#I'm leaning towards tails but i can see how it could go either way

[very-uncorrect]

who said "i love you" first, would it have been sonic or tails

[dragonsholygrail]

*rolls into chat*

Hi. I'm sharing this because of your last post btw

Firefighter centaur!

Reader has to help him get all the gear off after a long tiring day because that's a LOT of hair for someone who works with fires and accidents.

*welcomes into chat with open arms*

And omg this is so good!! (I went off, my bad!) I also had to re-write this entire thing when I was almost done because my tumblr crashed and I’m absolutely devastated but worth it for firefighter centaur.

Imagine firefighter centaur works in forest fires so it’s all the more dangerous and on such a bigger scale when he does get called in. Which of course makes reader even more nervous whenever there’s a fire.

Constantly pacing the living room of your shared home, biting your nails, with your eyes latched firmly on to the tv. Not being able to look away for even a second. Just waiting to hear any news about the crew of centaur firefighters as they come in and out of the blazing flames.

Your heart drops heavily into your stomach as you catch sight of him, being able to recognize him anywhere. You find yourself unable to breathe as you watch your partner jump over a burning trunk with ease. All while carrying a handful of nymphs to safety. A couple in his arms and a few riding his back.

Watching your partner be so heroic like that takes your breath away. Or maybe it’s just because you’re relieved he’s alive. Either way it sends a violent need to thrum through your body. A need to go to him and be near him, no matter the risk. You don’t hesitate for a moment and you’re out of the house before you can even turn off the television.

There’s barricades all over the place when you arrive at the scene. Your eyes search frantically around the area, looking for just one feature that you’re familiar with to find him. But your heart is hammering within your chest and your mind spins with more horrible ‘what ifs’ by the minute.

Given your state, it was no surprise to you that he found you first, calling out your name. You whirl around till your eyes fall onto him. Both of you immediately start heading toward each other. You meet in the middle, arms wrapping tightly around each other. Your firefighter centaur smells so thickly of smoke you want to choke. But none of that matters because he’s in your arms and in one piece. No matter how much of his fur is singed.

“What the hell are you doing here? You could have been hurt!” Your partner shouts, sounding almost as frantic as you feel. He leans back enough to cup your face in his hands, looking as though he’s wondering if this is real.

“I saw you- I saw you come through the fire. And there’s so many things on you that it could’ve caught onto. I had to. I had to come. I had to see you and make sure…” you ramble on, words spilling from your mouth. Your mind unraveling now that you know he's sate. "You're alive."

His face softens considerably and he brings you back into his arms.

"Well you got here just in time. I think the fires coming down anyway." He holds you tight and you clutch onto him just as fiercely. Using his strong hold to assure yourself he's really here.

After you both get back to the firehouse you slowly and gently help him take off all his gear. You can tell he's seriously exhausted. Eyes drooping, shoulders slumped, and tail swooshing lazily.

You let him relax as you get started on cleaning up and preparing his gear for washing. It's a rigorous ritual all on its own and you know he's in no state to take care of it right now. But when he blinks his eyes open and realizes what you're doing, it doesn't stop him from trying to do it anyway.

“Hey, stop that. I can do it fine,” he sluggishly tries to interrupt, not wanting you to do his work for him.

All you have to do is shy away from his mindlessly wandering hands, bringing his gear with you. Unintelligible grumbles leave his lips in response.

“I know how to do it. Watched you so many times it would be an insult if I didn’t. I got this,” you assure him.

After all he went through he doesn’t have the energy to fight you on this. When he doesn’t reply you go back to helping situate his gear. You hear the heavy clops of his hooves and a moment later his arms are wrapping around you from behind, his head resting comfortably on top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says softly, those two words alone dripping with appreciation and love for you.

The firehouse is empty, you two being the last ones left to finish up for the night. It’s in that moment, his body curled up around you as you help him in a way that means more than he can describe, that it was as if neither of you had ever felt safer.

[b1tcht0p1a]

You Have My Attention - Ace D. Portgas Smut

Summary」

Ace has done many things to get your attention. Ranging from dangerous to downright obnoxious. It's about time all his efforts finally got him somewhere.

CW」

Fem! Reader, implied dacryphilia, edging, sub! Ace, creampie, use of good boy, slightly insecure Ace, praise kink, blowjob, orgasm denial, orgasm control, creampie, aftercare

Ace was cute; you'd give that to him. He was also persistent. So much so that it became increasingly annoying. Not only to you but to the rest of the crew. Marco was tired of having to tend to the wounds the dumbass got in hopes of getting your attention. And he had complained to you about it more than once. Always pointing out that Ace only does some of these things when you're around and watching. You brushed off the idea that Ace did these things to impress you for the longest time, but now you couldn't ignore it. Everyone complained to you, and now your hand was being forced. Whitebeard couldn't get it through Ace's head, so why not the woman Ace was pinning for? So either nip the behavior in the bud or get him to stop in whatever way you could that didn't involve potentially breaking his heart.

So here you were, waiting for Ace to join you in your private room. He happily agreed to come to your room later that night, even under the impression you were mad at his actions. You weren't sure what you were going to do or say. You didn't dislike Ace; he was an attractive and sweet man. He was strong and, thanks to his devil fruit, was a fearsome foe. You'd hate to ever have to fight him, even if you did have a devil fruit, more so if you didn't. You knew he was a good man who deserved a lot for all he's been through. You liked him and didn't like the idea of turning the sweet boy down.

A rapid knocking at the door brought you out of your thoughts; it must be Ace. You stood to answer the door. He didn't get to say anything before you grabbed his arm and quickly pulled him in. Once he was in, you closed the door and directed him to the chaise at the end of your bed. You sat in a matching chair diagonal from the lounge chair. You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees as you clasped your hands in front of your mouth. Ace sat there, smiling brightly, like a puppy wagging its tail. He stared at you, almost waiting for something.

You groaned and looked toward the ground, debating what you would say. You quickly looked back up, making eye contact with the still-smiling Ace. "Ace, we must talk about what you've been doing." Ace flattened, smile fading, and he became rigid. "You're a charming man, and I'm flattered. But you don't have to do stupid stuff to get my attention." You stood and moved to sit beside him, hand resting on his knee. His eye flickered towards your hand and stayed there. You brought your other hand to his cheek, turning his head, so he looked at you instead. "Ace, you need to stop. I hate seeing you get hurt." Ace gulped visibly; you were so close and tender to him. He leaned his head into your hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to get your attention."

"I know, but these little shenanigans need to stop. You're getting injured more often. You can always talk to me; you don't need to show off." The man frowned slightly and looked to the ground, face still firmly pressed into your palm. "Ace," you started moving your hand from his face, but his hand came up to keep yours in place. You smiled softly at his actions, "Aren't you just precious?" His frown got more profound, and his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. Your own smile grew. You removed your hand from his knee and brought it to the open side of his face, quickly making him look at you again. "You're so cute, Ace. There's no need to be embarrassed." You brought his head down to kiss his forehead, pulling away with a loud 'muah.'

Ace was shocked when you started the intervention; he believed you would turn him down. But here you were, affectionate with him, so much so it made him dizzy. It felt good to receive this kind of affection. He couldn't help the small whimper that left him at the continued kisses you left all over his face. Nor could he stop his hands from tightly grasping your waist. You stopped in your tracks, lips inches from his cheek. Slowly backing up slightly, you went to look at his face.

He looked so cute, so pathetic. His face was flushed, eyes unfocused, and breathing labored. You could help but smile. Looking down slightly, you could spot the prominent tent he was sporting. You looked at his face, "Ace, hon, do you want to do anything else?" You assumed he might want to continue into something much more the kissing, but first, he had to say he wanted it. You started leaving little pecks over his neck and shoulders. He whimpered once more and shook his head up and down rapidly. This wouldn't do. You need to hear him say it. One of your hands which both had moved down to his chest at some point, traveled upwards to gently grasp his chin, forcing his attention on you. He locked eyes with you, "What would you like, Ace?" His gaze shot away momentarily before he groaned and pulled at your waist, hoping to pull you into his lap. He was successful, but you needed something else. You needed words. "Ace, I know you can talk. Why not tell me what you want?" He flopped backward, hands falling to hold your hips; he ground up into you. "Please..." You made a slight humming noise, still patiently waiting. "Please…" Whinner than the last. "Please, what, Ace?" He only ground into you harder than the last time. It felt good, you wouldn't lie, but you were determined to get words out of the man first. "You know what I need to hear, Ace. Can you be a good boy and say it for me?" He moaned at your words and only started grinding upwards more. You quickly moved so you could hold his hips down. "No-no, not until you tell me what you need."

"PLEASE. Need you! Need to feel you!" He looked like he might cry if you continued; how cute, but you'd be merciful. This time, of course. You released your hold on his hips and sat back down right on top of his bulge. His grip tightened, and he released a groan; he could grind into you at will right now. Thoughts of what your tight cunt might feel like filled his mind, making him grind harder. You were tempted to let him continue, but you wanted to feel him inside you as he came. So, you leaned forward to kiss his face, hands placed on his pecs. You pulled away quickly, though, sitting upright once more. "Ace, baby. I thought you wanted to feel me?"

"I do, I do, but- fuck." He was frantic, so you lifted yourself again, battling against his grip. "Wouldn't you rather be in me? Wouldn't you rather feel me around you as you came?" He tried hard to get you to sit again, even if he wanted to be in you. He was whining at this point, absolutely desperate. "You can either cum in your pants or in me. Which would you prefer?" His grip lessened, and he stopped trying to force you down; you could see him look up at you. You smiled down at him, “Good boy, why don’t we get these shorts off, hm?” Ace was quick to scramble to get his buckle undone. He struggled for a few moments but quickly got it. It was the same with his shorts button and zipper. You helped Ace wiggle out of his shorts, which promptly got tossed on the chair you sat on moments ago. Ace’s hands went to start pushing down his boxers, but he stopped suddenly and went stiff. You noticed right away, “What’s wrong?”

“It's nothing.” You raised a brow at his words, “Do you want to stop? We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Ace shot up, so he was sitting now. “NO! No, we can continue. I just-.” His hand went back to his boxers and gripped, tightening around the fabric. He didn’t have to finish what he was saying for you to figure out what was wrong. You went to cup his cheek, gently stroking it. “Hey, it's okay. I would never judge you, especially something like this.” That seemed to relax him enough to continue but not enough to see your reaction. He laid back down and put his arms over his eyes. Leaving you to pull his boxers down, he only helps by lifting his hips. You weren’t sure why he was insecure when you saw his cock whip free. It was pretty, a nice length, and quite thick, but not quite enough to be intimidating. He had to be at least 6 inches. You fully remove his boxers before doing anything else. You kneeled above him, one knee going between his spread thighs. You gathered spit in the palm of your hand before wrapping said hand around the base of Ace’s cock.

His hips jerked slightly at the touch, and he moved his arms to look at you. When he made eye contact with you is when you pumped up and down slightly. He threw his head back in groaned. “Were you worried about your size, hon? Cause this is big.” You then started a slow pace, pumping his cock up and down. Ace was releasing a nice stream of whiny groans. You bent down to kiss Ace’s chest and moved downwards, kissing all the while. When your feet hit the floor, you kneeled; your face was level with his crotch. You kissed his v-line and hesitated for a moment before kissing the tip of his cock. His hips jerked at the sensation, causing you to giggle at his reaction. “So sensitive.” You gave a long lick, base to tip, before wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking gently. Ace’s breathing became labored, and the noises he made came out more freely. After doing this for a bit, you decided to start trying to take him into your mouth. You moved at a pace you were comfortable with. Taking a bit more with each bob up and down. You stopped when you couldn’t comfortably take any more in your mouth. Your hand went to wrap around what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Ace’s groans eventually turned into moans, loud and unashamed. His hips were bucking into your mouth, and his hand had wound itself in your hair. You could feel him start to twitch in your mouth, but you continued. Ace’s moans had gotten louder at this point, and he started spewing praises, which mainly consisted of ‘your mouth feels so good.’ You bobbed your head a few more times but pulled away when you heard the cries of Ace saying, “I’m close.” He wasn’t pleased. He damn near yelled out when he felt his length leave the confines of your hot, wet mouth. He tried to push at the back of your head but failed to get you to move even slightly. “Please, I was so close.”

“I know, but I didn’t want you cumming yet.” He whined once more. You stood and began removing your own bottoms, ignoring all his little whines of “Please, I was so close.” You quickly made your way to your nightstand, a bottle of lube waiting for you. You quickly made your way back to where Ace lay. His breathing was still labor, and he had tossed an arm over his eyes once more. It moved when he heard the slight pop from you opening the bottle. You squeezed some into your hand before wrapping said hand around Ace’s dick. Ace’s hips jerked, and he moaned when you moved your hand up and down, spreading the lube over his length. You pulled away and put more on your hand but brought it to your cunt. You were quick with spreading it over your lips, slightly penetrating yourself. Once you felt prepared, even if it was rushed, you kneeled over Ace. Knees placed next to his hips, hand on his chest as you leaned forward. You wrapped your hand around him and began your descent.

It felt wonderful to have him inside your gummy walls, his dick stretching you deliciously. The length would take some time to get used to, but it was still quite pleasurable. Ace’s hands had flown to your hips, gripping harshly. He was trying hard not to move, figuring you needed some time to adjust because of the way you hadn’t moved. It was hard, but he was doing good. Both of your hands were firm on his pecs, putting pressure to keep yourself stable as you raised your hips. All before slamming them back down. Ace’s hips thrusted up into you, eyes shut tightly as he moaned loudly. You began a steady bounce; Ace’s hands had moved to your ass, helping you bounce. It felt so good; he reached far into you. It was uncomfortable the first few bounces, especially the first harsh one, but it faded. Leaving you consumed by pleasure. And it seemed Ace was too.

He had moved his legs, one bent and on the chaise, the other touching the floor. This was to help him meet your bounces. He was so desperate for release after being denied by you. He needed it so bad, but he want you to cum as well. One hand left your ass and moved to your sex. It took him a moment, but he did find your little ‘button’; your clit. He started rubbing tight circles into it. Your own quiet moans had gotten louder, not as loud as Ace’s have been, but still noticeable to anyone who might walk past the room. Your hands had left Ace’s chest in favor of taking over the tight circles being drawn on your clit. When you shooed Ace's hand, It went back to your ass, squeezing it. Every bounce felt even better now, heavenly almost. The new angle of you being upright had Ace’s cock hitting your sweet spot just right. Every bounce brought you closer and closer now, same with the circles you drew on your clit.

Ace was close, too, but he was trying his hardest to hold out. Purely out of want for you to cum first. His upward thrusting became more erratic, taking over the pace you had set. Your moans had reached their peak, being the same volume as Ace’s. He could feel you tighten around him, influencing him to work harder. He began pounding into you from below. You were so close, just a bit more; just a few thrusts, and you reached that oh-so-needed climax. “I’m so close; you feel so good. Filling me so nicely.” The knot in your stomach had formed a while ago, but it was so tight, ready to snap at any moment. The same thing was going on with Ace; he wanted to release so badly but was determined to last longer than you.

And he was successful. That ‘knot’ in your belly had finally snapped, filling you with a euphoric feeling. Your fingers stopped their movements, and your hips stuttered, jerking as waves of pleasure fell over you. Ace came not soon after; the vice grip around him practically milked the orgasm out of him. His hips stuttered upwards, grinding ever so slightly upwards. Thanks to his previously denied orgasm, this one felt heavenly. His mind went fuzzy, and his body relaxed after a few moments. His breathing was still labored, as was yours. Chest heaving with each breath. You got control of your breathing before Ace and rise. As nice as he felt, you needed to get cleaned up. So you stumbled from the chair and to your bathroom.

You grabbed a washcloth for yourself, quickly taking care of the mess that spilled down your thighs. Another washcloth was grabbed to clean up Ace, whose breathing had relaxed at this point. When you went to wipe him down, he tried pushing your hand away, clearly too sensitive. “Hey, I’m almost done, and then you can relax, okay?” He didn’t try to push your hand away again, taking the slight stimulation so he could get cleaned off. You kissed his forehead before walking off again to throw the used towels in your laundry basket. You grabbed your discarded clothing and redressed before helping Ace back into his boxers. “Come on; my bed is way better than this old lounge chair. You can nap there.” Ace begrudgingly got up, stumbling to the bed with your help. He quickly got under the covers, wrapping himself in the soft sheets. “

“Hey, I’m going to get you some water. Do you want anything to eat, too?” Ace sleepily nodded his head. You smiled and kissed his forehead before leaving the room, shutting the lights off as you left. It was night, and despite how loud you and Ace were, you still naively believed no one would be up at this hour. You hadn’t even made it halfway down the hall when someone cleared their throat. You didn’t dare look up, not wanting to see the face of whoever was about to tease you.

“Thought you were just going to talk to him.”

@h3rfave

@euphofic

[hunnylagoon]

The Killing Moon

PT1: Camp Spirit

Ellie Williams x Reader

Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.

Premise: You are a camp counsellor who comes back year after year to be at peace in the one place you love the most. Though there is something different in the air, could it be love or maybe an ancient evil you’ve mistakenly awakened?

Warnings: slight mentions of violence / mentions of monsters and cryptids / raunchy humour / spooky?

The Killing Moon Playlist

PART TWO: The Colour Wars

Week One of Summer Camp

Camp Honey Hills is what you could call 'off the radar'. It sat way up past the hills and forests of Oregon, relatively untouched by the urban nightmare of the city. It stayed peaceful and undisturbed as leaves shed from trees and snow covered every inch of ground, but the camp was alive for one season of the year. Even in the quietness of preparing for the campers to arrive you could still hear counsellors laughing with one another and that's how you could tell the camp was waking up from its ten-month slumber.

"Anyone in the White Tail Deer Cabin, over here!" I held my hand up and waved to the kids piling out of the buses, carrying duffle bags bigger than themselves. The first day of camp was always the most stressful, the only thing to get you through was the idea that it would be over soon and we could get to the fun part of summer.

I already had a handful of girls crowding around me, all of them were either ten or eleven; depending on how you look at it, I either got blessed or cursed that I was assigned to a cabin of older girls. While the younger ones were wild and untamable, the older ones tended to be snarky and standoffish, these girls we’re leaning toward wild.

"Hi," I look up from my clipboard to see a scrawny girl, she has long black hair in two French braids, a summer camp staple. "My thing says that Ellie is my counsellor and I don't know who that is."

"All good," I bend down to her height, "It's that pretty girl over there," I point at Ellie, she's talking to one of the girls in her cabin, and her dark eyebrows are furrowed at what I can only assume to be an absurd question. "You're in the Grizzly Cabin, looks like I'll be seeing a lot of you."

The girl doesn't answer me with words, from the way she's looking at me you'd think I just told her that I sat on her hamster. She gives me one last side glance before she struts off and lugs her duffle bag behind her. "That weird girl said I was in your cabin," I hear ever so faintly in the distance, Ellie bites back a laugh.

I shake off the not-so-subtle cruelty of a pre-teen and go back to yelling for all of the girls in my cabin. So far I had seven of the eight campers I was supposed to have, I was in the lead and if I collected all of the girls in my cabin first, that would be more points towards the camp cup. You should know that I take the camp cup very seriously, it really isn't anything more than a trophy that Tommy and Joel give to a cabin but I haven't lost it in the past five years that I've worked here. 

"Is your name Tamar?" I point at a stubby ginger girl, "You look like your name is Tamar," I was on the hunt for the eighth girl in my cabin so I could win the arrival day points. 

"Uh, no," She said, looking as muddled as scrambled eggs "My name is Marcy."

"Then get out of here, Marcy," I look past her and nod at a girl with skin the colour of ebony wood "Are you Tamar?" This girl looks around to double-check that I'm talking to her before she shakes her head no.

"Who's my counsellor then?" Marcy who stands at a maximum of what looks to be a mighty 4'3 is peering into my soul with her icy blue eyes and I almost shudder, all I could think is that someone needed to get this four-foot-nothing girl some contact lenses.

"Your counsellor and cabin should be on the slip of paper that administration gave you."

"I lost my paper."

"Um," I glance around at the other counsellors, collecting their campers. My eyes settle on Abby, she's wearing a Camp Honey Hills T-shirt. She looks like she's got everything more put together and organized than any other counsellor so I decided to dump this kid on her. "It's that blonde girl with the big muscles, you better hurry because she'll crush you if you aren't there in time."

Marcy looks at Abby and then back to me with wide eyes at my words before she scurries away. As I watch her roll up to Abby's group, I quickly realize that there is no way she is in that cabin. Abby got the oldest group, consisting of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds and I was sure that Marcy, with all of her missing teeth, was no older than nine. I avert my eyes to avoid any wrath.

I spot Jesse who is trying to wrangle up his boys who are already rough housing and throwing each other in the dirt. Somehow he always ends up with the returning campers or the savage ones who would surely put my head on a stick before taking a shower. 

"Is this the White Tail Deer Cabin?" A girl with pale skin and brown hair stares me down, she's tall for her age and lanky.

"Are you Tamar?"

"Yeah," She says it like she's annoyed.

"Perfect," I smile, turning to my group "Alright girls, that's everyone," I turn to look in Tommy's direction "I said that's everyone," I enunciate louder to be sure he can hear me, each of my campers gives one another a snide glance. 

Tommy presses his lips together in a thin line and answers me with a thumbs-up. He already knew I would be the first to get my group together, I always was. He and Joel are the camp directors, they were talking about something before I called their attention.

Marcy points at me and Abby looks in my direction, her eyebrows knit together. Great, now I was being snitched on my nine-year-old. Abby calls out my name but I'm already ushering my girls towards the cabins "Who wants to see the cabin?"

In just moments, I'm long gone and walking the trail to the girl's cabins. Breathing one last moment of peace, the earthy bitterness in the air, droplets of last night's rain slipping off leaves. It made me want to savour every moment in the forest I had before summer ended and I had to go back to stuffy dorms and lectures along with people as boring as the city itself. I've never been able to fathom why anyone would dream of the city, of the drug users and creepy men roaming the streets. Concrete everything and headaches from blue light, every day that I was away at college I dreamed of coming back here, I counted down the days I could turn my phone off and disappear from the world for a while.

The boys may have had a shorter walk to their bunkhouse but the girls definitely got the better view. It also didn't hurt that the circle of cabins was right beside the pasture so we woke up to watch horse grazing, unless you don't like horses, then you can just ignore them I guess.

"Okay, ladies," I open the door to our cabin, a little carving of a doe above the doorframe. "This is our cabin, go ahead and claim your bunks, I don't care who goes where, just don't fight about it and no one set up on my bed."

"How do we know which one is yours?" One of the girls, Leslie, asks. 

"Because it's the only one that's set up," I say, bluntly and I see the realization hit her like it was a math equation that finally clicked in her head "You guys can unpack and I'll go over the cabin constitution in a minute."

As my campers piled into the cabin, ravenously fighting over who got which bed, I saw Ellie walking up with her girls. Our cabins were right next to each other, we shared a little porch that Maria decorates with plants while Ellie and I neglect them until they're wilted and we try to save them so we don't get yelled at. Alternatively, dump the responsibility of nurturing plants on one of your campers, kids love to water stuff and feel important.

Ellie's campers begin to walk up the porch and into the cabin, one of her girls runs up to me "I wanna be in your cabin again," Lana pouts, I had her last year and I can't say that I have a least favourite camper but if I could, it would definitely be Lana. "Ellen is so mean."

"Well, maybe she would be nicer if you said her name right." I look up to see Ellie who mouths a 'Thank you'  "Call her Ellie and maybe you two can be nice to each other."

Lana looks between the two of us before wordlessly walking into the cabin in trail of the other girls. "It's shaping up to be an interesting summer."

"We've survived worse," I cross my arms "Do you remember Tucker? That kid Jesse had who managed to tie a piece of dental floss around a wasp and carry it around with him all day like a balloon."

"He was a little weird but he was chill," Ellie jokes, like every other counsellor, she's wearing the Honey Hills T-Shirt and Demin shorts, her auburn hair pulled back into a half up half down style "How about that girl in Dina's cabin who wrote Reid letters pretending to be Priya?"

I laugh "I can't believe it went on so long."

"I can, Reid's a fucking idiot." She says "He pronounces chutney like chut-uh-ney."

"Oh my god, I hate that so much," I was obviously dragging on this conversation, hunting for reasons to talk to her "And the way he says Ibiza and Cuba and like everything." 

"Do you remember when he joined the women supporting women club in high school?"

"Please don't remind me, that was awful," I chuckle "The worst part is that he ran that shit like the navy."

"Are you coming inside?" Chloe pokes her head out the door.

"I guess so," I answer "Uh, I'll see you at the campfire," I tell Ellie before stepping into my cabin and seeing pure chaos. The four bunkbeds that were pristinely set up just hours ago were now clad in each girl's personal bedding, ranging from Chloe's neat colour scheme of light blue and white to Kim's mismatched quilts, fuzzy pillows, and bright orange sleeping bag. They were still working on getting everything set up, specifically getting the fitted sheets onto the twin-sized waterproof mattress. Some of the girls were even beginning to tape up photos of their friends and family from back home. "Wow, looks great girls."

"Can we go to dinner yet?" Leslie asked, her twin braids hanging over her pink hoodie.

"No, it is three o'clock but we will go over the cabin constitution."  A couple of the girls let out groans of disapproval "First you always listen to me, do as I say not as I do. Respect others and their belongings, please don't hurt anyone or yourself. Maintain personal hygiene and do not go anywhere without telling someone where. Also, we have shower schedules, showers are absolutely mandatory, and no one will talk their way out of it. On Friday's we have tuck shop, and everyone gets a twenty dollar allowance for that, no you do not actually touch the money it's part of the camp package, I take your orders and come back with candy. We have campfires every night, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are mandatory to attend even if you don't eat which I strongly encourage you do."

"Do we have to go if we're sick?" Tamar asked me.

"No."

"But you just said it was mandatory."

"It's mandatory if you aren't sick."

"But you said-

"Stop," I clasp my hands together "I know I'm older than you guys but I promise you can tell me and ask me anything." I smile, looking around "Any other questions?"

"Can we swear?" Valentina asks, she's kicking her feet off her bed on the top bunk. Her skin is the colour of copper and she has a little dusting of freckles over her button nose.

"I don't really care just don't do it around other adults and don't tell them that I told you that."

