#deserved. more people should shake tim. :

[versadies]

EPILOGUE || FOREVERMORE

SYNOPSIS (of chapter). in which it's been three months since your trip to mondstadt.

SYNOPSIS (of series). breaking up with your first love was heartbreaking, but not as heartbreaking as getting invited to his wedding after years of not seeing him. that is, until things seem to be easier when you encounter a certain guest, who could end up becoming more than just a blooming friend to you (or not).

CHARACTERS. diluc ragnvindr, kamisato ayato, and thoma (w/ gn!reader)

CONTENT. fluff/slight-angst, grammar errors (?), cheesy scenes, second-hand embarrassment (?), possible errors in general.

WORD COUNT. 3.5k words

LINKS. EVERMORE MASTERLIST \ MAIN MASTERLIST \ EVERMORE SURVEY

POST-SCRIPT. the end is finally here!! hopefully the ending is satisfying and fulfilling, i've done all i can to make sure it brings the entire series together and give reader the happiness they deserve. if you wish to know fun facts about the series, stay until the end!!

PREVIOUS

3 MONTHS LATER AFTER THE WEDDING.

DECEMBER 11, 2022

It’s been a while since you’ve last visited Mondstadt. 

You find yourself sitting on a bar stool with your drink in hand, wearing a formal outfit suited for an occasion that can happen to someone for once-in-a-lifetime: a wedding. 

True to both you and Diluc’s words, you kept in touch with one another as you two remained friends after your departure from Mondstadt. Though you’re both busy from your work schedules, the two of you make the most of your conversations through sending pictures of food, places, and even your friends – your particular favorite being a picture of his pet bird, Vanessa – in your messages. 

It’s safe to say things are well, and you’re more than happy with the couple’s wedding despite your heartbreak before. 

You mindlessly look around the reception venue with a smile on your face, paying no mind to the conversations between loud guests who are either talking about 1) the newly wedded couple, or 2) the recent buzz of the continent regarding a certain corrupted CEO.

Two months after the wedding of Ayato and Chisato, Shinsuke was suddenly arrested thanks to the newly-wedded couple, who exposed him with numerous charges that shocked the entire public and media.

“Did you hear? Hiiragi Shinsuke has been arrested for his crimes!”

“I know! It’s shocking to hear that it took him this long to be behind bars, and to think that it’s all thanks to his daughter and her husband...” 

“Didn’t they work with that young detective that’s been the buzz of Inazuma’s police force? What’s that detective’s name again?”

“I believe it’s Shikanoin. Apparently he’s been investigating Hiiragi for a long time now!” 

You muted out people’s chattering about Shinsuke, taking a sip of your drink. You’re honestly just glad that he’s finally behind bars now, and you won’t have to worry about him for a long, long tim–

“( Name )! How are you?” You flinch when you hear a particular voice that you haven’t heard for a few months now. When you turn around, you spot Venti coming towards you happily with a skip of his steps.

“Venti!” You greeted him happily, putting your glass down before standing up to come towards him, spreading your arms for a friendly hug. “I’ve been well, thank you. How about you? It’s been a while!” 

Venti giggles, wrapping his arms around you for a warm friendly hug. “I’m doing well, especially with free drinks and free food around!” He cheers. His flushed cheeks and drowsy look is enough for you to know that he’s as drunk as can be. Classic Venti…

“I can tell.” You respond with a laugh, before helping him sit on one of the bar stools that’s next to yours on the left. “You should take a break from all that drinking, your hangover will be the death of you tomorrow.” 

“You’re right.. I should be ready for later..!” Venti hiccups. “How’s Zhongli, by the way? Did he go with you as your plus one again?” 

You shake your head in response. “He’s okay, but no, he’s not with me for this trip.” You replied. “I didn’t bring anyone with me since it wasn’t mentioned in the wedding card.”

“Well then, I guess you’re stuck with me!” He giggles, before ordering the bartender another glass once again, much to both your dismay and the bartender’s. 

As Venti indulges himself with the free drinks while sharing interesting things about Mondstadt, you couldn’t help but glance at the direction of where Diluc and Jean are, who are both chatting quietly to one another as they eat their meals at their table.

It didn’t take long before Diluc felt your stare, and noticed your presence. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him with a wave, to which he responds with an acknowledged nod, slightly smiling towards you before his attention is taken by another guest who came to congratulate the newly-wedded couple.

Your attention is eventually taken as well by another person, who suddenly seated himself right next to you on your right. 

“Thoma!” You gasp in surprise, not expecting to see the blonde-haired man.

Thoma flashes you a smile as he chuckles. “Hello to you too as well, ( Name ). Guess you didn’t expect me to be here, huh?” 

“Of course not, you gave me a heart attack! I didn’t know you were invited!” You exclaim with a smile. You couldn’t help but take note of how neat he looks, wearing a tuxedo with his hair fixed instead of his usual messy hairdo that you’ve grown used to. 

“I didn’t think I’d be invited either until Ayato persuaded me to come to the wedding on his behalf. I’m sure you know how busy Inazuma has been since the… arrest.” He explains, scratching the back of his head with a cheeky grin. 

You nod in understanding, your smile becoming a little strained at the mention of the arrest of Shinsuke. “I’m very aware. Almost everyone’s talking about it here, surprisingly.” 

The blonde man takes note of your strained smile, and he decides to quickly change topics in a jiffy. “How’s your trip here? Did you bring anyone with you?” He asks curiously. 

You lean on the bar counter, though your drink (as well as Venti, who’s still busy with his drinks) is left forgotten. “My trip’s been amazing. I didn’t bring anyone with me though. How about you?” 

Thoma shrugs. “I didn’t bring anyone either. Though if I could, I would’ve brought Taroumaru.” 

“Aw, I miss Taroumaru!” You cooed. You immediately thought about Inazuma once again, becoming more homesick than you thought you’d be. “How’s the little guy? I heard he’s been the talk of the town. He’s getting really famous on the Internet, isn’t he?” 

Thoma chuckles in response, his cheeks turning slightly red. “Yeah.. I honestly didn’t think he’d get famous. There was an idol who came to visit the café and took a picture of him, which was how he got everyone’s love.” 

You nodded slowly, still smiling. “So I suppose business is booming then? I’m sure a lot of people must be wanting to meet Taroumaru.” 

“Oh if only you see how busy it’s been. If it weren’t for the staff my mom and I hired, I wouldn’t be able to come to the wedding in the first place!” He comments.

As you continue to listen to Thoma talking about people in Inazuma, you couldn’t help but miss Inazuma even more. You honestly couldn’t wait to come back. 

“How about you? How’s Liyue been lately after your trip?” Your friend suddenly asks, causing you to wake up from your thoughts. 

You cleared your throat. “Oh, same as always. Though,” You straighten your posture, clearing your throat, “I’ve thought about coming back to Inazuma after what happened.” 

Thoma was taken back by surprise from your words, his eyes brightened. “R-Really?” 

You hummed, your smile growing from his excitement. “Really.” 

The man before you didn’t know what to say, stunned from such good news. “This..." He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, obviously ecstatic from the news as his eyes brightens instantly. "This is amazing news! You have to let me know when your flight is then. I can pick you up from the airport and we can go wherever you want and–”

“Woah, woah, slow down!” You couldn’t help but laugh as well, finding his excitement infectious and amusing. “I haven’t even booked anything yet, let alone ask for a transfer in my job.”  

“O-Oh!” His cheeks turn red instantly in embarrassment. “R-Right.. My bad, I-I was getting too excited.” He stammers, clearing his throat as he fixes his suit tie. “When do you think you’ll come back?” 

You shrug in response. “I’m thinking of.. Maybe after New Year’s Day. It’ll take a while since well.. It’s hard to move to another country, you know?”

He nodded quickly. “Ah yes, of course. I totally understand! You should take your time.” He says in agreement. “Just… Let me know when you’re coming back. I missed you, you know?” 

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warming up from his words. Thoma was never the type to confess something so affectionate, but perhaps the drinks are getting the best of both of you…

The blonde man was quick to realize what he said though, as he instantly stiffens and starts stumbling on his words. “I-I mean, I-I’m not the only one who misses you– since everyone misses you, i-including me..!” 

“Y-Yeah, I get it. E-Especially since it’s been a long time since I’ve left Inazuma.” You stumbled as well, your cheeks warming even more from the awkward situation that the both of you brought yourself into. “I-If anything, I missed you guys too..!” 

Yeah, the drinks are definitely getting the best of both of you. 

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh once again from the embarrassment, causing the tense and awkward atmosphere to dissipate. 

“Well that was awkward.” He commented, smiling from ear-to-ear.

“No doubt.” You responded, still laughing as you held your stomach. 

As the both of you try to catch your breaths after laughing, Thoma decides to get himself a drink as well as another one for you. “Let’s drink to celebrate your upcoming return then. On me, of course.” 

You snorted. “Thoma, the drinks are free. We’re in a wedding, remember?” 

He blushes once again. “A-Ah.. Right.” 

–

As you walk out of the elevator, you head towards your hotel room with Thoma in tow. 

Long after the wedding finally ended, you decided to take your leave and hit the bed to sleep for the night, wanting nothing more than to lie down on the comfortable sheets of the bed as you snore away. 

To your surprise, Thoma decides to make sure you come back to your room in one piece and escort you back to your room given that the both of you are a little intoxicated.

“You know, you don’t have to come with me. I can go back to the room on my own.” You said reassuringly, noticing how close your hotel room is getting.

“We’re here anyway, so you’re stuck with me now.” He comments, insisting even more as he walks by your side. “Besides, I’m actually staying in the same hotel as you. Though, I’m three floors above.” 

You relax instantly from his words, no longer finding the energy to say otherwise. “Oh, that’s good then.” You stumble around and try to find your keycard, pulling it out from your pocket as the two of you arrive to your room.

“Thanks again, Thoma. I’m glad you had kept me company at the wedding– and for helping me taking care of Venti.” You chuckled, letting your door scan your keycard. 

He smiles, nodding in acknowledgement. “Of course. It’s the least I can do since you’ve given me a good time at the wedding.” 

You smiled in response, and turned around to enter your room that's now opened, but before you could enter, he stopped you for a moment. 

“Wait.” 

“Hm?” You turn to look at him in confusion and in curiosity. “Is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head. “N-No, of course not. It’s just…”

The two of you fell awkwardly silent. 

