop I know deserves some comfort.”

“I thought I was the best cop you knew,” Angela teases.

“I love you,” you tell Tim.

“I love you,” he answers. After he looks into your eyes and smiles, he yells, “Where is the ambulance?”

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford angst #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests

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txttletale · 1 year

Note

that post of yours that's like "are they really gatekeeping something or do you feel like a stranger who doesn't even know you exist withholding their approval from you that you think you're entitled to" is such a summary of much of today's online experience. ppl take the weirdest shit so personally and make it everyone's problem like "what do you mean i have to wear a mask i cough into ppls face to cope... im literally neurodivergent and a minor". and like i get that social media is about communication but sometimes im baffled as to why people feel the need to say these things. sorry for rambling love u✌️

it's pure individualist ideology. people want to live in a world which is tailored to them. social media platforms create the illusion of people talking To You, that the posts on your feed are written For You (i mean how many fuckin apps including this one use those exact words). and because social media platforms as communicative mediums encourage context collapse, everything about them funnels people away from being able to say 'this one isn't about me' and move on. it's all the i think you should leave skeleton song bit where tim robinson is like 'wait, by billy do you mean me or him' and the guy is like 'your name's also billy?' and he says 'no! that's why i'm so fucking confused!'

#ask

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 8 months

Text

Bisexual. Bisexual. Bisexual. Bisexual!

It was the only word that was now bouncing around in Eddie Munson's brain. Steve had come out several minutes ago along with Robin, and they had long since moved on to playing Rocky Horror Picture show. The characters danced around in front of him, along with the word bouncing around in his head, in time with the music. Steve was saying how hot Tim Curry was, and suddenly Eddie imagined putting on the outfit himself. He imagined Steve saying that about him as he ran his hand up his thigh. Eddie shrieked.

"Pause! I have to make a phone call!" Eddie exclaimed, jumping up.

It was like all the lights in his head turned on, and there was this little man standing standing next to a projector as he showed Eddie all of the things that he had suppressed.

"Are you okay, Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, can I use your phone?" Eddie exclaimed.

"Sure, man," Steve said.

Eddie rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. He dialed the familiar number pretty quickly and waited impatiently as the phone rang. A few rings later, and Ronnie answered the phone.

"Hey, Ronnie," Eddie said.

"What did you do now? Your voice sounds pretty high," Ronnie said.

"Nothing, Jesus," Eddie said rolling his eyes.

"You haven't been accused of murder again, have you?" Ronnie asked.

"No!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Yeah, you still haven't told me exactly what happened," Ronnie said.

"And I'm still not going to," Eddie sighed. "This isn't why I called. Do you know David Bowie?"

"Do I know him personally? No," Ronnie said. "Do I know of him? Yes."

"Ugh, you sarcastic shit. I think I'm like Bowie," Eddie said and groaned. "Ugh, I had that word in my head, but I think it fell out. . . Bisexual! Yes, that."

"Oh. Wow," Ronnie said and paused. "Would it annoy you to know that I kind of already figured that out a long time ago?"

"What? How?!" He asked.

"Oh, you were obvious even if you didn't know that you were being obvious," she said.

"Well, you could have given me a heads up, Ronnie," Eddie said.

"Oh, yeah, no. This was something that you needed to figure out for yourself," she said, and she paused. "Thanks for telling me."

"You're my best friend, Ronnie. You should be the first one to know about anything big like that," Eddie said. "Which apparently you already knew about."

"And yet, I still don't know what happened over spring break," she said. "Which is fine. By the way, even if I didn't know before I left, I would have known immediately when you made the call from the hospital and ranted about Steve Harrington's strong arms."

"Jesus, don't remind me," Eddie blushed. "I was high on pain meds."

"By the way, when I called before, it was Steve who answered. I like him. I approve of you and him raising that orphaned child together," Ronnie said. "He wouldn't shut up about you or what you're like with that kid. Jesus, why didn't you tell me you adopted a child with a man?"

"His name is Dustin, and he has a mom," Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I definitely like him better than Paige," Ronnie said.

"Would you give it a rest about Paige?" Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I still don't think she ever had a deal in place to begin with. You would have gone to LA, and there would have been no audition," Ronnie said.

"I'm hanging up now," Eddie sighed, the corners of his mouth lifted up.

"Good luck," Ronnie said, and Eddie hung up the phone.

Eddie walked into back into the living room where Steve and Robin were whispering amongst themselves.

"Everything alright?" Steve asked as Eddie sat back on the couch.

"Yeah, apparently I'm bisexual and I've always been like that. I just didn't know it," Eddie shrugged.

"What? Are you telling me you just had a crisis? Did you just go double-check?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, a little crisis, but I'm good now," Eddie said. "I called Ronnie."

"Ronnie?" Robin asked.

"Eddie's Robin," Steve explained.

"You have a Robin?" She asked.

"No, a Ronnie," Eddie corrected, and she rolled her eyes.

"So, you realized it just a few minutes ago?" Steve asked as he leaned over Robin.

"Yeah, after you guys came out, then when Tim Curry came on and then again when you called him hot. All I kept thinking about was how I wished you were calling me hot," Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Time for us to switch places," Robin grinned.

Steve and Robin swapped, so now Steve was sitting close to Eddie. He put his arm on the couch behind Eddie.

"Eddie," Steve said softly, and Eddie turned to face him. "You are very hot. Hotter than Tim Curry. You would look absolutely sinful in that outfit."

He leaned forward and kissed Eddie gently. Eddie kissed him back before Steve broke the kiss. He leaned back against the couch and pulled Eddie against his side, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

"If Vickie wasn't working tonight, then this could be a double date," Robin said.

"Next time," Eddie grinned.

"Welcome to the club, Eddie," Robin said.

"Thanks," Eddie said softly.

Eddie relaxed into Steve’s arms, turning sideways and burrowing his head into Steve’s neck while throwing his arm across his stomach. The puzzle that was his life felt a little more complete now.

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 months

Note

I know you're mostly an angst person, but in the Parentified!Tim au, I couldn't stop imagining Tim doing his utmost best to keep Bruce's faith in Santa Claus when he and his team watched Santa die.