"What's the wifi?" Morgan was typing something on her phone which was by far more expensive than the model I owned. Dina had Morgan in previous years and I wasn't too thrilled to be in charge of the (as she claimed) disrespectful blonde monster sent from hell to ruin her life.

"We don't have wifi, we hardly have service," I tell her "And you aren't even supposed to have your phone here but you can't do anything on it anyways so it doesn't matter."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Leah chimes in, she's sitting on the ground with Oliver and slowly but surely braiding her friend's hair.

"Not at the moment, no."

"So are you a lesbian?" Olive follows up for her friend.

"Um," I press my lips together, my mind failing me, "I think we're good on questions, who wants a camp tour?" No one says or does anything, they just kind of look around awkwardly "That's too bad, you're getting one."

Everyone gathered around the crackling fire pit on splintered wooden benches. The warm glow of the campfire flickered in the midst of a cool summer night, casting dancing shadows on the faces of worn-out campers who were ready for bed. 

Tommy had given his speech to sike up the kids for the rest of the summer, he made sleeping in the woods sound like a lot of fun. "We're giving you tonight to settle in but I promise that starting tomorrow we are hitting the ground running, activities from morning until dark, this will be a summer to remember," He smiles brightly "I don't wanna babble too long so I'm gonna give the attention to Miles who is going to kick off our campfire by playing the guitar for us."

Miles sat directly across from me in the first row of benches so I could only see him through the orange flames of the fire. "This is an original song I wrote, so far it's untitled but I'm open to ideas," He made himself comfortable with the guitar, readjusting it to sit in his lap properly. 

"What do you wanna bet it's about?" Ellie whispers into my ear from beside me. Since the day cooled into the night, she's thrown on a gray hoodie to keep herself warm. You would be an idiot to ignore how pretty she looks illuminated by nothing more than stray stars in the sky and a campfire.

"I'll put five bucks on sex,"

"Sex?" She raises her eyebrows "I don't think he's stupid enough to sing a song about sex in front of kids, I'm gonna say it's about being a tortured artist."

"It could easily be both," I look down and see Ellie's muddied converse "We break even if he does both." The fire roared before us like our own miniature hell.

Miles clears his throat and lets his curly blonde locks fall over his forehead. Beginning to strum, he made that weird face he makes every time he plays guitar, where he scrunched his eyebrows together "Baby, maybe, I just wanna do you, do you, do you wanna do me? do me underneath the moonlight," He's too lost in his song to see the horror on every counsellor's face "Baby, baby, maybe I will steal you, steal you, just so I can feel you, feel you, maybe that would heal you."

I cover my mouth with my hand to stop me from cackling. The older kids were on the verge of laughing themselves while the younger kids seemed utterly confused. "Holy shit," I mutter so quietly that my words got blown away with the wind.

Ellie didn't try to stop her laughter, just hide it, she buried her head into the crook of my neck so no one could see how red her face was. She was far better off than Dina who was laughing so hard that she was clutching her stomach and nearly falling over, Miles seemed to be oblivious to all of this. In Dina’s defence, it was difficult not to laugh at a song so wildly inappropriate and bad in general.

Miles had far from the best voice, he just sounded like every other white guy who sang Wonderwall at a girl, not to her but at her "Sticky thighs are you wild now or just a memory? I heard your broken cries and looked into your eyes under the moonlight, so do you wanna do me, do me, so I can heal you, heal you, from the inside-

He stops abruptly when Joel takes the guitar away from him "How about Sawyer tells us the camp legend instead."

Those who knew who Sawyer was looked towards him, Miles was trying helplessly to get his guitar back from Joel who was holding it just slightly out of reach. "It's been a while since I've told this so forgive me if-

"No one cares, just tell it," Ashlynn said. She was one of the counsellors who clearly didn't want to be there, which meant all of the campers thought her to be the coolest; in all fairness, she was cool. Ashlynn had bleach blonde shaggy hair, so light that it almost looked white. Her eyeliner was always a little smudged and she was only there to keep the kids alive, she tended to be the first to opt out of group activities and go to bed early.

"Okay well, it starts way back in the sixteen-hundreds, on these very grounds there was a small village," Sawyer put on his best storytelling voice which was just him lowering his voice an octave. "They lived in peace for decades, and throughout all of those decades there was a woman named Abigail who never seemed to age, while all of her friends and family developed wrinkles, their hair turned gray, and their bodies sagged, Abigail still looked nineteen even at her alleged age of sixty-seven." 

The new campers seemed enraptured but returning kids and counsellors seemed bored out of their minds, I even spotted one boy who's been attending this camp longer than I have, mouthing the words of Sawyers tale.

"They accused her of witchcraft and she was shortly exiled far up the hill into what we now call the Honey House. They left her with nothing more than a hunting knife, a canteen of water, the clothes on her back, and a small portion of seeds. The villages burned down her home in town along with everything inside it. If you think that is the end-

"Think again!" Dina cut in, getting up from her spot and squeezing herself beside Sawyer. "With Abigail gone the villagers thought they would be safe but just days after Abigail was exiled, anomalies began to appear-

Sawyer chimed back in "At first they were harmless, pixies, gnomes, jackalopes, nyiads by the rivers and dryads in the trees. The creatures appearing slowly began to appear more and more dangerous and at last, the snatchers arrived-

"Like a muscular and tall emaciated human. The most terrifying creatures to ever be seen, they roamed just outside of the village and lured children in, they slurped the flesh right off of the children's bodies like prey and wore the clothes of their last victim. They have no lips just a bloody gash and when they don't eat, the gash begins to reseal, leaving nothing on their gray faces but large and pale sunken eyes the size of my fist!" Dina clenched her hand into a fist and held it up for everyone to see.

"Their fingers are long and rotted, long curls of claws on each of their ten spindly fingers. The males are devoid of all hair and the females hardly have hair at all, just small plugs of greasy and matted strands. Their teeth are sharper than fangs and are rotten black and yellow, a foul odour escaping each time they open their disgusting gashes of a mouth. Though the snatchers were the most feared among villagers, they were also being terrorized by other creatures, such as pine devils who slithered from the forests at night and attacked families. There was ghouls who would take on the form of the last corpse they devoured and of course, the wampus which was half-man and half-cat, would stalk villagers.”

"Like a furry?" One of the boys from Jesse's cabin peeped.

"No," Sawyer exasperated "Like a scary and intimidating cat-man."

"So does it look more like the Cat in the Hat or like Cats the Musical?"

"It doesn't look like either, it's a terrifying man that is covered in fur and looks like a cat but is also a man."

"So Cats the Musical?"

Dina ignored the comment and continued with the story "After a year the village population had been cut in half and everyone thought it to be the witch, they figured that Abigail had cursed them for exiling her so they lit up their torches at sunset and marched up the hill to the Honey House. Abigail pleaded with them and explained that she hadn't cursed them but during her residency in the village she had warded off each evil spirit and creature with her witchcraft but she no longer could protect the village after they burned her home down and all her supplies inside of it."

After muttering to Jesse to get his cabin in order, Sawyer picked up when Dina left off "The villagers begged for her forgiveness and apologised for their cruel acts in the hope that Abigail would rid them of the monsters, Abigail said she would but in return they grant her return to the village, so the townfolk agree-

"With all her supplies to ward off the creatures gone, Abigail resorts to a blood ritual. She tells the townfolk that they must complete the ritual before sundown. She creates five pentagrams made of sticks and twine. Abigail races around the village to place the pentagrams and avoid the creatures while she does so, the villagers ward the monsters away from her with their torches. At each pentagram, Abigail slices her palm open and squeezes her fist to drip blood onto each one, then she ignites the pentagram with a torch and utters an incantation. She slashes her thighs and calves to get enough blood and in a last-ditch effort, she cuts her wrists open to finalize the ritual," Only the younger kids had been paying any attention to the story, they seemed downright terrified, clinging to one another but trying to play it cool.

"I fail to see how this is any less inappropriate than Miles's song," Cat mutters with one girl huddled into her, her arm slung over the little girl and rubbing her back to soothe her.

"Once she had completed the ritual, Abigail said that no creatures should return to the village. She is bleeding out in the middle of the town square but the town doctor only watches her, and refuses to help so she begs the appointed mayor to bury her beside her mother, he answers by saying 'The graveyard is sacred and we will not let it be tainted by filthy witch blood' in her final breath she plunged for the mayor and drags her bloody palms down his face, cursing him. Once she is no longer breathing her body begins to rapidly age into the appearance of the sixty-eight-year-old woman she was supposed to be. The townsfolk cut Abigail's body into five parts, two legs, two arms, and the torso with the head still attached and buried her on the border of the village."

Everyone sat in silence "Is that the end?" someone asked, though they were in the back row of benches and I couldn't see who it was.

"Yup," I answer "Abigail gets renamed as 'the girl that time forgot' in folklore and she never gets revenge on the townsfolk for betraying her after she laid down her life for them." I had never liked the legend. Young boys thought it was cool and gory and fifteen-year-old girls thought it was poetic and tragic but I hated it to death. Other camps have fun light-hearted legends about playful forest spirits or secret villages of fairies deep in the woods but we got an edgy story about a woman who just wanted to be loved.

"I wish she let the snatchers eat them all," Ellie said the same thing that she says every year, she wasn't wrong, that's how I wished it ended too. 

"Just wait until one eats you," I joke.

"Nah, I'd kick it's ass."

"I'm sure you would but right now you owe be five bucks.”

"No, we didn't pick this legend, it's true," I heard Jesse's voice cutting through the conversations of the crowd.

"Bullshit," Mordecai said, he was one of those kids who thought it was cool and edgy to be an asshole and act older than he was. He despised summer camp but every summer his parents forced him back much to our dismay.

"It's not," Bowie jumped in "The snatchers come back to visit us sometimes." 

"Yeah? I thought Abigail banished them with blood magic."

"The spell is growing weaker with time, it's slowly wearing out and there hasn't been a witch to revive it," Jesse was a good storyteller, he should've been the one to deliver the camp legend. He found a way to enrapture people with his words.

That's when I decided to call it a night for my girls, the longer you stayed at the campfire, the more outlandish stories the guys would tell and I learned my lesson last year that it is very easy to give ten-year-olds nightmares. "Whitetail deer, we're heading out," I stand up.

A few of the girls had groans and complaints while others seemed happy to leave. Ellie looked up at me from where I stood and did the same "Grizzlies, we're leaving too,"

"You're just saying that because you wanna hit it, Williams," Dean said between obviously fake coughs into his fist, causing Ashlynn to bite back a smile and Miles to playfully punch him on the arm. 

"Dean," Tommy gave him a stern look and said nothing else, Dean took the hint and ceased his laughter.

"Headcount," I say looking at the girls in front of me "Chloe, Leslie, Kim, Leah, Tamar, Morgan, Valentina, and Olive." Each of them stands in a close-huddled bundle "Alright, don't go off trail."

The walk back from the campfire was gorgeous during the day and borderline mortifying at night. Since the foliage was so thick you could hardly see the sky if you looked up and at night the little piece of clearing that was the trail was pitch black, we were guided by nothing more than mine and Ellie's flashlights.

The two of us had been trailing behind the girls in silence to keep an eye on everyone until Ellie felt the urge to speak up "Uh, by the way, that thing that Dean said about-

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Yeah he's a dick and his cabin looks like a wooden prison cell." 

"It does," She furrows her eyebrows in thought "It’s like he's conditioning his campers for war."

I didn't notice when I did this, it must've been a subconscious thing but I mindlessly reached for Ellie's hand to hold. I used my free hand to keep the flashlight focused on the trail and campers ahead of us. "Sawyer has to walk back to the bunkhouses across the camp with those little monsters."

"Payback for all of the pranks he's pulled with Bowie," Ellie mutters. Sawyer took pride in initiating the prank wars every single summer the same way I strove to win the camp cup. His pranks weren't also lighthearted and fun, he and Bowie organized this prank where Sawyer put a bag over Tyson's head and dragged him to the administration office in the middle of the night and then pretended to shoot Bowie dead in front of him. Tyson quit the next morning and Sawyer got a hefty write-up.

"So are you still talking to Cat?" I ask.

"Nah, that was never gonna work out."

"Because she's too hot for you?” I joke.

"What? No," She whipped her head to look at me "Why? You wanna get with her or something, you have my blessing."

"I'm good, I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

"Who with?" Her voice dripped with accusation. Ellie's hand clenching just the slightest bit tighter on mine.

"Work? You should know that I don't date at camp, to think that I thought you knew me," I tease her.

"What about that summer with Chandler?"

"That doesn't count," My smile drops and I fight the urge to shiver at the memories. Before I was a counsellor at Honey Hills, I was a camper and I happened to have my first kiss at age thirteen with a boy named Chandler, our braces got stuck together.

"Everyone saw, so it counts," I can't quite make out Ellie's face in the dark but I can hear the smile in her voice "Remember how Joel had to pull out the pliers."

"You need to stop before I sacrifice you to the Honey Hills Snatchers," I look ahead on the trail and I could've sworn my heart stopped "Stop!" I yell and all of the girls look back at me, I drop Ellie's hand "Where is Olive?"

All of the campers look at each other for answers, and then Leah opens her mouth "She saw a rock that was shaped like a heart and when off trail to get it."

"Well I'm not seeing a heart-shaped rock or Olive but it's super safe in these woods so no need to panic." 

"No one's panicking," One of the girls in Ellie's cabin says, she was the same one who called me weird during arrival.

I run one hand down my face in exasperation, using the other to keep the flashlight trained on the girls "Everyone, stay here with Ellie, I'm going to be right back," I look at Leah "How far back did she go off trail?"

She shrugs "How am I supposed to know? I don't have a tape measure."

"Sweet," I answer before marching straight into the pitch-black woods. It was almost scarier to be in the dark with a flashlight instead of no light source, it felt like I had been in a video game or horror movie and I was about to get my throat slashed by a maniac in a mask. 

Every rustle of leaves or snap of twigs made me feel uneasy. I knew the woods were safe like I had told the girls but that didn't stop irrational fear from bringing up stories of cryptids and cuts from murder podcasts. If you ever played that shitty Slenderman game, you'd know exactly what I'm looking at; not Slenderman himself, just an eery forest.

I called out for Olive, my imagination running wild with thoughts of unseen dangers lurking in the shadows. The forest seemed to come alive around me, its inhabitants whispering secrets that only the night could hear.

"Olive?" My voice echoes into the night, I did what I could to ignore whatever fear I was feeling. I had walked through these woods a million times, I knew every pathway better than I knew the city. This forest was like home to me, it didn't feel right to be so on edge.

I couldn't help but jump when something loud snapped beneath my sneaker, instinctively I brought my flashlight down to look at it, moving my foot out of the way. It had been a pentagram made out of sticks, wow really funny, it might've scared me if Ashlynn and Bowie hadn't made dozens of them and laid them around camp last summer to scare the shit out of kids. It had broken in half beneath my weight.

There was a possibility that I was going crazy in the five minutes I was alone in the woods because I thought I heard a rustle but the beam of my flashlight revealed nothing but the dense thicket of trees and the inky blackness beyond.

Something charged behind me, wrapping its skinny arms around my torse and I couldn't help but flinch. "Olive," I turned my head and brought the flashlight to shine down on her "Don't run off in the dark ever again, you scared the shit out of me."

"I'm really sorry, I won't do it again," She said. I tried to pry her off me but she was hanging on like a Koala, eventually, I got her to settle for just holding my hand. "It was stupid."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, you're ginger and that's punishment enough," I was hastily yanking her along so we could get back on the trail and shortly back into the comfort of the cabin "Did you get your rock at least?"

"Yeah," She held her palm out, the rock was an oval with the littlest indent in the middle, but I let her act like it was shaped like a heart. 

"How'd you get so far out?"

"I grabbed the rock and then I saw a cat and I followed it."

Cat? "You must've seen Buckley, he's friendly," I tell her. Buckley was the resident dog at camp, he was probably older than me and wandered around before settling at Tommy and Maria's cabin for the night.

A moment after I dragged the little girl along we broke past the tree line and into the clearing of the trail. I looked around and spotted Ellie and the girls a good 40 yards or so behind. Clutching Olive's tiny hand in mine I walked towards them, flicking my flashlight on and off to catch their attention.

"Finally wrangled her," I let out an almost nervous laugh.

"You said not to go off trail," Tamar wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, Tamar, I know."

I don't know how late into the night it was when I was awoken by every girl in my cabin squabbling with one another. I got up and turned on the flashlight that I kept on my dingy bedside table "What's going on girls?"

"The snatcher is coming to get us!" Leslie cried, and I mean cried. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes were so glassy that they reflected any and all light, hot tears streaming down her round face.

That's when my annoyance turned to concern. Oh god, I was going to kick Sawyer and Dina's asses tomorrow morning and Joel for even suggesting the camp legend even though it made my campers too afraid to sleep year after year. "No, snatchers aren't real, they were made up in the sixteen hundreds to keep kids away from the forest."

"We heard it!" Morgan chimed in.

"Guys it's just the placebo effect, you've convinced yourself that it's real-

I froze when I heard a long scratch down the door and a wet guttural growl. It was low and deep, shaking me to my very core. Whoever was on the other side began to scratch harshly on the door, jiggling the locked door handle. When the handle didn't budge it began to slam itself on the door, each thump louder than the last. It was still groaning and grumbling in a harsh, awful voice.

The girls screamed, Olive and Leah, were hugging each other tightly, clenching their eyes shut. Valentina had a bottom bunk and slipped beneath the bed, covering her eyes with her hands. Leslie (like I had mentioned) was a blubbering mess, crying and hyperventilating too hard to get any words out. It looked like Morgan was trying to call someone on her phone and Tamar had her knees tucked to her chest, hugging herself. Both Kim and Chloe threw their blankets over top of them, pretending to disappear.

The voice sounded again except this time I realized it wasn't just a growl, it was a word "Girrrrllllls." Then it began to scratch the door all over again. When I tell you this voice was the most unsettling thing I've ever heard, I mean it. It was wet and phlegmy whilst being course and grumbly. From the very beginning, I had known it was a prank.

I marched towards the door flicking on the light in the cabin on and dropping my flashlight, before hammering my fists on the door "Fuck off!" I kicked the door, the sound stopped for just a moment before it slammed itself against the door.

Each thud against the sturdy wooden door reverberated through the night like a thunderclap. Whoever was sent to scare us was sure doing a good job. Their breathing was low and heavy almost as loud as the banging of the door itself. "Don't open the door," Leslie heaved out between sobs.

The girls huddled together in terror, their breaths hitching in fear as they strained to discern the source of the horrifying sounds "Girrllllllssss," It grumbled again "GIRRRLLSSSSCOMMOUT," I could see the door moving with the force of whoever was deeply committed to this role. The growling slowly morphed into a screech or maybe it was something more like a hiss.

I was almost at my breaking point, the first day of camp and I already had to deal with these bullshit pranks. I decided to slam my body against the door, matching whoever was on the other side "Go back to your cabin, you piece of shit!" I kept banging my fist and slamming my palms against the door until I heard them scuttle away. 

Reaching for a baseball out of Valentina's open duffle bag, I swung the door open and saw the slender figure of what I assumed to be a teenage boy running to the pasture "Tell Sawyer to eat shit!" I yelled before throwing the ball at the figure, it hit them but it didn't do much, they just stumbled for a split second before disappearing into darkness. 

"What the fuck is that noise?" Dina shouted from her cabin, I could tell I had woken her up from a nice sleep from the way her puffy eyes were squinting in my direction. A few girls poked their heads outside from the doorframe behind Dina.

"What happened?" Now Priya was walking towards my porch. Her long black hair was braided perfectly and she had her silk sleepmask pulled onto her forehead. She still looked put together in a hoodie and bunny pyjama pants.

"Can you guys shut the fuck up?" Ellie opened her door and looked me up and down.

"Be quiet!" Abby shouted from an open window in her cabin. By this point, I was sure everyone in the girl's bunk houses was wide awake and I would be getting a stern talking to by either, Tommy, Joel, or Maria, honestly, I didn't know which was worse. 

Confusion quickly grew on Ellie's face, she lowered her voice "What's going on?"

All eyes were on me for answers but I didn't have any. Despite convincing myself it was a prank, that didn't stop my hands from shaking. "It was one of the boys playing a prank, don't worry about it, he's long gone by now."

"Fucking Sawyer," Dina murmured walking back into her cabin and slamming the door behind her. 

"Are you girls okay in there?" Priya asked, looking at the mortified girls in my cabin, concern etched across her bronze face. "It was a dumb joke, you're all okay now." 

Priya had invited herself into my cabin to offer her solace to the probably traumatized little girls, while she was doing so, I pressed myself flat against the front of the cabin, between mine and Ellie's doors, trying to process how I was going to find a way to make these girls unafraid.

"They do that prank every year and it's almost crazy how it's literally never been funny," I tell Ellie while I stare straight ahead at the pasture they faded away into.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Ellie stands next to me, leaning against the wall "We'll get them back tenfold."

"Those girls are all gonna wanna call their parents and I'm so fucked," I drag my hands down my face. I didn't want to see the look on Joel's face when I tell him about this. There's gonna be sixteen parents who will spam call the camp and verbally harass me over the phone, this wasn't my first rodeo. Sure the prank was shitty but I guarantee no one is leaving this summer with newfound trauma to tell their therapist in a decade. 

"Relax, he's just gonna chew out the boys for pulling this shit again."

I looked at her for a moment, the silence hung between us like birds on a wire before I lunged in for a hug. She was a little taken aback but didn't seem to mind "I just need a hug, don't make it weird."

"Okay, wasn't planning on it," She teased. I took a deep breath in and caught the scent of firewood, petrichor, and axe body spray, an Ellie classic.

“I'm really glad I have you as a friend," I mutter into her shoulder, so quietly that I wasn't even sure she heard me. I let us stay like that for longer than I probably should've before breaking away "Okay, I gotta be a grown-up and deal with this instead of letting Priya do recon."

She nodded pressing her lips together in the same awkward way the socially inept guys from high school did "See you for breakfast?"

"For sure," I smile and walk back into my cabin to see Priya sitting next to Chloe with one soothing hand rubbing her back. "Thanks, Priya, I'll take it from here, you outta get back to your girls."

Priya had this maternal way about her, I wasn't sure what it was but she sure had the ability to nurture. She started at camp last year and I was happy to see her return. She gave her farewells to all of the girls who had only met her minutes ago and were already attached.

"Can I be in her cabin?" Kim asked, she had finally calmed down.

"No, you're in my cabin where we have fun like this every night!" I forced a smile on my face trying to get the girls back into a good mood.

"This isn't fun at all," Tamar, said, bluntly may I add.

"Yeah, this sucks," Morgan added on.

"Guys, listen," I began "I'm super sorry this happened, I need all of you to know that it's just a really bad prank, it happens every year to different cabins. Boy being boys- sorry I shouldn't say that because you guys are young and I know their gender shouldn't excuse their bad behaviour but what I'm trying to say is guys are assholes."

"Yeah, they're assholes!" Olive repeated.

"Maybe don't shout that," I pointed at her "But they are and if you want I will storm down to their cabins right now and yell at them until they cry."

The cabin began to erupt in shouts of no, little girls with wide eyes, frantically shaking their heads. "Please don't leave us alone," Leah pleaded. 

"Okay, I won't, I'll yell at them in the morning. Do you guys want me to leave the lights on?" Everyone answered with a 'yes' to my question.

"Where are you going?" Valentina asked me, peeking out from beneath her thick layers of blankets.

"To my bed?”

"That's too far away from us."

I let out a deep breath "Alright, I'll just bring my sleeping bag onto the floor and I will sleep in the middle, okay?"  Nothing better than sleeping on the hardwood floor in the middle of four bunkbeds and eight ten-year-old girls.

Surrounded by the shallow breathing of girls far too startled to sleep, I decided that tomorrow I would wake up dressed in adventure, straddling a star. Every day that follows I will guide these girls to the moon and back.

A/N: Hi y’all, I’ve been gone a hot minute because of medical issues and whenever I have time to write, I’m too tired to. Anyways, we’re back and better. I know I should probably finish my other series but I’ve had this one drafted for a while and since I’m super sick and basically confined to my house for the next week I’m hoping to get this series done. Thanks for reading!

@readbydayana

[ddejavvu]

Congrats on 20k!! 'Finger lickin' good'--Can I get Steve Harrington, smitten and taking an equally smitten reader home from a party? Could it even get a little spicy 👀?

join my 20K celebration!

'it's finger lickin' good.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

baby i'm sorry i had a vision for this and then it veered completely off course! it's still the same general plotline but it's a lot more giggly than it is sexy and i'm sorry about that </3 i hope you still enjoy!

--

You nearly giggle yourselves off of the steps of the porch, landing hard on your feet so that your ankles ache for a second. Steve sways into you, his arm around your shoulders as he drops his empty cup on the lawn.

"Steve! Litterbug," You accuse, and he snorts like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"This is Andy's house," He explains, like that makes it okay to throw trash on the ground, "He deserves it."

"Is that your car?" You point at the first one you see, and he shakes his head.

"No, mine's red."

"That one?" You point at the next red one down the street, but he reacts the same.

"No, I'm in a beamer."

"Is that... that one?" You point across the street, at a brown car that's parked in a house's driveway. Steve isn't sure why you think it's his, it's not a BMW and it's not red, but it strikes his funny bone again, and he laughs higher-pitched than normal.

"No," He pinches your side, and you shriek, nearly collapsing into his hold. He catches you, and it's all the more funny now, meaning you're stumbling down the sidewalk trying not to tip into the street.

"I'm down there," He points behind you two, then seems to realize, "Wait- we're- we're going the wrong way."

You have to sit down to stop yourself from falling over with laughter. Everything is funnier after four full cups of jungle juice, and you clutch at Steve's ankle as you feel a tear escape your eye.

"Shut up!' He urges, swatting gently at your head, "Don't- don't laugh! You didn't know either."

"I want- I want you to carry me, Stevie~," You croon, giggling up at him with tear-lined eyes from how hard you've been struck by the situation, "Please? I might fall down."

"What-? I'm drunk," He grumbles, like you don't know it, "Okay, just don't- don't fall, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, letting him wrestle you into his grip. It's hard not being in complete control of all of your limbs, but you manage to get your uncoordinated arms wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist.

Steve starts back down the road towards his car, but evidently you'd strayed too far down the street for the neighbor's dog's liking, and he manages to slip through a gap in the fence to head for Steve.