“...I won’t be here tomorrow, so you won’t see me until you return to Inazuma.” He confesses. “So… If you ever decide on whether you’d visit, move in, or whatever, I’m one call away. Just let me know when you come and visit.” So I can be the first to greet you.

You smiled cheekily. “So you really did miss me, huh?”

He blushes once again. “Can you blame me..?” There’s no one I love but you. 

You then pat his shoulder. “...I’ll call you as soon as I get the date. Just promise me you’ll be by the airport with some cardboard that has my name.” You teased. 

He nodded eagerly. “I’ll make sure it’ll have ‘Welcome back from the Asylum’ on it.” He says, teasing you back. 

“Oh I’d like to see you try!” You laugh, lightly slapping his shoulder as he grins.

“...See you next time, ( Name ).” 

“See you next time, Thoma.” 

You took a few steps to your room and finally closed the door, the last face you saw was Thoma’s flushed face. 

As soon as he’s alone in the quiet hallways of the hotel floor, he lets out a sigh. 

This time.. This time I’ll shoot my shot.

.

.

.

“What are you thinking about, Thoma?” 

The blonde-haired man blinks a few times as he finds himself back in the familiar surroundings of Komore Cafe. 

“Ah, sorry.. I-I was just thinking about something.” Thoma says with a cheeky grin, looking at your direction as you sit by the stools that’s by the counter. “How long have you been watching me?” He asks. 

You smiled cheekily. “Long enough for me to be reminded of how handsome you look.” You responded teasingly with a chuckle.

“Oh really? Am I really that dashing?” He asks, jokingly posing like a model as it causes you to laugh. 

“Very much, but not as much as my guy Taroumaru here.” You pet the Shiba Inu, who makes a “woof!” noise as he happily encourages your affection. 

Thoma dramatically puts a hand on his chest. “You wound me. I’d never thought my own spouse would choose Taroumaru over me! Where is the loyalty?” 

The two of you broke into laughter, amused by each other’s antics.

It’s been almost two years since the time when you two visited Diluc and Jean’s wedding. True to your word, you return to Inazuma a few months after your trip to Mondstadt, officially residing in your homeland instead of Liyue. Thoma has been with you since you returned, and he has been nothing but helpful to you as the two of you make up for the lost time.

It took a while before you eventually started gaining feelings for him, which then eventually led to the two of you in a committed and happy relationship for the past three months. It’s safe to say that you’ve never been happier than ever, and you’re grateful for someone like Thoma to be by your side for so long. 

And he’s grateful that his dream finally came true, happy that he has the honor of being yours, and you being his. He couldn’t imagine anything better than what he has now. 

Unfortunately, the sweet moment between you both ended abruptly when your watch started ringing, reminding you of the time. 

“Ah shoot, I gotta go. Miko’s going to kill me if I end up late.” You said, grabbing your bag and drink before kissing Thoma’s cheek and pet Taroumaru one last time. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.” 

“Anything for you. Stay safe!” Your boyfriend tells you, watching as you run out of the cafe like the wind, leaving him alone with Taroumaru.

As soon as you’re gone, he lets out a dreamy sigh. 

“Come, Taroumaru, it’s time to work.” He spoke to the Shiba Inu, petting his head before heading towards the sign of his café to flip it. 

There’s nothing more to life than spending the rest of his days with you, and he’s more than content with the life he has with you.

It’s safe to say that the same goes with you. 

PREVIOUS.

DAN'S NOTE.

Thank you guys so much for reading Evermore! I honestly have never thought I’d finished this from the very start, and yet here I am, and it’s all thanks to all of you who have spread your love and opinions on this series.

It was truly an honor to write this piece. It really makes me happy to see a lot of you guys commenting on each chapter, sending asks about how much you love Evermore and spit on Ayato as well as Shinsuke, and overall just you guys being interested in something I put my heart and soul to! 

As someone who never once experienced having a lover nor went through a breakup, it’s quite tough for me to write about it in this series since I want the experiences to feel somewhat real, or better yet, not too cliche than it already is. 

Of course, I also want this series to be somewhat a lesson to my dear readers, to those who need to let it all out, to those whose hearts are broken, to those who just need an escape from reality once in a while, and overall to everyone. I hope that whatever you guys are going through, you will get through it! If you can go through a breakup and deal with Shinsuke’s existence in this fic, then you can surely go through anything!

Since I’ve already expressed what I need to express in the previous chapter, I decided to drop some fun facts and trivia here!

This series was made out of spite because of how I lost the 50/50 to Keqing in Ayato’s first released banner on my first 10 pulls and wanted to make him suffer. Fortunately enough, writing this series seems enough to make him come home 80 pulls later b4 his banner ended! 

I also wanted to write a story that’s based on my number one favorite Taylor Swift song from one of my favorite albums of hers: right where you left me! This song is one of the most relatable songs I’ve ever listened to ever since I first heard it in 2021, and it’s been stuck with me to this day as of 2024 (can you believe it? It’s been almost 4 years!) 

And fun fact, I found out that the evermore album was released on my birthday (December 11), so it feels right that I made the series inspired by the album <3 !

The following are some fun facts from my drafts:

Diluc's arranged spouse was supposed to be Donna, but I unfortunately didn’t make that happen since the way Donna would treat the situation wouldn’t be the same way as what Jean would do. 

Thoma wasn’t actually supposed to be a male lead until I started planning for the no body no crime part. I don’t know what made me assign Thoma as the second male lead, but when I did, I didn’t like how my series will be another “second male lead who has no chance with the main lead” so I made him the person the reader actually ends up with in the epilogue soon after!

– below are things that i’ve scraped from this series ! –

Before I started planning each chapter, Diluc was originally supposed to be the reader's plus one. The plot involves how the reader asks Diluc, reader’s friend since college, to be their plus one since he lives in Mondstadt and he reluctantly agrees, and throughout the wedding trip, they slowly fall in love with each other. 

It was such a good plot too if you saw the details I wrote for it ! But I scrapped it off because the plot would’ve been really long, and I want the series to focus on the story of reader finally and properly moving on from their breakup with their first love, Ayato. I’m aware that I could’ve followed this plot while reader moves on with Ayato, but again, I feel like it just wasn't it for me. though who knows, i might make a one-shot fic of it ;)

Another fun fact is there was supposed to be a second part series after Evermore that’s called Folklore and it ends with you dating Kaeya. 

in this series, you first meet Kaeya during Diluc’s wedding and spend time with him. Sure enough, you hate that guy, but you had no choice but to spend time with him throughout your stay in Mondstadt since he’s such a great tour guide. 

You were glad that you’re finally back to Liyue and not be able to see that playboy anymore, so consider yourself shocked when you waltzed into your office and saw him. 

Turns out, the reason why he’s always spending time with you in Mondstadt is not because of how he wants to guide you around mondstadt, but because he wants to get to know the person he’ll be working with in Liyue! 

So yes, this is somewhat an enemies to lovers + office romance story, and unlike Diluc and Ayato, this guy has no chance in getting into arranged marriages and immediately shoots his shot with you ;> !

Extra note: Dainsleif was supposed to be in folklore series as the second male lead hehe 

I was really looking forward to writing this series until chapter thirteen happened. If I have to be real honest, I was disappointed with myself for what happened, and I was afraid that you guys will be even more disappointed with me if i make another series, so i immediately scrapped it off :(( 

But to clarify more, even if chapter thirteen went well, I would’ve still scrapped it off since – as you know, I have a health issue that caused my big hiatus – and I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to finish the second series at all, let alone start it.

Instead of that, I decided to just make it into one of the epilogues of what could’ve been! Feel free to check the folklore epilogue once it’s out! 

I think I can reveal more information with the Q&A from my evermore survey, so while I’m compiling your questions, feel free to ask more right away! 

That's all for this series. Once again, thank you so so so much for giving me the pleasure of writing this fic. I might not make a series soon, but if I ever have the luxury of time, I hope you guys will be there to read it.

Thank you!

Sincerely, your penpal, Dan xoxo

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii114 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @stareforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @lychme @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @elychee @astrxlis @denkineptune @franini @sophisticatedleslie @thedivinepriestress @smashsubs @httpmitsuya @bl6o6dy @cottonkendi (please visit this post if you'd like to be tagged!)

[unkat]

chilaios medical au idea i have been bouncing in my head (will not be written until after my current one is done)

i am thinking of a like firefighter/paramedic story for these guys. where laios is a new shift commander/chief at a small middle of nowhere station and chilchuck is a medic from a big city who keeps getting reassigned because he is trying to recruit for a union and the company is trying to make his job unworkable/find a reason to let him go.

laios was promoted because of his work ethic and ability to teach other people about the ins and outs of emergency medicine, not because he wanted to be in charge. he is too new and disinterested in the company politics to throw him under the bus for other people, and by the time someone explicitly says he needs to fire him, he has gotten attached.

"he's reliable, does good work, and catches things nobody else here would have. i know he cussed out the family trying to get into the rig, but he had already told them no and they should be grateful he saved their daughter instead of filing a complaint! even if i were to discipline, he deserves a verbal warning and not dismissal. You were not there, and i am his direct superior."