Like.

Bruce: Hm. Santa must be busy this year.

Tim, who's failing at Santa-ing and being scolded by 10,000 unpaid elves who's also complaining about their poor dental insurance: Don't worry, chum. I'm sure he'll pass by tonight. Now, why don't we leave the cookies near the fireplace and tuck you in? I heard from the grapevine that he also prefers C4 energy drink rather than milk.

Bruce: *narrows his eyes*

Tim: *sweats in lactose intolerance* Or milk!

Bruce: *Hums in approval and leaves the milk and cookies*

Tim: Man. Alfred, this is bullshi--

Santa, who's very much alive: *happily munching on Alfred's award-winning cookies plus the ones from the kitchen* *gulps the milk down* *wipes mouth messily*

Santa: No one will fucking believe you

Santa: *fucking poofs out of existence*

Tim: Motherfucker.

Alfred: Master Tim! Where have all my cookies gone?!

Tim: *points at presents under the tree* Maybe Santa ate it!

Alfred: I am too old to fall for that trick. Please tell Master Allen and Master Kent to simply ask to be invited in next time instead of sneaking in.

Tim: But- They-

Alfred: No 'Buts' Master Tim! Although I am glad they did not leave footprints this time, I would be happier if they didn't eat all the food that is prepared for tomorrow.

Alfred: *fucking walks out, winks at Santa who is laughing by the stairs, and heads to bed*

The next day

Tim: *rants vaguely to Bruce about last night*

Bruce: *nods* I saw Alfred kissing Santa once.

Tim: I don't know how to respond to that.

I love this concept so much. Bruce believes in Santa because he most definitely gathered evidence after some kid at school told him otherwise.

Tim, who killed Santa, doesn't want to break the news to Bruce. He knows that a baby Bruce did an investigation, and it's a part of his childhood that Bruce still holds onto. So, Tim does everything he can to hold onto the fabrication that Santa is alive (even if that means managing thousands of elves, forcing all of YJ to do it with him, and finding a way to choke down thousands of cookies and cups of milk). Tim just wants some C4 (which I found hilarious cause I switched over to that brand a few months back) and a break from trying to keep the spirit of Christmas alive in a middle-aged man.

Then Santa's not actually dead. He probably kept the story being dead just to retire and not deal with the elves.

Alfred found out about Tim acting as Santa with his friends probably because he called up Santa Clause to complain about the footprints and mess left behind in his usually impeccable work.

I wonder if Mrs. Clause exists in the DC universe, or if Santa Clause spends a significant time on Christmas kissing people's parents (or maybe Alfred is just special).

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #santa dc #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dc au #thank you for the ask!!!!#it made me chuckle and i appreciate it #santa agrees that alfred is a gilf

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gecemi09 · 19 days

Note

hi i just wanted to ask if you had any jason-centric fanfic recs that actually focus on him and not make it about another character (saying this because the bruce and tim stans do this so often for some reason)

because i don’t know, its odd, so much fanfic is dedicated to how jason has to grovel to get the approval of the batfam or batman and i don’t want that because like in my opinion jason was never wrong about anything actually. unfortunately it seems most fans disagree and then write not so enjoyable fanfic about it :/

looking at the tim drake stans in particular like thats the most boring robin dont drag jason into this 😭

Hi! First of all thank you so much for sending an ask! Basically these will be fics that focus primarily on Jason and do NOT have him be in the wrong (i have those too, bc they can be well written and they are unfortunately impossible to avoid). Theyre not in any particular order, I'm just going thru all my bookmarks haha!! This is long bc my bookmarks containing jasons character tag is 28 pages on ao3. i am very normal about him. anyway! here they are:

The Beating Heart is a 4-shot featuring Ghostmakes/Jason, so if thats not your cup of tea, ignore it. Bruce is very much an asshole in this so if you're feeling hateful towards him (which is based) this will scratch that itch

The Bowery Branch is a one-shot from the pov of a librarian in the bowery. It's a bunch of snapshots focusing on how the librarians there view and interact w jason throughout his life!

The Lost Titans is soo good. Jason and some other people start having dreams about an alternate timeline where they were in a titans team together. Then some shit starts to go down and they have to fix it. has minimum bat appearances iirc. great mystery too!!

hit me as hard as you can is another good one. i think bruce and jason start over at the end but it was such a journey?? the whole thing is very good. and i remember the writing being very poignant

Thank you, Next! is a one-shot focusing on Jason and the men he's loved over the years. Introspective and character study-esque. very good

so, you've killed the joker is, as the name implies, a oneshot abt jason killing the joker. he does NOT feel guilty about doing it, which is for some reason a common trope in fics.

Father-Hood is about Jason raising an infant before he has the chance to start his revenge plan. He also gets together with Eddie Bloomberg <3

Granted the Serenity is about Countdown w donna jason and kyle happening w an al caste jason i think. it has next to 0 bruce iirc.

Things We've Lost, and Things We've Gained takes place in the young justice cartoon verse. if u dont know about it the short story is: the first child superhero team was not teen titans and roy harper was kidnapped and replaced w a clone and when the og roy is found he is rlly angry lol. Jayroy.

Yellow, Red, and Green is an au where jason becomes a green lantern while digging out of his grave. has a sequel in the works afaik but still good as a standalone.

Get Used to Dying is, in my objectively correct opinion, THE Jason Todd fic. I have recommended it before, and it's still a masterpiece. It tells Jason's life in the format of a play, absolutely brilliant.

Sacrosanct is about jason & bruce's relationship, and i think just from bruce's pov, but I have to rec it on the ground of it just being *chefs kiss* also there is no "bruce is right and do you not know how he mourned you jason!! care more about bruces reaction to your death than your own plase :/" bs

folly of youth, jason introspection/character study iirc. remember it being really good. also the last scene has great imagery.

in a new york minute, everything can change WILL make you cry no matter how much you've read it. it's about the last 60 seconds of Jason's (first) life. heartbreaking.

April 27th / I was only a child is a jason visits his grave one-shot. no bruce.