At first, you think he might be territorial and angry. You yelp, tightening your grip around Steve and trying to hoist yourself up his torso. But Steve scrambles to balance the both of you while also darting away from the animal, and it means his hands land directly on your ass. You don't admonish him, because you really don't care, and the dog is still trotting your way.

Upon a second glance, he's relaxed, merely curious as to why there's so many people in the house next door. You decide you want to pet him, though, and you lean over Steve's shoulder to do so. It means that your ass is in his face, and the skirt you'd elected to wear is giving him quite the show.

"Puppy!" You coo, reaching eagerly for the dog that leans into your hands with several giddy wags of its tail. Steve's having the hardest time keeping the two of you steady while also being considerate enough not to ogle the thin strip of fabric just barely covering your butt beneath your skirt, and he's sure you can feel how flushed his cheeks are from how one presses into the left side of your ass.

"Steve," You laugh, as the dog licks the palm of your hand, "He's friendly! Pet him with me, please?"

"Honey, I can't," Steve grits his teeth as you lean further towards the animal, nearly pitching yourself off of his shoulder, "Can you- can you stand up?"

"No, I'm okay!" You report happily, like he was asking for your comfort's sake, "Keep going, Stevie! Let's see if we can lure him into the car."

"He's not yours, is he?" Steve muses, trekking down the street with more difficulty than he'd like to admit. A pair of guys pass the two of you, and he nearly drops you in trying to smooth your skirt down to a reasonable length so that they can't stare.

"He will be once we get him in the car, c'mon, puppy!" You kiss at the animal, speaking to Steve in your normal voice afterwards, "Finders keepers, Stevie. Oh, but you have to keep him at your house. My parents don't like dogs."

"Oh, really?" He's panting slightly as he sets you down with your back against the window of his car, and he finally gets a good look at the yellow lab you're lured away from his home. He looks happy to be there, eagerly accepting a pat on the head from Steve.

"Yeah. And- um, do you know how to get to my house? I forgot."

"No," He breathes, "You'll remember tomorrow. You said you'd come to mine, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" You brighten, "But I don't know the way to your house, either."

"I do," He laughs, scratching the dog behind the ears when it noses at his fingers. But he sends him off with a pat to the side, "'Kay, g'home, dog. Let's go, okay?"

"But- my puppy!" You watch aghast as the dog follows orders, tucking his head down towards the ground and trotting back home, "Steve, you're mean."

"It's not- no I'm not!" He urges, "That's not your dog!"

"I wanted him to be," You lament, "Can we stop by the animal shelter on the way home? I wanna get a dog."

"You said-" Steve can't quite remember what you said, actually, he just knows there's a reason why that won't work, "Uh- sure. Yeah, but they're- I think they're closed."

"Tomorrow?" You ask hopefully, and he nods, completely on board with whatever will make the slight pout to your lips disappear.

"Yeah, tomorrow," He unlocks his door, popping the lock on your own side up just after, "Just hop in, we'll do whatever you want, babe."

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello Ghost!!!!

So good to see you around ☺️ truthfully I haven't been on Tumblr too much lately either due to .... Shall we say.... complications in life? To put it mildly :D just a small bit...I've had a lot of angst lately and illness I can't quite kick :D but I saw your winter ficlet fun and I'd love to join!!! I can't wait to see everything you'll come up with! I love your stories!

Can I request something with Hunter? Maybe some angsty holiday fun or misunderstandings or whatever XD with a happy ending? (There has to be a happy ending right? Because that's what hope is for? :D forgive the rambling of a sick woman :D) thanks in advance!

i hope you're doing okay now, i'm sending love your way <3 hopefully this is fluffy and hopeful enough for you!

words: 980

summary: After taking a chance and doing something brave, the batch has to leave on a mission. When Hunter comes back, the two of you finally get some time to talk.

What Feels Like Forever

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet

The longer you waited, the harder it was to get up and return to your regular duties. From a logical standpoint, sitting in the corner booth and staring at the door of the cantina was a useless endeavor, and it was doing no favors for your emotional state. You began to find yourself wrapped up in worries about the peril the Bad Batch was probably facing right now, and a pesky little thought about their fate (that you didn’t really want to contend with right now) took hold for a second in your brain. 

You had managed to momentarily distract yourself a few times, usually when a customer came through the door wanting a drink, but it was quieter than usual in here. Maybe it was the upcoming life day celebration, but the clientele of this establishment had (unknowingly) abandoned you when you needed them the most. But as much as you wanted to, there was nothing you could do to push those terrifying thoughts out of your head, because of what had happened before the squad had left. 

“Can I talk to you?” Hunter’s eyes moved towards yours, and you couldn’t help but admire how pretty his hair looked right now.

“Of course,” he said, stepping away from his brothers as they loaded up the ship with the necessary supplies for the mission. “What’s up?” 

Even though you were now faced with the perfect opportunity to admit your feelings, you still couldn’t do it. “I just wanted to wish you all good luck,” was what you said instead, internally sighing at the way you chickened out. 

Hunter smiled warmly at your words, nodding, “Thank you, we’re going to need all the luck we can get,” he said. “This is going to be a tough one.” 

This was not what you wanted to hear. “Oh,” you said. “Do you think you’ll be home by life day?” 

“I’m not sure. Tech wouldn’t say anything about the predicted outcome.” 

Your heart sank in your chest, and you spoke in a voice much brighter than you actually felt. “Well, we can celebrate with you all when you return!”

He nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice.” 

One of the others called his name from inside the ship, and the former Sergeant turned to move away from you. You considered the implications of his words, understanding the heartbreaking truth that every time they left on that ship they were taking a pretty big risk, and this particular one was steeper than most. 

Oh kriff it. 

You reached out to grab his hand, rushing towards him as he turned back to face you. You leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his lips, but that moment of bravery was gone just as quick as it arrived. 

You didn’t see the look on his face as you turned tail and sprinted away, wondering why you would do something so stupid. 

You wanted them to come back, but the sight of the Batch walking through the door would also mean that you would have to talk to Hunter, because he didn’t seem like the type to let something like that go. Hopefully you would be able to say something about how you weren’t thinking and you could still remain friends. Of course there was the small but persistent hope that he would feel the same way, but you tried not to put too much stock in that fantasy. 

Besides, Life Day was tomorrow, and there was still no word about when this mission would be over. There was no use acting like this, at least not until you had a little more of an idea about what was going on. 

You had finally gotten up from where you’d spent most of the day moping, and you were about to walk into Cid’s office (to ask her if you could just go home for the day) when you heard the door to the cantina open, and you watched five familiar figures step inside. 

All you could do was stare as Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker walked by you, clearly heading towards your employer’s office. Hunter was the only one who had taken off his helmet, and you braced yourself for the reception of a harsh truth. There was no way he’d forgotten about everything, right? No, you weren’t that lucky.

Instead, you were wrapped up in the arms of plastoid armor, and before you could really register what was happening, Hunter’s lips were on yours, but this time things lasted a lot longer (and you certainly weren't complaining. 

“What-” you started to sputter when the two of you finally broke apart. 

“That was something I should have done before I left,” he said, a look in his eyes you never wanted to forget. 

“But I ran away from you.” 

“And I could have caught up,” he said with a smile. “But I was nervous about the mission and it took me by surprise, so I just stood there.”

“I shouldn’t have done-”

This time it was the look in his eyes (rather than his words) that stopped you from finishing your sentence. “If you hadn’t, we might still be on that mission right now,” he said. 

“What?” 

“I was so desperate to get back here and kiss you for real, I pushed the squad to get this thing done as quick as we could handle,” he said. “They hated me for some time, but once I explained, I think they understand my reasons - I wanted to get back here for Life Day, for you.”

Not knowing what to say, you just leaned in to kiss him again, and that continued until the rest of his family returned from Cid’s office. Teasing comments were made, but you barely even paid attention to them. 

You couldn’t be happier, and there wasn’t a thing in the galaxy that could change that.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 9

Gods help me this was probably the filthiest sex I have written so far. Probably. I have no memory left now I'm done with it.

YURGIR FANS PLEASE COME AND TAKE HIM AWAY AGAIN I CANNOT WRITE HIM AGAIN (Edit - Lia is writing Yurgir again and no longer wants help)

Lia's destroyed soul aside, I hope you enjoy this one loves~

Raphael has lost a wager to Haarlep and now waits in the boudoir, where the incubus is leading an Orthon with the promise of a shortened sentence if he fills his end of the bargain...

CWs and tags for: Size kink, tail pulling, biting, blood, incubus aphrodisiac, bondage, exhibitionism, rough sex, degradation kink (if I am missing any please let me know to add them!)

SMUT BELOW THE CUT ----- -----

Day 9 - Exhibitionism

“An interesting proposal, creature.” Yurgir glared down at the incubus, refusing to dignify them even with a nickname. “And he has agreed to this? How?” 

“He will tell you that he lost a bet,” Haarlep smirked, “however, you should not believe for a single second that he had any intention of winning.”

“The bastard is aware of your choice in coming to me?” The orthon tilted his head, checking every word of the verbal contract as it was laid out before him, lest one small mistake cost him another century of service.  “He will not use it against me?” 

“I think perhaps he hoped it would be his favourite Little Mouse who was summoned, but he left the choice to me.” The incubus ran a finger along Yurgir’s expansive chest, the sharp edge of their claw threatening to pierce even his thick skin. “Are you not interested? This little bargain could shorten your sentence by half, and I will not leave you disappointed by your part in it either.” 

“Very well. If you think yourself foolish enough to endure the night, creature, then have it your way.” 

—

Raphael made for a truly captive audience in the boudoir. He was bound to the ceiling, suspended from a series of ropes and pulleys, wings splayed wide with his arms twisted behind his back. The gag carried his own scent, the shame of his own undergarments shoved unceremoniously into his mouth to muffle his complaints. 

Leaving, of course, would be a simple matter. The signal to the cursed Harlot would be easily given, and never ignored. Rules and contracts - hell has its laws and they will be upheld. He shivered as the orthon was led into the room by the incubus, both barely dressed in scraps of leather as neither seemed fond of being properly dressed. Not that he had room to criticise, clothed only in rope, skin prickling with heat and a line of sweat running along the ridges of his waist. 

“He makes quite the chandelier.” Yurgir nodded towards him as the pair came closer to the bed.

“That he does, a beautiful display just for us. Right where he can watch everything you do to the perfect copy of his own body, where he can see everything he will feel.” Haarlep smirked, kneeling on the bed and beckoning the larger man closer. “Come, have a taste. It has been some time, has it not? Tainted meat is not the same as the source~”

“You even carry his stench.” Yurgir frowned, sniffing a little deeper as he leaned over the bed, hands on the sheets either side of the incubus’s hips, slowly crawling over them like a predator. “But there is another that is yours alone.” 

“Very perceptive~ You hear that, Archduke? I even smell better than you.” Raphael could only groan his displeasure through the silk filling his mouth, the scent inescapable in an irony that Haarlep no doubt intended.

“Such interesting songs he sings when his silver tongue is stilled.” The orthon growled, one large hand shoving Haarlep roughly back into the pillows. “I will take none of your poison, creature, but you must be prepared to receive me. Break too soon and I will leave dissatisfied.”

“Go ahead~” Haarlep purred, parting their legs and dismissing their harness with a flicker of infernal fire. “Make sure he can see everything.”

Raphael’s brow knitted into a frown as Haarlep held his gaze, challenging him to keep his eyes wide open as the orthon sank down to their hips, hoisting their legs easily in one hand. 

—

Yurgir found the fiend to be quite pliable. Their tail even curled beneath him, teasing at his loincloth while he lowered his lips to the base of their tail. Their scent was strong here, enticing, drawing him in. But the look on their face was irritating him, the lowly beast had power of the one that held his own reins, and that in itself was an insult. He had no intention of being gentle nor giving them more pleasure than came as a side effect to seeking his own.

The orthon sank his teeth into the soft flesh at the base of the despicable creature’s tail, seasoning his tongue with the taste of hot blood that oozed to the surface. “You know, even that carries a hint of my poison~” their voice teased, only the hint of pain crossing their features as he sucked harshly at the wound to draw more out.

“Then I will take everything I desire. You should have warned me.” The lust began to burn hot through his veins, blood rushing low where the incubus was already pulling aside his loincloth with the tip of their tail.

“Warn you?” They crooned, voice dripping with amusement and desire. “Now where would be the fun in that?” 

—

Haarlep kept their eyes fixed on Raphael, licking their lips as they subtly cast sending. “You feel that, Archduke? How even the tip of his tongue is so strong without even going inside yet?” They briefly tapped the orthon on his stomach with their tail. “Give him a better view.” 

Yurgir had been holding both their ankles together and aloft with one hand, but he accepted the suggestion, albeit in his own way. 

Haarlep yelped slightly as the orthon had little care for delicacy, gripping their legs one in each hand and wedging their thighs in the curve of the tusk-like horns on the side of his head. The jagged edges bit into their skin, the pain quickly melding into a deep pleasure as his tongue thrust inside, a feral hunger threatening to devour the incubus whole if they let him. 

The orthon growled, the vibration passing through his throat into his tongue which mercilessly fucked into Haarlep, drawing a moan from their audience above. 

—

Raphael could see everything.

What’s more, he could feel every pleasurable part of it, too. He moaned even as the damned Harlot spoke into his mind with another sending, even their thoughts as breathless as he felt. “Ah- You feel that, Archduke? Mmf- oh he is hungry, and- …oh yes, he knows exactly where to- Hold yourself back. I will give pemissi-mmmh…” 

Raphael could respond if he wanted to, the sending allowed it, but there was nothing he had to say to the bitch in heat rolling around on the bed beneath him, gripping the sheets, as he was left to desperately hold himself back with his tail to prevent himself from coating the pair beneath him in the lust that was already seeping from his tip. The cambion gritted his teeth around the gag. He wound his tail tightly around his base, using the tip as a temporary cork to further keep his climax from peaking too soon. 

It was no easy feat, Yurgir was showing no mercy. One long and thick finger began to slide in alongside his tongue. His other hand raked along the incubus’s chest, drawing thick lines of blood and swollen skin, a long and pleased moan leaving the Harlot’s lips. 

Of course they would enjoy this, they were forever moaning about combining pleasure and pain as one singular experience of bliss, and for a moment he was almost jealous that only the pleasure transferred to his bound body without the pain. The domain of the incubus was only that of lust, after all…

The jealousy soon faded when the orthon added a second finger, beginning to roughly scissor Haarlep in rough preparation, clearly beginning to lose any hint of patience as the writhed and moaned beneath him.

“Next time you should take him yourself, Archdu-! Ahhh- Should I ask him for more? He is…HUGE…” 

—

Haarlep forced their eyes to stay open even as lust wanted to press them closed, to indulge only in the sensation, but they needed to see Raphael’s frown, watching a single drip fall onto the orthon’s head.

They considered telling him, but given his disdain for their safety they chose not to risk true anger. Their tail coaxed him on, feeling every hardened ridge pulsing with the aphrodisiac he had tasted in their blood. “Come now, I am more than ready for one such as you, Yurgir.” 

“I will never know if you are brave or foolish, creature,” he shoved their legs roughly free from where they had been on his horns and let them drop to the bed. “I tire of your face, it is not his. You wear a mask that looks like him, smells like him, but you are not Raphael. Worry not, creature, he will see every way I ruin you.” 

“Go ahead~ If you make the pathetic Master of the House above you climax more than twice, I might even let you fuck him yourself next time. You want to know how he tastes compared to me, don’t you~” They grinned, teeth bared in challenge, seeing how he salivated more at the thought. “I thought as much. Go on, earn it.” 

—

Yurgir snarled as he flipped them over, shoving them to their knees. He pulled their tail up and over their back, finally looking over his shoulder to where the cambion was held, eyes watering with need. “Is your hole just like this, devil?” He sucked the taste from his fingers, pressing them inside once more, teasing them open and ensuring Raphael watched. 

It pleased him to see how the fiend strained against his bindings.

“You truly do feel it, don’t you…” He growled with a grin, stooping down for another taste, changing the angle, this time pressing harder at just the point that brought a chorus of near identical moans from two throats. He pulled back and looked up again, thrusting his fingers more slowly as he teased both bodies with the sensation. “Go on, rain your filth down upon me. Use your own tail to fill your rancid hole if you wish, it is a pitiful comparison but it will barely take that much to bring you to your end now, will it, devil?” 

He returned one last time to devour the incubus, increasing the pace of his fingers and matching it with his tongue, feeling their muscles begin to twitch around him, their body quivering as he kept them held with a savage grip on their tail. 

It took less than a minute to feel the hot splashes upon his shoulders, similar coating the sheets beneath the incubus as twin moans reached his ears. He drew it out longer, a challenge to the writhing creature to try and withstand the intensity of the onslaught to their insides, thrusting past the point of overstimulation as their wings shivered in delight.

The thought of pleasuring them was almost sickening, but knowing that the bastard who held his contract was whimpering above him like a pathetic mortal…that was deeply arousing. 

Yurgir kept hold of Haarlep’s tail, finally withdrawing his fingers and reaching underneath to feel where they twitched and dripped onto the sheets. “I had thought you to have more stamina, creature.” 

“It will take more than that to satisfy me~ Are you going to make use of that weapon between your legs, or simply talk me to sleep?” They taunted, wiggling their hips where they still made a scandalous display, gaping, wet with his saliva, twitching and waiting.

He would not keep them waiting any longer. 

—

Haarlep wondered for a moment if they had gone too far in their teasing, the growl from behind them sparking a primal fear they had not felt in centuries. They felt him rise onto his knees, holding their legs close together between impossibly thick thighs. In some ways they were glad that Raphael’s cambion body, such as the copy of it they wore at least, was only a couple of heads shorter than the Orthon, but the rest of their body did not come close to matching his size. 

His hand covered most of their abdomen as he gripped their waist with savage strength, lifting them higher and guiding them back towards the twitching tip they had grasped with their tail earlier. 

Another sending to taunt their master, while the orthon began to slowly slide inside to the first ridge.

“Your own tail, Archduke, match his pace. This once, do as you want, cover him, remind him that his place is still beneath you.” 

The bumps and spikes covering Yurgir might easily tear open a mortal, or even a fiend who was not prepared. Even the incubus felt their mind haze at the edges with the harsh friction as each new ridge pressed inside until large hips were flush with his, the hand on their stomach pressing harder against them with a pleased growl.

—

Raphael pulled hopelessly at the bindings. He felt every inch of friction just as he could see it below him. He bit hard on the filthy cloth in his mouth, groaning when the orthon arched his back to look up at him. 

“Jealousy, demon, is not a colour I expected to see in your eyes. What is it you want to say, I wonder?” Yurgir laughed, a wicked look on his face. “I prefer you like this, tongue stilled by your own filth, your lies kept silent for a change.” 

The cambion frowned. Any other time he might have wished to add another millennium to the contract, to use every loophole to make it feel three times as long, but the feeling of being utterly full without a hint of movement was driving him to tears. 

“You want me to fuck your pet incubus? Nod your head, demon, tell me you want to feel how completely I can bring the pitiful creature to ruin alongside you.” Yurgir’s stare was a challenge, still refusing to move a muscle without a reply.

Raphael nodded, a slight whimper of desperation slipping past the gag. 

“Interesting. You can follow orders.” The orthon grinned, turning his attention back to the incubus below. “Prepare yourself, creature, your vile poison has tainted my veins too deeply with your vile lust.” 

Raphael’s eyes were transfixed as Yurgir began to thrust mercilessly, pulling all of the way back and slamming forwards with a force that could easily snap bone. But despite the Orthon’s assessment, Haarlep was not fragile. He had seen them endure, enjoy, far rougher partners. Some larger too, depending on the glamour they wore. 

Still, they whined and keened into silken pillows, taloned fingers gripping the sheets and tearing holes in the fabric. His vision blurred as his eyes stung with hot tears from the overwhelming sensation, trying to follow the instruction he was given but finding his own tail a poor comparison to the sight below.

—

The room was filled only with the sound of the moans of an incubus getting exactly what they wanted, the lust-drenched grunts of the orthon taking everything he felt he deserved, and the pitiful keening of the cambion who could feel it all and yet nothing at all. 

Another climax overwhelmed Raphael, his body jerking hard against the ropes as his release fell hot onto Yurgir’s back, dripping down across his huge form that continued to move at a merciless pace. 

The orthon had let go of the incubus’s tail which now hung loose and quivering down their own back. Instead, he had reached below to take a grip of their still dripping length, punishing them with their own overstimulated pleasure as he used their own release to let his fingers slide more easily. 

—

By the time Yurgir felt his own release build to the pinnacle he had been desperate for, his back was a dripping mess, the cambion above him barely whimpering now in complete ruin, the incubus still somehow moaning and shaking with desire.

His final thrusts pulsed hot, filling the creature just as they deserved, their body now a mere hole for him to use for the last shuddering moments of bliss as finally the lust burning through his veins was sated. 

He was breathing heavily, his own body feeling close to spent, as he pulled free and unceremoniously flipped the incubus onto their back. To his utter disgust, they were grinning, laughing-

“You find this amusing?” He growled, trying to find the edge of threat in his own voice but losing it to satiated exhaustion as he sat back on the bed, feeling the cold mess on his back dribbling down onto the sheets.

“No, no-” Haarlep tried hard to regain their composure. “I am not mocking you, orthon, you were quite the delicious treat~”

“Then why must you cackle like a drunken imp, vile creature?” 

“Because he thought I wouldn’t be able to take it. I’d offer a second round, but I’m afraid I should take care of the Archduke now, or he won’t be in any state to pay the fee for the bet he just lost.” Haarlep smirked. 

“A second gamble. Of course you wouldn’t tell the truth.” 

“Are you dissatisfied?” 

“...Call upon me if you wish to make another bet, creature. Next time I will add my own wager.”

[stormikitty]

DP(/DC) PROMPT:

Danny got hurt and lost a lot of blood. The only person in town with the same blood type as him is part dragon, but they didn't know that yet because Paulina didn't start breathing fire and growing fangs and claws until a week after she gave Danny some of her blood.

A month later, Danny's core starts to destabilize because the heat that comes with dragon DNA doesn't mix well with his ice core. Purging the dragon DNA from Danny's body is too dangerous. Frostbite and Dorothea know of a charm that could balance the heat of a dragon's inner fire with a ghost's ice core throughout the body of a being with both and keep them from damaging each other, but Danny doesn't have enough dragon DNA for that to be safe. They alter his DNA to make him 1/4 dragon so they can use the charm to save him because he would fade in a week without this being done.

Danny doesn't know how to feel about being even less human now.

The charm that keeps his body and core balanced and stable is given to him as a necklace. (Could be a choker or a regular necklace. I'm leaning towards choker.) He can temporarily take the necklace off without damaging himself, but it starts to hurt after 10 minutes. If he takes it off for 30 seconds, it fills the area around him with a cloud of steam no one can see through, which can work like a smoke bomb without making people cough. Danny and people he's working with have time to get away unseen before the steam clears enough to see.

Danny can transform into a partial dragon form with ears, horns, claws, wings, a tail, and scales, and he already had fangs. Paulina can go full dragon mode because she is half dragon.

Also, his parents react badly to both the half ghost thing and the quarter dragon thing.

Now for the DC part of this. I have a few ideas.

Put Danny on a team with other teenage superheroes. Maybe he's been on the team longer than he's been part dragon! You could explore the angst or hurt/comfort of Danny talking to his team about his core destabilizing and the fact that he has a week to decide to either become even less human or fade. You could explore how Danny's dragon powers mixed with his ghost powers affect the team dynamic and strategies and the team's reaction to finding out they don't need to use as many smoke bombs anymore!

You could make it Dead Serious, whether you decide to create a team for Dami, put Dami and Danny on an existing team where their teammates are mostly older than them, or ignore the team idea. I really wanna see someone explore Dead Serious with Danny being 1/4 dragon, tho.

If shipping isn't your style, you could find a way to put the batfam adopting Danny into this idea instead of using Dead Serious.

Or you could add your own ideas for how Danny being 1/4 dragon could be used in a DP/DC thing!

[valentine-agere]

Sweet dreams summary: You're having a tough time sleeping. Luckily Engie's happy to help! word count: 640 authors notes: reader is regressed and nonverbal, and all interactions are platonic (bc reader is baby of course) ^_^ warnings: none

You must've been standing there outside his door for at least ten minutes.

In your head, you weighed your options- you could A) give up, and walk back to your room with your tail tucked between your legs or B) wake Engie up like you originally planned. This was far from the first time you'd done something like that, but somehow you never felt any less guilty for disturbing his sleep or his work. Then again, he never seemed upset with you, either. You had a special spot in his heart, you knew it.

Still, that did little to make you feel better about bothering him so late in the night, especially considering how badly you knew he needed his rest. He was a very busy man- a very, very, busy man. But you'd had a nightmare, and you knew Engie would be able to help. You'd been trying to get yourself back to sleep all by yourself, but after what felt like hours of tossing and turning you knew you'd need someone to keep you company until you could fall asleep again. After another minute or so of silent deliberation, you decided to suck it up and knock on his door.

Three small, quick taps. You waited for a reply, holding your breath, but you didn't hear anything. You didn't know if you should knock again, or just leave. You decided to take a chance, and knocked once more, this time a bit louder.

"I'm comin'." Came his tired voice. A few seconds later, the door opened. "What is- oh, hey, pumpkin."

His expression softened when he saw you. You gave a small smile.

"What're you doin' up so late, kiddo?" He asked, his tone sweet as it always was with you. You hesitated, before holding your arms out towards him. He understood all your gestures by now. "Ah, I see. Didja have a nightmare?"

You nodded, your gaze shifting to the floor.

"Aw, it's alright, sweetheart. C'mere, c'mon." He gently scooped you up, carrying you into his room and shutting the door behind himself. "Poor thing."

He sat you down on his bed. "I take it you wanna sleep here tonight?"

You nodded.

Engie ruffled your hair, smiling. "Alright, kiddo. I don't mind."  It was then you realized you'd forgotten your stuffie. You were unsure how you could forget such a thing, but either way, the idea of going back for it didn't sound very appealing. Engie, of course, seemed to take notice. "You forget yer stuffie, huh?"

You nodded again, looking elsewhere. 

"Don't worry about it, sugar. I can go get it." He assured, standing up. "You stay here 'n get comfy, okay? I'll be right back, promise."

You, of course, nodded, settling in under the covers, wrapping yourself in a nice blanket cocoon like you always did. True to his word, he didn't take long, returning with your stuffie in hand. "Hey, kiddo." He greeted you. You waved in turn.