(wins the argument and walks away trying not to hyperventilate)

also falin is a surgeon and marcille is a research fellow who abandoned her big-city super-focused projects to come out into the country and work with subpar equipment and an incompetent assistant. im not thinking like full rural hospital here, but closeish to it. could be an academic satellite hospital and she switched from like gene therapy trials to studying exposures/population/histology stuff.

shifting the touden hyperfixation from monsters->medical fascination i think would still get across the same vibes. falin is very nice and pleasant but she treats everyone nicely and pleasantly without actually empathizing with them. shes one of those surgeons who went to shadow a heart transplant in college and cried because it was so beautiful and then got a bunch of scholarships plus student loans for med school.

laios hunts and has a big appreciation for the lives of things he kills and butchering/using everything he can. then it translates to him being fascinated by the human body as an object more than as a being that is different and special from other animals that he is a part of. he is a fantastic emergency responder because of this- people are a pile of flesh that is broken somewhere, and he wants to figure out why. (this is something that I'm like. not sure if it is okay for me to include because it can be squicky/triggering. but i feel like when I'm unsure if I'm going too far that is when i am reaching the line i want to?)

the touden siblings still go hiking and mudding and spend their time off in the woods (marcille wears white shorts and sandels on a hike leaving laios to be very explicit and offering clothes to chilchuck when he offers him to join. chilchuck borrows his shirt and it is way too big, but he keeps it for a while.)

chilchuck is extra divorced. he facetimes with the girls a couple of times a week and gets them on rotating holidays. sometimes ex-mrs. tims invites him over for dinner because she feels sorry for him and her new boyfriend is also there. it's awkward but they both know he's harmless, just annoying and closed off. he smokes but has tried to quit 7-8 times. started when he was an emt and couldn't shake it because it helped him destress. he only knows how to drive well enough to pass his vehicle license renewals and still doesn't know what the buttons in his car do. the ac has been "broken" for a week before a station mechanic pushes the button to turn it back on (they should put a subway around here, stupid cars).

laios respects his experience and history of being at a constantly busy station that saw a variety of crazy shit. chilchuck initially resents him for being so out of touch, but grows to respect his leadership abilities. laios also always follows up on cases at the hospital to figure out the outcome and reflect on best practices.

he is the first person to get chilchuck to actually debrief after a shitty call and chil cries and never wants to talk about it again. but its like a seal in a dam has been breached, and opens up when they are cuddling on the couch. they spend more time off shift with each other. chilchuck crashes on laios' couch and initially feels like he needs excuses to do it until laios says he really likes talking with him and having him there. he tells him about the company's EAP coverage and that he encourages everyone to take advantage of it.

in the end, they hit that threshold of basically living together, and one of them would need to change their station (superior/employee romance) after they go from making out off shift in secret to seriously considering having laios meet his daughters in person. (they already think they're married because laios is always there when they call now)

[igotanidea]

Walls: Dick Grason x f!reader

Summary: Dick is not really an open one himself, but what if his girlfriend takes being closed up to the extreme? Will he break that emotional wall?

„Hey”

„Hi” I muttered that single word without looking up from my computer screen, buried with work, doing my best to keep myself busy.

“What are you working on?” he took a step closer trying to sneak a peek at the document I was currently editing.

“Just some reports. You know my boss, he loves all the spreadsheets and  summaries.”

“Yeah. I know.” perching down on my desk he scratched his neck in poorly hidden frustration

For a second there was complete silence between us.

“So….”

“No. Please don’t.”

“I didn’t even…..”

“But I know exactly what you are going to say. And I ask you to not do this.”

“How can I not?” he scoffed “you have been acting so strange lately. I’m worried about you!”

“Why?” I tilted my head, eyeing him carefully, trying to keep my cool. Don’t let it show, just don’t…..

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m completely serious. There’s nothing to worry about, really. Just because I’ve been busy doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.” I shrugged casually “but, if there’s anything you are struggling with…..”

“You!”

“What?”

“I’m struggling with you!”

“Oh, so I am the problem now?” I raised an eyebrow and he sighed in exasperation.

“Why are you constantly turning everything on its head? Talking about anything with you has been a torture lately. “ I opened my mouth but he cut me off before I could say a word “Anything not-work related.”

“Well then maybe you should stop trying.” I hissed turning the gaze away. As much as I wanted to pretend those words did nothing to me they did hurt.

“Y/N.”

“Maybe you should just leave me be, hm?”

“You are my girlfriend for fuck’s sake. I love you. I care about you, so why can’t you just open up?” his voice broke a little “Don’t you trust me? Do I make you feel unloved?”

I stayed silent for too long to not take it for an answer.

“Oh, fuck, I do.” His eyes went wide in mix of fear, hurt and sudden realisation.

“Look” I sighed deeply and looked at him “it’s not about you, ok? It’s me. There’s something broken inside me and maybe I am no good for anyone, all right? Maybe you should just move on and forget that we ever were together. You don’t deserve the chaos and emptiness I bring.”

“You are not serious.”

“Please.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want us to break up? Fuck!”

“I’m sorry. Can you just leave me alone, at least for a while?”

“I am not giving up on you. You are not getting rid of me so easily.” He stormed out of the room and I knew well enough he was going to training room to get some steam off.

“I know...... Oh, I know.... “ I muttered to myself getting back to work with all my dark thoughts creeping in my mind.

***

“What happened there Y/N?” talk about the perks of living with a couple of people in one house. Pretty much nothing can go unnoticed. The second I left my room I got attacked with that hated question. At first I wanted to lash out at the person who dared to do so, but quickly realized it was Gar. My best, best, best friend. The most caring person on this planet and the last one who would want to push any of my boundaries, so how could I? So instead of getting my frustrations out I just flopped on the sofa next to him shaking my head not able to say a word.

“Hey, talk to me.” Gar turned towards me and grabbed my hand.

“I can’t.” I whispered inaudibly.

“Why not Y/N/N?”

I shook my head even harder and to my terror a few tears that I was holding for too long flew down. Gar knew me well enough to pretend like they weren’t there.

“You know you’re like my big sister, don’t you? And as a younger and more rebellious brother I take it upon myself to cheer you up.” He stated.

“Rebellious?” I let out a laugh and a sob at the same time and it made me hiccup “who are you comparing yourself to? Tim?”

“Maybe. Not much of a benchmark, though.” He laughed and I couldn’t help but lift the corners of my mouth just the tiniest bit. “Oh, there is that signature smile. So much better.”

“I don’t know if it’s better.” I muttered “but I like your sense of humor.”

“Oh, I know” he grinned “so..... you had a fight with Dick?”

“GAR!”

“What?! Like I said, younger brother!”

“You said rebellious, not nosy!”

“Well, let’s call it protectiveness. You know I wouldn’t hesitate to kick his ass if he ever hurt you.”

“I would love to see you two fight each other” I snorted “that would be a view….”

“Will it make you happier?” he suddenly became more aware of my every word “if so…..”

“No, no! Stand down, Gar. You have enhanced your skills for sure, but not that much to go against Nightwing. Besides, I feel like I hurt him more by pushing away.”

“Seems like you gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

“Perhaps, but he’s not really the patient one and may break every second now. He…. cares in his own, very special way.”

“Go talk to him. You know it’s the right thing to do. “

“Right”

“And remember you can still beat him with your superhero skills.”

“GAR!”

*** As suspected Dick was working out. Completely focused on his moves and perfect technique, brows furrowed, forehead sweated. I hate objectification, but the way his muscles were flexing always got me hipnotised and this time it was no different. He wasn’t Dick Grayson at the moment. He was Nightwing with all the fury and anger of a bird of prey. Silent, deadly, predatory, ready to strike. He might have been detached from reality but still heard me coming inside as he turned abruptly, prepared for an attack and without thinking grabbed my wrist in an iron-clad hold.   “Au.” I mocked since even despite his strength it did not hurt this much. I was pretty resilient to physical pain. Titans' school teach you that.

“Sorry.” he muttered and let go taking a step back to look me up and down. This was my turn to speak.

“No. I am sorry Dick. You were right. I am not okay.”

“But you don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s not really what I’ve been taught. “

“You and me both.”

“Right. I just…. I don’t know where to start.” I mumbled looking at the floor.

“Let me help you.” he took a step closer and gently grabbed my chin forcing me to look at him. When my eyes met his I had to hold back the lump that started to form in my throat. He was…. vulnerable. Because of me. Hurt. Desperate. But there was something more to this loving gaze he was giving me and I could not quite decipher what. It became clear a second later when his eyes glinted and he wrenched my arm taking me by surprise.

“What the fuck Dick!?” I yelled and acting out of instinct attacked him back “that’s the help!?”

"It is. You'll see."

He came right at me forcing me to twist, turn, flip and slide to avoid getting beaten up to pulp. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me for real, but still all the years of training just kicked in. I was blocking his sticks and throws, jumping when he tried to trip me up and ducking when he attacked from above. Fuck! It was hard going against him and if I was panting and struggling with controlling my heartbeat Gar didn’t stand a chance against Dick if they ever were to fight for real.

A heartbeat of hesitation got me losing and I found myself in a tight embrace of my boyfriend who was now holding me against his chest.

“Talk.” He ordered and the words just started flowing. Apparenly this was the help, his plan from the begging - letting the adrenaline work for our benefit.

“I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you love me. I am probably the most emotionally estranged person on the Earth. You saw that, you experienced that. I push people away when I need them the most. “

“And yet, when they, when we, when I need you are always there.”

“Because that’s what I do. “

“Why?” he held me closer and I felt his heart beating as fast as mine if not faster. “It’s ok. You’re safe with me, just tell me.” His hands started caressing my back in a soothing manner making me calm down and relax into his touch.

“Because that’s how I show I care. I help. I support. I am here.” I closed my eyes feeling all the mental pain coming out in waves.

“But you don’t let others do the same for you.”

“I hate being vulnerable. I hate being weak. I hate showing it.”

“Babe, you are anything but weak. Believe me.” He looked me straight into the eyes but I winced and avoided his gaze. He let me, knowing this was the only way to keep me talking. “What else?” he insisted as I his my face in his chest muttering incoherently against his skin. “I didn’t quite get that.” he laughed and I pulled away.

“I… I was hurt too many times, you know. Every time I let any insecurity out, later on it was used against me. I still remember how painful it was. Much worse than any phisical injury. It just won’t go away and makes me keep my walls up so high…… I’m sorry, Dickie. You just don’t deserve it. Neither you nor the team. I am a terrible person.....“

“Hey, no, stop it, stop spinning." he cupped my cheek in the most gentle way "You don’t have to put the weight of the world on your shoulder, YN.”

“The pot calling the kettle, you hypocrite!” I smirked

“You are insufferable, Y/N.” He kissed my forehead and I frowned. His action and his words didn’t quite match.

“Dick….?” I wriggled in his embrace, a bit confused.

“I love you so fucking much. “ he held me closer “And am I Nightwing, remember? I can climb any wall, no matter how high.”

“Even if it grows?”

“I’m not going to let it happen.”

“How?“

“Oh I’ll find a way. Look I know it’s hard to trust, ok? Been there, done that. But it’s not healthy, going into a shell. I mean look at Bruce” he scoffed “And you know I care about you. You do, right? Look at me.”

“I do.” I nodded

“Good. So are you willing to work with me? I’m not asking you to become an open book at once but just…. don’t hide, ok? Show how you feel at least from time to time. It’s. All. Right. No one is going to judge you. And no one, really sweetheart, no one, will consider you weak if that’s what you are worried about.”

“But Kori….”

“Oh, god, will you stop it?” he brought his face closer to mine, his lips inches away.

“And what if I don’t bird boy?” I teased.