I think I could have included more but my bookmarks are uh. LONG. If I have other recs I will rb this post!!

#have a great day anon!#jason todd #jason todd fic recs #ask #anon ask

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munsster · 1 year

Text

gold-skinned eager baby

A/N: touch tank was written for billy and i'll die on that hill

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: “He tells me he’s gentle when he wants to be/So I think he wants to be gentle with me.” 3.3k.

Warnings: this song is a riot, billy hargrove, enemies to lovers, pet names (sweetheart, babe, peach[es]), cursing, bullying(?), an accidental clueless reference 🫣

"You're an asshole."

You'd done a lot of shoving in your lifetime: other kids down the slide, cackling friends' shoulders, handsy creeps. But you haven't done nearly as much shoving as Billy has. So when you shove him—two fingertips to the chest—he takes a step back and scoffs.

"You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

It was supposed to be a birthday party. It was supposed to be your birthday party, but Billy found you crying over him in the backyard and immediately made it known how drunk and horny he was. You poured the rest of your glass of red out onto his leg—albeit on accident, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit, shoulder-checking him on your way inside. But he grabs your wrist and stops you for a second. And the cold air seeps in, a sheen of frost creeping over your bones when he really grips your arm. "Let go of me—"

"You ungrateful little bitch, I'm here for you, the least you could do is say something fuckin’ nice.”

"Oh, I'm sorry you took time off your busy panty-dropping schedule to be here, but I'm not in the mood to suck you off, alright? Let me go."

There’s a huff of dissatisfaction and rejection on the tip of his tongue. It turns stale in the cold, bubbling up into a fog and through the cloud he sees the glimmer of heartbreak gracing your waterline. When his stomach turns, he can’t tell if it’s the ambrosia in the punch bowl or the vomit-inducing heartache you leave him with. Either way, he feels like dying.

—

He watches you from the driver’s side of his car. The dark red stain on his thigh turning his jeans into a watercolor of self-loathing.

Then you look at him. With something like disgust and pity, though you can’t exactly bring yourself to look away when he stamps out the butt of his cigarette and whips his car door open. He glances at you just before he ducks in and peels out of the lot. He’s exasperated, and he can’t put his finger on why.

“What are you looking at?” the girl on your right chirps.

And the girl next to her says, “Not a what, a who.”

“Nobody,” you huff.

“It’s Billy—!”

“Nobody.”

—

“I lost Max. Can’t fuckin’ find her.” He’s panicked over the phone. You’ve never heard him so sick. Shaky, that’s what you’d say. He sounds nervous and cold, and he called you, of all people, to find his little sister.

“So what? She’s not with me.”

“I—” he sighs, “I know. That’s obviously not why I called.”

“You asking me for help?”

He can tell you’re tugging on your sleeve by now. You used to do it when you got too cocky. Manicured nails picking at the hem. A compulsion. It’s compulsive. But it takes the weight off, and he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He’s nursing a deep regret in the pit of his stomach, but he’ll call it resentment. That’s it; he hates you. And you hate him. And that won’t change tonight, and it certainly won’t make him any less stubborn. Not even when you get into his car with a casserole dish in your hands.

“Leftovers,” you mumble, “She forced me out here with the tupperware, couldn’t stop her.”

“‘S fine. Shut the door.”

And you do. “Real nice, Billy.”

“Compared to you, I’m a ray-of-fucking sunshine.”

“Are you implying that you’re nice?”

“When I want to be.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoff.

“I can be nice.” He nearly whines, but he’s not that desperate. He doesn’t want your approval that bad. He doesn’t want it, and he’s not getting it. But despite everything—the loathing, the foaming at the mouth—it makes him feverishly starving for it

“I’d like to see you try.”

—

Billy’s been stewing over you for weeks. It’s become a mantra, and his friends spare each other glances every time he utters your name.

And honestly, he forgot you worked here. It was an accident, and it wasn’t even his suggestion. Some shitty diner, that was the criteria. Cheap food, low lighting, and the hostess making eyes at him. It’s just what he needed until he saw you in that sorry excuse for a uniform. As if a miniskirt could ever be company policy.

“Look, Hargrove, it’s your girl.”

“Not my fuckin’ girl, dumbass.” Oh, but does his heart flutter at the idea. Somersaults when you smile at a customer. When you could be his girl. He could brand you his and keep you safe from the old guys at the bar and sneak through your window on Friday nights. But that’s where it begins and ends: an idea. It would never happen. He’d die before letting it happen.

“Well, in that case, don’t mind if I do—Ay, sweetheart, grab me a coke, would’ya?”

Your head whips around, and you smirk at the sight of his freckles. Almost old friends. Just a familiar face, really.

“Hi, Tommy,” you coo, and Billy puts his cigarette out on the white vinyl table with a grunt. “Billy.”

“Actually, how ‘bout one for my friend, too, huh, babe?”

“No problem. Anything else? How ‘bout you, Billy? Want a side of fries with all that brooding?”

“Atta girl,” Tommy howls, “lay one on me before you go, sweetheart.” Billy watches you dip down and plant a soft kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and it gets him green. Zaps the color from his face until he’s clenching his jaw into a frown.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Hagan.” He pushes off from the table and storms out without another word. You watch him from the kitchen, his soft curls ruffled at the back of his neck. In a way, it made you happy to see him leave. Though, it also made you impossibly frustrated. You felt thwarted—defeated and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Neither could he.

—

“Max, where’d you put my lighter?”

“I didn’t take it, I don’t know,” she hollers, winding up to shut the door to her room. His palm stops it before it can slam, and when it creaks back open, the air is punched from his lungs.

You’re perched at the foot of Max’s bed, peering up at him sweetly and yet devoid of care. All friendly. He licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes flicking back to Max with a half-sneer.

“Well,” he sighs, “if you find it, would you let me know?”

She cocks her head back like she’s confused. This is usually the part where they toss threats back and forth until it turns into a screaming match. So why was he being so calm about this? He had just accused her of stealing and then took it back in the blink if an eye.

“I… yeah, sure.”