He handed you your stuffie. "There you are." He said, taking a seat beside you on the bed. You hugged it tightly to your chest, before looking up at him. He looked back, smiling. "Can I ask what the dream was about, honey?"

You shook your head, hiding your face in your stuffie. You didn't want to remember. He put a comforting hand on your back. "Alright. I understand. It's over now, okay? No more scary dreams. Papa's gotcha."

You didn't say anything, just leaned into him, nuzzling his arm close.

"I know, darlin'. I'm right here."

You let him wrap an arm around you, snuggling in close to him. It wasn't long before he noticed you drifting off. He chuckled softly, petting your hair. "Sweet dreams, kiddo."

It didn't take long for you to fall back asleep, curled up safely in his arms.

[harmonie-writes]

Night Rider pt. 11

Hiccup x Fem!Reader

AN: Anything in italics are either a recap, thoughts, flashbacks/ earlier events, and letters.

Warnings: potential violence, angst. Characters do not belong to me. They're purely for fictitious purposes.

Word count: ~1.8k

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»»————-　➴　————-««

Previously on Night Rider:

Hiccup has yet to move off the rock as he watches you walk toward your dragon. A feeling settles in his chest as a grin makes its way to his face. Like this is how it should’ve been from the start, except the both of you had lost five years due to that one dragon raid.

Mounting your nadder, you look at Hiccup, who hasn't moved an inch since the suggestion. "Ugh, Hiccup?"

Startling him out of his daze, he stiffens before quickly making his way to Toothless, "Right, yes! Flying! Let's go, bud!"

You can't help but roll your eyes at his antics before following the Nightfury.

»»————-　➴　————-««

The only sound you could hear was the down flap of dragon wings and the wind whistling passed you as you soared through the sky.

Vöròr trailed behind Toothless, just slightly to the left of his tail fin, giving them the lead as you flew aimlessly.

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder and noticed that far away look in your eyes, a look that seemed to be reoccurring more each day.

Toothless sensing the shift in his rider, casted a glance over his shoulder at Hiccup before following his gaze to you. He slowed down just enough that both dragons were flying side by side, close enough that their wingtips could possibly graze against each other.

"Hey, you doing okay?" Hiccup asked, leaning slightly in your direction.

You hummed slightly, just loud enough to be heard as you tore your gaze away from the sunrise. "Yeah, just thinking."

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Hiccup prodded, "bronze piece for your thoughts?"

"Like I said before, it's just a lot to take in. But if I'm being honest, I just don't know where I see myself now…" you trail off, avoiding his gaze that you can feel burning a hole in your head.

His brows furrowed as he took in your words. "What do you mean where you see yourself? You could be here with us on Berk, or even the Edge! You could be a part of a team!" Hiccup's tone is slightly exasperated at the thought of you not staying with them, him even.

Your shoulders tense up, as if it's an automatic reaction to disappointing him. Maybe it was a habit in the past, or just something you're not used to, but the tension was there.

"It's not that simple, Hiccup. What about the relationships I've made while I was gone?" You couldn't help the way it came out through grit teeth.

Sensing that this wasn't a conversation for the skies, both dragons flew to the nearest sea stack. Upon landing, both you and Hiccup were quick to dismount, you quickly trying to put distance between the two of you while Hiccup tried to close it.

Catching a hold of your wrist, Hiccup asks, "Wait, what type of relationships? Like a partner? Are you courted?"

You can't help but roll your eyes and tug your wrist out of his grasp, "No, Hiccup, not that kind of partner. I meant like they're more motherly, a mentor of sorts. I can't just give that up, y'know?"

A blush rises to his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck, "I… sorry that wasn't what I meant."

You both stand awkwardly together for a few minutes not quite sure what to say.

As this is happening, both Toothless and Vöròr give each other a look, as if their riders couldn't be more dense.

With a quick flick of Vöròr's tail, he swept your legs out from under you and sent you stumbling into Hiccup's chest.

In a slightly frantic matter, Hiccup managed to catch the both of you before you went tumbling.

"I-I am so sorry," you could feel how warm your cheeks had gotten, and prayed he wouldn't be able to hear your rushing heartbeat.

Coughing slightly, Hiccup helps set you back on your feet, "It's, ugh, it's all good. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yup, I'm good. Fantastic even," you say, clapping your hands together. Glancing over at the brunette you can see that his cheeks are dusted slightly. Maybe he’s as flustered as you are over the entire situation.

“Hey, Hiccup?” You aim to grab his attention in hopes of maybe changing the lingering awkwardness that’s surrounding the two of you.

You hear him hum lightly letting you know he's listening.

You can't help the way your hand reaches for the spine that hangs around your neck, teeth gently gnawing on your lower lip. You had questions but you weren't sure where to actually start. Would some be too much for how little time you have actually spent together? Would it be better to just avoid the questions dancing on your tongue, like how was he after you were supposedly dead?

"How did-," your shoulders sag slightly as you breathe out a sigh, deciding now wasn't the best time for that question.

Hiccup takes all of you, watching the way you seem to deflate as you seem to be making up your mind.

"Could we see Gobber's blacksmith?"

Disappointed that you want to go back so soon, he just nods his head slightly. "Yeah, I can take you back. Show you where we used to work together."

You hear Vöròr croon slightly as you make your way back to him.

Toothless cranes his neck to look at his rider as he locks his prosthetic into place, only to receive a small pat on his head letting him know it's fine.

Giving you a small smile, Hiccup and Toothless took off back in the direction of Berk.

You watched from the back of your dragon for a few moments before finally signaling to Vöròr that it was time to follow.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Vöròr touched down shortly after Toothless in front of the blacksmith, scattering a few of the sheep that were grazing nearby.

You couldn't help but feel sheepish as you slid off Vöròr because you startled their afternoon grazing by sending them running for cover behind barrels. Although the moment was fleeting as you closed the distance between you and Hiccup, who was holding the door open for you.

You duck under his arm with a quick thank you, as if this was second nature to you, before turning on your heel to face him. Eyes slightly wide with bewilderment were met by the fond smile of the brunette who decided not to press on the matter.

"So, does any of this look familiar to you?" Hiccup asked, making his way over to the furnace and poking at the dying coals with a poker.

You let your eyes roam the work area briefly, noting the double window and how instead of swords, axes, and maces lining the counter there was now a place to make saddles, along with a stack of parchment that had orders scribbled on them.

Your gaze moved from the center of the room to an area that had a piece of cloth separating it from the rest of the room. You glanced at Hiccup, and pointed at the sheet. In response, he gave you a small nod, and you decided that was enough permission as you made your way over.

"Is- is this where gobber would let us invent Odin knows what?" You asked, stopping just before the sheet and turning to Hiccup.

"Something like that," Hiccup answered, giving you a small shrug.

Sucking in a small breath you turned back around and gingerly pushed the curtain aside. As you step into the area, you can't help but let your fingers run across the small workbench. Tiny strands of thread tugging at your mind, knowing that this is a place you've spent your younger years.

"Strange," you murmur, slightly dazed as you recall a time that you don't quite remember as well as you'd like to.

You're quickly pulled from your daze as you hear a voice calling for Hiccup.

"Uh, YN, I'll be back! I need to go take care of something!" Hiccup tells you, quickly back peddling out of the blacksmith door.

You can't help the way your body instinctively goes to the double window and watches as he makes his way up the hill.

"Typical," you mutter. Only to realize the single word that has come out of your mouth.

A clattering sound comes from the otherside of the smithy that has you whirling around to find Gobber dropping tools onto the main table.

"You know, las, this used to happen all the time when you were both younger," Gobber hums, as he picks up the first round of saddle orders.

"Um, good morning Gobber," you answer.

Gobber looks up from his order and sees you standing by the window before waving you over.

You can't help but comply and sit in the stool next to the bench.

Gobber detaches his wooden hand for one with a hammer. "Hiccup, would run off or get called off somewhere and you'd be left manning the counter, especially during dragon raids. Y'know, when we were still fighting the beasts."

You can't help the way your posture slouches onto the table as you listen to Gobber, handing him the various tools he needs as he works on the saddle in front of him.

"You always had his back, even if it meant gettin' into trouble with 'im," Gobber stops and turns to look at you, "sometimes even taking on the extra responsibilities that were his, because he felt like he had something to prove since he's Stoick's son."

You can't help the way your brows furrow as you take in Gobber's words, "what do you mean by 'he had something to prove' by?"

Gobber sets the nail down and rubs at his chin with his calloused fingers. "Hiccup, he wasn't the beefiest child growing up, nor is he really now," he waves his hand at the after thought before continuing, "but, Stoick, he's quite the chieftain. Wouldn't be surprised if Hiccup doesn't think he can fulfill as the next in line."

You hum thoughtfully as you resume handing items to Gobber as he works, although your mind wanders to the whereabouts of a boy who managed to tame the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

»»————-　➴　————-««

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[damnaation]

Seafood Dinner

A well known actor encounters someone with very particular tastes in garnishes.

Soft unwilling open ended vore (reluctant pred unwilling prey)

The tray had a bottle and a pair of wine glasses on it, each with a small amount of water and...

Tiny mermaids? Some sort of elaborate decoration in the glasses, at least. One with a hot pink tail, the other dark blue. Otherwise almost identical, save for the length of their hair—the pink one had a short, jaw length cut, the blue longer curls. Truly amazing craftsmanship, so detailed he could almost imagine they were breathing.

The doctor uncorked the bottle and started to pour, speaking as they did so. "Now, Mister Juniper, I must warn you, this wouldn't be your typical role. But we can get into that later—I do appreciate your interest and quick response."

The mermaid decorations looked even more lifelike in the wine, almost-

No. He hadn't imagined it. The pink one flicked her tail as he watched, clear as day.

What the hell.

They handed him a glass—the one with the pink mermaid—and sat back down in their chair, holding the glass with the blue one in their hand and giving it a little swirl. He watched as she flailed, tail flicking against the whirlpool current. The doctor's expression behind the red mirrored sunglasses was imparsable.

His gaze flicked to his own glass, where the pink mermaid had her hands pressed against the side, staring across the gap at her- sister? They had to be related, with how similar they looked. After a few seconds she looked up at him, a clear expression of trepidation on her tiny face.

Surely they don't...

"Aren't you going to drink?" The doctor's eerie voice snapped him out of his thoughts, looking back towards them to see they'd nearly emptied their glass while he was contemplating his own. The blue-tailed mermaid was curled in just a small amount of wine—a pose very similar to when he'd first seen them, actually—, lying limp with her eyes closed as if resigned to her fate.

And as he watched, they drained the last of it, the little blue mermaid included. A swallow made him fight to hold back a shudder, before they smiled at him.

"They squirm so wonderfully on the way down."

And then, as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't just swallowed a tiny person whole and alive, they refilled their glass before gesturing to him.

The implication was clear.

He lifted his glass and drank, trying to ignore the feeling of the little pink mermaid brushing against his lips.

It was good wine, a light, sweet Riesling. He'd expected a fishy aftertaste, but no—either she didn't taste like fish (a thought that disgusted him, to be pondering what an apparently fully aware person tasted like), or it was managing to cover it.

Suddenly far too aware of his own body, he swallowed. Tried not to think about what a tiny form would feel like slipping down his throat with the mouthful of wine.

"Doctor-"

"We can discuss business in time. Please, feel free, enjoy my hospitality, Mister Juniper." They interrupted, leaning back in their chair and swirling their glass of wine.

He didn't miss the shudder that ran through the tiny mermaid's body. Or the surreptitious glance she gave him, dread clear to see on her face.

I'm sorry.

He wasn't sure if the little frightened noise he heard when he tipped the glass back was real or imagined, but it made him feel guilty regardless.

She didn't taste fishy—he hates that he's noticing this, it makes him feel sick—instead savory, a little sweet, with something almost smoky hidden in it. And she fit perfectly in his mouth, curled up and trembling as he carefully kept her away from his teeth.

And then, trying not to cringe, he tilted his head back and swallowed.

And God, the doctor wasn't lying. He could feel her wriggling, little delicate fins feeling almost like feathers as she's dragged down his throat. Fluttery, frantic movements, like nervous butterflies but more solid, more real, slipping down towards his stomach.

He let out a shuddering breath, empty hand pressing against his stomach as he felt the tiny, shimmery mermaid spill out of his throat inside him.

God. I'm so sorry. Just hold on, little one.

"Now, Mister Juniper. About my offer."

[quicksilverdrabbles]

Somewhere in Eastmarch...

Kaidan: We're almost there, come on.

Taliesin: *shifting away from the splattering water from the marsh* And why on earth did you decide to drag us out to the middle of nowhere?

Lucien: *walking some ways ahead* Kaidan wants to show Morana the hot springs.

Taliesin: He wants to what-

Kaidan: Not for any weird reason!

Yaksha: The springs might help her soreness.

Xelzaz: They wouldn't help her leg.

Kaidan: I've a plan for that. ... *groans and turns away* I'll need your help with it, Taliesin.

Taliesin: You'll what-

Kaidan: I'm not saying it again.

Taliesin: O-hoh no no no, I think you absolutely are saying that again. *tries to lean into Kaidan's field of vision with a smug grin* And I'd like a proper 'please' at the end of that sentence, you brute.

Kaidan: Hmph.

Taliesin: Oh come now, don't be stubborn, Kaidan.

Kaidan: ... *sighs* Fine. Can you.. please.. use your ice magic to help with Morana's joint pain.

Taliesin: I do so love making men beg~

Kaidan: Right that's it-

Taliesin: WAIT NO NOT THE FACE AGAIN-

Morana: *walking some ways behind the group with Xelzaz, tilting her head in confusion* ...? What are they doing?

Xelzaz: Being idiots.

Morana: *nudges him* Mean.

Xelzaz: Guilty. *chuckles, turning to Morana with a worried smile* How are you feeling today, Whisper? Any pains?

Morana: The same amount as usual.

Xelzaz: Yes, but your usual tends to fluctuate from time to time, I've noticed.

Morana: *shrugs, falling silent with a sad smile*

Xelzaz: ... You know, I've been looking into long-term restorative treatments in Morrowind-

Morana: Don't bother.

Xelzaz: Oh, don't take that tone with me. At the very least, they could help your limp. Or reposition your knee.

Morana: ...

Xelzaz: You don't need to spend the rest of your life in pain. No matter how short you believe it may be.

Morana: ...? How did you-

Xelzaz: One who believes she can live does not reject treatment the way you do.

Morana: ...

Xelzaz: It's not as if I'm going to force medicine down your throat when you refuse it. I just.. *sighs, looking away and towards the mountains, avoiding her gaze* Don't you think the people around you would want to be comfortable in the time you have left?

Morana: ... *looks up towards the group with a worried frown* Do you think Kai and Tally know?

Xelzaz: I think they're the only ones who don't. Yaksha can surely tell. Inigo and Lucien have known for ages. Gore... Well, actually, Gore probably doesn't know, either.

Morana: *reaches over and pinches Xelzaz's arm gently* Mean.

Xelzaz: Hahah. *swats her arm away fondly* Seriously, though, at least consider it? I hate seeing you in pain.

Morana: ... Fine. I will consider it.

Xelzaz: *pats Morana on the head* Thank you, my friend.

...

Xelzaz: Come to think of it, they must either be surprisingly idiotic, or in complete denial if they haven't caught on yet.

Morana: They're not that dumb.

Xelzaz: I hate to say it, beek-ojel, but there's no other way for them to not know. You are a horrible liar.

Morana: *whines* Meeeeeeaaaaaaaan.

Xelzaz: *laughs, knocking gently at her cane with his tail* Perhaps.

Morana: If I fall I'm poisoning you.

Xelzaz: Racially impossible.

Morana: Bet I could.

Xelzaz: *a challenging smirk on his face* I'd love to see you try.

[gucciwins]

Angie imagine.

Being married to Harry and and having a daughter. U 3 r having a little picnic in ur garden in ur London house (or anywhere). These is cloth spread on the grass and U and Harry laying on it , with a picnic basket at ur side , eating or drinking something. And watching ur daughter playing around and trying to catch a butterfly. And he just turn towards u and smile with heart eyes and leans to kiss u and says I LOVE YOU. And ur daughter will com running to u saying mummy , daddy. And she side in middle of u both and u three sit there and talk and listen to her little words. And u watch ur husband and daughter playing around.

Uhg . What a life. ANGIEEEE.

here's a little something because I loved this so much 💜💜💜💜

_______

These were your favorite days when the sun shined bright in London, and your darling Juniper would ask to go to the park.

The terrible twos were long behind you as you celebrated your little girl's birthday with all her favorite people a month ago. It was 'The Corpse Bride' themed because she caught Gemma watching one night while babysitting for you, and your little girl fell in love with the dancing skeletons. Harry and you could recite the entire script at this point, but anything to see your angel happy. 

Sunny days were rare and few here, but each one was made special. Harry would do anything either of you asked, doing everything in his power to bring you happiness. This is why you were on your way to the park, Harry holding a basket with small flowers decorating the outside that Sarah had gifted you when she found out you were pregnant. It came with you to your park trips filled with your favorite snacks and drinks. 

It was a short walk to the park right by your home, Juniper holding tightly to your hand as she tried her best to match your steps. Before you knew it, you had arrived at a secluded section of the park full of little flowers and a shady spot under a large tree. 

A perfect spot to spend your day.

Juniper quickly reached for a corner of the blanket Harry was holding out for you to take, wanting to be helpful.

"On the count of three, alright, Junie," Harry tells her proudly. She's always quick to lend a helping hand at a young age. 

"Three, Daddy."

"One…two…three."  

Juniper's laugh rings out loud as Harry flies the blanket high before resting it on the grass, where Junie is quick to lay down. You slip off your sandals and join your daughter, who happily lays there looking up at the few clouds scattered in the sky. 

"What do you see, Junie?" You ask, brushing back her curls that she did not want you or Harry to brush today. 

"Monkey." 

"What?" Harry gasps. "Show me." 

Juniper raises a small hand pointing to the edge of the cloud where it curls, stating that it's the tail. 

"You've got a big imagination, Junie baby."

"I know." 

She stands up, wanting to run around and play, soaking in the sun. You were glad you put sunscreen on her before you left the house. 

"You're amazing, you know," Harry tells you. 

You feel your face flush, "what brought this on?"

Harry shrugs, "nothing figured I should tell you. You deserve to be constantly reminded, and it's my job to do so." 

"How'd I get so lucky," you tell him, reaching over and planting a soft kiss on his lips, knowing you couldn't give him more, not when you had to keep an eye on your daughter. 

"I'm the lucky one," he kisses again and again until you're lying on the blanket, Harry hovering over you, giving you kisses wherever he can until you're laughing at how he playfully bites your neck when you shove him off.

"Dork." 

"Your dork." 

Harry pulls you to lay on his chest as you both watch out for Juniper, who's chasing a butterfly, laughing as it always stays out of her reach. 

Your daughter's laughter fills you with happiness, and you're thankful for where you are in life with a loving and supportive family. 

"Mumma," Juniper calls for you as she sits in front of you.

"Yes, June bug?" 

"I love you." 

You feel your heart grow at your daughters, sweet words. There is no one you'll love more besides the man by your side that helped you create this perfect angel. 

"I love you, Juniper. You're my entire world." 

She giggles, letting you shower her in kisses as Harry watches in amusement, the happiness leaking from his eyes through tears because he can't believe this is his life. That he has a wife who loves him like he loves her and a baby girl could not be more perfect. 

"More than Daddy?" 

You giggle at your little girl's comment, Harry's eyes widening in surprise, knowing the answer because it was the same for him. You were his entire universe. You still were because without you, he wouldn't have gotten Juniper, your little mini twin. 

You had told him throughout your pregnancy that you hoped she looked like him, but all she got from him were his green eyes, and everything else was all you. Harry was elated when he first held her and saw all his favorite features of you on their little girl. 

Now she's growing up to be the most beautiful little lady. 

"Course more than me. Mummy loves you more than me. I'm good at being second place." 

Juniper stares at him, raising her small hand to rest on his cheek. "Daddy second. Mummy and Junie first."

Harry could handle being second for the rest of his life. 

[batfsm]

@batfam-chaos, Here you go. Putting it in three parts because it's so long.

birds fly in every direction by distracted_dragon Thoughts, Part 1:

Chapter 1)

I'm loving Tim's POV. It's so refreshing in a way. I wonder what made him use Jeffery Anderson as his pseudonym. Of course Tim would make up accounts to get his ideas out there. Of course he would.

^^ The most eye-catching thing in the alley, however, is the motionless black-clad figure sprawled atop a dumpster. Emblazoned across their chest is an achingly familiar blue bird.

Nightwing.

At the other end of the alley, three other people exchange looks and slowly approach the dumpster. Their faces are all unfamiliar, but Tim catches the glint of a gun in the hands of the person in the middle. From what he can tell, their clothes don’t look outrageously expensive. The man on the right has a tattoo on his forearm that looks vaguely like something that he’s seen on a few of Maroni’s men, but it’s hard to tell. Just to be safe, he quietly pulls his camera out from his backpack and takes a picture. He takes care to lay on his stomach, pressing himself as close to the rooftop as possible to keep out of sight.^^

Why is it always Dick Tim seems to find? Like, Jason saves Tim a lot but Dick? Tim always seems to find him in trouble. Or just getting out of trouble.

^^ Luckily, they don’t seem to notice the glint of his camera lens. Tim leans back and pushes his backpack away from the edge of the roof. It nearly knocks over a couple of empty beer bottles, but Tim manages to still them before they could make any noise.

(Was someone drinking on a rooftop? That seems irresponsible.)^^

You mean like you being on the rooftop which isn't yours, Timothy?

^^ His landing isn’t the best but he doesn’t break his camera or twist an ankle or anything, so Tim counts it as a win. He creeps towards the dumpster where Nightwing is lying and sighs in relief when he sees the rise and fall of the vigilante’s chest. Good, he isn’t dead. The two holes in the side of his suit don’t look good, though. Neither does the slowly spreading pool of blood that’s dampening the garbage around him.

“Um, hi” He begins and awkwardly tugs his hood down. Hopefully, it’ll cover his face enough to keep him from being recognized, either by Nightwing or whatever cameras are likely embedded in his suit. Taking care to warp his words into a thick Gotham accent, he adds, “I’m here to help. Are you awake?”

Nightwing grunts.

“Okay, that’s probably a good thing. Uh. Did you already call for help?”

Another grunt. This one sounds vaguely affirmative.

“Good, great,” he says, nodding. At least he doesn’t have to figure out a way to get Nightwing back to the rest of the Bats. “I don’t exactly know a lot about taking care of bullet wounds and I’d rather not get electrocuted by your suit while trying to stop the bleeding, so… I guess I’m going to go?”

Nightwing’s arms twitch and he weakly tries to push himself up, groaning.

“I don’t know if moving is a good idea,” Tim tries, but Nightwing only grunts in response.

Halfway through, he seems to give up and lays back down. The white-out lenses in his suit prevent Tim from seeing exactly where he’s looking, but something tells Tim that Nightwing’s eyes are fixed on him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay until I see that Batman or Robin has come to get you. I’ll stay out of sight, though.” Tim turns and starts to walk towards the other building’s remaining fire escape before he hesitates. He looks over his shoulder and surely enough, Nightwing is still looking straight at him. “Um. Sorry that I couldn’t help more. You do good work,” he offers meekly before turning tail and scurrying up the fire escape. His camera swings about, bumping against his chest with every step.

Heart pounding, Tim flattens himself against the roof and settles in to wait for the cavalry to arrive. He just met Nightwing. Nightwing! He also probably sounded like a complete idiot and he really hopes that Nightwing didn’t realize how young he is. Shadows can hide a lot and he tried to make his voice sound deeper than it actually is, but there’s only so much that he can do.

He clutches his camera protectively and tries to even out his breathing. If he could see his hands, he’d bet that his knuckles are white. Soon enough, the telltale rumble of the Batmobile roars in the distance and Tim sighs in relief.^^

Really Tim? Baby boy, this is going to come back to bite you I don't doubt.

^^ Monday rolls around, ushering in yet another week of school. Tim has a history quiz that he forgets about until fifteen minutes before class. He spends the last part of his English class skimming through his history notes. All things considered, the quiz goes okay. Still, Tim is all too eager to leave class and head to the library for lunch. He nearly misses seeing Jason Todd-- Batman’s current Robin-- as they pass each other in the hallway.

Jason has dark circles under his eyes and his mouth is set in a grim line. He doesn’t seem to notice Tim as they walk by each other, but that’s unsurprising. It’s unlikely that Jason even realizes that Tim exists.

The mass of students swarming towards the cafeteria whisks Jason away. In the blink of an eye, he’s gone.^^

Jason was probably up all weekend helping to look for you, Tim. You really think Jason won't notice you? He might not recognize people but he is trained by Bruce...

^^ Tim thinks of the two bullet holes in Nightwing’s torso, of the concern soaking Batman’s voice as he called out for his son. He thinks of the grim weariness on Jason’s face. He thinks of the photographs buried deep in his closet of Robin and Nightwing grinning as they shout jokes to each other, of Batman smiling and shaking his head at their antics. Of Batman standing on a rooftop overlooking the city, of the stars bleeding into his silhouette.

He hits save on the document and closes it. Writing about attacks so soon after his encounter with Nightwing seems like it would be asking for trouble.

His knees crack when he stands up to get ready for his usual night out on the town. With one of the Bats injured, he’ll need to step up his surveillance game until Nightwing is back in commission. After all, there’s work to be done.^^

Tim, Tim, Tim. I'm glad you have enough sense not to post yet but I got a feeling you'll be looked into even more than you probably are sooner than later.

Chapter 2)

You know I hate how easy it is to say Jack and Janet are bad parents. But canon wise they were very neglectful and left Tim alone alot. Yes, he went to boarding school but still...it doesn't help when fanon writes them because of how they were in canon. Sometimes love isn't enough.

^^ His phone had stopped ringing a few moments ago, but it starts up again rather quickly. Is it an emergency? Did someone die? Images of hospitals and potential accidents race through his head as Tim accepts the call and holds his phone up to his ear. “Dad? Is everything okay?” He tries to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Without preamble, his dad says, “Some of our colleagues have been asking what you’re up to.” There’s an edge of a grumble in his voice. He’s probably upset that he had to wait so long for Tim to pick up the phone.

“Well, I’m in school right now--” Tim begins, but his dad cuts him off.