“Well, I will have to make you….” And without any hesitation he closed the gaps between us making me forget about the whole world, all my worries and struggles. Sneaky bastard. My sneaky bastard that made me feel safe and seen and taken care of. There were sure a lot of things to work on but he definitely knew how to make the effort worth the effect.

“I love you.” He muttered pulling away and resting his forehead on mine. “Let me take care of you, be there for you the same way you always are for me, ok? Don't run. Promise me?”

“Ok” I whispered closing my eyes. It felt so good having him so close and I pulled myself closer just to get more of his warmth “just…. don’t get impatient if it goes slow…..”

“I won’t.” he swore. “I won’t“ he repeated pulling me in and we just stood there, in the middle of the training room gently swaying left and right being vulnerable together.  We surely were a very complicated and very in-love with each other couple.

@somest1 @pinksirensong

[rotworld]

Sheep's Clothing

you live and work in eastridge. the mountains are close enough to see but not so close that you worry much about those werewolf rumors. tonight, though? you're worried.

->contains workplace harassment, feral behavior, a few mentions of vomit and vaguely sinister behavior.

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.

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You deserve hazard pay for the things you see and unwillingly experience during weekend shifts at Club Mountainview. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of insufferable behavior from shitfaced and entitled patrons, and a lot of vomit. Whoever decided that Eastridge’s most popular nightlife attraction needed a restaurant is a genius and a misanthrope. The food is overpriced but nobody cares after a few shots and some uncoordinated flailing on the dancefloor. Taking orders has made you an expert at lipreading and interpreting inebriated miming, a necessity to understand anything over nonstop synth melodies and pounding bass. You smile through a lot of bullshit because the people who don’t forget to tip entirely make the whole night worthwhile.

For some reason, tonight is extra bad. The girls at table four manage to spill not one, not two, but all five of their drinks, leaving ice, broken glass and a sticky, sugary alcohol mess all over the booth seats and floor. You have to call in one of the bouncers when a drunken brawl breaks out in the party room over mozzarella sticks and a chair is lobbed at your head. A guy argues with you about his mini tacos never arriving despite your insistence that he ate them ten minutes ago, and then he pukes on your shoes.

“It’s the full moon,” Donna grumbles. She was already at the bar when you got there, head resting against her hand and eyes bloodshot. A few long, blonde strands of hair escape from her ponytail and she’s forever pushing them behind her ear before they fall loose again. “Makes people act weird. All our worst shifts are during full moons.” 

“Full moon, huh?” you mutter, rubbing your temples to soothe an oncoming headache. The bar’s design straddles a cave and cabin concept, the back wall textured like stone and the counter a natural-edged slab of wood with a glassy finish. It’s the only place where your eyes and ears can rest, far enough from the dancefloor that the noise is tolerable and the lights soft and steady, firelight orange instead of flashing neon. 

“Rough one tonight, huh?” you hear. A glass of water slides across the bar and you find Irving’s sauntered over to chat while he works. He moves like a well-oiled machine, hands quick and graceful as he juggles empty glasses, mixes drinks and pours ice. “I hear there was a bit of a scuffle in the party room earlier. Glad you two got out unscathed,” he says conversationally, wearing his perpetual charismatic, glad-to-be-here smile. You have no idea how he maintains it this late into his shift.

“You’re so fucking lucky to be on that side of the bar,” Donna grumbles. 

“It’s not exactly a walk in the park back here either. I’m not sure I’ll have a barback for much longer, Tim looks about ready to quit. Someone threw a drink at him earlier.” Tim, the new hire sheepishly collecting empty glasses at the other end of the bar, is staring forlornly at Irving like a castaway watching a ship leave him behind. 

Donna insists, “Full moon.”

“That sounds more like a werewolf thing,” you say.

Irving shakes his head. “That’s a myth, actually. Moon phases don’t do anything to them. You know what, though, this is their hunting season.” 

You stare at him, waiting for him to laugh or say he was just kidding. He doesn’t. “Hunting season?” you echo, morbidly curious.

He rests a forearm across the bar counter, leaning in a little and lowering his voice. “Mhm. Late spring to early summer. They’re opportunistic, but this is the only time of year that they’re actively on the prowl. Did you know that the majority of people who go missing in the mountains around here disappear sometime in April or May? You two should be careful, actually, I hear they’ve got a thing for overworked waitstaff.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Donna says.

“I’m serious! My girlfriend told me—”

“Your werewolf girlfriend who nobody’s ever met and only visits when we’re all conveniently too busy to meet her, right?” 

“Tale as old as time,” Irving sighs. He gives you a wink before he drifts back to the other end of the bar. You linger for a little longer, nursing your water. That must’ve been a joke, right? You’ve never heard of a “hunting season,” but you don’t know enough about werewolves to be sure. You’ve never met one. Then again, people say it’s hard to tell. Your gaze wanders the club scanning the dancefloor crowd, the groups chatting further down the bar or squeezed around booths, the loners leaning against the wall. Would you even know one if you saw one?

Donna heads back to the trenches first when she spots a couple wander in and you’re not far behind. Right on time, too, because a huge group just walked in and meandered over after looking around all starstruck and delirious like they’ve never been in a club before. You do a quick headcount as they make their way to the restaurant seating area. Eight, nine, ten guys—you hope it’s not another bachelor party. 

“Welcome to the Mountainview Club Kitchen—” Your throat tightens before you finish the sentence. They’re all looking at you. Which shouldn’t be weird, you were trying to get their attention. But the second you spoke up, all of them went from distracted and overly interested in the decor to laser-focused on you and only you. That still doesn’t seem sufficient to explain the cold grasp of heart-stopping terror keeping you frozen in place. You don’t feel like you’re talking to customers at work, you feel like you’re standing in the woods late at night and something big, powerful and hungry just stepped into your path.

Cornered. That’s what you’re feeling. Like a trapped animal. Like a rabbit chased by…

No way, you think. You quickly plaster on a smile. “Uh. Welcome! You’ll have to give me a second to check how many tables we’ve got open right now, I can push a few together for you if there’s enough.” 

“Don’t sweat it, I’m the only one eating.” One of them waves off the others with a chuckle. “Go on, get out there and mingle. I’ll hold down the fort, yeah? You guys are guests tonight so it’s my treat if you want anything.” He looks normal. They all do. Not really dressed for clubbing but nothing that weird, lots of tank tops, denim and well-worn sneakers. The group disperses without a word to you or each other, leaving you alone with the friendliest one. 

You search him for anything amiss, anything that screams “werewolf” and come up empty. He’s just a guy. Black jacket, band t-shirt, jeans with ragged knees. Not unusually tall or tough-looking, honestly a little on the scrawny side, dark hair that curtains his face and feathers around his shoulders. Were you just imagining that feeling earlier? He sticks his hands in his pockets and tilts his head slightly, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “Something on my face?” he drawls. Shit, you’re staring. You try to play it off as spacing out and lead him to a table, wrestling with paranoia. You’re relieved when he starts scrutinizing the menu instead. 

“This is new, isn’t it?” he asks absently. “There wasn’t a restaurant last time I came here. I guess it’s been a while.”

“It opened a few months back,” you tell him. “Are you a regular?” 

“Eh, not really. I’m here like once a year.” 

Always around the same time? you wonder. Right around April or May? You scold yourself. Irving loves fucking with people, that’s all that was. And even if he wasn’t, a nightclub doesn’t really seem like prime werewolf hunting territory. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Just water, thanks. What’s good here?” He rests his chin against his palm while you try to think of a recommendation, smiling up at you. “I’m Corbin, by the way.” His eyes flick to your name tag and he reads it in a slow, teasing drawl. “So. You local? Live in Eastridge?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you say, utterly blindsided. “Uh. All of the appetizers are pretty good, and the tomato soup comes with this really good bread—” 

“Corbin.” You nearly jump out of your skin when one of the other guys seems to appear out of thin air, suddenly standing beside you. Sure, it’s hard to hear much of anything with the music, but he’s right there and he’s not exactly small. You aren’t sure how he snuck up on you. “Purple or green?”

Corbin tilts his head, glancing at something past the guy. You follow his gaze and see some of the people he came in with chatting up some college kids on the dancefloor. One’s in a sequined purple dress and the other’s wearing a green t-shirt. Corbin’s face scrunches up in distaste. “Neither,” he says. The other guy nods slowly like he’s just heard something truly profound and walks off. You have no idea what to make of the exchange and Corbin doesn’t let you dwell on it. “Is it always this busy?” he asks.

You shrug. “On the weekends, mostly.”

He hums, lips pursed and brows furrowed like you’ve just told him something heartbreaking. “Is it hard? A job like this? Seems pretty thankless.”

“A job’s a job,” you say with a tight smile. 

“It doesn’t have to be like that, y’know. There are places that would appreciate you so much more than this.” The discomfort must show on your face because his expression softens a little, less of a smirk and more of a sad smile. His voice gets softer and softer and you have to lean in to hear him clearly. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m just being nosy. But the thing is, I’ve got a good intuition. I can tell when people are…dissatisfied. Unhappy with their lives. You laugh it off, but it’s getting to you; how effortless it is for these people to hurt you. How brittle the bonds between humans are.” He pauses for just a moment and then he’s full of boisterous energy again, grinning. “Tomato soup, huh? Could I get that, and maybe the mozzarella sticks? Oh, and the wings too! They’d probably like that.”

“Sure,” you say weakly. You’re not entirely aware of your movements, running on autopilot to take the menu from him with numb fingers and put in his order. Why do you feel so shaken up? This is obviously a shitty place to work, anyone could see that. But it was more than that. The way he said it, the way he looked at you—like he knew you. Really knew you, the way strangers aren’t supposed to.

You try to shrug it off, make your rounds to other tables, but he’s on your mind all night. You bring him water and he takes it before you set it down. The pads of his fingers caress the back of your hand and slip away slowly, hesitantly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Thank you,” he says, his smile affecting you in embarrassing ways. You run to the bathroom and splash cold water on your face, trying to shock yourself out of whatever weird, emotional haze you’re in. 

Corbin is thankfully distracted when you come back with his appetizers. Someone else from his group swings by the table with his arm around a younger guy. “Oh, you’re on summer break? What’s your major?” Corbin asks. You don’t linger but you catch bits of conversation, enough to hear that the guy Corbin came with barely says a word. Is he the wingman for all of his socially awkward friends? You look around and see the others scattered around, a couple perched at the bar with a woman giggling between them, a few lurking around the dancefloor. One makes eye contact with you halfway across the club and your heart skips a beat. 