“Thanks”—he’s about to leave when he taps on the door frame and glances at you over her shoulder. You take her headphones off and set them around your neck, doe-eyed and demure so much so that it takes him off-guard. Cranks up the elevator music and makes him feel dislocated in a way that makes him thrilled—“How long is she staying?”

You butt in, “we were gonna watch a scary movie. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” God, does he want that. Like his life depends on it. Like he can feel your head on his shoulder and his palm on your knee and his nerves alight at the sound of your breathing. But Max puckers her lips at the sour taste in her mouth, and it makes him shake his head.

“I think I’ll stick to Neil’s six pack of pale ales,” he says.

You chuckle. The soft sound makes him nervous beyond belief, so he backs into the hallway and slumps to his room.

—

Billy had raced up to your porch, and for once in his life he didn’t know what to say. His mouth felt glued shut. He felt weighed down. Yet here he was, cemented to your welcome mat, knuckles rapping hard against your door.

And you open it groggy, in your pajamas, and glowing nonetheless. Beautiful, but he’d never say it. He shoves his hands into his pockets, mouth hanging open like he’s a flytrap. He feels sticky like one, at least. There’s a faint orange glow haloed around you, and maybe he’s dead. No.

He’s standing on your porch drinking you in just to spew you out. Days have gone by, weeks, months, and not a minute has passed. You squint at him when he shuffles around in his big boots. He makes a lotta noise and it makes him cringe.

“Earth to Billy?” you coo, waving your soft palm in front of his face, tilting your head to the side when he puffs up his chest. He put on a new shirt for this. And it makes him feel like a child. He drove to the store for a brand new goddamn shirt just to impress you. Just in case you noticed and thought a little sweeter of him. It’s futile, and yet it makes him feel better when you peer at the flat-ironed collar in stunned silence.

“I just…” he grumbles, shrugging. The words escape him like his fingers are covered in oil and he’s grasping at straws. He has so much to say, so why can’t he. “I was just stopping by.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing behind you at the clock. He’s just stopping by at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday. When you turn to look at him, he’s got these puppy dog eyes that catch you by surprise. Wide and blue and pleading. Like he’s got something sick to hope for. “D’you wanna… come inside?”

“Oh—no. I, uh… I gotta go,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck, not taking his eyes off you. His stomach churns, and there’s a lump in his throat when he turns and treads back to his idling car. He hears your door click shut, and he exhales from so deep in his chest it aches.

“Who was that, honey?”

“Billy.”

“What did he want?”

“Dunno. Looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

—

The next time you saw Billy, it was summer. Indiana’s hottest and grossest. But he looked cute in those swim trunks, and the whistle dangling from between his teeth had all the pool moms swooning. You couldn’t care less, of course. He’s just another lifeguard. But you have to admit his hair looks softer now. Taken care of. And when his eyes sweep over you, you have to look away for fear of grinning about it.

“Hey, stranger.”

It comes up from behind you and sweeps your feet out from under you. Suddenly, you’re smiling at him and you guess he’s right. Stranger. You’ve been to his house, been to your shared classes, been to Tommy’s parties, but Billy always found a way to avoid you. And maybe you missed it. The way he used to hang around. Even the scowl on his face was better than nothing.

“Been a while, huh?”

You nod, and it feels a little silly to be so casual. But you can’t stop your jackhammering heart and the way he shuffles closer.

“You look good,” you huff, raking over his damp skin and drowning in it. Forcing your mouth shut when you catch how sun-kissed he’s gotten. Freckled softly across the nose, evenly tan head to toe, though the tan line peeking out at his hips would imply otherwise

“Thanks, peach. I like your suit. Strappy” Oh, and the way his brow cocks upward is unfair. He’s all supple and dewy under the sun and slathered in tanning oil. He smells sweet like warm vanilla or toasted coconut. And he compliments you like nothing. Like it’s not heart-stopping and world-ending and fire-starting.

“You’re making me sick,” Max groans, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, boo-hoo,” he teases, “I shut my mouth when you bring Sinclair around.”

You freeze. You know Max and Lucas are dating. She brings him up every possible moment, so why on Earth would Billy compare them to now. It gets you honeyed and melting, but that could be the solar radiation. Billy puts his hands on his hips when Max shrugs.

“Yeah, well, at least we’re not gross about our flirting.”

Flirting. She thinks you’re flirting. She thinks you’re both flirting. But Billy flirts with everyone, so it would be silly to leave you out, right? And that look on his face is probably from heat exhaustion anyway. But he grins, and you feel yourself growing fonder when sweat pricks across his chest and he winks at you.

—

Max had passed out sprawled across the couch cushions, popcorn bowl tucked under her arm, snoring into her other hand. And you sat at her feet, pressing the power button on the remote. You sigh and pat her calf before standing.

“Hey,” Billy whispers, softly reaching into the crook of your elbow when you stumble across the carpet in the dark and into his chest. And his fingers go pliant where skin meets skin and his heart-rate verges on heart attack.

“Sorry, can’t see shit,” you mumble, nose still hovering mere inches from the warmth of his body. You never noticed how warm he ran until now. Breathing this close, his palm sliding to your wrist, his lips parted in a smile.

“I noticed,” he teases, “C’mon, I’m thirsty.” You follow him close to the kitchen, the cold tile and the moonlight and the breeze against the old window plaguing you with goosebumps. You rub at your eye when he reaches for two glasses from the cabinet.

“Time is it?” you coo, staying close though you can see where you’re going. It’s just easy warmth, and you’re a heat-seeking missile.

“‘Bout one in the morning. Want ice?”

“Mmh.”

He turns the tap handle, and the water splashes out into the cup and sloshes around the bottom until it’s filled to the brim. He holds it out for you, and you take it in your cupped hands.

“How was the movie?”

You swallow a mouthful of the liquid, and it cools the pit of your stomach and makes you feel real in your socks in his kitchen.

“Alright. Probably wouldn’t go out of my way to watch it again.”

“Alright,” he says, peppering a chuckle in behind it, and when he lifts the glass to his lips, you feel giddy at the sight of his bare arms. You realize that he’s in a wife beater and plaid boxer shorts and the conversation falters under your tongue. You snap your mouth shut and take a long sip of water.