“Timothy,” his father says curtly. Tim’s blood freezes as ice fills his veins. “I mean college. You need to start bulking up your resume. It’ll look good on college applications and reflect well on us. Your mother and I have emailed you a list of clubs to choose from. Let us know what you’ve decided by the end of the week.”

He leans back against the cold concrete wall and drums his fingers on the grooves between the cinder blocks. “Okay. Thank you.”

His dad grunts. “Oh, and next time? Pick up the damn phone. It’s getting late over here and I don’t want to waste time listening to the phone ringing while I wait for you to pick up.”

“Right,” Tim says. “Sorry, Dad. I was in class.”

“Are you telling me that you’re supposed to be in class right now?” his dad demands. “What are you doing, then? Go back to class! We can’t afford to let your grades slip.”

“I’ll go back right now. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye.”

The call clicks as his dad hangs up. Tim stares at the words “call ended” blinking at him from his phone before he shoves it back into his pocket and heads back to class. His back is still cold from the cool concrete wall, but Tim ignores the feeling as he slips back into his seat.^^

Stupid Jack. Getting pissed Tim won't answer you and then getting mad he's not in class. Make up your damn mind!

Book Club! That means Jason! Yes!

^^ Tim shuffles over and obediently sits in the chair to Jason’s left. He shrugs his backpack off and gently dumps on the floor. “Yeah, I’m a freshman.”

Jason scratches at his chin. “Huh, weird. Your face is kinda familiar. What’s your name?”

“I’m Timothy Drake. I live next door to you,” he explains, resisting the urge to kick his feet like a child.

His eyes widen. “Oh, so you’re the Drake’s kid! Well, welcome to book club. By the way, do you like being called Timothy?”

Tim picks at the hem of his sleeve as he considers the question. “Tim is fine,” he decides. “Or you can call me Timothy. I don’t really mind.”^^

See, Jason knows you. He just doesn't 'know, know' you. At least not yet.

^^ think the younger son did it,” Tim says abruptly. A few heads turn to look at him. “The book mentioned that he used to help his mother with making fertilizer, but it didn’t say anything about using natural fertilizers. That means that he likely has experience in dealing with various chemicals. He could’ve laced her tea with something.”

One of the other students frowns contemplatively. “But why would Jerome kill his mother? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t think that he meant to kill his mother. I think he wanted to kill his older brother so he could take over his general store. His brother had a fancy kettle in his kitchen, but the other appliances were run down. Why would he have a nice kettle if he didn’t like tea?” Tim picks at his jacket’s sleeve. “So Jerome set a trap. He laced some nice Darjeeling with something poisonous and left it in the kitchen right before his brother was supposed to arrive. It would be the perfect trap if his brother wasn’t late, allowing Mrs. Bigby to accidentally drink the poisoned tea first.”

“Don’t spoil it!” someone hisses.

Tim looks up. “I, um, was just guessing. I haven’t read the book before. Did I guess correctly?”^^

Go Tim! You are an awesome detective and you think as fast, if not faster than Bruce. (Which is so not helping my headcanon that Tim is Bruce's biological son.)

^^ This time, it takes Tim thirty-one pages to guess the murderer. Although it technically took him longer to guess correctly than with the first book, the delighted look on Jason’s face makes up for it.^^

I would be delighted also. Well after I got over not figuring it out myself and that someone did guess as we read the book.

^^ Bruce has first editions of Meredith Moore’s The Finding Game and a complete collection of the works of Kartik Mishra. Have you read either of them?”^^

I looked both of them up because of this and got a bit confused because they had another book for Meredith and a lot of people named Kartik Mishra came up on the results. I'll have to try again later on.

^^ Something doesn’t feel right. Why is Jason so interested in him? He didn’t think that he revealed anything particularly noteworthy about himself aside from his newfound ability to guess the ending of mystery novels. His mention of Kartik Mishra was far too obscure to connect him to Jeffrey Anderson, who had only cited Mishra’s work twice, so that couldn’t be it.

Tim pulls on his helmet and kicks his bike into motion with one foot. He’ll have to investigate this matter further.^^

You Tim. You pulled up on Jason's radar, before this probably, Andi won't be surprised if they figure you out because of your voice.

Yeah! Tim gets to meet his grandfather and dad tomorrow! Officially!

Chapter 3)

^^ Obediently, Tim trails Jason over to the car. A somewhat pale, balding man steps out of the driver’s side door and nods at them in greeting. He’s wearing a well-tailored black blazer and dress slacks. “Good afternoon Master Jason, Master Timothy. I am Alfred Pennyworth, Master Bruce’s butler.” He opens the door to the back seat of the car.

“He’s also the main thing keeping Bruce from accidentally burning down the house when he tries to cook,” Jason adds cheerily as he slides into the back seat.^^

I love this introduction. I love how Jason just disses on Bruce. It's so him.

^^ “So, Master Timothy. Do you have any allergies? I was planning on making cookies for you boys, but I would like to make sure that I don’t accidentally poison you.” The car turns onto the main road and Alfred meets Tim’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

His eyes are dark brown and lined with wrinkles. They look like the eyes of any normal human, and yet. It’s so subtle that Tim almost misses it, but something about the way that Alfred Pennyworth looks at Tim makes him feel like he’s able to see the storms lurking beneath Tim’s skin.

He knows. Nobody whose eyes can see that much would be able to work closely with Bruce Wayne and not realize that he’s Batman.

A gentle nudge interrupts Tim's train of thought. He glances over and finds Jason leaning back into his seat. Right, Alfred had asked him a question.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second. I’m not allergic to anything,” Tim replies hastily.

Unfazed, Alfred turns the car onto the familiar winding road that contains both Drake Manor and Wayne Manor. “All right. And do you have a favorite type of cookie?”

He shrugs. “I’ll eat just about anything. I’m not very picky.”

“I didn’t ask what you would eat, Master Tim. I asked if you had a favorite type of cookie,” Alfred corrects smoothly. “The kitchen is well-stocked, so I can assure you that we certainly have the ingredients for whichever type of cookie you choose.”

Tim falls silent, chewing his lip contemplatively. Choosing a type of cookie is a lot of responsibility. What if Jason doesn’t like it? What if nobody else in Wayne Manor likes it but they have to awkwardly pretend that they do to avoid hurting Tim’s feelings?

“You really can’t go wrong with Alfred’s cooking. His cookies are the best,” Jason interjects. “If you want recommendations, his chocolate chip cookies are great. He makes some mean snickerdoodles and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies too.”

“Chocolate chip sounds good,” Tim decides at last. “Thank you,” he adds quickly.^^

Of course Alfred knows. Alfred, fanon Alfred, knows all.

Tim, don't worry. Alfred's used to Bruce, Dick, and Jason spacing out so you're fine.

Okay, can I eat one of Alfred's cookies? Or his food? Please.

^^ “By the way,” Jason drawls, drawing Tim’s attention back to him, “Do you like dogs?”

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

The car pulls in front of the main entrance of Wayne Manor. Like before, Alfred gets out of the car to open the car door for Tim and Jason.

“Thank you very much for driving us, Alfred,” Tim tells him as he straightens up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure, Master Timothy,” Alfred replies before he climbs back into the car and drives off.

Instead of answering Tim’s question, Jason walks up and opens the front doors. A very excited German Shepherd darts out, bouncing in place as Jason leans over to run his hands down its sides.

“This is Ace. He’s about six years old and he is a very good boy,” Jason informs him solemnly. “Want to pet him?”

Tim nods and carefully approaches Ace, extending one hand for him to sniff. After a moment, Ace shoves his wet nose into Tim’s hand and gives it a satisfied lick. Taking this as acceptance of his presence, Tim scratches behind Ace’s ears. His tail wags slowly at first but quickly speeds up, especially once Tim starts scratching his chin with his other hand.

“You’re right,” Tim says, looking up at Jason. “He’s a very good boy.”^^

Did Alfred drive to the garage? Why not just go to the garage and then everyone gets out at the same time without wasting gas?

Ace! Ace! Ace! I love Ace! He's such a good boy and he knows Tim is not a bad person do he's extra good.

^^ “All right,” Tim agrees. His school uniform is covered in dog fur, which would normally drive his mother mad, but Tim finds that it doesn’t really bother him.^^

It shouldn't. It just means you got loved a whole lot.

^^ “Dad’s study’s this way,” Jason says, turning back to look at Tim. “That’s where he keeps all of his--”

“Hey, whatcha doing?” A door directly across from them slams open and someone with bright blue eyes, warm brown skin, and a blinding smile bursts out. Their face is oddly familiar. Tim must have seen them before somewhere--

Oh, that’s Nightwing without his mask. Or rather, that’s Richard Grayson, Bruce’s eldest son.

“Jay, you have a friend over?” He tilts his head curiously, peering at Tim. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

Tim forces himself to unfreeze, though the sound of the slamming door still echoes through his head. Pasting a smile on his face, he extends one hand to Richard to shake. “Hi, I’m Timothy Drake. I live next door.”

“I’m Dick Grayson,” says Dick, smiling as he smoothly steps forward to shake Tim’s hand. He steps back and nudges the door closed with a soft click, much quieter than his explosive entrance. “So, what are you planning on doing?”

Jason rolls his eyes and turns to Tim. “Dick’s bored out of his mind. He has this nasty cut on his side that he got from falling asleep on a stapler. He just fell straight onto it like--”

With all of the grace of a professionally trained acrobat, Dick darts forward and lovingly gives Jason a noogie. Tim just stands there and blinks, unsure of what to do. Ace pads up to Tim and shoves his head into Tim’s hand, so he obligingly pats Ace’s head.

“Hey!” Jason protests, squirming in his brother’s grip. He does not, Tim notes, try to elbow him or use any of the combat moves that Tim knows he’s capable of.

It’s likely to protect Nightwing’s stitches, Tim notes absently. The man’s wounds weren’t one hundred percent life-threatening, but they were certainly serious. Reopening those wounds would not be a fun experience.

After one final noogie, Dick releases Jason and ruffles his hair. “In my defense, I didn’t fall asleep on a stapler. There may have been some sneaking out and alcohol involved, though.” He winks at Tim.

“He fell on a vase when he was sneaking back in,” Jason sighs. “I don’t know how, but he managed to shatter it in such a way that it stabbed him. Truly astonishing.”

Dick only grinned. “Don’t hate me because you ain’t me,” he sing-songs.^^

I should have realized Dick would be home.

Really? That's your excuse boys? Alfred signed off on that excuse? LoL it's do flimsy I'm surprised people believe it.

^^ The thought of spending time with Nightwing is a little bit terrifying but, at the same time, very cool. Tim nods and Dick beams, clapping his hands together.

“Great! Come on, I’ll show you where they are.” Despite his still-healing injury, Dick practically bounces down the hallway.

Jason and Tim follow him, albeit at a much calmer pace. Dick stops in front of a set of intimidating wooden double doors and pushes them open, revealing what must be Bruce Wayne’s study. Without skipping a beat, Dick makes a beeline for the towering bookshelves at the far end of the room.^^

You are not helping your excuse at all by acting like that Dick. Not at all.

^^ Jason snorts and turns to Tim. “Dick is a theater kid at heart. He does do some pretty good voices, if you’re fine with him crashing our hangout.”

Tim cracks a smile. “I’m fine if Dick reads.”

“Okay!” Dick chirps and leans back into the couch. Jason wastes no time in wriggling closer to Dick and leaning his head on his big brother’s shoulder as Dick opens Meredith Moore’s The Finding Game. It’s clearly well-loved-- the spine is cracked and some of the pages are dog-eared. Tim thinks of the pristine books in his parents’ office with rigid spines and unmarred pages. Most of the things in their office are too old or delicate for him to touch; he’s only allowed to handle whatever paperwork they ask him to fetch. Envious, he imagines running his hands over the pages of his mother’s copies of excavation reports before he quickly banishes the thought. Their rules exist for a reason.

As it turns out, Jason was right about Dick’s acting abilities. He does a different voice for each character and makes exaggerated faces as he speaks. Jason occasionally chimes in with commentary, but Tim mostly stays quiet and absorbs Dick’s telling of the story.^^

Dick's going to read! I have a couple of books like that I'll admit but I try to read them all. Even if it's only once.

I be absorbed by Dick reading also. In my head, they all have lovely voices.

^^ Forty pages in, Tim is getting restless. He’s been maintaining good posture for most of the reading, but his back is starting to hurt. Also, he’s pretty sure that he knows who the killer is, but it’s hard to tell if Dick will get mad at him if he voices his guess. “Am I allowed to guess the murderer?”

Jason looks over at Tim and snorts. “I brought you here to unleash you on a bunch of mystery books, remember?” He lightly boops Tim’s nose. Mystified, Tim nearly crosses his eyes trying to follow Jason’s finger. “Yeah, you’re allowed to guess the murderer. Who d’you think did it?”

Mollified, Tim picks at the edge of his sleeve as he thinks. “Probably Tom Harbott. If Casey Rogerson died, then his house would become public property and be dealt with by the state. When Harbott is cataloguing the worth of the house, then he could easily take a few items-- some of Casey’s jewels, maybe-- and nobody would know that they were missing. Plus, Harbott strikes me as kind of slimy.”

Both of the Wayne boys turn to look at him, but Tim stares at his hands instead of meeting their eyes. “I could be wrong, though. It’s just a gut feeling.”

“Jay’s right,” Dick says after a moment. “You are really good at this. Nice work, Tim!”^^

He's so amazing and smart and his brothers are going to tell him that a lot. He's also a mini Bruce in detective mode. I thought Jason was like Bruce a whole lot but Tim probably beats all his siblings in being like their dad the most.

^^ Tim takes a cookie and settles back against the couch as he nibbles at it. It’s very fucking good. He’s careful to keep crumbs from getting all over Bruce’s couch-- he wouldn’t want Jason and Dick to be on the receiving end of Bruce’s wrath if he comes home and finds his couch covered in crumbs.

Cookie in one hand, Dick picks up the story where he left off. Tim is content to sit with his hands clasped in his lap and lean back into the cushions while Jason wastes no time in using Dick’s shoulder as his own personal pillow. The floor behind them creaks as someone walks across it. Tensing, Tim immediately stops slouching.

“Hey, Bruce!” Dick calls, twisting around to beam at the man himself.

Bruce Wayne. Batman. The person who Tim has been following and surreptitiously photographing for the past few years.

The Batman suit must have platforms in it because the man before him is ever so slightly shorter than Tim expected. Granted, he’s definitely still over six feet tall, but something about the Batman suit makes him look bigger. More intimidating. Right now, Bruce is wearing a rumpled suit and has a five o’clock shadow.^^

Tim, Bruce isn't going to care. Ace probably jumps on the furniture and gets his fur everywhere so why should Bruce, Alfred really, care if you get crumbs on the furniture? People do all the time! I bet Bruce does!

Damn, Tim was just getting comfortable. He's got good instincts though. I never thought of Bruce using platforms but it makes sense. Throws people off that way.

^^ “Tim and I are in the book club together. It turns out that he’s scary good at guessing the murderer in mystery novels, so I bribed him into coming over with some of your old books,” Jason informs him, leaning back into the couch.

Bruce nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like fun. What did you read?”

“The first book in The Finding Game. Tim figured out the murderer in forty pages,” Jason replies proudly.

“Damn, that’s pretty good,” he whistles and shakes his head before he smiles at Tim. “The first time I read it, it took me twice that to figure it out. Good job, Tim. So, how are you doing? I hope that my sons haven’t been giving you too much trouble.”^^

Bruce tossing Dick out makes me laugh when he stays himself. Bruce is so proud of Tim for figuring out the mystery. Oh my gosh Bruce. You are as bad as Dick. Then again, they get it from you.

^^ “Bunch of privileged ass kids who’ve never experienced a single hardship in their lives,” Jason grumbles.

His words elicit a chuckle from Bruce. Tim reaches down and pats Ace’s head.

After a moment, Bruce’s attention switches back to Tim. “So, Tim,” he begins, “Do you think that your family would object to you staying for dinner? Alfred’s making lasagna. Or we can give you a ride home if you need one.”

Jason twists so he can nudge Tim’s leg with his foot. “You should have dinner with us, Alfred’s cooking is amazing.”

He really doesn’t want to impose, but since he’s been invited and Jason seems to want him there… “My parents are out of town right now, so they won’t mind.” Tim shrugs, smiling. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

Jason flops back into the couch and pokes Tim with one foot. “Just don’t forget to text someone so your family doesn’t assume that you’ve been kidnapped or something,” he says around a mouthful of cookie.

“Will do,” Tim replies and shoves the remainder of his cookie into his mouth. ^^

Poor Tim. Jason's basically insulting Tim to his face. Well not him but I bet Tim took it that way.

Tim, really? You didn't text anyone...big red flag. Especially for Batman and his sons.

I love the dinner. Tim fits right in. Of course Bruce wanted Tim to walk home with Jason. They are worried and Tim speaking about how only Mrs. Mac comes around and his parents are gone is going to raise more red flags. I'm glad Tim has the rest of the family's numbers. I just hope he uses more than Jason's and Dick's.

Chapter 4)

^^ On Monday, Tim steps into the debate team’s assigned classroom during his lunch period. Multiple heads swivel to stare at him and Tim slips on his best polite smile.

“Ah, hello there!” A blond-haired boy hops off the desk he was perched on at the front of the classroom. “If you’re here for the debate team, then you’re in the right place.”

“Good to hear,” Tim replies and sticks out his hand as the other student approaches him. “I’mTim Drake.”

They shake hands. “I’m Patrick Weston. You’re the Tim Drake of Drake Industries, right?”

“That’s right.” Maintaining his polite smile hurts Tim’s face.

Patrick grins and claps Tim on his back, forcing him to hide his flinch. “Fantastic! You’ll be a great addition to the team. Come over here and I’ll introduce you to everyone. That’s Abigail Mercer of Mercer Incorporated…”

He proceeds to introduce him to several students who Tim has known since kindergarten on account of them running in the same social circles. In short, they’re all a bunch of rich brats.

“So, what kinds of cars do your parents have?” asks Hunter Smith of the Smith Corporation.

Rich, pretentious brats.

Tim does not like debate team.^^

The debate team sounds like they don't even debate anyone. Just gossip. That sucks. Poor Tim. At least he only has to deal with them twice a week.

Tim beating Jason at Super Smash Bros makes me laugh along with Alfred hearing Jason and Dick curse. Why is Dick hanging out with these two? He's off work right now because of his injury but doesn't he have the Titans to hang out with? Not that Tim probably minds....I wouldn't.

^^ Tim tries to spend a handful of hours every night keeping an eye on the Escabedo Cartel’s warehouses. Between homework, gymnastics classes, martial arts classes, working on his latest Jeffrey Anderson draft, and hanging out with Jason and Dick, he doesn’t make it out to Gotham every single night.

As far as he can tell, nothing out of the ordinary has happened at the row of the Escabedo’s warehouses on Seventh Street. Still, something in his gut nags at him. The Odessa mob and the Escabedo Cartel have worked too closely together in the past for Tim to brush them off, especially when it comes to the Odessa’s connections to apparent arms smuggling.

There is nothing to do now but to lay low and wait. And if Tim occasionally spends an extra thirty minutes at the end of the night waiting near one of the Bats’ usual patrol routes for a glimpse of a cape, well. Nobody has to know but him.^^^

Tim's going to get hurt isn't he? I hope not.

^^ Bruce, conspicuously, is missing. Dick mentions a last-minute work trip, but Tim doesn’t worry too much. The news earlier that day announced that the Justice League is fighting some giant robots down in Kentucky. They’ve dealt with worse in the past; Bruce will be fine.^^

Bruce will be but will you Tim?

^^ His parents don’t call that week. Tim bikes to school, does his homework, and hangs out with Jason and Dick. He attends his gymnastics lessons and martial arts classes. Mrs. Mac comes by and leaves meals in the fridge for him.

Drake Manor remains empty, save for Tim wandering about like a ghost.^^

They aren't coming home later that month are they?

^^ He holds his breath and snaps pictures as several people carry cardboard boxes out of the warehouse and load them into the truck. It’s impossible to tell what’s inside, but it’s probably nothing good. After all, why else would they go to the trouble of loading unmarked boxes into a van after midnight?

An unfamiliar man steps out of the warehouse and walks over to the person with the epaulette tattoos. He grabs something from his pocket and holds it out to the man-- money, maybe? Tim shifts, trying to get a better angle, when his foot strikes the metal shell of the HVAC unit to his left.

The clang rings out, unnaturally loud in Tim’s ears. Multiple heads swivel to look up at the roof, but Tim doesn’t stick around to see if they pull out their guns. He’s grabbing his things and getting the fuck out of there.

With clumsy hands, Tim shoves the lens cap back onto his camera. He tosses the entire thing into his backpack before leaping onto the next rooftop and starting to run.

Tim was born and raised in Gotham. He is intimately familiar with the sound of gunshots. Still, he’s never been the intended target before. When he hears the familiar pop pop pop of shots being fired, his heart rises into his through. He has a tiny canister of pepper spray and a Swiss army knife, but neither of those things will help him here. Right now, what Tim needs to do is run.

 And so he does.^^

Shoot!! Run Tim, run!

^^ Around four blocks away from the Escabedo’s warehouses, he jumps across a narrow alley to reach the next roof. It’s a routine jump, one he’s done many times before, but then his ankle buckles when he lands and all of his weight goes onto it and he’s falling. If he wasn’t wearing a backpack, he could roll and distribute the momentum. But Tim is wearing a backpack and his backpack contains his camera.

Tim will not risk breaking his camera.

So he holds out his arms the way that he was taught in his martial arts classes so the force of the fall will be distributed from his hands to his elbows. Tim falls and hits the rough concrete roof with a thump.

For a moment, he’s dimly aware of his throbbing ankle plus a stinging knee and hands. The knee and hands are just scraped, he thinks. His ankle is another matter entirely, but he doesn’t have time to check. Out of the corner of his eye, he can just barely see what looks like a black van.^^

Well he isn't shot but dang is he hurt.

^^ By the time that Tim reaches the front door, his breathing is ragged. From his shin down, his leg feels like it was dipped in magma and then shot. He’s kind of surprised that his foot hasn’t fallen off yet. It takes him longer than usual to unlock the front door, thanks to his shaking hands. Tim manages to haul himself inside and shut the door behind himself. He leans his back against it for a moment, breathing hard, before he slowly slides to the floor

Why does everything suck? Why can’t his body just do stuff and not break?^^

Thank Ra, you got home safely Tim but you're hurt. That's why everything sucks right now.

^^ Tim shuffles around the living room with his chair, grabbing white blankets from the back of sofas. Finally, he picks a spot in front of his favorite couch and sets his sneakers next to it. He lays out the fluffiest-looking blanket before wrapping the others around him. His backpack goes under his foot to elevate it-- he’s pretty sure that he read somewhere that you’re supposed to do that-- and he sandwiches the ice pack between his foot and his backpack. An inelegant solution, but it’ll get the job done.

He closes his eyes and the throbbing in his foot abates slightly. It still feels like a bear is trying to chew his leg off, but the night’s adrenaline has long since worn off and Tim is exhausted.

Tim grabs sleep in short snatches where he sleeps like a rock until the pain in his foot wakes him up. It’s not the best situation, but it’s the only one he has.^^

At least you took the best care you can of your ankle, knee, and hands. Now to explain it to your brothers...

Chapter 5)

Oh boy.....I can just feel the worry everyone will have.

^^ Tim grabs a handful of cheerios and shoves it into his mouth as he types out a message. He doesn’t want to cancel but if any of the Waynes see his ankle, then they’re going to start asking questions. If he texts them now saying that he might not make it because he might be sick and then sends a follow up text later saying that he’s actually sick, then it’ll seem like the natural progression of illness. That won’t be suspicious, right?

Tim [10/07, 11:20 AM]: I might not make it today. I’m not feeling well, but I’ll let you know how it goes.

There, sent. He turns his phone on silent and leaves it face down on the floor next to him. With a sigh, Tim pulls the blankets around himself once more and snuggles into his nest. It’s too late in the day for him to go back to sleep, but maybe he can close his eyes for a while.^^

Good luck Tim. You're getting visitors whether you want them or not.

^^ After a minute, the knocking ceases and he can just barely hear faint squabbling outside. He would be concerned that the people from last night had finally found them if not for two reasons: first, they wouldn’t knock if they were coming to kill him and second, they definitely wouldn’t be arguing outside if they were coming to kill him.

Besides, those voices sound vaguely familiar.

The front door swings open. Hey, didn’t Tim lock the door behind himself when he came home last night?

“Tim?” Jason calls. The door swings shut with a soft click.

A second later, Dick’s voice chimes in. “Tim? Are you alive?”

“I’m here,” Tim says, not bothering to turn over to face them.

“Tim! There you are, we were worried about you,” Dick exclaims.

Footsteps approach him-- exaggerated for his benefit, surely-- and then the Wayne boys enter his field of vision. Their eyes sweep over him as they catalogue the situation. (Ah, the wonders of Bat training.) Tim blinks up at them and yawns so wide that his jaw cracks.^^

I bet they noticed the blood also, there had to be some, on the front door.

^^ Unfortunately for Tim, the spot that Jason chooses to nudge happens to be where Tim’s injured foot is.

Tim just barely manages to keep himself from shouting. What comes out of his mouth instead sort of resembles a choked-off groan or yelp. Immediately, both boys are kneeling next to him, concern written all over their faces as Tim blinks away the sudden tears from his eyes.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry--” Jason begins, distraught, but Dick quiets him with a look.

“Tim,” Dick says, voice firm but gentle. “Where are you hurt?”

He refuses to look away until Tim hoarsely replies, “Left foot.”^^

Dick is such a big brother/mother hen here. Got a feeling Bruce is going to be just as bad. Not to mention Alfred.

^^ “Landed weirdly on my foot,” Tim replies, closing his eyes. “On the stairs.” The lie burns in his chest, but they either don’t notice or choose to not push.^^

They won't push for now. Later on they will.

^^ “Hey, Tim.” Dick’s voice sounds much closer than it previously did. Tim opens his eyes and finds Dick crouching next to Jason at his side. “Your ankle definitely looks sprained, possibly broken. We’re going to take you back to the manor so Bruce can help us figure out what to do, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim mumbles.

Dick smiles gently at him. “We’re going to carry you upstairs so you can grab some of your things, all right? You can hang out at our house and we can help you call one of your relatives or family friends so you can stay with them until you’re better. It’ll be safer to have someone keeping an eye on you instead of letting you hobble around everywhere by yourself.”