You’re getting that feeling again—the prickling on the back of your neck. The primal sense that there’s danger lurking somewhere nearby, hungry eyes raking across your skin. 

Corbin’s friends and their hookups drift by the table frequently. Every time you glance over, someone new is hovering next to him or sliding into an open chair with their plus one chatting happily. You’re not really surprised. There’s something magnetic about him, an effortless charm in his open, welcoming body language, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. Strangely, none of them stay long. People cycle in and out until you’re sure his whole friend group has stopped by at least twice, sometimes snagging something from an appetizer plate, but they don’t stick around.

Eventually, someone else entirely—a club regular, not someone Corbin came with—snags the chair across from him. They’re flirting and he’s apparently not interested, hardly looking at them, humming or muttering disinterested, one-word answers to their questions. You come back with his tomato soup just in time to see the interloper storm off, tears in their eyes. Corbin watches them go, leaning against the table with his lips curled in a snarl. “Packless,” he mutters, the word rolling off his tongue in disgust. He stiffens up when he notices you standing there, plastering on a smile. “Oh, that looks so good! Thank you!”

“Enjoy,” you manage to say, struggling to make sense of what you just saw. Corbin isn’t looking at the food, even when you set it down in front of him. 

“Why don’t you sit with me? I wanna talk more,” he says, nodding to the chair beside him. 

You laugh nervously. “I really can’t.” 

“Aw. Not even for a little bit?” You’re a little surprised but nonetheless grateful he doesn’t push. Instead, he pulls a hair tie out of his pocket to keep the long strands falling around his shoulders from falling into his food. “Sorry, sorry. I’m doing it again. It’s my intuition, y’know? I feel like we’re both missing out if we don’t get to know each other! But no worries, I know you’re on the clock.” He tosses the long strands of his ponytail behind his back and smiles at you.

Your heart drops into your stomach. You didn’t notice it before with his hair hanging around his neck, but he’s absolutely covered in painful-looking marks. Some are old, puckered scars and some are fresher, scabs and scrapes and flushed half-moons. They’re littered across both sides of his neck and even more disappear beneath the neckline of his shirt. There’s no mistaking them for anything else—those are bites. Big, human-sized bites, left by teeth too sharp to be a human’s. Your gaze darts back to his face and you know he caught you staring. 

He looks euphoric, eyes half-lidded and smile dreamy, like you’re fulfilling some exhibitionistic fantasy. 

“C…can I get you anything else?” you force yourself to ask.

He’s not discreet when he looks you up and down, gaze lingering on your hips, trailing slowly up your chest and eventually returning to your eyes. He licks his lips. “Nah,” he says, grinning. “I’m good for tonight.” 

You know he watches you for the rest of your shift. No matter where you go, you feel him staring. You want nothing more than to avoid him until he leaves but you don’t want him to complain about being neglected, eventually circling back to refill his water and take his empty plates. You don’t make eye contact and he doesn’t strike up a conversation. He pays his bill without anything weird happening until he hands you an insane tip, a few big bills rivaling your paycheck.

“We’re kindred spirits, y’know,” he says, looking satisfied by your wordless shock. “But you’re stuck in this awful world where nobody’s taking care of you right. So I’ll just have to do it myself until…” He never finishes the sentence, smile widening when you look at him questioningly. “Take a picture with me!” he says. You don’t argue. You’re so tired, so exhausted from all the mixed signals, and you’ve decided he’s ultimately harmless. Weird as hell and uncomfortably perceptive but harmless, and if he tips like this, you’ll give him all the pictures he wants.

Corbin pulls you down into the chair beside him with an arm around your shoulder and holds out his phone for a selfie. You fully intend to look at the camera but your eyes are pulled slightly off center by the sight of his bites displayed on the screen. It comes out awkward. Your smile is half-hearted and Corbin’s not quite looking at the camera either, his gaze focused on you with an uncomfortably fond smile stretched across his face.

[antebellumite]

top 5 antebellum politicians, not including presidents

For the sake of not making this response boring, Im going to personally remove all three of the triumvirs from the running. All three of them are now in Spot 0. Benton and Hayne can be there too.

Which leaves five spots for...

John Randolph of Roanoke literally the MOST fascinating guy. Hes wilder than a herd of horses hoarse on meth. literally created a slur. he brought dogs into congress and stripped in the house of reps and got into verbal and physical fights. he dueled everyone to the point where his contemporaries commented that he should be in a straightjacket. he asked the cousin of the person he was dueling with to be his second in the same duel. he was a dramatic bitch who ordered a european badge of honor to be made for him in honor of that duel. he bemoaned that no one would care about him when he died. when he was near death he painstakingly made his way to the us congress gallery to hear henry clays beautiful voice one last time. whenever the wife of a congressmen he was insulting was in the gallery he doubled down on his insults. when he died he freed the people he enslaved but he did a piss poor job so everything just fell apart. he has tuberculosis but it was contained solely to his dick and so he suffered an inferiority complex and an inability to progress past puberty because of it. and also maybe he had klinefelter syndrome bc of a imbalance either ways, my name on discord is john randolph hrt not because i GENUINELY think he would support hrt, but because the fact that there is a CHANCE he would is still higher than the rest of his colleagues.

Henry Wise also the most insane guy of the time period. like jror, got into fights, but this was way more about slavery. he picked fights with jqa all throughout the gag war. surprisingly woke on several topics including thanksgiving and the rights of native americans. he says some of the funniest things ever sometimes. he thinks abolitionist is a slur. he became a general in the confederate army but got kicked out for being a bitch. somehow flip flopped between every. single. political. party. of his era. including almost becoming a republican near the end of his life. his irreverence for law and order is astounding. he bullied john tyler and literally everyone in congress. the fact that he was drinking buddies with franklin pierce and got him elected but also got pierces friend killed in the cilley graves duel is insane. the fact that in order to try and get henry clay the presidential nomination he literally bent his knee at hugh lawson white and did the equivalent of the uwu face is insane. the fact he more or less murdered john brown is insane. the fact that ralph waldo emerson said that if brown and wise were in a different life, they could have been friends is even more insane. like damn ralph waldo emerson now is NOT the time to be shipping abolitionist john brown and the slavery supporting secessionist governor of virginia who murdered him together. also not going to lie the fact that he never sought a pardon after his involvement in the confederacy is actually a breath of fresh air for this time period. go girl acknowledge that you are undeserving of a pardon or forgiveness for your crimes. i honestly cant do this guy justice without just telling you gto look at my #the field of blood tag. this guy. also i will not lie i did not actually understand his violent tendancies (which to his credit he wasnt like a maniac or anything ) until i saw his photograph. and uh yeah. shaking hands meme between jror and henry wise and the connecting factor is looking feminine and having a serious complex because of it.

Hugh Lawson White his hair. the way hes the only antebellum politician whos wikipedia page actually says what his personality and style was like. fascinating.

Charles Sumner hes such a loser. he deserved so much better. once he fell of a train. he was called his great impotency. he got caned one time and thats all everyone ever remembers about him. his main biographer did him SO DIRTY. he might be ace he might be gay. the hermaphrodite by julia ward howe is probably about the love triangle between julia him and samuel howe, julias husband. he has incredibly modern beliefs about things! hes funny and he has a three way benign rivalry betwen himself seward and douglas. he waxed poetic about daniel websters head and then felt betrayed by him. he once stroked his own head glumly. his eyebags. he got hit with a brick once. his handsomeness is the work of legends. hes awkward and gentlemanly and depressing and optimistic and so many many things its beautiful and he was beautiful and i love him so much! i love his friendship with mary todd lincoln and the way he was basically looming in abraham lincolns window every other night throughout the civil war.

William Plumer Jr. LITERALLY my guy!! his anecdotes are all so fascinating. the time he had a very dramatic meeting with daniel webster about Fate and Destiny. his involvement with preserving american history from the very beginning. just lovely and wonderful and i basically yassify him whenever i imagine him in my head. just wonderful. and these are basically all of them i think, though i like a lot of congressmen of this era.

Bonus, have a drawing of henry wise, a calhouny hugh lawson white for some reason, and fem plumer!

[centralperkchenford]

Chenford ♥️ Chris asks Tim to stay away from Lucy and then Lucy finds out

I combined three prompts in one! I hope you like this one! It came to me suddenly!

Chenford ♥️ Chris asks Tim to stay away from Lucy and then Lucy finds out

Chenford + Lucy has a panic attack and kisses Tim

Chenford + why didn't you tell me how you feel?

I'm a little bit over my head, but I can't hold back no more

“Bradford!” A voice says behind him. Tim winces because he unfortunately knows that voice. He turns to see Chris Sanford standing there with a frown on his face. He has his briefcase in one hand, and his other hand is shoved into his pocket.

“Sanford.” Says Tim cooly. He’s only talking to the guy because of Lucy. She is for whatever reason still dating him and Lucy is his friend and her happiness means more to him than anything. He will put up with a jerk wad like Sanford if it means Lucy is happy.

Even if he knows Lucy deserves better than Chris.

She deserves so much more.

“I want you to stay away from Lucy.” Chris says and he stares at Tim as if trying to challenge him.

“Excuse me?” Tim says. “Why?”

“Lucy belongs to me.” Chris says and Tim feels a flash of anger go through him. Lucy was not a possession. She was a human being and she was a very independent, strong, smart one. He couldn’t believe she was still with Chris.

“She’s not a possession Sanford.” Says Tim trying to keep his voice from breaking. “She is her own person and I think it would be up to her if she wants me to stay away from her.”

“She doesn’t want you Bradford.” Chris says a little smugly. “She is still with me.” Tim closes his eyes, a vision of him pinning Chris up against a wall playing in his mind.

Tim knows Lucy better than anyone, he knows her like the back of his hand. She would not like her boyfriend coming to him and acting all smug and self absorbed.

“Does she know you are telling me to stay away from her?” Tim asks him. Chris pales for a minute and shakes his head.

“No but—”

“Hey.” Says another familiar voice and unlike Chris’s this one brings a smile to his face. He turns around to see Lucy standing there looking between a confused look on her face. “What’s going on?”

“I want you to stay away from him.” Chris blurts out. “I know what happened on the UC op. I know you two were cozy..”

“For the job.” Says Lucy drily. “And you can’t tell me to stay away from Tim. He’s my friend.”

Tim heart sinks at the word friend, but he’s also proud of how she’s standing up for herself.