“I gotta admit something. And you gotta hold me to it or I’ll back down.”

You take a soft breath in when he turns to face you, hip leaned against the counter. “Deal.”

“I’ve been…” he sighs, “an idiot.”

You scoff, “Yeah, to say the least—”

“Hey, I’m trying to be serious over here.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“Alright—”

“But you did kinda disappear without warning—”

“Listen, I was dealing with something. Didn’t feel like sticking around.” He sets his glass down, and even in the dark you know he’s glaring at you.

“Yeah, well, seemed all too willing to completely cut yourself off from everyone. I mean, from your own sister, Billy. From me.”

“But I’m here now—”

“Not even a goodbye, Billy, we were all confused and hurt—”

“God, don’t you get it? I couldn’t stay away from you,” he huffs, hands on the edge of the sink and facing the window. His head is slightly tilted back, enough to bare his neck to the night. To drench himself in gentle moonlight and take a deep breath. He barely gives you time to process, and you’re stuck still, head and heart rolling over and desperate.

“I can’t stay away from you. Believe me, I tried. All it did was give me fuckin’ withdrawals”—he chuckles heavily, all hot air and panic when he blinks at you—“I missed you. I missed your voice and your laugh and the way you’d look at me like I meant nothing and everything at the same time. I felt so fucking pathetic listening to you and Max talk about random shit from the other room. Tommy used to call and tell me every time you asked where I was. And it used to happen everyday. I got so sick of hearing about you. But then week after week passed and it wasn’t everyday anymore. And then he stopped reaching out, and I felt like a piece of shit.”

You feel small. Collapsed when you rest your glass in the sink.

“It was kind of a dick move,” you whisper.

“I know!” he huffs, “I know.”

He’s watching you like a hawk when you finally look up at him. And there’s that look. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from frowning. He’s embarrassed. If the lights were on he’d look sunburnt and out of breath. But it’s dark, and it makes you nervous to look at him for too long.

“You know I missed you, too,” you say, “Felt so stupid looking everywhere for you. Even went to parties just to see you. Never did, of course, but I wanted to. God, I wanted to see you. You’re such an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up, I know it.”

“Good.”

Billy’s fired up enough to bury his face in his hands. When you shuffle closer, he thinks you might deck him for your troubles. But you poke his side, and wait for him to lift his head. You smile.

The sweetest thing he’s seen in months. Your eyes twinkle when you tilt your head, fingers slinking up to tug the curled piece of hair drooping at his brow-bone. He swears your hip presses against his just then, but maybe it’s wishful and a waste. You’re still smiling, though, and it makes him giddy.

“Don’t go feeling all sorry for yourself over it. I’d hate to have to take pity on you,” you tease, swiping an innocent thumb across his cheek but the pull away can’t come soon enough. You’re just stepping back when his eyes go wide, and he catches you like fireflies in the late spring. Oh, if only he could keep you in a jar. If only it were that easy.

“Well, I’d hate to cause you that kind of suffering, peach.” You tuck your chin—demure enough to get a rise out of him. With his big hand on your hip, you’re feeling shy, but he’d call you coy for fun. He’s never seen you so reduced.

“Guess I better put you out of your misery then, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Got any ideas? I’m at a loss unless steak knives will suffice.”

“Here, I’ve got a better idea,” he hums, “C’mere, it’s a secret.”

“Were the only ones—”

“Just play nice. It’s my misery, isn’t it?”

“Touché, Hargrove,” you say, and you lean in to where he beckons you, where he brings you close with the palm of his hand. You’ve never been near enough to smell his cologne until now, and you’re glad it lingers on his skin the way it does. The way it seeps in until the scent is so purely Billy you don’t know the difference.

When you lean in, cheek-to-cheek, he can’t hold back any longer. His index finger swoops under your chin, and he catches your bottom lip between his. Sure, he ducks a little, but he doesn’t mind. And the way you purr and melt under his touch is delightful.

His stubble scratches your mouth softly until you’re giggling about it, and he pulls away drooling and dizzy.

“What’s so funny? Taste weird or somethin’?”

“No way—just… glad you got tired of waiting ‘s all.”

masterlist

the coveted:

#touch tank #quinnie #billy hargrove #stranger things #fluff #enemies to lovers #billy #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #fanfic #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things fic #x fem!reader #x female reader #Spotify

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mamawasatesttube · 1 year

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TIMKON ANGST/FLUFF PROMPTS??? omg… how about “Shouldn’t you be with him/her?”?

Tim opens the door to an immediate, aggressive faceful of pink plush.

"Whoa!"

The teddy bear falls into his hands as Kon grins at him ear-to-ear. You're Beary Cute, reads the heart on its stomach; its little black embroidered eyes gaze adorably up at him.

"Happy Day-After-Valentine's Day, Rob!" Kon declares, and throws a ribbon-wrapped box of chocolates at Tim's head next. Tim catches it automatically, eyebrows shooting up as Kon flops onto the sofa, making himself at home in Tim's living room with ease.

"Uh... thanks? I didn't, uh... get you anything."

Why would they get each other things for the day after Valentine's? They're just bros. And, uh, as much as Tim has fantasized about... not-strictly-bro things, it doesn't matter, because Kon and Cassie have been real cozy again later, and Tim's happy for them. If they got past whatever made them break up, then that's good. Good for them, and Tim's stupid pining literally does not matter.

Maybe Tim is overthinking this. Kon probably spent actual Valentine's with Cassie. Today is just, like, Palentine's, or whatever that dumb Pinterest shit is.

"Yeah, I figured you didn't. It's chill. C'mon, sit, I got a movie all picked out already and you don't get any say in the matter." Kon pats the sofa next to himself; Tim obediently sits down, sets the admittedly very soft teddy bear down at his side, and starts to untie the ribbon on the chocolates.

Kon's arm drapes itself over his shoulders. Tim bites the inside of his cheek and reminds himself that this is bro time, and that he's not gonna be pathetic about it.

...Still. Kon is warm, and he... uh. He must have bought some new cologne recently. He smells really nice.