Tim shakes his head. “I don’t have any relatives nearby.”

Dick tilts his head. “What about any family friends that you could call?”

Another shake of his head. Frankly, Tim has no idea who his parents’ friends are other than the people who they occasionally chat with at galas, but he’s pretty sure that they don’t count.

“All right,” Dick says. “Well, you can always stay with us, but I bet Bruce is going to need to discuss it with your parents first.^^

Bruce is going to frown and look into Tim faster than he was I bet. Tim better be ready to live at the Manor for a while, if not forever soon.

^^ Both boys’ eyes fixate on Tim’s wrists as the sleeve of his hoodie slides back with the motion. He frowns in confusion before remembering the band-aids covering the scrapes on his palms. “I tried to catch myself when I fell,” he explains and then adds, “They weren’t bleeding too badly, but I didn’t want to get the couch dirty.”

Dick’s gaze sharpens and for a terrifying moment, Tim thinks that he’s going to get mad at him. But then his expression smooths out and he nods thoughtfully. “We can check those out at the manor. Tim, I’m going to pick you up so we can take you upstairs and grab some of your things. Sound like a plan?”^^

Dick isn't mad at you baby boy. He's angry that you had to deal with this alone. No one should have to deal with cleaning up and etc after getting hurt. Not to mention the part about the couch, you probably didn't even realize, caught his attention.

The scene of Tim getting carried upstairs makes me smile.

^^ A pang shoots through Tim’s chest as the front door closes behind them with a click. As they walk away, he looks over his shoulder at Drake Manor, stately and silent as always. He doesn’t know why he expected the manor to look any different without him in it.^^.

Because it looks like you never even lived there Tim. Plus, I'm hoping, it might be one of the last times you see it.

^^ Jason pulls out his phone as they head towards Wayne Manor. “Hi, B.” A pause. When Jason speaks again, he’s slid into something resembling his Robin voice in tone, if not in pitch. “We found Tim. He’s moderately injured. Looks like he has a few scrapes and his ankle is pretty messed up, so we’re bringin’ him back home with us… No, they weren’t there. He says that he doesn’t have any relatives or family friends that he could stay with either.” Another pause. “Nope, nothing… I know, me neither.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Dick asks casually as they cross over onto the Waynes’ property. “We can have Alfred heat up some leftovers for you. He made some really good lemon chicken and potatoes last night that I think you would like. He also makes really good sandwiches and I think there’s some leftover soup in the fridge.”

“...A sandwich would be nice,” Tim agrees after a moment of thought before quickly adding, “But I don’t want to impose. You don’t have to feed me.”

“Nothing urgent,” Jason says into his phone, casting a sidelong look at Tim. “Yeah. Uh huh, all right.”

Dick cranes his neck to stare incredulously at Tim. “Of course we have to feed you, buddy! You’re, what, twelve? You’re still growing and you need the nutrients and energy.”

“Cool, see you soon. Love you, dad. Bye.” Jason puts his phone back into his pocket and turns to Tim. “Sorry, did I hear you say something about us not needing to feed you? What, are you a robot or somethin’?”

“Jason,” Dick says in warning, though his tone remains light.

Ignoring him, Jason barrels on. “Last I checked, you need food. Of course we’re gonna feed you. It’s not like Bruce can’t afford it or something.”

Tim watches Jason carefully, sinking into the back of Dick’s neck. “I know, I just don’t want to impose. That’s all.”

Jason’s face softens. “You’re never imposing on us, Timbo. Now come on, Bruce is waiting for us.”^^

I love how Dick is distracting Tim from the phone call while talking about food. Something was going on there and I bet it has to do with keeping Tim.

You are not a burden, Tim. You are not. You are loved.

^^ He’s smiling, but there’s an air of tension about him. Is he mad? Maybe he’s upset that Dick and Jason decided to bring Tim back to Wayne Manor without asking first. Or maybe he’s mad at Tim for spraining his ankle? Or he could have been doing important Batman business and was interrupted. It could be any number of things. 

“Hey, boys,” Bruce greets them. His eyes flit over them, presumably checking for injuries, before settling on Tim. “Hi, Tim. I heard that you had a rough night.”

Tim shrugs and tightens his grip around Dick’s neck, careful to not choke him. “I guess,” he deflects. 

Bruce’s unnerving gaze stays on him for a moment longer. If Tim didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that Bruce has Superman’s x-ray vision. When Bruce smiles, Tim feels himself relax. “Let’s get you inside and we can figure out what to do, okay?”

They file inside the manor. As Jason steps past him, Bruce takes one of the bags from his hands and shoulders it. It just so happens to be the backpack that Tim likes to take with him into Gotham at night. The irony of Batman carrying a backpack that contains the camera that Tim has used to photograph the Bats for the past few years does not escape him.

“I’m going to take Tim over to the kitchen and get him some lunch,” Dick tells Bruce.

“All right.” Bruce nods and looks over at Tim. “Jason and I are going to take your things up to a guest room for you. We’ll be down in a few minutes, okay?” 

“Okay,” Tim replies. There are still traces of tension in Bruce’s face and Tim hopes that Bruce isn’t pulling Jason aside to yell at him.^^

No, no Tim. Bruce is not angry with you or your brothers. He probably tried calling your parents and couldn't get hold of them. That's it. He's worried.

Jason isn't getting yelled at. He's telling his dad his side of the events and then will have Dick tell him, his side. He's finding out what happened. That's it.

^^ Bruce hums noncommittally. “That’s good. Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle? Dick said that he’s already checked for any obvious fractures, so I won’t do that again.”

“Go ahead.” Tim nods and slides his now-empty plate away from him. Stepping over to Tim, Bruce removes the ice pack from his ankle and holds it in surprisingly careful fingers.

“That doesn’t look pleasant,” Bruce says, making a sympathetic face as he examines Tim’s foot.

Tim hadn’t bothered to fully check out his ankle yet and he’s inclined to agree with Bruce. In the light of the kitchen, the purple bruises wrapping around his ankle look like some sort of bizarre ankle cuff. The swelling has morphed his foot and ankle into something resembling one of those long, tubular balloons that clowns use to make balloon animals.

Bruce glances up. “Is it okay if I touch your ankle? I won’t check for fractures like Dick did ealrier, just swelling.”

“That’s fine,” Tim replies.^^

Why did Bruce repeat himself twice? To make sure it got through to Tim that he had choices?

^^ “Did you take any painkillers?”

“Um, I took two ibuprofen last night.”

“Nothing this morning?”

Tim nods and Bruce turns to Jason, who is already rummaging around in one of the cabinets.

“Here,” Jason says at last, tossing a bottle over to Bruce.

Bruce uncaps the ibuprofen bottle and shakes four pills into his hand. “I’m going to have you take four. I don’t like the look of that swelling. This will reduce it as well as help with the pain.” He takes Tim’s hand and pours the pills into his palm.

Tim swallows them with a sip of water. “Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”^^

Wait! Didn't Tim take some this morning also? Did he just forget?

I'm glad he's going to see Leslie. Especially since he hasn't seen a doctor in years it seems.

Awe. Jason and Dick both gave Tim piggyback rides. He deserves them. Now Bruce just needs to carry Tim.

I adore how Tim just wonders if the photos have the Justice League in them as he goes into Bruce's bathroom. The bathroom has to be huge! It's got to be the size of a room. At least it seems that way.

Bruce explaining what he is doing is great. Tim might think Bruce is doing it only to humor Tim but it's because no one knows how Tim will react, it gives Tim something to focus on, and even if I knew what they were doing, I want to be told. Besides I bet you Bruce does it to Dick and Jason all the time. Same as with Tim, it gives them something to focus on besides their pain.

Distraction from the pain is exactly what Tim needs and talking about Ace in his own train makes me smile. Especially when Bruce says they need to get Alfred's permission, not his. Alfred's in charge. Bruce is just the figure head.

^^ “Boo hoo, trust fund baby,” Jason retorts.

Without looking up, Bruce remarks, “You know, you probably wouldn’t have gotten so dirty if you hadn’t decided to do the worm in the dirt.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but Bruce quickly adds, “Please don’t subject me to hearing my children make jokes about Dick being dirty.”

“Do you know how many tabloid covers I’ve seen speculating about your love life?” Scoffing, Jason throws his arms in the air. “Too damn many, that’s what.”^^

Jason, you are a trust fund baby also.

Oh, Ra. Well y'all are certainly distracting Tim. Even if he is getting a little bit anxious.

^^ Some of the tension leaves Tim’s shoulders, but he doesn’t bother to fix his posture. It feels better, safer, when he’s curled a little bit into himself. Bruce hums and wordlessly continues bandaging Tim’s other hand. The next few minutes pass in silence as Bruce ties off the bandage on Tim’s hand and begins working on his knee. He moves quickly, efficiently, like he’s done this before. Then again, Bruce probably has lots of experience with patching up his own wounds.

At last, Bruce finishes wrapping Tim’s knee and gives his calf a light pat. “There, you’re all done.” He announces, taking a step away from Tim.^^

Thank you Bruce for seeing how Tim was feeling and calming his brothers down. You're a great dad right now.

(I know, I know they aren't brothers yet but they are acting like ones.)

^^ Bruce nods and turns to Tim. “I’m going to carry you down to the car, okay?”

He stares at Tim and it takes a long minute for Tim to realize that he’s waiting for Tim to respond. “Sure, okay,” he says. That was… weird.

Only then does Bruce step forward and slide one arm under his knees while the other wraps under his arms. Bruce effortlessly picks Tim up and strides out of the bathroom.^^

Thank you! I was hoping Bruce would get to carry Tim and he is.

Tim, you are worrying your family but they will be there for you. I'm glad they all are going to Leslie's. Well except Alfred but he's probably making sure everything is good for Tim to stay besides the room. (Which is going to become Tim's room correct? Or will he move closer to Jason later on?)

Bruce is such a dad ordering now ruff housing and seatbelts.

Chapter 6)

From the summary of the chapter, it looks like Tim is coming home to the Manor. Which is good even if Tim doesn't think so.

I love Leslie being the family doctor and Bruce just putting on a cap and sunglasses as disguise. He can't be seen in Crime Alley but his sons can? Weird.

Dick being the one who checks Tim in makes me grin. Bruce probably knows a lot about Tim already but he has to act like he doesn't and Dick knows more because of hanging out with Tim. That and to probably protect himself.

Bruce carrying Tim makes me smile. It's like he can't get enough of it but he's also not doing it without permission. The way he wraps the blanket around Tim....it's like Bruce is hugging him as Tim gets looked over.

^^ “I was told that you injured your ankle,” she says as she takes a clipboard out of a drawer. “I’m going to take a look at that, but first I’ll need to gather some baseline health information.”

“Okay.” Tim picks at the edge of the bandage on his hands instead of looking up at her.

“I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs first to make sure that everything is functioning properly, okay?” Dr. Thompkins walks over to Tim and pulls out a stethoscope. “It has to go under your shirt and it’s going to be a little cold,” she warns.^^

Leslie is literally starting from the beginning because she does with all new patients and she has to make sure she is getting everything done correctly for future use and the case for Bruce to take Tim home with him and keep him.

^^ Dr. Thompkins looks through something in her clipboard. “All right. Now that we’ve gotten through all of the general check-up items, let’s talk about your ankle. First things first: what happened?”

“Fell down the stairs,” Tim explains. “My ankle buckled and I fell on my face. That’s how I got the scrapes, too.”

Her gaze flits to the bandages on his hands and knee. “Bruce already took care of those for you?”

“Yeah, he rewrapped them and everything.”

“Hmmm.” Dr. Thompkins writes something down on her clipboard. “All right. When did the injury occur?”

Tim shrugs. “Last night. I thought it wasn’t a big deal, so I went to sleep.”^^

Tim, Tim, Tim. You need to stop lying. They both have an idea you are. So please stop. Tell the truth. Please.

^^ Dr. Thompkins nods. “Oh, Chile sounds fun. I’ve never been. Do you know when they’re getting back?”

They’re approaching dangerous waters. Tim takes his nervousness and shoves it down, down, down. He swallows his fear and lets it sit in his stomach like a rock. “Later this month.”

“Do you have an exact date?”

“They haven’t scheduled their flight yet,” Tim says in lieu of actually answering her question. He’s well aware of Bruce’s eyes on him as he silently watches the exchange.

“And who’s watching you while they’re gone?” Dr. Thompkin’s voice remains frustratingly calm.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Our maid, Mrs. Mac.”

“Where was she today?”

“Today’s her day off,” he replies, omitting the fact that she also has Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday off as well.

“Hmmm. When does she usually work?”

Tim tilts his head, regarding her. He thinks of his mother, her eyes as cool and unyielding as steel, toppling businessmen with poisoned words and a smile as sharp as a knife.

He takes the pain in his heart, sharp like shards of glass, and lets it slip into his words. Let him be cold, let him be unyielding. Let his raw, bleeding heart freeze over until it’s as cool as ice.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Dr. Thompkins, but you seem to be implying that my parents were unable to raise me to be a functional human being. I can assure you that is not the case.” He smiles, leans forward. “Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it.”

Dr. Thompkins raises an eyebrow and stares him down. Tim meets her gaze evenly, but she doesn’t flinch.^^

Tim, you are an idiot. A lovable one but still an idiot. She's asking questions because you are young and alone. Which you should not be.

^^ Leslie’s shoulders are tense as she leads Bruce into her office, shutting the door behind them. He doesn’t usually drop by during the day-- it feels different in the daylight. Fewer shadows, more peeling paint. How Leslie is able to hold her clinic and every person that passes through it together with her bare hands, he’ll never understand.

“Sit,” Leslie orders, gesturing at the worn leather chair sitting across from her desk.

Contrary to popular opinion, Bruce does actually have a sense of self-preservation. He sits..^^

Oh, different point of view. Leslie is on a war path. Bruce is also. I'm glad the two older boys came along so Tim is distracted as Leslie and Bruce talk.

^^ “The floor in his house wouldn’t have been enough to tear up his skin enough. The stairs outside his house could’ve done it, but Dick and Jason didn’t see any traces of blood. I think he fell onto something rough, possible concrete.” Bruce pauses and weighs his next words. “He would’ve had to be moving quickly to fall hard enough to skin himself like that.”^^

So Tim didn't leave any blood on the door.

^^ He shrugs and pushes the mental image of Tim fleeing from some unknown terror out of his head. “It’s a possibility.”

“Okay.” Leslie closes her eyes briefly. “He mentioned his parents’ flights. Did you check them?”

“They’re scheduled to fly out of Brazil and arrive in Gotham during the afternoon of October 25th.”

“And Tim doesn’t know,” Leslie says softly, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to ward off an impending headache.^^

Sorry to disappoint you Bruce but Tim was fleeing from a van. So not really unknown but unknown enough.

Shit, the Drakes really are annoying. Not telling Tim? They probably won't say anything until they get home.

^^ He frowns and thinks back to what Jason told him earlier that day. “Tim doesn’t like anyone helping him with his homework. He acts like-- like he has to prove himself. When we ask him to choose something like food or an activity, he always says that he doesn’t mind and that he doesn’t want to impose. It’s like he’s not used to having an opinion. He’s nervous around me too, more so than around Jason or Dick."^^

That is because of Jack. I'm surprised Leslie isn't sending the report in. I guess they don't have enough evidence. At least Tim will be with Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Jason.

^^ Tim smiles, but it’s a little forced. They mean well, he knows that, but Tim would really like to be alone in a room for a while. He’s been around more noise today than he has for the past week and he kind of wants to scream.^^

Poor Tim. He's not used to being around a lot of people. School is different. I'm glad the others seem to understand that he needs time and space and are giving it to him.

^^ He ducks into his room and lets out a sigh of relief as the door closes behind him. Finally. Hobbling over to the bed, Tim carefully rests his crutches against the headboard before he flops back onto the bed. As much as he’d like to take a nap like he told Jason and Dick, he does actually have things to do.^^

Sleep boy! Youy parents will probably get hold of Bruce first, I'm hoping. Though I pray they won't take it out on you but they probably will make it seem like your fault.

Yes! I'm glad you slept but that fall had to hurt.

^^ Jason jabs the button for the first floor. “It’s so fuckin’ good, man. He taught me how to make it but I can never get it quite like his, you know?”^^

Jason, you are going to get caught cursing. Bad boy.

Ah, so Dick is working again. He should just move back home. I mean how many minutes would it take him to get to work and back? Love Jason's explanation on their proper goodbye. Like he didn't cry the first time Bruce left for a day or so without him. I'm sorry, nearly cry.

^^ Tim frowns, confused. “...isn’t Blüdhaven only a three hour drive away?”

“Yeah, but Dick is nineteen and living on his own. Plus, Bruce and Alfred are secretly worrywarts and big ol’ softies,” Jason blithely informs him. “Dick can take care of himself, but it won’t stop everyone else from fussing over him.”^^

Bludhaven is three hours away? I thought they were closer than that? Then again Wayne Manor is technically outside of Gotham, or is it? Where exactly is Bristol (?) compared to the city?

^^ “You’ve already hugged me,” Tim points out and hopes that he doesn’t look too excited at the prospect of another hug. He wouldn’t want the Waynes to think that he’s weird, or anything.^^

It's Dick. Dick gives out hugs like they're going out of style soon. Especially to family. So yes, enjoy your big brother hugs Tim. I would if I got one from Dick. Heck, I enjoy hugs from the whole family.

Tim's in the family chat! I want Ace pics now, please ans thank you.

Now what were you researching that you needed to know about knives Tim? Of course Jason sleeps through his alarm. He's tired from running around Gotham. Tim never had anyone to wake him so he isn't like Jason and Dick, who was probably like Jason until he woke up.

^^ “Sorry for waking you,” Bruce whispers through the narrowly opened door. “I’m just checking in on all of you.” Translation: he just got back from patrol and wanted to make sure that nobody died in their sleep while he was away.^^

Tim, you really aren't helping me think you're Jack's son thinking this...also, you cant sleep because you're used to running around Gotham. I wonder how Bruce stays awake during the day? Cat naps?

^^ Time blurs into an incoherent mass of grays and deep blues, the same color as the shadows around his room. Eventually-- finally-- Tim falls asleep.^^

Bet you it is around 3 or 4 am when he fell asleep. So if Tim is lucky he'll get about 3 hours of sleep. Which isn't good but at least he slept.

Chapter 7)

^^ As usual, Tim’s alarm blasts the sound of distressingly cheerful chimes at seven in the morning.

Groaning, Tim rolls over and hits the “stop” button on his phone’s screen. He takes a moment to blink at the ceiling above him before he remembers the events of the previous day. Sprained ankle. Wayne Manor. Right. He drags himself out of bed and uses his crutches to hobble over to the bathroom so he can shower before facing the horrors of Gotham Academy.^^

Oof. Two hours it seems. I wonder how many hours he usually gets? Heck, I wonder how many hours any of them get? Especially Alfred who is probably up way before anyone else.

Bruce, no! Why are you giving Tim coffee?!!? Alfred, why are you letting him?!?! Why do I have a feeling Bruce is the start of Tim's addiction?

Wait, you let him have it because he's a guest? You do know Jason's going to grab a full cup...you are bad Bruce. Bad.

LoL I love that Bruce literally made it a rule about the music in the car. He had to otherwise his kids will fight about the music Everytime they are in a car. Good job Bruce.

^^ School is school: occasionally interesting, but mostly boring. Jason carries Tim’s backpack for him between classes. Tim goes to the debate team’s biweekly meeting during lunch and silently looks through that week’s assigned debate reading. The other students make a few attempts to talk to him, but for the most part, they’re too involved in their discussion of which Ivy League colleges consider them legacies to try to rope him in.^^

This is making me think they don't debate at all. They all just joined to have credit on their applications, like the Drakes made Tim.

Tim, Bruce just wanted to pick you two up. Parents do want to spend time with their kids.

Jason, I swear your answers would make people think. I'm surprised Alfred lets them keep the chips and other snacks in the house. He also knows where the hiding spots are.

^^ This also seems to be the wrong answer. Bruce sighs and Tim watches him carefully, but Bruce only shakes his head. “Okay, let’s reset. What I mean to say is maybe you should take a break. Dinner is almost ready. After dinner, how about you work for an hour and then take time to relax?”

Tim blinks at him. “What?”

“You’ve been working nonstop since we got back from school,” Jason pipes in from his spot on the floor next to Ace. His nest of papers disappeared into his backpack a while ago.

“Yeah, because I have a lot of homework.” What is Bruce trying to say?

Bruce crosses the room and sits across from Tim on the couch. “How much of it is due tomorrow?”

“I’ve already completed everything due tomorrow, but I have a few papers and long-term projects that I want to work on.” Tim untucks his legs from under himself so he’s sitting properly. Bruce probably hates it when people put their feet on the furniture.^^

Bruce is trying to get you to relax Tim. You need to be a kid, not an adult. The feet thing he's used to. His sons do it all the time.

^^ Ace’s tail thumps against the floor and Bruce leans over to scratch him behind his ears. “Good. Oh, and Tim, I wanted to let you know that I was able to get in touch with your parents this afternoon. They agreed to let you stay here until they return.”

Jealousy curls in Tim’s stomach before he can stop it. Why did his parents talk to Bruce but not Tim? Maybe they were busy; they probably have a lot of work to do. Yes, that must be it. “Oh, thanks for letting me know,” Tim replies.^^

Stupid Drakes. They're going to blame this somehow on Tim, I know it. Even though he did everything he could to get hold of them.

I love Jim just emailing the Shadow to make sure he's okay. It's such a nice thing to do.

Tim fits right in with his family. The way they all include him somehow but also let him relax is great.

^^ To: Timothy Jackson Drake <tjdrake@drake.com>

From: Janet Lynn Drake <jldrake@drake.com>

October 18th, 12:01 AM (8 hours ago)

Subject: Re: Change of plan

Thank you, sweetie. Good luck with your sprained ankle and make sure to be a good guest for the Waynes.

We’ll be back in a week. In the meantime, look at these gorgeous photos that I took when we were in the Andes!

Love,

Mom

Attached:

Andes Santiago view 1.jpg

Andes Santiago view 2.jpg

Andes alpaca.jpg

Andes cloud forests.jpg

To: Janet Lynn Drake <jldrake@drake.com>

From: Timothy Jackson Drake <tjdrake@drake.com>

October 18th, 8:14 AM (just now)

Subject: Re: Change of plan

Hi Mom,

Those pictures are lovely; the Andes must be beautiful. I would love to see more pictures if you have them. You and Dad will have to tell me all about your trip once you’re home!

Are you in Brazil now? How is it?

Do you have a timeframe for when you’ll return? I know that you and Dad must be tired from how busy you’ve been and I’d love to do something special to mark your return.

I can’t wait for you to come home. I love and miss you both!

Sincerely,

Tim^^

Wait, Tim emailed and called them on the 7th but it took until the 18th for them to even email him? They talked to Bruce but can't even tell their own kid anything until it's like 11 days later.

^^ Tim watches, bewildered, as their heartwarming reunion quickly devolves into a lighthearted pillow fight. They don’t use any fancy fighting moves that they couldn’t be expected to know, but Dick is unnervingly good at somersaulting away from Jason’s pillow. The pillow fight ends with them both on the floor as Dick does something with his legs to pin Jason’s arms.

“It’s over, Anakin. I have the high ground,” Dick announces dramatically. He gives Jason one final whack in the face with a pillow before releasing him. Jason sticks out his tongue at Dick before crossing the room to wrap Tim in a hug.

Still tense from the fight, Tim leans into Jason’s hug and closes his eyes. Why are all of the Waynes so good at hugging?^^

You'll get used to it Tim. You just need to be shown that not every reunion ,etx is going to have someone get hurt or be angry.

Blame the hugging on Dick. Dick is a tactical person and Bruce and Alfred learned to adapt and then just kept it up with Jason.

^^ have a busy day planned,” Alfred says as he carefully watches Tim chop kale. “Most slow cooker recipes only require a few minutes of preparation and can be left unsupervised for eight to ten hours.”

“That sounds nice,” Tim says as he carefully scoops the chopped kale into a bowl. “I could start dinner and still not be late to school.”

Alfred’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Precisely. I shall send you the recipe for this kale and lentil soup. It’s one of Master Bruce’s favorites. It’s also excellent for growing children, as kale contains lots of calcium and iron.”

“Huh,” Tim says as he measures out the dried lentils. “Well, it looks good already.”

“Just wait until it’s done cooking, Master Tim. It will be delicious. Now, would you mind peeling these carrots for me? I need to check on the sourdough.”^^

Alfred's teaching his youngest grandson how to cook and it is making me smile. Tim, you won't have to use this recipe, hopefully, for a long time. It's for when your at college or in your own apartment, not now. Still good to know though.

^^ “He wouldn’t have to see your pictures. I mean, I think all of us would love to see your work, but we wouldn’t have to.” Jason pauses, eyes narrowing. “You don’t have to be scared of Bruce or hide stuff from him, you know. He’s not going to stop you from taking photos or judge you or anything. If anything, he’ll read a bunch of articles on photography and then buy you an obnoxious amount of equipment.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes from Tim before he can stifle it. “I’m not hiding anything,” he defends. “It’s just that I don’t usually show my photos to other people.”

There’s a long pause as Jason watches him continue to clean the camera. At last, he says, “I could mention it to him if you don’t want to tell him. I think he’d be thrilled, honestly. It’s a cool hobby and I’m sure that you’re really good at it. None of us will go snooping around for your photos if you don’t want us to.”

Tim shrugs. “If you want,” he says.

Jason leans forward, eyes bright. “So you want me to tell him?”

If he says yes, then he’ll hand Bruce a way to link Tim to Gotham’s Shadow. If he says no, then he’ll look suspicious and Bruce might start sniffing around more. It feels like there’s no right answer. Looks like Tim will have to pick his poison.

“Sure,” he replies. “I don’t mind either way.”

“All right,” Jason says, watching him carefully. “It looks like you’re busy, so-- see you later?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Jason stands up and walks out of his room. The door closes behind him with a quiet click, leaving Tim to continue cleaning his camera in peace^^

This whole section has me in love with it but this part especially. Jason saying Bruce would buy Tim photography stuff? Just because Tim is into it? Does Tim even realize that he's part of the family and this is Jason's way of telling him?

Bruce might not know your Gotham's Shadow yet Tim but he does know you need help. Yes, he might figure it out but I think it'll be good for you in the long run. That way you have backup in the future and your as safe as you can be which will be a relief for your family.