“I’m your boyfriend Lucy. Not him. You spend more time with him than me. You look at him in a way you don’t look at me.”

“I work with him Chris. Of course I spend time with him and we are close. Okay? You get close with people you work with.” Lucy says glancing over at Tim. He gives her a soft smile, and it’s like her whole body relaxes.

“I’m close with my co workers but I also did not just make out with them.” Chris snaps. “Or did you do more than that?”

Lucy glares at Chris and steps forward. “I did not cheat on you Chris. We had to kiss for the job. We had to be close for the job. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you. You should trust me.” She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “It doesn’t matter though. You and me? We are done. Tim is my best friend. I don’t appreciate you coming to him and asking him to stay away from me. I don’t appreciate you accusing me of cheating on you. You are pathetic.”

Chris opens his mouth to retort but Lucy grabs Tim’s hand and he stumbles after her. She pulls him into the break room and his brain finally catches up and he pulls her to a stop.

“Lucy..” He mutters. She turns to face him with tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters. “I didn’t.. he just..I..” Her breathing becomes more frantic and he knows she’s having a panic attack. He puts his hands on her shoulders, and then pulls her close to his chest. He feels her heart against his chest, he combs his fingers through her hair.

“Hey it’s okay Luce. It’s not your fault Chris is an idiot—” He mutters. She’s still breathing hard and she turns her face up to face him, her eyes searching his face.

And then she’s pulling his face down to kiss him and he feels like he’s floating on air as her soft lips touch his. It’s a short kiss, but it happened and Tim feels happier than he has in a long time.

“I’m sorry.” She says again. “I’m sorry.” She tries to back away but Tim pulls her closer and then pulls her out of the break room and outside. They get to a safe place, away from prying eyes.

“Tim, I’m sorry I don’t know what I was thinking that was dumb. I know you don’t feel that way about me. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing Luce.” He says softly. “Please. It’s okay.”

Lucy sighs and she still looks apprehensive and worried. “It’s just.. ever since Vegas..I have been feeling this weird feeling every time I look at you.” She says not looking at him and it takes everything in him not to turn her face to look at him. “It just feels.. it feels different like my heart is about to burst out my chest. And I want you. I want you to kiss me and hold me and—”

This time Tim cuts her off and kisses her, she scoots closer and he pulls her in. And once again he feels like floating on air. And god it feels amazing like everything he wants is right here in this kiss, in this woman.

“I want you too.” He whispers. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt?”

She sighs and runs her hand down his back, her fingers grip his shirt. “Because you are the most important relationship in my life and I didn’t want to mess it up if you didn’t feel the same.” She admits. “I couldn’t do that because I can’t lose you Tim.”

Tim leans forward and kisses her nose softly. “I do feel the same Luce. And I don’t want to lose you either but how do we know if we don’t try?”

Lucy gives him a bright smile. “You are willing to try with me? To give us a chance?” She asks. He nods and looks around but there is no one around. He looks at her in the eyes and tucks some hair behind her ear.

“Yes. I want you Lucy more than anything.” He says honestly and it’s true. He has wanted this for longer than he even realizes.

“Good.”

He takes another deep breath. “Lucy, would you like to go on a date with me?”

She laughs a smile twitching at her lips. “Yeah I would.” She replies. “I would love.”

He laughs and nods reaching out to take her hands. He knows this was the start of something beautiful.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 47

First

Previous

Marinette calmly packed her bag to go home, putting everything in their designated places in the neatest way possible. She wasn’t particularly neat herself, and honestly she found it a little difficult to get things out when they were organized in that way, but damn if she was going to get judged. She was a good personal assistant, she wasn’t going to let people see her be disorganized in her private life.

“Marinette?”

She glanced up at Bruce, raising an eyebrow. “If you want to give me another assignment, I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Tim hacked my email and I literally cannot access any work stuff outside of 9-6.”

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, a complicated expression on his face, and then he seemed to disregard the thought with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t really about work. It’s about the time off you scheduled for Hanukkah –.”

“Sir,” she groaned. “You already promised to take those days off, too. I can’t afford to spend my entire vacation making sure the company doesn’t keel over. I wouldn’t have time to make latkes and Dami would cry.”

“That’s…” He cleared his throat. “I was inviting you and your family to celebrate one of the days with me.”

She blinked once. Twice.

Oh. That was a lot less terrifying, somehow. Like, sure, she was already exhausted at the prospect of dealing with the man’s eccentricities during her break, but after he had accidentally made her think about all the things he could do to the company if she was gone for a week (for the second time this year), she found herself not all that put off at the idea of spending a day with him.

Besides, the man was rich. Damian deserved so much stuff for Christmas.

“I’ll ask Tim, but we should be able to do that, I guess.”

~

To say Tim was a little stressed as they rolled up to Wayne Manor would be… quite an understatement.

As usual, the gate swung open and he steered his bike inside, and yet it felt so different. There were arms around his waist and a child tucking his face behind his knee to hide himself from the wind. He didn’t veer off the path and through the bushes to the secret entrance. He wasn’t there because he was invited, but because his girlfriend was.

Because his girlfriend was the one to be on the weird adoption pipeline that apparently every iteration of Bruce Wayne had.

And that in itself was enough to make his hands clammy in his leather gloves.

But. On top of that. They were about to face the ultimate test:

Making sure Alfred Pennyworth didn’t suspect anything off about them.

Yeah, no, they were screwed.

From the moment Tim had dismounted his bike to help Marinette and Damian off the bike, he could feel eyes trained on his back. He kept his face purposefully relaxed as he took off his helmet and shook out his hair.

Marinette wasn’t as stressed. She didn’t have that many stakes in this, Bruce and his family hadn’t noticed anything off about her yet – and, besides, she hadn’t known the Bruce from their original reality, so slipping up wasn’t all that likely for her.

Damian wasn’t stressed, either. For obvious reasons. He tugged on Marinette’s hand, trying to force her to go explore the house with him because the garage, while opulent, was not nearly interesting enough for a young child.

Marinette grinned and slumped against the bike, bringing her free hand up to press against her forehead, as if she were feeling faint. “Oh no! Gravity! It has come to claim me! What ever shall I do? I can not go with you!”

Damian’s mouth dropped open in offense. He gave Tim a look that screamed ‘are you seeing this?!’

Tim snorted, temporarily distracted. He shrugged his shoulders. “It is what it is,” he told Damian somberly.

Damian managed to look more offended.

He grinned at his kid. “Fine, fine, I’ll help.”

He took the hand from Marinette’s forehead and pulled. Damian ‘helped’ as best he could, his little face reddening with effort as he dug his sneakers into the ground and tugged at her. She smiled a little as she was ‘forced’ to stand.

Tim grinned, lacing their fingers together. “C’mon, I wanna see if they have an indoor pool.”

He wanted to see how much had changed.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “They have three,” she informed him.

Well, that hadn’t.

But, as Marinette dragged him along to show him to the nearest pool (or, at least, to try to, they were definitely going to get sidetracked by Damian at least once), Tim happened to meet Alfred’s gaze just before he disappeared through the door.

And, in that instant, Tim knew, for he had seen this expression on the man’s face several times before:

Alfred could tell something was up.

~

Marinette and Alfred usually got along. They both preferred it when Bruce’s life wasn’t a mess. Admittedly, this was for different reasons (Marinette didn’t want anything to go wrong PR-wise, Alfred had lots of genuine affection for Bruce), but it was still a common goal.

Now, Marinette wasn’t at work. Now, their goals didn’t align.

Now, they were in a baking competition.

Was it official? No. From the nervous glances being sent their way by the Waynes and the Dupain-Chengs alike, they weren’t even going to get judges.

However. Did they care? Also no.

After all, their families were going to eat. Both she and Alfred were very aware of the fact that no one else was to be trusted in a kitchen, that they weren’t going to starve themselves, that they weren’t going to order takeout when there was food right in front of them. Which meant there was a way for them to tell what people liked best: watch to see what got eaten the most.

Their smiles were stuck on their faces. It looked vaguely unpleasant. If the people in this world had known about the Joker, then their expressions would be compared to that, but the man didn’t exist here so it was instead described as being like ‘something out of a psychological horror movie’.

Alfred kept his eyes on the food he was frying. “I have far more experience in this field, Madame Dupain-Cheng, are you sure you don’t want to leave the cooking to me?”

Translation: I’m better than you, dumbass, give up.

Jason had started biting his fingernails.

Marinette hummed lightly and only just refrained from dumping flour into the dough she was making haphazardly enough to create a dust cloud that would take the old man out for sure. She took solace in the fact that she knew she could do better than him, in both baking and being passive aggressive. She had grown up in akuma Paris, she knew how to give out thinly-veiled insults like candy on Halloween. “Don’t you think you should leave such big feasts to someone like me? Surely, you should be resting.”

Translation: fuck off, you old bitch.

Tim drummed his fingers on his arm.

Alfred’s smile didn’t waver. He did, however, cut the brisket he was making with a little more fervor.

Their families retreated to the far corner of the room to whisper among themselves. It seemed urgent.

Marinette tipped her head to the side, pausing in folding flour into her challah batter while she waited for the rugelach to bake. “Hey, don’t you think it’s a little rude to talk about people behind their backs… right in front of them?”

“Yes, Madame Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred said. “I think they should share with the class.”

Their families looked like they would rather flunk.

And then Damian, master genius and the person that had practically patented manipulating people, tugged on Marinette’s pant leg.

“Oh, hey, Dami,” she said, starting to reach down and pat his head only to realize that doing that while baking for someone that wasn’t her family was unhygienic.

Tim looked down frantically, suddenly realizing that he had lost the child. He mumbled a quiet prayer that he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.

“What’s up?” She asked, setting down her spatula and leaning down, hands on her knees, to get closer to his eye level.

Damian smiled and reached for her. “Wanna help!”

Marinette tipped her head to the side thoughtfully for a moment before smiling and pressing a kiss to his forehead. She picked him up and sat him on the counter. “Do you remember when I taught you how to knead dough?”

Damian’s face scrunched thoughtfully. Then, he shook his head.

Marinette smiled and dumped the dough out of the bowl. “Then how about I do it again?”

Every person in the room breathed a sigh of relief. Marinette was forfeiting for the kid. Situation neutralized.

Damian watched with rapt attention as Marinette showed him how to knead dough.

Tim walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a tiny kiss to her shoulder. “So, you just beat it into submission?”

She rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Terrible way to put it, but yes.”

He snickered against her skin, and the pair of them watched their kid struggle to work the dough in a quiet, fond silence.

~

Sometimes, Tim found himself forgetting what Bruce and Dick were like when he first met them.

He had always assumed that it was Jason’s death that had made them so distant and cold towards each other. What else could it have been? After all, as Tim took up more and more of Jason’s roles, they began to settle down and come to an understanding.

But now, as he watched Dick and Bruce shout at each other over the dinner table (while Alfred quietly cleared up plates in a way that spoke to the normalcy of this), he remembered Jason’s years as Robin. Nightwing had stormed off to Bludhaven, and there were rumors that Dick Grayson hadn’t talked to his dad since he had moved out.

He’d thought that was impossible. After all, they were the Dynamic Duo. Sure, they had their rough patches, but this was…

Well, this was none of Tim’s business, frankly. Tim wasn’t the same kid he had been when he had first started stalking the bats, he wasn’t nearly as optimistic, nor was he blinded by hero worship anymore. Even if he had been, this wasn’t his Bruce and Dick. They didn’t even know him outside of the fact that he was Marinette’s husband. He was set to leave this world in just over ten years, and they wouldn’t care in the slightest. So, neither should he.

Except…

He sighed and gently combed his finger through Damian’s hair. The kid had tucked his face into his arm the moment the screaming had started.

He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor loud enough to draw both of the men’s attention, if only temporarily.

“Hey, guys, not during the holidays, okay?” He said. He knew Damian was listening, knew that the kid wouldn’t take kindly to being seen as ‘weak’ or ‘scared’, so he settled for giving a pointed glance to the kid that was clutching his shirt desperately.

The anger burning in their eyes went out instantly. Tim wasn’t sure what had kindled it in the first place, one moment they had been eating and the next they were screaming their heads off. But it was over with now, and that was all that mattered.

Dick took a careful step away from his adoptive father, his hands unclenching, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Right. Holiday spirit and all that…”

“Yes. Sorry for this,” Bruce said, his gaze finding its way to the window.

It was quiet for a solid minute.

And then Dick clapped his hands together once, a smile in place. “Let’s go into the other room, it’s not Hanukkah without some TV. Bruce, why don’t you help Alfie with the dishes while we get everything set up?”

The man made his way to the door immediately, apparently glad to have permission to disappear. Maybe he wasn’t that different from Tim’s Bruce after all.

Dick ran a hand through his hair, seemingly steeling himself, and then started leading Tim through the house. Tim hugged his kid close as he walked, his fingers combing through his curls in hopes of grounding him.

“Where’re Jason and Marinette?” Dick asked, glancing around.

“They snuck away to go and get Frank.”

Dick raised an eyebrow.

“Our dog.” He felt a tiny tug on his shirt and had to fight off a sigh of relief. At least the kid was still present enough to protest. “Or, well, Dami’s dog.”

Damian nodded once against his chest and then pressed himself closer, as if he thought that, if he just tried hard enough, he might be able to be absorbed by his kinda-dad-kinda-brother.

Tim pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Dick looked away. “I’m… I’m sorry about that.”

“Sorry means nothing after someone’s been hurt, you just have to try not to do it again,” Tim said, giving a terse smile as Dick opened a door for him.

He glanced around the living room. It was the main one back in his reality, and it seems to be the same way here, but it was strange to see it looking like this. In his reality, it had been full of pictures of his family. And, here, it was the same, but gone were the pictures of Cass and Damian, of Steph, of Duke. Of Tim. Gone was the painting they had put up to hide a hole that had been punched into the wall during a playfight. Gone were the bins under the TV labeling what games and consoles belonged to who.

He sunk into a couch and adjusted Damian on his lap to hug him more firmly. Dick faffed around for a bit, touching pillows and messing with the remote uncertainly, until he made the decision to go over to the fireplace.

He squinted at it for a moment before shrugging and tossing a block of wood in, and then he started up a lighter.

But a solid twelve attempts later (marked by the quiet shck of the lighter every time), there was nothing.

Tim was fighting off his amusement. Dick’s face was already red enough from embarrassment, and he didn’t know the man enough to openly make fun of him here.

Thank god he had a kid that could do it for him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a grownup?” Damian said and, though his face was still tucked away in Tim’s chest, Tim could practically hear the disgust in his voice.

And it was unfortunate that Damian was pressed so close, because this meant that the kid could feel the way he trembled with the effort to not to laugh. Or cry in relief. Apparently, the way to get Damian out of a funk was to be so hopeless the kid forgot what he was upset about. Good to know. Also objectively hilarious and on brand.

Dick set the lighter down, now so red it looked like he was going to pop.

But God must have been on his side – in a giving mood for Hanukkah, it seems – because Marinette and Jason chose that exact minute to walk in, Frank at their heels.

In seconds, Frank had darted across the room and came to settle beside Damian, her nose snuffling at his clothes.

Damian giggled a little and tried to bat the curious nose away, but Frank was an unstoppable force and he was pulled just far enough away for Frank to settle her head on the kid’s lap.

The kid blinked down at his dog for a few moments before giving a watery little laugh. He started stroking his dog’s head, his eyes lighting up when she licked one of his hands.

The adults in the room shared quiet, relieved smiles. Jason and Marinette did a tiny fistbump.

The kid would be alright.

~

Marinette and Damian hung back awkwardly as the Waynes went about preparing to light the candles. She had sat herself down on the floor, the kid in her lap and her arms wrapped around him loosely, and her chin atop his head.

And then Damian squirmed in her lap.

She drew back, raising an eyebrow at the kid, and he wordlessly pointed to the menorah.

She blinked once and looked up, then tipped her head to the side. “You… want to join them this year?” She asked hesitantly.

Damian nodded firmly.

She exchanged mildly concerned glances with her boyfriend.

It wasn’t that Tim and Marinette didn’t want to introduce Damian to their religions, they would have been perfectly happy to do so if he was actually their child, but the original Damian had been raised Muslim. It felt wrong to change that. They had been reading up on what they were supposed to do pretty much since the beginning. Thankfully, most of the stuff required of Muslims weren’t things that needed to be done right away, so they had figured they would have time to research and prepare…

But he was young,  and he was expressing interest (or, at least, curiosity), and they didn’t know what to do. They were perfectly happy to entertain the kid’s questions no matter how ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’, but now they wondered if it was moral to answer him when the questions were like this.

After quite a bit of thought and hesitation, Marinette slowly rose to her feet to go join them. They would have to start introducing Damian to Islamic beliefs once Hanukkah was over.

But, for now, she set Damian on the windowsill beside the menorah – she trusted him to not touch the fire – and quietly bowed her head with him to join the Waynes in prayer.

If nothing else, teaching him to respect and understand other religions was a must.

~

Gift giving was… an experience.

There were several near-breakdowns by the time the night was over. But y’know. Tis is life or whatever.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. Let him go back and explain.

Marinette had been surprised enough that the Waynes had a) remembered that she had mentioned that their family combined Hanukkah and Christmas into a holiday when she had only mentioned it offhand once and b) gone through the effort to get a tree in place. That in itself was almost enough to make her a sobbing mess. It was so strangely thoughtful, so heartwarming that they had remembered that Tim had had to take her aside for a minute to collect herself.

But what she saw next was enough to make her jaw drop:

As they approached the tree, she began to realize just how many presents there were. Hell, even Tim was mildly surprised to find all this stuff there.

“Rich people,” Marinette said, and for once there wasn’t that much disdain to be found in the phrase.

Tim snickered and came to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Rich people,” he agreed, grinning lightly. “Get used to it, you’re practically joining the family now.”

She blushed and gently pushed his face away. “You’re annoying.”

“Yeah. I am. But you love me anyway.”

She hummed a little in quiet agreement, but their attention was quickly dragged away. Because Damian was tugging at the hems of their shirts insistently, trying to get them to move closer to the tree so he could start opening his (apparently) many, many presents.

Tim smiled to himself as they found a place to sit, the fireplace warming their backs (Jason had set it, Dick was too embarrassed to try again).

Damian started literally tearing through the presents. It turns out that Marinette, apparently, talked about both Damian and Tim a lot at work – she had tucked her face into his shoulder to hide her blush there when Bruce had told them about it – and they had had a lot to work with.

Tim ended up getting a camera. He was pretty sure it was a slightly new model of the one that his Bruce had bought for him a few years prior and the comparison nearly sent him into his own fit of tears. Which he had no explanation for.

Thankfully, no one questioned him on it. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to lie and pull The Dead Parents Card in this scenario.

As for the Waynes… Marinette and Tim had gone for more heartfelt things than expensive ones, because there was no way that they could find something for them that they both a) wanted and b) didn’t already have. The pains of buying for rich people. You have to think.

In the end, Tim had helped scrounge up old footage of the Flying Graysons and given a flash drive's worth of stuff to him (which had added to the many near-breakdowns of the day), Marinette had found a first edition book for Jason…

And then they had gotten a planner for Bruce. Because they wanted to be passive aggressive. At least the design on the front of it – a Wayne family photo – was cute.

Frank had been given a couple of toys. How the Waynes had known ahead of time that Frank was going to be showing up to enjoy them, Tim didn’t know, but he would bet money on Alfred. He would also bet money that it was Jason that chose the specific toys, because it had only been a few minutes and Tim was already grinding his teeth to ignore the squeaking of the smiling cactus in Frank’s mouth.

Damian got… everything else. Which included things like stuffed animals and coloring books, but also a couple of actual books and a slew of movies and a game console that looked like it might be this reality’s version of a Switch and…

Tim breathed out a sigh. “God, it’s gonna take so many motorcycle trips to get that to our house…”

Which was how they found out what Marinette had gotten.

Because Bruce smirked and tossed her a set of keys.

Marinette caught them without thinking, and then seemed to think very hard about it, her lips just barely parting in surprise as she stared down at the shiny keys.

She looked up at them with wide eyes. Tim did the same.

“I… I don’t even have a driver’s license,” Marinette said. Which was true in this world. She had let it expire because it wasn’t worth bothering to get a new one when she didn’t have a car to drive.

Bruce shrugged, a tiny grin playing across his lips. “Then make yourself one. I know you can do that.”

Tim and Marinette fought to keep their expressions neutral and confused and... from the look on Alfred’s face, like something had been confirmed to him, it wasn’t working.

“You knew?” said Marinette, her voice a squeak.