The opening menu for "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter" appears on his TV. Tim raises an eyebrow, then nods, impressed. "Good choice."

"Thank you. I knew you'd approve." Kon grins. "Eating your chocolate now, eh? You'll have to tell me which kinds're your favorite."

Tim opens the box, surveys the collection of different drizzled bonbons and truffles with pleasure, and picks one at random to pop into his mouth. It's rich and creamy, with a dark chocolate and raspberry filling that absolutely melts in his mouth, and he closes his eyes for a moment to savor it.

"Shit, dude." He looks at the box again, turning it over to see what brand it is, but the lid and bottom are both blank. Huh. "Where'd you get these?"

Kon rubs the back of his neck, a pleased grin on his face. "Oh, I actually, uh... made them. You like, huh?"

He made them?

Tim balks. Buying discount chocolate and a teddy bear to hang out for bro time is one thing, but... this? Uncertainty festers in his gut, and he frowns. "...What about Cassie?"

Kon blinks. "What about her?"

Is he playing dumb about this? Seriously? Tim huffs. "Shouldn't you be with her?"

Kon tilts his head to one side with a quizzical look, like some kind of stupidly cute puppy. "Rob, buddy... Cass 'n' I broke up, like, ages ago."

"I mean, yeah, but didn't you guys get back together?" Now Tim is beyond confused. "I saw you feeding her pie off your plate literally last week."

"Uh, yeah, as friends!" Kon groans. "I do that to Bart, too! Hell, I do that with you, dingus!" He runs a hand through his hair, slouches back against the cushions, and mutters to himself, "Well, this explains some things."

"Wait," Tim says. "So... you guys aren't back together?"

"No!" Kon's TTK gives him an aggressive hair-ruffle; Tim ducks his head, scowling. "We talked it all out and we're a lot happier as friends. And, uh... we're not getting back together, like. Ever. Ever-ever. That's part of what we... talked about."

Tim's world is flipping under his feet. "...Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Kon teases, and flicks the side of Tim's head. "Dude, for someone trained by the world's greatest dete—"

"Not this again," Tim groans, and Kon cracks up next to him, and suddenly everything feels normal again.

"You'll never escape." Kon bumps their temples together. "Now shut up, eat your chocolates, and watch Abe Lincoln hunt some zombies with me, man."

Tim picks up another bonbon, settles in against Kon's side, and figures he can take a hint, now and then. They can iron out the details after the movie.

"That doesn't sound so bad," he agrees. Kon presses play, and Tim pops his bonbon into his mouth and smiles as sweetness blooms on his tongue.

♥ angst/fluff prompts ♥

#timkon #and now some fluff after all the Feelings earlier !#i am Not currently taking prompts from this list anymore sorry but awoaugh i have so many djfbkdjs #rimi writes #tim #kon #crimzoncrow

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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i just want u to know that the thomas and martha lore with them fighting joe chill is everything to me. so is like everything else u post. brainrot is so fun i love it

After watching some old movies, I really want Bruce to interact with Martha's family more. The Kanes in my mind are stern, cut-throat, and ruthless in a very graceful way.

Phillip Kane (played by Charles Dance) is like that one relative from vintage Hollywood films that you have to deep clean the whole house for when they visit.

Bruce cleans it, thought. Alfred couldn't give two fucks. The poor boy is stressed though, " Yes, it's not you he scolds for a single grain of dust on the furniture."

"Self preservation is an acquired skill, sir."

Dick's never seen Bruce like that. Frantic, moving from one place to another, energised by sheer stress. He also doesn't understand what's with all these rules! "But I wanna show Tim how to play on the chandelier!"

"Not this week, darlings, please," Bruce is constantly on high alert, "Uncle Philip doesn't,--"

"Doesn't forgive lack of manners."

Philip Kane marches through the manor, sharp as ever in his military suit, bedazzled in shiny medals. He's aged both roughly and like wine, blessed with the ability to own the whole air. " And in my day, we obeyed our parents without question."

Alfred merely steps in front of Dick, Tim, and Jason, "In your day we discovered fire. Mr. Kane. Forgive us for not being interested in outdated customs."

"Alfred. Transparent as always, I see. The bald spots are new."

" The stress of unwanted guests. What's your excuse?"

Philip scoffs, merely raising an eyebrow, but somewhere under that grey titan there's a glimpse of amusement. Bruce thinks he can breathe freely, for a second, but his uncle drags a white gloved finger on the piano.

It's slightly gray, and he's rendered with a classic look of disapproval. "I take it your education isn't the only thing you've abandoned?"

"I-I tried, Uncle Philip, but,--"

"Try? You either fail, or you don't." Bruce's faces collapses with shame and Philip sighs, as if he's seen all this before,

" Just like your father. I've told my sister this is what happens with Wayne men. They always pick the easy way. What a waste of greatness."

Bruce's mouth burns with defenses for his father. It's no secret Philip never approved of Thomas. He made it abundantly clear when he didn't attend the wedding or funeral.

Right when Alfred is about to say something, Dick charges forward, little fists striking Philip's knees, '' Don't you talk about my Tati that way! He's strong, and brave, and gives great kisses!"

Little of course joins his big brother, " Meanie!"

"You'll sleep in the attic if you're not nice! That's where I put Tim when B isn't home!"

Bruce is overwhelmed with the love his children have for him. He gathers them up in his arms and gives them each a storm of kisses. Philip hums, examining the scene.

" ...Acceptable. We'll have to improve on those punches. Pennyworth, do your job for once and fetch my bags."

" Oh, fetch them yourself, you bloody cunt."

"Hn."

#bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #philip kane #hes actually super protective of bruce even thought hes a grouch #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #text #text post

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gffa · 11 months

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You know you're in deep when you're about to write a whole ass essay on Batman and Robin Eternal despite that you're pretty sure only like ten people who have read the story will even see it said essay, but you can't help yourself because, look, it may not have been perfect, but it knew the narrative theme it wanted to center a story around and it fucking nailed that story down by the end. I am just so, so ready to dig into a story that is basically a love letter to the thesis statement of: "You couldn't tell Dick Grayson shit about what to do with his life, that kid was going to be Robin whether Bruce approved or not, Robin was the leash, and every Robin that followed after was in the same footsteps." This is a story about how Bruce's guilt makes him think he's forcing his own will onto these kids, that he's creating them in his own image, and they basically all tell him, "Nah, I get to decide who I am, nobody else." It's not a perfect story, I would have shifted the emphasis a bit (and focused more on Dick's temper as a kid, rather than just the mistakes his was making/his insecurity about it, to really show rather than just tell that Dick made his own choices, but I get that that was in service of the tension the story was building), I also spent so much time thinking, "the pieces are here, but they're just not coming together", but ultimately I feel like everything clicked together so well by the end on a narrative level and the characters it was focused on (Bruce, Dick, Cass, and Harper are really the central characters here, I would say), and had fun moments for everyone else (I wouldn't read this just for Tim or Jason, even if I enjoyed both of their banter very much in the series) that, eh, it may not be my favorite backstory for the characters, but I'm willing to accept that it's a really thoughtful version of their backstory for the current era. Anyway, consider it a rec with only a small asterisk, where I think it was an extremely satisfying story if you're into the meta aspect of Robin's relationship with Batman, if you're not particularly beholden to any one version of the characters' backstories, or if you just want to skim for some funny banter.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #comics recs

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outrunningthedark · 24 days

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isn’t the same can be said about Tommy and Buck too? They were at the front ep 4,5,6 and Tommy comes back in 9 and 10 but we still don’t really get any development? Love the comment from Bobby amwith his approval sure. You can tell Tim definitely cares more about bucktommy than Marisol and Eddie for example. It’s very clearly shown! Tommy is also included a lot more with the 118 too. But it’s been a few months and there’s definitely not a lot of on screen development??? similar to how Marisol and Eddie were?

So, I do get what you're saying (and I don't disagree), but I think we need to put it into context for THIS season:

Lou signs a four episode deal. This is the "test". ABC most likely wasn't gonna give BuckTommy the go-ahead after just the kiss in 7x04. They probably wanted to see if the audience would come back in 7x05. And then maybe again for 7x06 (even though it wasn't advertised as a BuckTommy episode). 7x07 is a non-BuckTommy episode to let things settle. 7x08, as it turns out, didn't need BuckTommy because even Buck wasn't supposed to be there. 7x09 had a little bit of the couple (doing just fine!), but as we've discussed, happy couples don't do a whole lot on this show. Bobby's arc was ongoing. The Eddie and Marisol break up is imminent, so something had to happen for it to be obvious, and what's more obvious than Eddie getting caught by his son and his girlfriend with Kim (in his home, at that)? Henren had adoption drama. Again. 7x10...feels like more of the same. Bobby is going to be the MAIN focus because duh, Bathena is the most important pairing. But Eddie's getting a story line to confirm the break up and bring us to that point of him feeling "isolated" by the end of everything. And as the synopsis told us, Henren is still going through their custody battle (because there's no way it wasn't gonna be addressed in the finale). Now, if season 8 comes around and we're sitting here like "Where the fuck is Tommy?" then absolutely we should be anticipating a shift in the narrative because if Tim isn't even writing anything angsty for them then they're really screwed. But this season? For these few episodes? It was happy. It was positive (as far as Buck coming out). Tim did what he set out to do with what little time he had to do it.

#anonymous #tina speaks #buck x tommy #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1

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mintacle · 1 year

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Also regarding fanon Tim it is really pity that a lot of fans and even writers regard Tim as a mini-Bruce when i feel he should be opposite especially when it comes to their social circle. Like Tim is fascinating to me because he looked at the dark and gloom and isolation of both Gotham and Bruce and went, "It deserves to be saved. I will save it and i'll do it without it destroying me" (he failed but he tried, god did he try).

If Bruce Wayne is a mask for Batman then Robin is a mask for Tim Drake.

If Bruce is actively isolating himself then Tim is actively seeking people out (even if it sometimes means slight stalking and casual breaking and entering, which, Tim, buddy).

When his parents died Bruce buried the child he was and dedicated his life to make sure something like this would never happen to anyone else and when Jason he almost went and broke his one rule. When everyone in Tim's life was dead or dying he tried to held onto every little thing that could bring that normalcy back from before everything went to shit, whether it be cloning, trying to find Bruce, or even lazarus pit.

It is why Tim becoming batman always ends horribly, not because Tim is secretly a deranged guy but because becoming batman means affectively killing what makes him Tim Drake. It is also why i think the best ending for him would be retirement, the boy who chose to take up the robin mantle grows up to be the man who chose to give up the mantle (naturally this would take a lot of development since i feel Tim is rather addicted to it but also i think it would be good. I also feel he would still do hero work on side but as a consultant or support)

(I alse feel isolation is a major struggle for both of them. However Bruce embraces it, becomes a part of it, while Tim rejects it, loses to it. A Lonely Place of Dying indeed)

(i am so sorry i feel like i have more generalized both the characters and could be wrong about them since i am still newer to the comics but these are my thoughts from what i have seen so far)

Nah, anon, you're valid. I'm not crazy into Tim and haven't read anything with him yet (though @benbamboozled has convinced me to read Young Justice 98), from what I know of the canon version of Tim, he is very critical of Batman, which you kind of have to be if your goal is to help them (as opposed to enabling someone)

Here we have Tim on Bruce's approach to paranoia and work colleagues:

which will for me always be core part of Tim's characterization. He's very far from the boy who will blindly follow Bruce to get his approval. I think of all the Robins Tim might be the least interested in Bruce's approval. (Modern era Dick is weirdly open about wanting Bruce's approval which I don't like. Nightwing is for me ideally in extreme denial about his and Bruce's interdependance.)

Tim is far too aware of Batman's problems to want to become him. This is the kid that became Robin at Batman's lowest low. He didn't become the sidekick/ward/son of a vigilante who was larger than life, he became the support of a broken down man. It makes sense to have Dick and Jason involuntarily idolize the man, because the Batman they knew was amazing, but the Batman Tim knew? That was a spiralling man.