(Did Jason take a break from being Robin with Tim there or does he only go out in certain nights, which seems to be a fanon thing?)

^^ “I guess. I don’t take that until junior year, I think.” Tim half-shrugs and watches Bruce cautiously, waiting for his reaction. What does he want? Ever since Tim arrived at Wayne Manor, Bruce has routinely subjected him to questions about his activities. He’s still not entirely sure what Bruce wants to hear, but he’s usually satisfied after extracting a few inane details about Tim’s day. Bruce’s interrogations aren’t necessarily harmful, just confusing.^^

He's being a good and interactive parent Tim. Something guardians and parents are supposed to do. Which you aren't used to.

^^ It’s no big deal. They’re busy, so I guess they forget. Besides, they’ve got problems too and I can take care of myself,” Tim defends. “I can cook and clean up after myself. I can get to and from school. They even left me with one of their credit cards so I can buy whatever I need. I don’t need to be watched like a child.”

“Tim,” Bruce says patiently, “That may be true, but you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself like that. You’re thirteen, so you’re still legally a child. Just because you have financial resources doesn’t mean that you’re in a good situation.”

Tim frowns. “But my situation is good,” he snaps. “My parents are busy people. Between the two of them, they’re running an entire company and doing important archaeological research.”^^

^^ Tim fumes all the way over to the elevator and into his room. He angrily drops his backpack next to his desk and slides into his desk chair. Why can’t people just leave him alone?^^

Bruce points it out Tim. You are a child. A child should not have to take care of themselves. Adults are supposed to. I know it seems as if they are ganging up on you but they are worried. They want to help. Please let them help. Please.

Chapter 8)

Some email. I know they are going to be bad because of the warnings at the beginning but still...

The dinner sounds amazing. I hope at least Tim gets to enjoy it.

^^ Without any people in it, the manor feels like a ghost house. Tim turns on the living room lights and heads up the stairs. Bruce and Jason follow him. He tries to pretend like he doesn’t notice them looking around as they take in the house.

He nudges open his bedroom door and drops his school backpack next to his desk. “You can put my stuff down wherever.”

Bruce sets the duffel bag and crutches down next to Tim’s bed. Jason adds Tim’s night backpack to the pile before walking back into the hallway.

“I’m gonna put away the groceries,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Thanks!” Tim calls back.

The room is quiet for a moment as Bruce glances around before his eyes settle on Tim. “I know that your parents are coming back tomorrow, but you know that you can call us at any time, right? The reason doesn’t matter. You can be sad or scared or injured or happy. And if you want one of us to come get you, we will. It can be the middle of the night and we’ll come. All right?”

Tim nods, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I know.” Not that he’ll need it, but the offer is nice.

Bruce watches him for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied. “Okay. I’m going to help Jason with the groceries.” He reaches out and pats Tim on the shoulder. Tim gives him a half smile before Bruce strides out of his room.^^

Of course they are looking around. They're looking for proof to get Bruce custody.

Thank you Bruce for reiterating that Tim can rely on you all. Here's hoping he actually does call. Even if it is not right away.

It took them until 10 pm to get home and they didn't tell Tim?!? He didn't even eat because he was waiting for them!

^^ Hand hovering over the doorknob of the front door, he hears one door click shut. He waits for a moment, but there’s no other sound. One door closing means that they’re sleeping in the same bedroom. Good; they’re probably not fighting right now. Smiling, Tim slips outside and starts hauling luggage inside.

Before he goes to bed, he makes sure to clear the table and load all of the dirty cooking dishes into the dishwasher. Tim grabs his backpack before he goes upstairs-- he doesn’t want to leave a mess in the living room, after all-- and heads up stairs.

He pauses for a moment, listening to the soft snores coming from behind his parents’ bedroom door, before he ducks into his room. It’s nice to hear the house sound alive for once.^^

Ugh, they are going to yell about Tim leaving their luggage down there aren't they?

Tim, your backpack is showing the house is lived in. It's not making a mess. Their luggage is making a bigger mess than you ever will.

You're so used to how lively Wayne Manor is now you didn't even realize what you thought, Tim.

I'm glad you can't go out into Gotham yet but I am also glad that you're at peace with riding your bike.

Uh oh. Stay safe Tim!

^^ At six-thirty, Janet sweeps through the front door, arms laden with takeout bags. “I bought us dinner from that Thai place you like,” she says, smiling.

It’s been years since Tim has eaten there, but he remembers their food being pretty good. “Thank you, Mom!” he chirps as he hobbles over to the cabinets to gather dishes to set the table with. Tim had hoped that they would be able to postpone last night’s dinner to today, but he doesn’t want to let the food his mother brought go to waste.^^

But your food can. That can wait, Tim. Have them enjoy the food you made! That can be dinner tomorrow.

I'm guessing the dinner went bad and got thrown out. Which sucks.

^^ At the end of his algebra class on Tuesday, his teacher passes out the tests that they took last week. Tim looks at the face-down paper on his desk, heart racing, before he steels himself and flips it over.

A bright red 82 stares back at him.

Eighty-two? His stomach does somersaults. It feels like something is squeezing his heart and filling his chest with lava. His skin is buzzing. Eighty-two is a B minus, not even a B.

The paper shakes in his hands, so Tim quickly stows it in his backpack before anyone can see his grade. Dizzy, he waits for his teacher to dismiss the class before he calmly walks to the bathroom and vomits into a toilet. He can faintly hear the muffled stampede as students rush to their various buses and chauffeurs.

Tim kneels on the cold tile floor and tries to control his breathing as he waits for the rush of students to die down. When it sounds like the main wave of students has left, he stands up, flushes the toilet, and washes his hands.^^

I would be happy with an 82. I hate when guardians and parents act like you need to be perfect. An 82 is great!

Tim needs a hug from his brothers now! It's going to be bad...I hope not but I know it will be.

^^ Numbly, he drops his backpack next to the front door and walks over. “What is it?” he asks as he takes a seat across from his mother and next to his father.

Jack slides a piece of paper across the table to him. It’s a print-out of his online grade report. This one is from his algebra class and displays the grade he received for each assignment. The most row containing the recent test is highlighted in glaring yellow.

“Notice anything?” his father asks mildly, eyes hard. He’s angry, Tim can tell. His shoulders are tense and he’s practically vibrating with it.

“I got an eighty-two on my algebra test,” Tim mumbles. His tongue feels too big and clumsy for his mouth.

“What was that?” Jack growls, leaning forward. “Repeat yourself. Louder, this time.”

“I got an eighty-two on my algebra test,” he repeats.

Janet watches him, eyes cool. “Tim,” she begins, “Do you know where these sorts of grades will get you?”

Tim swallows. “Not into the CEO’s office.”

She nods. “Exactly. These grades are unacceptable. You must not forget that your classmates will be your competition in the future. Everything-- your grades, comportment, everything-- can be used against you. We’re trying to prepare you for your future. If you continue like this, you’ll be a laughingstock. Build your armor now before you can be attacked for it later.” Seemingly done for now, Janet leans back in her chair.

“Right.” Tim nods. “Of course. I’m-- I’m sorry.”

“Your mother is right. And did you ever stop and think about how this will reflect on us?” Jack reaches out and slams his hand down on the highlighted 82. Tim flinches at the sound. The cursed number glares at Tim, yellow and garish, from the page. “You’re a Drake, Tim. What happens if, say, LexCorp finds out about this? They’re going to think that the future CEO of Drake Industries is weak and useless, and that will be like blood in the water.”

Absently, Tim notices moisture gathering in his eyes. He blinks, willing it away. “I’ll try harder next time. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Jack leans forward in his chair. “You’d better. Because you know what these grades are going to do for you? They’re going to--”^^

They can't even fucking call rhwie kid everyday but they can check his grades and get mad at him for not being perfect. B's will and are CEOs! Tim needs to understand that his parents are being assholes right now.

^^ Finally, he’s dismissed. Tim grabs his backpack and heads up to his room as quickly as he can with his foot still in the walking boot. The sound of his door closing behind him is a welcome relief. Tim lets his head drop for just a moment as he wills away a sob. Chest tight, he drags himself over to his desk and takes a seat. It would be best to avoid any more poor grades this week, so he opens up his algebra notes and starts studying where he went wrong.^^

You did nothing wrong Tim. Nothing! You shouldn't have had to apologize or even think you did something wrong.

^^ Tim focuses on his homework and tries to wait out the fight. Finally, someone-- Tim suspects that it’s his mother-- shouts something and there’s a loud clang downstairs. It doesn’t sound like something shattered, so he doubts that anything is broken. Good, that will make for less of a mess to clean up tomorrow.

Someone goes up the stairs and Tim recognizes his mother’s footsteps. They’re louder than usual; she must be angry. His guess is confirmed when she stalks down the hall and the door to his mother’s bedroom slams shut.

So they’re back to sleeping in separate bedrooms, then.

Algebraic equations blur as Tim’s eyes go unfocused. He hopes that the argument wasn’t over him. He’ll have to try harder next time if he wants them to stop fighting.^^

Why do you need to clean up their mess? They should do it. It's not your fault Tim. It isn't.

^^ Tonight, though, is Halloween. Every Gothamite knows that nothing good happens on Halloween, which is precisely why tonight is a good time for Gotham’s Shadow to reappear. There’s sure to be some sort of mischief going on that Commissioner Gordon will want to know about.^^

Lord please be careful Tim. Please. Something is going to happen and I don't think it will be good. I'm hoping I'm wrong though.

Scarecrow makes me mad and I'm sad for the kids. They just wanted one day to have fun and couldn't even get that.

^^ “I can’t believe the kind of nutcases in this city,” Jack says at breakfast the next morning. He gestures at the newspaper sitting in front of him and shakes his head. “It’s ridiculous. You’d think that Arkham would discipline the crazy out of them, but I guess not. They must be getting soft.”

Tim puts his now-empty cereal bowl in the dishwasher. “I’m going to head out. Don’t want to be late for school and all that.”

Sipping on her coffee, Janet barely glances up from her phone. Jack keeps talking animatedly, even as Tim grabs his bike helmet and slips out the door.^^

Jack sounds old school, like he want them to use electric shock and etc on them. I'm glad Tim got out of there safely. Hopefully he'll stay safe.

Chapter 9)

I'm scared for Tim just from the chapter summary. Here's hoping he goes to the Wayne's for help.

^^ Tim is pretty sure that he read something in the news about Batman and a few members of the Justice League fighting some killer robots in Star City earlier this week. And where Batman goes, so does Robin. At least Jason doesn’t look injured, so it seems more likely that his absences were due to him simply not being in Gotham rather than him suffering some terrible wound.^^

Not all the time since Bruce has been gone and Jason has stayed behind. Dick also. Especially if Bruce doesn't know what they are fighting which means keeping his sons safe and away from the danger.

^^ He nods contemplatively. “Good. And you’ve been doing the stretches that Dick showed you, right?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tim says, rolling his eyes.

Jason has the good grace to look slightly ashamed, but only slightly. “Sorry for mother henning you. We miss you over at the manor, Timbo.”^^

Love how Leslie gave him stretches but Tim listens to Dick more.

Let Jason mother hen toy, Tim. Let him!

^^ Tim sets down his algebra problems and hurries down the stairs-- there’s no sense in dilly dallying when his parents are in a mood. His parents are still in their work clothes and staring each other down in the kitchen.

“Set the table,” Jack orders without breaking eyes with Janet.

“What should I set it for?” Tim asks. “Do we need spoons, or--”

“I don’t care, just set the goddamn table!” His father snaps.

“Right, sorry.” Tim quickly carries a stack of plates and utensils over to the table. The sound of silverware clanging is loud in the otherwise quiet house. He doesn’t dare to risk glancing at his parents; at times like this, it’s best to avoid catching their eye.^^

Shit, Jack is in a mood. Why the fuck did they stay married if they take their marriage woes out on Tim who has no say in the marriage? He's just their son.

^^ His hands shake as he shoves his algebra homework into his backpack, but he leaves his laptop out since he doesn’t have any essays to work on. Shouldering his backpack, Tim heads back down the stairs.

Walking over to the kitchen table feels like he’s walking to his doom. Tim sets his backpack down next to his usual chair and sets his algebra practice problems in front of him. He sets his phone face down on the table too so he can double check his answers. Grabbing a pencil from his bag, he resumes working where he left off before dinner.^^

Why the whole backpack? The book I understand but the backpack? Especially to the living room.

Jason no! Tim no! Please don't. Please.

^^ “Hang on, Bruce is texting me,” Tim mumbles, frowning at his phone.

“Son,” his father growls, reaching for his phone. “We need to talk. Give me the phone.”

“What? No!” Frowning, Tim tries to twist away from his father’s grasping hands.

Jack looks pissed. Oh, Tim is so fucked. “I said to give me the damn phone!”

He grabs Tim’s upper arm and yanks him towards the head of the table. Tim hisses as his ribs collide with the edge of the table. Shock loosens his grip on his phone and Jack pries it out of his hand.

Before Tim can snatch his phone back, Jack stands up and glowers at him. “I’m trying to talk to you like an adult and all you do is ignore me and look at your damn phone!” he snaps.

“Dad…” Tim whispers. He can feel his heart pumping and his face is way too warm. His entire body is too warm, like he’s burning from within.

Jack turns and storms towards his office. Tim scrambles after him, unable to get his jaw to work properly. He freezes in the doorway as his father heads straight for his excavation kit and pulls out a hammer.

“How do you like this?” Jack snarls, raising the hammer. The screen is the first thing to shatter, but his dad keeps going. “You’re grounded and I’m taking away your phone privileges.”

Each strike of the hammer feels like a physical blow. His entire body is rushing, sinking, burning. He’s frozen in place, an unwilling witness as, piece by piece, his phone fractures into pieces.

When Jack finishes, he’s smiling triumphantly. Tim feels hollow, like someone scooped out his insides. Absently, he wonders if he would ring like a bell if someone hit him with a hammer.

“I won’t be dissed in my own house, son,” Jack says. His words sound very far away.

Tim nods. It’s all he can do. The rest of him is still frozen in place as he stares at the remains of his phone.

“Go finish your homework,” his father orders.

“Yes, Dad,” Tim says numbly.

Somehow, the command is enough to force his unwilling limbs to march back to the dining table. His body takes a seat, but Tim’s mind is still somewhere else, drifting. He feels unmoored. Everything is muffled like there’s a fine layer of snow between him and the world. It feels like he’s looking from the inside of a fishbowl, all smooth, impenetrable glass.

Tim stares at his homework until, mechanically, he picks up a pencil. He absently solves each equation, barely comprehending the numbers in front of him. Apparently it’s enough for his father, who doesn’t reemerge from the office.

Eventually, Jack stalks out of the office and up the stairs. Janet follows suit twenty minutes later, taking her book with her. She turns off the living room lights, leaving only the soft backlighting of the kitchen. Tim stays at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the numbers in the dim light, until his eyes begin to drift shut against his will. Only then does he finally peel himself from his seat, gather his papers, and numbly head upstairs.

The numbness echoes in him until he falls asleep. Even then, it sinks its claws into the fringes of his dreams, turning them gray and murky.

He dreams of sitting on a cool concrete rooftop, its cold permeating his entire body. He dreams of panicked trick-o-treaters running through the streets below as he sits on a rooftop, hidden and forgotten. He dreams of flickers of capes passing him by, of the hiss of grappling guns and delighted laughter fading into the distance.^^

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Damn you Jack! Damn you Janet!

Tim, please tell Jason the truth. Please.

^^ When he wakes in the morning, he still feels off. This time, he feels less like he’s controlling his body from inside a fishbowl and more like… feeling nothing at all. An all-encompassing numbness hugs his chest and nestles somewhere in the space between his ribs. Tim breathes deeply with one hand pressed to his heart. It’s still beating, but its pulse is faint.

He forces himself through his morning routine and his classes are more mind-numbing than usual. Tim shuffles into his usual corner of the library, hidden from the prying eyes of the librarians, and settles into a chair. It feels like he should do something, but what? He doesn’t feel like reading.

Tim ends up staring at the wall, mind blank, until something moves in a blur in front of him. He starts, flinching away from the motion and curling up. He stays like that, dark and safe, for a few seconds until he registers that someone is murmuring soothingly to him.

“Hey, it’s all right. It’s just Jason,” Jason whispers softly from somewhere nearby. “You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

Slowly, Tim lifts his head up from where he’s pressed against his knees. “Hey,” he says, voice cracking. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

Jason wordlessly spreads his arms, a silent question. Tim leans forward until he can press his face into Jason’s shoulder as the other boy wraps him in a hug.  

“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Jason murmurs as he rubs Tim’s back.

A few heartbeats pass and Tim finally pulls away. Jason stands up and takes the seat next to Tim. “Feeling better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tim says hoarsely. “Sorry. I-- didn’t sleep well. Nightmares.” It’s a bad lie and he knows it.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks, brow furrowed. “I just-- you didn’t respond to any of our texts last night. Bruce and I were getting worried.”

Tim shrugs half-heartedly. “Broke my phone.”^^

Jason is so telling Bruce. Especially since he knows you didn't break your phone and how scared you are right now.

^^ He frowns. “You failed a test this week. I really don’t think--”

“But I’ve studied really hard since then and--”

Jack cuts him off, eyes hard. “Don’t interrupt me. Bad grades mean no going out. That’s a rule, son. You--”

Tim interrupts, clenching his hands into fists. “Come on, Dad, they invited me and everything--”

His father’s hand moves and Tim flinches instinctually before the side of his face flares in pain. It takes him a moment longer to process the harsh sound of skin hitting skin. The slap hurts fiercely. Tim raises a hand to his stinging cheek and stares at his father, eyes watering.

“You need to learn how to follow the rules,” Jack says harshly. “I’m doing this for you, Tim. You’ll thank me someday. I can’t just let you run around when your grades are slipping.” He stands up and Tim takes a step back, eyes burning.

Wisely, he keeps his big mouth shut. His face hurts. He should’ve known that asking about this now would be a bad idea. He should’ve known--

His father turns and marches up the stairs, fuming. Tim watches him, rooted in place.

A hand lands on his shoulder and Tim jumps. “Your father is right, you know,” Janet says calmly. “We’re only trying to help, but you keep sabotaging your grades.”

Tim nods weakly. His cheek is on fire and his face is on fire and his heart is burning. He’s melting.

“Come on, Tim,” she orders, shoving him none-too-gently towards the stairs. Tim stumbles forwards, but he’s having trouble getting his legs to work. All he wants to do is hide in a hole somewhere, preferably for the next twenty years or so.

Frowning, Janet grabs his arm. “I said come on,” she hisses, fingers digging into his arm. She yanks on his arm until he finally shuffles after her, head bowed.

 Janet mercilessly tugs him up the stairs and down the hall to his room, her hand like an iron vise. It might as well be wrapped along his lungs because it feels like he can’t breathe. From inside his room, there’s the sound of crashing. Tim’s heart plummets as Jack steps out, dragging Tim’s television along with him.^^

What the fuck? A 98 /89 is not a failing grade! What the fuck is up with these two?!?

Plus taking everything away because he talked back and 'failed'? Fuck them!

I hope to Ra they go to jail and get what they deserve.

^^ Besides, Tim just isn’t feeling it. When he’s in Gotham, he’s closer to the stars than to anything else in his life. Tonight, he’s stuck on the ground, staring up at the insurmountable rooftops like a bird without wings.^^

Tim, tell Jason! Tell him!

Chapter 10)

^^ Tim spends most of Sunday sleeping as the bone-deep numbness morphs into exhaustion. He’s so tired and there’s not much for him to do except for studying, sleeping, and quickly hiding his laptop whenever he hears footsteps in the hallway.

Blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a shroud, Tim stares at his reflection in the mirror. The hit to his face didn’t bruise too badly. It’s a bit swollen, but at least the discoloration is enough that it could be covered with some good concealer. His arm, though, is another matter. The place where his mother grabbed him is marked by a deep blue and purple bruise. Tim can almost see the outline of her fingers. At least it’s only on his upper arm and it’s cold enough outside to justify him wearing long sleeves until it fades.

He leaves his room exactly twice. Once, he leaves to sneak a box of froot loops into his room. He always maintains a stash of nonperishable food in his room, but there’s no sense in depleting his hoard when he could still get food from the kitchen.  The second time he leaves is when his parents call him for dinner. Dinner is quiet and stilted, but Tim will happily take silence over screaming. He excuses himself as quickly as politely possible and shuffles back upstairs so he can collapse into the sweet embrace of his bed.^^

Oh, I'm hoping, and it certainly seems like it will happen, Jason finds out and Tim let's him know everything. Everything.

It'll hurt but also get Tim home sooner to his dad, brothers, and grandfather.

^^ Monday rolls around, but he doesn’t feel much better. Tim goes through the motions of forcing himself to roll out of bed and bike to school anyways. He covers the light bruising on his face with a judicious application of concealer. (Thank god for makeup tutorials on YouTube; they’ve been helping him cover the bruises from his nights out in Gotham for years.)

He has his usual debate team meeting during lunch, so he doesn’t run into Jason. School goes as usual and Tim bikes back home.^^

Damnit! Here I was hoping Jason would see him.

^^ Something about the smile on Jack’s face feels off and Tim doesn’t like it. He steels himself as Jack stands up and strides over to him. Jack lifts a hand and Tim tenses, but he only takes Tim’s hand and… hands him a new phone?^^

^^ They walk up the stairs together and head over to Tim’s room. The first thing Tim notices is the new television on his wall. It’s kind of unnecessarily large. There’s what looks like a wii console under it and a stack of video games.

“Do you like your new TV?” Jack asks, looking hopeful.

Tim forces a smile. “I love it! Thank you.”

“We got you a bunch of games too. Oh! We also bought a new camera for you.” Jack pats a compact digital camera sitting on Tim’s desk. Already, Tim can tell that it doesn’t have the same long-range zoom as his old camera. “It’s brand new. We got you a nice tripod for it too.”

“Oh, wow, thanks! I’ve never used a tripod before,” Tim says. The tripod would probably hold him back when he’s running through Gotham, but he doesn’t mention that little detail.

Jack smiles. “We’ve also increased the monthly spending limit on your debit card from ten thousand per month to twenty thousand. If you ever need more, just use our card instead of yours.”^^

This is creeping me out....are they trying to buy his silence? Because it sure seems like it.

Damn, I hope Tim can get his old camera back.

^^ Tim turns on his new phone and links it to his Drake Industries account. Seconds later, it begins downloading his contacts, messages, and photos from his account. Looks like he has a bunch of missed messages from Jason and Dick. He flips through them, but it’s just them suggesting which movies to watch.

On a whim, Tim starts typing a message to Jason and Dick.

Chat: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and 1 other person

Tim [11/05, 3:41 PM]: Do you know if clones retain all of the memories of the original person, or would it take special technology to do that?

Tim [11/05, 3:41 PM]: Asking for a friend.

Jason [11/05, 3:42 PM]: ????????

Jason [11/05, 3:42 PM]: what the fuck?

Dick [11/05, 3:44 PM]: TIM YOU HAVE A PHONE AGAIN!!

Tim [11/05, 3:45 PM]: My parents got me a new phone.

Tim [11/05, 3:46 PM]: I’m worried that they might have been replaced by clones or something. They’re acting really weird.

Dick [11/05, 3:47 PM]: what do u mean by weird

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: weird how?

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: jinx

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: you owe me a soda

Dick [11/05, 3:48 PM]: fuck u jay

Dick [11/05, 3:48 PM]: ok but tim, what u mean by weird

Dick [11/05, 3:49 PM]: do u need help?????

Tim [11/05, 3:49 PM]: I’m fine, don’t worry.^^

Tim...you just worried your brothers even more.

^^ Tim [11/05, 3:53 PM]: They bought me a ton of video games out of the blue. I think they got me Fortnite. Who even plays that anymore??

Jason [11/05, 3:54 PM]: they got you fortnite?? HAHAHAHA oh my god

Dick [11/05, 3:55 PM]: do kids not play fortnight anymore???????

Tim [11/05, 3:57 PM]: 1) I’m not a kid. 2) No, they do not.

Dick [11/05, 3:57 PM]: wow i feel old

Jason [11/05, 3:58 PM]: you are old

Dick [11/05, 4:00 PM]: thx im really feeling the love 2night

Jason sent 1 picture

Tim opens the picture and laughs. It’s of Jason sticking out his tongue while he flips off the camera.

Dick [11/05, 4:02 PM]: idk much about clones’ memories but i will srsly fight ur parents clones if u need me to

Jason [11/05, 4:03 PM]: wait do your parents not randomly buy you stuff?? they’re rich

Dick [11/05, 4:03 PM]: ooooo jay has a point

Oh no. Abort mission.

Tim [11/05, 4:04 PM]: They buy me plenty of stuff, guys. Like you said, they’re rich.

Tim [11/05, 4:04 PM]: Nevemind, forget I said anything.^^

Case in point.

^^ “Listen, just forget that I said anything about clones or whatever,” Tim sighs, leaning back into the uncomfortable wooden library chair. “Like I told you, it’s probably nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Jason shoots back. “Listen, if your parents are acting weird--”

“Jason, it’s fine.” He throws an arm over his eyes before realizing that his white sleeve is perilously close to the concealer covering the bruise on his face. Primer, setting powder, and setting spray might not be enough to keep the concealer from staining the fabric. Tim pulls his arm back, but he doesn’t see any concealer marks on his sleeve. Good, he doesn’t need anyone asking more questions right now, let alone Jason and the rest of the Waynes.^^

To late Tim. Way to late.

^^ For the rest of the week, Tim makes sure to be as polite as possible. He minds his posture and practices his company manners at dinner. His parents seem relatively pleased, but Tim can’t help but wonder what he’s missing. He has to be missing something. It feels like he’s playing whack-a-mole with his parents’ expectations.^^

I think they are leaving again.

^^ His guidance counselor-- Mr. Williams-- beckons for Tim to come in. “Hi, Tim. You can take a seat wherever you’d like. Ms. Fletcher has some questions for you. I’ll let you both get to it-- if you need me, I’ll be in Ms. Rivera’s office next door.” He stands up and leaves, closing the office door behind himself with a click.

Tim sits down in the seat next to the mystery woman who is apparently Ms. Fletcher. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, extending a hand to shake.

She shakes his hand and smiles. “Hi, I’m Mary Fletcher and I’m a part of New Jersey’s department of children and families. Is it all right if I record our interview?”

“That’s fine with me.” He sets his backpack down on the floor next to the chair.

Ms. Fletcher nods and takes a slim device out of her pocket. After she hits the record button, she leans back in her chair. “I’m Mary Fletcher and I’m interviewing Tim Drake on Thursday, November eighth for the department of children and families.”

“The department of children and families… does that mean that you’re part of CPS?” Tim tilts his head and guides his face into a confused frown. Hopefully his use of CPS instead of the New Jersey-specific CPP will throw her off.^^

Yes, yes, yes! Thank you Leslie! Thank you Bruce! Now please tell the truth Tim. Please.

Wait...oooh! They were trying to buy his silence! Damn the Drakes!

^^ He shrugs. “If I get a bad grade on a test because I was texting instead of studying, they’ll take away my phone for a while so I can actually study.” There, that’s relatively close to the truth. “If I ever get really upset over something and I start getting way too angry, they’ll send me to my room to cool down.”^^

I'm liking the CPS lady. She's a badass and seems like she really wants to help the children out. Instead of only pretending to. Bruce made sure she was a good one, didn't he?

^^ A smile slides easily onto his face, but that speaks more to a great deal of practice rather than any amount of sincerity. “Of course!” he replies, as if the answer was obvious. “My parents love me and are fortunate enough to have more than enough financial resources to be able to provide for me. I’m really very lucky to be in this situation.”

“I’m glad to hear it, honey. You’re a good kid, Tim.” Ms. Fletcher smiles back at him. “Well, I think we can start wrapping things up here.”^^

She got enough. Tim knows she did, she knows she did, anyone with a brain knows she did. No wonder why Tim threw up again. Baby boy needs love and care.

Edit: Okay, I still like her but rereading makes me wonder if the Drakes were the ones who called CPS now. Should I not like her?

^^ “If you’re doing as well in school as you did with this, then you must be at the top of your class,” he remarks. “Speaking of, how is school? Did anything interesting happen today?” There’s a gleam in his eye that Tim isn’t quite sure what to do with, so he defaults to being smiling and polite.

“School was good,” he replies. “There weren’t any quizzes or tests today.”

Nodding thoughtfully, his dad keeps smiling. “I see. Well, keep working hard,” he says, and lets the matter drop.^^

Oh, thank you for not lying but not outright saying you got a visit Tim. Thank you. You just saved yourself from more hurt.

^^ As he pours himself a bowl of cereal, Tim dimly realizes that he forgot to ask where his parents were going or when they would be back.^^

They aren't coming back are they? It seemed like a lot of luggage...

^^ His new camera isn’t nearly as good at his old one, but the docks are relatively quiet by Gotham’s standards. Tim spots a few low-level drug dealers but they aren’t the source of the problem so he leaves them alone. He mostly spends his time revelling in how the cold from the metal shipping containers seeps into his stomach and the feeling of the sea breeze on his face. The docks aren’t as visually pretty as the rest of the city, but Tim appreciates how the reflections of the streetlights dance in the waves.

At one in the morning, he calls it a night and heads home. Exhausted, Tim collapses into bed and thinks of nothing for a long, long time.^^

What happened to his old camera? Did they take it with them? Or did Tim not think to get it?

Sleep Tim. You're going to need it because a talk is coming. A talk that is needed.

^^ Tim stares at himself in the mirror. The seemingly perpetual bags under his eyes look much better and the bruise on his face has faded to an ugly yellow and green. It’s noticeable enough that he’ll need to keep covering it with concealer for a while, but it’s not too bad. The bruise on his arm, however, is a different story. It’s still blue and definitely hand-shaped. Ugh.^^

Good luck because it isn't going to work but I'll still wish you luck.

^^ Sighing, Tim throws an arm over his face. Normally, he doesn’t mind hanging out with Dick and Jason. He enjoys it, even. But right now, it feels like there’s ice spreading through his bones, numbing him. Tim is made of skin and flesh and bone and a terrible emptiness lurking in the space between his ribs. He’s hollow, but his limbs may as well be made of lead.

Jason [11/10, 2:42 PM]: what are you doing rn? you should come over.

Jason [11/10, 2:42 PM]: we can talk alfred into making us cookies.

He sets down his phone and throws an arm over his eyes. Doing anything other than laying on his bed sounds like literal torture. Maybe he should take a nap.

Tim is so, so tired.^^

Tim, baby boy, I just want to hug you do bad. You need it.

^^ “Oh, good. We’ve been trying to call you and I suppose I panicked a little when the boys said that your parents weren’t home.” Bruce admits.

“Sorry,” Tim says after a moment. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“It’s all right, Tim. We’re just glad that you’re okay.” Bruce says gently. There’s the sound of what’s likely Dick and Jason squabbling in the background. Bruce pauses as if listening to someone and then adds, “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

“Make sure to ask if he wants to have a sleepover!” Jason calls, though his voice is muffled.

“Jason is asking if you want to have a sleepover. Dick is nodding,” Bruce adds, amusement coloring his voice.

Tim picks at a loose thread on his sheets. “I don’t want to impose….”

“Tim, you’re never an imposition,” Bruce says warmly. “You’re more than welcome to stay over any time you like.”

He pulls at the loose thread as he considers the offer. “Okay,” he says at last. “I’ll sleep over tonight.”^^

Sleepover forever!

Bruce is not letting you in your house by yourself and you know it young man. So good job on saying yes.

^^ Bruce hangs up and Tim stares at his phone for a moment before sighing. Time to pack, he supposes. First, he should throw on a sweatshirt to hide the bruise on his arm. Next, some jeans instead of his old sweatpants. He packs quickly-- he’s only staying over for one night, after all-- before hurrying into the bathroom to carefully cover up his bruise with makeup.

His setting spray has only just dried when there’s a knock on the front door. Tim shoves his makeup and makeup remover into his backpack before he hurries down the stairs.^^

You think it's only one night. Also, Jason knows about one bruise already and i know Bruce knows so give up and tell them. You won't be able to hide them.

^^ “A little tired, but I’ll manage. I spent most of the morning playing with Ace and keeping Dick from accidentally breaking any more furniture. Then I dealt with some WE business and collaborated with Jason to hide snacks from Alfred,” Bruce replies. “He almost certainly knows that we’ve snuck junk food into the house and is merely humoring us, but trying to sneak past him is part of the fun.”^^

Of course taking care of Dick is a full time job even with him not in the house. How does he manage on his own? He literally eats whatever Alfred packs him. I bet he barely tries the recipes either.

Alfred knows. It's not most certainly, it's certainly, Bruce. He lets you sneak past him. It's fun for him also.

^^ A few minutes later, Tim drops off his things in the guest room that he stayed in last time. Other than the freshly made bed, the room looks largely the same. Afterwards, Bruce walks Tim over to his bedroom, where Dick and Jason are sprawled out on Bruce’s unnecessarily large bed. An assortment of snacks sits on Bruce’s nightstand with more in two trays perched on the bed. He gets the feeling that Alfred was responsible for the platter of sliced vegetables and dip, but hey, it looks good.^^

Time to take over dad's bed! I love when Bruce can't even sleep in his own bed without a kid coming in or he gets kicked out of it because the kids want to sleep but no dad allowed.

^^ Tim hesitates for a moment, looking between Bruce and Jason, before he finally gives in and climbs onto the bed. It’s alarmingly comfortable-- the mattress must be memory foam or something. He crawls over so he’s sitting on Jason’s other side and Dick pushes a blanket over to him. Tim leans back against the mound of pillows and wraps the blanket around his shoulders, pulling his knees up to his chest.^^

Relax with your brothers Tim. Your dad better be getting custody of you. (I'm a bit impatient but I want Tim home.) (Or he's making sure the evidence is airtight.) Let Dick and Jason care for you for a while.

^^ Bruce returns as the third movie is beginning and takes his place between Dick and Jason. They waste no time in curling up against him with Dick’s head pillowed on his shoulder and Jason draped on his side.

“Wait, hold on,” Dick says, rolling out of the bed and walking around to Tim’s side. Perplexed, Tim watches as Dick flops down next to him, leaving Tim sandwiched between Dick and Jason.

“You look like you need some certified big brother cuddles,” Dick informs him seriously, holding out his arms.

“O--kay,” Tim says, drawing out the word as he stares at Dick.

Dick wiggles his fingers impatiently. “Come here, Timmy. You look like you need to be wrapped in blankets.”

“On it,” Jason says from Tim’s other side, peeling several blankets from the outside of his next and dropping them onto Tim.

Finally, Tim gives in and scoots closer to Dick. As soon as Tim settles, Dick manages to wrap an arm around him and Jason wriggles closer, still cocooned in blankets. Jason doesn’t quite use him as a pillow, but he does rest his head next to Tim’s side. It has the bonus of being close enough to Dick that he can gently pet Jason’s hair with the arm wrapped around Tim.

“You guys are a bunch of mother hens,” Tim informs them, but his words lack any real heat.^^

Dick cuddles, Dick cuddles, Dick cuddles! I love this. Tim getting the cuddles he needs from his older brother is pure love.

Awe. :( Why you kick them out Bruce? Let them sleep in your bed! Wait, I mean their bed.

^^ “Do you know when your parents are coming back from their trip?”

He can feel Bruce’s eyes on him. Tim bites his lip and fiddles with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before replying, “I forgot to ask.”

Dick gently knocks their knees together. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Bruce nods in agreement, expression neutral. “Dick is right. Did your parents tell you where they’re going?”

“...I also forgot to ask about that,” Tim says and hastily adds, “Sorry.”

Wordlessly, Dick reaches out and slowly wraps an arm around Tim’s shoulders. He telegraphs his movements enough that Tim has time to force himself to relax before Dick gently pulls him closer.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out,” Bruce reassures him. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ll be honest, Tim. I’d like for you to stay with us until your parents return like you did when your ankle was healing in October.”^^

Considering it was 5:30/6 in the morning, I'm not surprised you forgot to ask Tim.

Yes! Stay! Stay forever!

^^ “They refused to let me come over here the last time that I asked them to,” Tim shoots back. It’s technically a lie of omission: his parents refused due to his poor grades, but Bruce doesn’t need to know that. Lying to the literal Batman makes his skin prickle, but Tim meets Bruce's eyes steadily nonetheless. “They’d probably be pretty angry if they found out you were involved.”

Now, Bruce looks faintly intrigued. He tilts his head minutely. “Angry?”

Next to Tim, Dick tenses slightly before it drains away as if it never happened. He continues to rub soothing circles into Tim’s shoulder.

Tim shrugs and studies the bookshelves behind Bruce. “I didn’t do well on a math test. They were angry that I wanted to come over here instead of study.”

Dick makes a sympathetic noise. Snapping his book shut, Dick sets it on the coffee table before bringing his free hand up to rub Tim’s other shoulder.

“Tim,” Bruce says, painfully gentle, “Does this have anything to do with how you got the bruise on your face?”

Tim freezes, his chest burning white-hot, before he turns to fully face Bruce. “What? How--” He’s been so careful to cover it with makeup every day since the incident. What happened?

“I saw it last night when I was checking in on all of you while you were asleep,” Bruce explains. He’s infuriatingly calm. It kind of makes Tim want to yell, to scream, to destroy something.^^

You did perfectly well on that math test. The Drakes are just assholes.

I knew it! Bet you it was before Bruce even checked on the boys.

^^ “Someone can love you and still hurt you. My goal is for you to be safe and happy, Tim,” Bruce replies, his voice even and measured. “We don’t have to talk about long term plans right now. But until your parents return, I would like you to stay here with us. I want to work with you and help you.” Dick places one hand on Bruce’s arm and gives him a look. Bruce quiets, closing his mouth.

“You can’t just-- just come into my life and uproot everything. I had a life, Bruce!” Tim shouts, balling his hands into fists. His chest burns white hot. Dimly, he suspects that he might be crying.

Bruce’s face remains infuriatingly calm. Part of Tim really wants to punch it, but instead he only clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in trying to help me, but I don’t need you sticking your nose into my business! There are so many other things that you could be focusing on. Gotham needs your stupid help, but you know what? I don’t!”

He stares Bruce down, tears running down his face. Burning hot flames fill his chest and distantly, Tim notes that he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon. It takes a moment for the weight of his words to sink in and for Tim to realize that he just yelled at Bruce Wayne.

Tim just screamed at Batman.

Oh, he’s so fucked.

Tim distantly registers Bruce’s mouth moving as he says something, but the words are lost to the rushing in his ears. Bruce reaches out for him and Tim flinches away without thinking. The weight of Bruce’s icy blue eyes clamp down on his chest and make it hard to breathe. He just yelled at Bruce Wayne.

“--deep breaths, Tim,” Bruce is saying, his words distant as if spoken underwater. “I’m not going to hurt you--”

Tim stares at him, eyes burning with tears and chest burning with fire, and bolts.^^

Well...that's a good way of telling them you know their secret....wait, did they even catch that?

Tim, please don't. Don't run.

^^ He reaches a bedroom door that part of his mind faintly registers as mine, so he darts inside. The door slams behind him and Tim jumps at the noise, scanning the room for hiding places. His eyes land on the closet and Tim barely thinks before he opens his closet door and launches himself inside.

Closets are good. They’re quiet and dark and safe. Tim finds a stack of blankets in the corner of the closet and quickly burrows underneath them. If anyone sticks their head in, hopefully all they’ll see is a pile of fabric.

Tim huddles there in the dark, draped with blankets, and tries to control his breathing. He’s panting, gasping for air like he’s just run a marathon, and his heart feels like it’s trying to claw his way out of his chest. His entire body is buzzing with adrenaline.^^

At least you stayed in the Manor. Thank you for that. Now let them help you. Please. Especially since you revealed even more by running after yelling st Bruce.

^^ Eventually, Tim’s breathing calms enough that he can talk without gasping. The first thing he says is, “Bruce is going to be so mad at me.”

“He’s not mad at you,” Dick counters. “Worried, yes, but he’s worried for you. I promise.”

“He thinks that--” Tim gulps down another breath and wipes away tears from his eyes, “That my parents are bad people. But they love me, I know that they love me.”

Dick pauses. “I don’t think that people are fully good or fully bad,” he says at last. “I think that we all try our best, and sometimes we can love someone but still hurt them by accident.”

Tim sniffles and wraps his arms around his knees. “I just want my life back,” he says miserably. “Why can’t everything stop being so hard?” His voice cracks on the last word as a fresh wave of tears pours down his face.

“I know,” Dick whispers sadly. “Want to come here?” He holds his arms out in open invitation and Tim is so tired and his head hurts and his chest still feels weird and he’s weak and just wants someone to hug him for a bit.

Scrambling out from under the blankets, Tim crawls over to Dick and sits down next to him. Dick wraps his arms around Tim and pulls him into his chest, and Tim starts crying harder. Wow, Dick is good at giving hugs. He keeps up a steady stream of murmured reassurances and things that are soothing to listen to even if Tim isn’t really processing them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad--” Tim gasps, but Dick only kisses the top of his head.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here,” Dick says gently as he rubs Tim’s back. “We’re not mad at you.”

Slowly, the hot, tight feeling in Tim’s chest eases until it fades back into his usual muffled fog. His tears, too, lessen from a combination of dehydration and exhaustion until they stop completely.

“I’m tired,” Tim mumbles into Dick’s shoulder.

Dick strokes Tim’s hair. “I’ll bet. Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Tim half-shrugs. “Sometimes,” he mumbles. “Not always.”

“Okay,” Dick replies easily. “If you’re tired, you could try taking a nap. What do you think?”

Tim nods and Dick adjusts his grip on him before standing up, carrying Tim like a child. With his usual easy grace, Dick picks his way out of the closet and walks over to the bed. He gently deposits Tim on the bed and grabs a blanket to drape over him.

“You need to drink some water before you sleep,” Dick says, scrounging a glass from-- somewhere, Tim has no clue-- and padding over to the bathroom. Over the sound of the faucet running, he calls, “Do you want me to get Ace for you?”

Tim contemplates this for a moment before nodding. It feels like his brain was run over by a truck and he would really, really like a warm, fluffy dog on his bed. Realizing that Dick can’t see him, he belatedly replies, “Yes, please.”

Dick crosses the room and hands Tim the glass of water. “All right, give me a minute to find him. Drink the whole glass.”

Tim sips at the water as Dick leaves. A few minutes later, he slips back into the room with a happy-looking Ace. Ace wastes no time in hopping onto Tim’s bed and flopping down next to him. Smiling, Tim snuggles into the blanket and scratches behind Ace’s ears.^^

I'm glad thst Dick went up. Bruce would have been to much, Alfred also. Jason would have worked but I also think he would have done something wrong, even if he didn't try it.

Ace is the best. He's exactly what Tim needs and I'm glad Ace can help.

^^ “I’ll let him know.” Smiling gently, Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “And by the way, welcome to the Yelling At Bruce Club. Everyone in the house is a card-carrying member, so you’re in good company.” He leans forward and kisses Tim’s forehead. Tim makes a face but doesn’t really protest.

Dick makes his way to the door and pauses, glancing at Tim and a very comfortable Ace. “Text any of us if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim replies as he rhythmically strokes Ace’s ears.

Still smiling, Dick slips out of the room. It takes less time than Tim would’ve thought for him to fall asleep.^^

Dick is the best oldest brother. I say oldest because it is a tie between him and Jason for being the best older brother.

[loosesodamarble]

hi 😙 for the event (300 special) could i have liebe c6 please ? 👀

Hello there, Anon! Thank you very much for the request! And I'm so sorry for the wait on this!

I'll admit, I got a little stuck on what direction to take the interaction but I think I like where it ended up, even it took a turn into angsty, if just for a paragraph. I hope I portrayed Liebe alright, being a little snippy but ultimately a very soft guy. And I think a lot of how he defines love and happiness is defined by what he learned from Licita.

Also, I didn't make this piece too lovey-dovey because quieter, day-to-day interactions can still get across feelings of romance.

Summary: There is a power to something as simple as the phrase "I love you" which you and Liebe bring to each other. Genre: romance, hurt/comfort near the end. Word count: ~800

..........

“Go on! Say it to my face, Liebe!”

“Grk! Really?”

You sat cross-legged with Liebe, face-to-face, on the floor of your room. His face was cupped in your hands, squished just the slightest bit from either side.

“You heard me!” you said in a sharp voice. “Say. It. To. My. Face.”

“Fine! Fine fine fine!” Liebe’s face colored up and his tail wildly flicked behind him, making you smile. He was normally handsome but making him flustered turned him into someone adorable. “I love you! In a way that’s different from loving Asta or loving stew, I love you! You got that, yeah?”

You grinned a cat-like smile, or perhaps “mischievous” was the word Liebe was looking for, and let go of your devil boyfriend’s face. Liebe touched a hand to his face, taking in the lingering warmth that your touch had left on him. It was pleasant but faded all too quickly.

“Yup! I got it loud and clear!” you said with a full laugh. Then, you got to your feet with your grin and laughter still evident.

“Ehh?” Liebe raised an eyebrow and got up after you. “You’re being weird now. What are you laughing about?”

“I’m just happy to hear that you love me,” you answered while you reached up to ruffle Liebe’s hair. “And so you know, I love you too, Liebe.”

Liebe let you do as you wished, even smiling faintly as your fingers worked through his messy locks. As you pet Liebe’s head, you noticed that his smile seemed distant. Not a cold distance. But a warm and thoughtful one. You weren’t sure what to make of it but because it was Liebe, you accepted it as yet another side of him that you could fall in love with.

You pulled your hand away, a fond smile on your face. The door swung open the very next moment with Asta smiling to you and Liebe as he stepped in.

“Heya, hope you don’t mind but I gotta steal Liebe for a mission now!” he stated.

Liebe’s immediate response was a huff. He shrugged off his annoyance just as quick though.

“I’ll see ya’ when we get back,” Liebe told you as he followed Asta out.

…..

It was hours later, late into the night in fact, when the magicless brothers returned to the base.

“Yaaaawww… We’re back…” Asta muttered without his usual energy as he passed the circle of couches where you were, enjoying a snack before bed. “Dinner?”

“Servings in the fridge."

Asta nodded then ambled along.

As for Liebe, he stopped following Asta to shuffle to where you were seated. Then, he collapsed on the couch, very narrowly missing your legs. You set down your snacks, knowing they’d get in the way of Liebe. Or Liebe would get in the way of your snacking.

“Hey.” His arm flopped and caused his hand to land on your leg.

You playfully bounced your leg as a greeting of your own. “Hey yourself.”

There was a pause as Liebe crawled along the cough to get his head in your lap. You sat up a bit straighter to avoid Liebe’s horns pressing into your stomach.

“‘Member what you said earlier?” asked Liebe.

“Mm?” You glanced down to see that Liebe’s face was towards you but his eyes were closed. “Yeah? Which part though?”

“‘Bout you being happy to hear that I love you.”

“Ah-huh…” You leaned and rested your arm on the couch’s arm.

“I… Feel the same.” Liebe let out a sigh. “I already know but… Hearing it ‘s special somehow.”

“You’re not worried that hearing it too much will change that?” you questioned.

“I went years without… Without hearing anything…” Liebe’s face twisted, as if he was on the verge of tears just from remembering.  “It’s a shock that I didn’t come outta that grimoire completely messed up in the head.” Liebe reached for your hand and you took it without hesitation. “I was alone and scared and angry. I couldn’t do anything for Mom except regret ever meeting her. She was… the best person and I…” He bit down on his lower lip. “I won’t ever hear her call me ‘son’ ever again. She’ll never tell me how much she loves me. So I…”

Despite how tightly he’d closed his eyes, tears slipped out and ran down his cheeks onto your lap.

“Can you…?” His voice was broken and pleading. “Please, I just want…”

You squeezed Liebe’s hand in understanding. You gently wiped his tears away.

“Of course I can, Liebe,” you whispered to him. “I love you. I’ll say it today and everyday. For the sake of your happiness.”

Liebe squeeze your hand back.

“I love you. I love you…”

You were happy to hear those words. But you were happier to have the chance to add to Liebe’s happiness after the life he’d lived.

[lipglossanon]

I'm really glad you don't mind me sending you my thoughts, literally I have no one to share these with so thx sm :')

for the spicy thoughts tho, this may sound weird to u so if u don't like this idea, u don't have to read them no worries<333

I was thinking of the reader wearing animal ears... ITS A GUILTY PLEASURE OF MINE IK ITS WEIRD. but like just imagine for a second with me, her trying out stuff like cat ears or bunny ears or puppy ears or whatever animals you want really. her friends gave them to her to try it on since they think that she hasn't really tried anything crazy or kinky or whatever (only if they knew-) she got curious so she decided to try them on in her room in front of her mirror, with that her friends even gave her some cute and skimpy lingerie too ;) usually she doesn't wear things like these, but she wants to feel pretty so she puts them on together with the bunny ears and tail she has, i choose bunny cuz it's like her for me fr. she gets so lost into it and just keeps turning her body in different angles, admiring the set, that she doesn't even notice Leon standing at her door, his muscular figure leaning against the door frame, big and bulky arms crossed, a smug grin on his face, and darkened eyes with his pupils dilating. Bro. BROOOOO HEAR ME OUT PLS

he just stands there and doesn't make his presence known until she turns around to change back, finish admiring the set, and gasps at seeing him. it can be either stepdad or stepbro leon, both are so hot. her face gets hot quickly as she scrambles to cover her almost-naked body, feeling too embarrassed that she got caught red handed. Leon's grin widens and he can feel his cock twitching and hardening even more in his sweats at her bashfulness, he always loveeee her timidness since he thinks it's so cute and precious that he wants to ruin and break her even more. stepping into her room, he stalks slowly towards her with a predatory gaze, staring her down and pinning her in place. his hands coming up to pet her bunny ears, he teases her with a condescending tone, "look at you…” Gasping when he moves one of his hands down, squeezing her neck slightly, her breasts, down to her side then hip, then his hand suddenly goes behind her and squeezes at her tail. Just exploring her body in general. He pushes her body even closer to his own, breath fanning against her red face,

“Look at how pretty you are for me hm? Cute little bunny. I can see how wet you are in your white skimpy little pantie. All for me? Sweet baby, so fucking sweet…” then he leans down and smashes his lips against her own hungrily, quite literally trying to devour her. After pulling away, his lips parted slightly to pant and smirks evilly down at her. Suddenly he pushes her towards the door to her room, cocking his head at her,

“Run. Now.” She doesn’t know why he’d say that but her body just shivers all over the place from his sudden cold tone. Heart beating out of her chest, she turns around and quickly runs down the stairs. Her heart beats even faster hearing his pounding footsteps, getting closer and closer to her. Imagine what he’ll do to her when he catches her…

AAAAHHHH OMG AJDNFN I LOVE PREDATOR/PREY SM😩🔥 plspls if ur interested in this idea u can even use it ;)

I really don’t mind! It’s fun to talk Leon 🥰 and I also have no one to unleash my thoughts to hence the fics 🤣 🤣

And trust me, not much I find weird in the kink department 😂

Pet play can be so 🥵 yes yes and yes; I’m loving this energy 👏 👏 👏 and it could be one of those things that she’s always been interested but way too nervous to go out on her own so when she gets them as like a joke gift she’s actually (secretly) excited!! 🤩 oof Leon being a total creep and just spying on her while she’s trying them on and just being mesmerized at how much she likes them??? 🤤

The heavy tension as he’s slowly petting over her little bunny ears and body? Teasing the little tail and maybe snapping the band on her lingerie 🤯

Predator/prey is so goooood!!!! Screaming right now!! The possibilities 😩 the chase ending in the hottest sex imaginable oof 🥵 🥵 🥴

But let me spin you this one (cause this has got my brain buzzing 😵‍💫) so she ends up with a leash and collar and just being silly she convinces Leon to put them on. He indulges her cause he’s totally whipped and like she’s just kinda picking on him and trying to stir him up by saying bad puppy or like he goes to kiss her and she pulls the leash where he’s not able to and just

‘Be a good puppy and you’ll get a treat’ 😵‍💫

But the kicker here is just how much it drives Leon a little crazy; she’s not even being mean but being told no and making it seem like she can tell him what to do is just doing it for him 🥵 🥵 ONLY for him to turn it around and completely rail her in the mattress (doggy style what else 🤭) while she’s trying to tug on his leash telling him ‘bad puppy, you’re being so bad right now’ 🤤 🤤 🥴

If you can’t tell this has been sitting heavy on my noggin 🤣 please give me all the thoughts, I’m living for it 😆 god now I’m going to have to write it lmao 🤣 🤣