Which might also be why it bothers so many people that Tim isn't allowed to grow out of the Robin mantle, it feels extremely natural for him to be getting over his original mantle and connection to Batman.

#Tim Drake #ask answered #sorry for thje late-ish reply anon. I wanted to reply after sleeping so I wouldn't write utter shite #that being said I'm still really not an expert on Tim either...#rambling

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strangeshoepatrolbandit · 1 year

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Batfam x reader hc

This is headcanons for the batboys with a S/O that's into "Girly" stuff?? Like hair, nails, makeup, clothes, skincare.....y'know? Essentially keeping themselves groomed. No specific gender is used in this though

Warnings: says the word "suffocating", calls reader beautiful, calls reader gorgeous, calls reader hot, and says RIP as a joke...

Everybody is probably OC...sorry...

~☆~

Dick Grayson

Dick is the most likely to do all of these things with you.

Like he'll go with you to the hair salon and get a trim.

Or he'd accompany you to the nail salon, getting a mani-pedi whilst you get whatever you like.

He'd also sit at home with you while you paint each other's nails.

Dick would sit next to you and watch you as you do your makeup, he'd occasionally ask you about the use of some things, or he'd ask to do something for you.

Loves when you sit on his lap to do a full glam look on him, or he'd even lay his head on your legs.<33

Dick probably uses a light foundation and some concealer when he goes out!!

Dick will take you out and go on shopping sprees, and would pay for absolutely everything.(even if you object)

He would also want to have a fashion show when your in the changing room, or at home after you buy clothes yourself. LMAO

Dick 100% has the most extravagant skincare routine.

And he would definitely sit down with you and do facemasks whilst drinking wine in your pajamas at night.

The two of you also do your skincare routines together in mornings/nights that yall are together.

I just think Dick is a well groomed person.

I love him:)

Jason Todd

Jason totally supports whatever you do, and compliments even the smallest change you make to your appearance.

Once you went out to get a trim, and when you came home Jason took one look at you and goes "it looks amazing:)".

If you were thinking you should change the color/style/length he would always assure you that it would look gorgeous

One time you came home with black hair and a white stripe in the front to match his hair... he almost cried because of how good you looked.

He loves sitting in the bathroom with you while you dye your hair, he also loves doing it for you.

On the days that you go to the nail salon, you always wakeup with extra money in your wallet.

Never forgets to ask to see them whenever you get home.

Jason is also someone who would just sit and watch you do your makeup, he'd maybe even let you do his.

Whenever you run out of a product there is always a replacement that comes not that long after.(the two of you never bring it up though)

I feel like Jason wouldn't go to the Gotham shopping centers whenever you go for clothes, because the crowds make him feel a little suffocated.

But if he did, he would hold almost every bag, and would love to pick out things that he thinks would look good on you.<3

Just like his older brother Dick, he would sit in the living room, with a headband on his head, a show on the TV, and a facemask on his face. You are obviously right next to him doing the same.

Jason is the type of guy to wash his face with some crappy 1$ cleanser that he forgets to use, but always has moisturizer and sunscreen on.

Tim Drake

Tim probably doesn't share your enthusiasm for all of these but supports you.

Just like Jason he more than likely notices even the most minuscule changes in your appearance. (They are literally detectives)

He'd also 100% pay for absolutely everything you get done(we all agree that Tim treats Bernard like a sugar baby at times, right?)

"Y'know you don't have to pay for everything, right Tim?" You stated as you walked into your home, Tim who was currently sitting on the couch turned to look at you, and a tired smile bloomed on his face. "You look beautiful." :)))

Whenever you come home with a new hair color/cut he just gives you this look of approval.

Tim likes picking out colors/shapes for your nails, but he loves whatever you get regardless.

I feel like he'd stop by whilst you're getting them done just to drop off a coffee, then speed off somewhere he's needed.

Tim probably went through a phase where he wore eyeliner, sometimes he even dabbles in some concealer.

Just like Jason, he replaces the things you run out of without you having to say anything.

Sometimes when he eventually does get to sleep, you put makeup on him and take a thousand pictures that you send to his siblings.

He'll go out shopping with you because he likes buying you things, it's his way of making sure you know he loves you.

I wouldn't look at anything too long because he will just take it off the shelf and carry on.

He likes when he's at work and gets pictures of your outfit that day, especially if your wearing something he's bought you recently.<3

I'll say it, Tim has no skincare routine.

You'd have to force him to at least buy a facial wash.

You've also bought him a moisturizer but he forgets to wear it.</333

Bruce Wayne

I feel like it depends on what Bruce were talking about.

The "normal rich boy persona" Bruce would absolutely love taking care of you.

He'd pay for your haircuts, and hype you up as soon as you get back home.

If the paparazzi brings up any change you've made he'd totally be all like "yeah!! That's my partner arent they hot???!!!"

Like Dick, he'd accompany you whilst you get your nails done, he's right next to you getting his own done. (Okay, probably not if you get like....acrylics)

Bruce is also a make-up wearer, maybe a tinted moisturizer and some concealer, sometimes he's seen sporting an eyeshadow look.

You get a new makeup product almost every day as a gift.

He'd also take you out shopping quite often, he's someone who would enjoy a little fashion show whenever you're picking out outfits.

(He's the type to hold all of your bags.)

Dick took after Bruce with the skincare routine, Bruce has almost everything.

He could "put you out of business" with the number of steps in his routine.

He'd sit in a facemask and a bottle of wine, with or without you.

If we are talking about..let's say Battinson then he's not personally into what you do, but supports you.

He'd still offer to pay for everything you do, if you decline he will sometimes sneak you money.

He wouldn't comment on what you change unless you show it to him. (He does notice)

Although sometimes in the security of your shared room he just can't help but compliment every little thing about you.

This man drowns in eyeliner. <33

Rip this man's skin.....no skincare routine... :(

~☆~

I hope you enjoyed this!<3 Also "Brotherly Love pt.2" is still being written so please be patient with me....

I feel like I wrote them all the same...but idk.

#x reader #batman #bruce wayne #batboys #batbros #batsiblings #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #x reader headcanons #x gn reader

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