Bruce nodded. “Pretty much since the moment you started working at my company.”

Tim suddenly remembered the multiple times Marinette had texted him talking about how Bruce was scrutinizing her. He had assumed it was just how he was when he didn’t have to hide himself behind Brucie in public, or that maybe it was about the promotion she eventually got.

But, no. Apparently he had noticed discrepancies.

Which was insane. Tim had made those fake IDs himself, and he had gotten Marinette to proofread everything, there shouldn’t have been any discrepancies.

And yet here they were.

Stupid rich people and their infinite money and resources. He now got why Marinette held mild disdain for them.

At least Dick smiled and waved off their fears. “Don’t worry, though, we won’t snitch on you.”

Jason sunk back in his recliner. “Yeah, you’re basically the new siblings –.”

Bruce sputtered. He was ignored.

“– and we wouldn’t do that to you. It’d be kinda shi –...” Jason glanced at Damian. The kid had already started on his first coloring book. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he worked, so he definitely wasn’t listening, but Tim and Marinette both broke out of their stupors enough to send warning glares regardless. “... messed up of us.”

Alfred smiled kindly at them. “What the witness protection program doesn’t know won’t matter, will it?”

It took a moment for the pair to process this. They continued to look at each other with wide eyes as they slowly put it all together.

… right. Another world. One without magic. Most people wouldn’t immediately jump to dimension hopping identity thieves.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief. It would be interpreted as him just being glad that they wouldn’t be ratted out and not the realization that their secret was safe that it was.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “We appreciate the thought.”

~

Marinette smiled as she looked out over the room. A tiny nightlight that projected stars over the ceiling allowed her to just barely make out the forms of Damian and Frank, curled up together on the bed. She watched the slight rise and fall of their chests as they breathed for a minute.

And then she gently shut the door until it was open just a crack. In case Damian or Frank needed to come wake them up for a nightmare.

She smiled lightly as she made her way over to the room across the hall.

Tim was laying in bed, scrolling through his phone. He was in danger of dropping it onto his face, but she didn’t worry too much about it as she went about getting ready for bed.

Speaking of… the moment she hit the bed, she gasped.

“Holy fuck. We need to steal this thing,” she told him.

He snorted, letting his phone hand fall to the side. “Or we could just buy a better mattress.”

“You’re no fun. This is why no one likes vigilantes.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at her as she began the usual process of tangling their limbs together, turning onto his side to make it a little easier.

This, of course, led to them both laying on their sides, facing each other, dopey smiles decorating their faces.

“You like vigilantes.”

“I sure do,” she agreed lightly, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

~~~~~

Anyways since yall are here go vote for the maribat awards if you haven't already <3 I know the people who did it and they worked hard so https://href.li/?https://und.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_0SYpcyB7nGdQ9ka

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[felidacy]

Because I have been sucked back into my figure skating a.k.a. Yuzuru Hanyu like every couple of weeks by now I will share a random idea I've had in my head for a while now. Secretly hoping that maybe someone writes something like that. (I could write it myself but it wouldn't feel the same.) The man has a chokehold on me for real. It doesn't help that I genuinely have been picturing Tim more than once in Yuzuru Hanyu's stead. It would even work together with his grace and because they both seem small and very lean, while having the appropriate muscles for the needed work.

Idea begins down below!

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I wanna share my random little thought of Tim after getting Bruce back from the timestream debacle he comes to a well needed realisation. After two more near death experiences, one lost organ and a struggling morales complex, Tim makes the discovery that maybe he doesn't want to live a life that is barely going forward any longer. And though he acknowledges that he deserves to be happy and have a good family and friends, he does not know how to set boundaries and what changes are needed so he doesn't feel so tired anymore.

Tam Fox, his still fake fiancée that both forgot, then comes to the rescue to talk some sense into him. She is her fathers daughter and not one to mess with. This is why she manages it that Tim actually listens to her. First of all he finishes high school, moves in with Tam (Tam was not amused when she saw how he lived. Tim has never been so terrified.) and tries to keep a healthier work-life balance.

But Tim loaths the work as CEO, because it's so monoton he has too much time to overthink and it is what Jack and Janet Drake had always wanted for him. Tim did learn by now that he was never treated like he should have been. Not by the Drakes or the Wayne's. And so the decision is made that Tim needs to get out of Gotham - far, far away to heal.

Tim is smart, but he can also be so incredibly dumb sometimes. Which is why instead of being honest with family and friends, he fakes his death while in his Red Robin disguise and after that is secured he runs away before anyone can even properly mourn him. Tim would like to clap himself on the back, the death was a 10/10 in his mind with all the dramatic flair that his family naturally possess. Tam knows the truth immediately after all she didn't find the boy all across the world for nothing and so he instead gets nagged for hours on end after some hits.

(Tam later on does apologise. She had been worried sick as she once again went after him without knowing for sure that he lived and now they were in Malaysia.)

Tam refuses to leave and after a long talk with her father she decides on staying with Tim. Tim could have left again to shake off Tam, however he had always wanted to come to his mothers hometown and he was not willing to give that up now. They take up new identities, still engaged because its easier to explain and have a new life. The regular normie life does not work out for Tim that much. In winter Tim rescues a young child that's trapped on a frozen lake where locals were ice skating and is in danger of sinking. Unable to let a innocent person die, Tim takes one of the skates and relying on his training he is able to get the child back on safe land.

He was a bit too impressive as a figure skating coach saw him and Tim promptly gets scouted by the woman. At first he doesn't want to, but she is stubborn and Tam wants him to have a great future if that is what he wants as well. In the end he gives in and the coach is delighted because she wishes to come very far with Tim so her beloved, old company can see it's glory days again.

Cut to three years later, newly 21-year-old Tim comes on on the TV in the Manor while holding a gold medal. After the ceremony a young woman runs towards Tim and only when he spins her around do the people in the living room recognise them as Tam and Tim. Who were apparently newly married as a reporter states? Tim was secretly alive in another country and became a championship winner in figure skating?

Mayhem ensues.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Just because character A is morally better than character B it does not mean I am obligated to like character A more than B

It's something I keep noticing in Tumblr discourse. For example, I see various posts and comments about how problematic/strange/stupid it is for someone to like Draco but hate Ron. And of course the usual reasons are classism and Tom Felton being hot. Because everything always boils down to Tom Felton being hot🙄

When I was studying econ in high school and college, we learnt all these theories all based on the assumption that humans are rational creatures...when that's not the case. It may be more rational to like to like 'Weasley is our king' Ron over 'Malferret' Draco. If I had to pick a husband between the two, I would certainly go for the Ron type despite liking Draco more (Hermione did not deserve a guy like Ron who literally put his life before hers). But why does my character preference have to be rational? Rational based on whose standards? Isn't fandom about having fun??

Also, this claim assumes that heroes should automatically be loved more than villains or antagonists which I find puritanical. I generally prefer antagonists, redeemed heroes, anti heroes or heroes with tragic backstories because I find their stories more interesting. So I will always love Zuko > Aang, Anakin > Luke, Jason/Damian > Tim/Dick or Batman > Superman. Especially when the story has the tendency to overlook the hero's flaws like HP constantly does.

Just because Ron is a hero and Draco is an antagonist, Ron is not entitled to more fans. It's not automatically hypocritical to love a villain/antagonist and hate the hero. People like characters for different reasons. And it's understandable that an antagonist's questionable behaviour would be acceptable for them but would cause the hero character to be bashed more. Because we have higher expectations for heroes. Which is why sometimes villains can be more dynamic and fun to watch because the writers don't have to worry about them being morally upright (people have said Batman's rogue gallery is more interesting than Batman). At least that's my view. For example, if the Malfoys call Hermione a mudblood, I just shrug and shake my head because I know they are pureblood bigots. But if Hermione calls Firenze a horse, you best believe I am bashing her. And viciously at that. Especially when she is sold to me as the best female role model ever for little girls 😒. According to JKR, females should be like Hermione...I'll pass on that.

TLDR: I don't see what's wrong with hating Ron but liking Draco. They are fictional characters and you shouldn't expect people's preferences to be positively correlated with a character's morality.

[iriswords]

Febuwhump Day 19 - “You deserve this”

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here    

tw: victim blaming

Fandom: Batman

Words: 1716

Jason comes back to the Cave after a smooth night of patrol. But his good mood doesn’t last, shot down by his family’s unusually hurtful words. 

-- 

“I fucking hate Scarecrow wannabes,” grumbles Jason as he slams his foot in the chest of one of said wannabes. 

“That makes two of us,” Nightwing chimes in cheerfully. 

Scarecrow is annoying and dangerous enough by himself, Gotham doesn’t also need delusional men who know nothing about chemistry, and fancy themselves brilliant and misunderstood doctors when in reality all they do is risk poisoning the people they test their products on. 

The fight dies down soon enough, the goons nowhere near skilled enough to pose a real challenge to Nightwing and the Red Hood. All their toxin has been contained, too; the two vigilantes arrived before the goons had the time to release it in the city. The only close call they had was a thug who had tried to inject the product in Jason while he was fighting someone else, but Jason had sent him to the ground before the syringe could get too close to his skin.

“Batman is waiting for us with the Batmobile,” says Nightwing as they finish tying the goons’ wrists, all ready to be picked up by the police. “You’re coming back to the Cave with us?”

Jason considers the offer. He has been on better terms with the whole family these days, and though their relationship still isn’t perfect, all of them are making efforts to improve it. 

“Sure,” he says. 

 “Are you sure you got them all?” is the first thing Batman says when Nightwing and Jason enter the Batmobile. Jason cannot tell if he is imagining the underlying disappointment in his voice or not. 

“All of them,” answers Nightwing from the front seat, which he stole from Jason. At the back of the car, Jason remains quiet as his skin prickles with a strange unease. Maybe he should have just gone back to his safehouse. Maybe he is pushing his luck and this night will end badly, and his relationship with the family will be ruined. 

“And the toxin?” continues Batman. “Did you contain all of it?” 

Nightwing scoffs. “There wasn’t even a need for containing, B. Really, they didn’t stand a chance. We only got one close call with Jason, but we handled it.” Jason barely listens as Dick explains what the close call was. 

“Of course,” replies Batman when Dick finishes his explanation. His voice drips with unusual disdain. “Figures Hood would find a way to get close calls even in the easiest situations.”

Anger simmers under Jason’s skin, tinted Lazarus green, but he reigns it in and doesn’t reply to Batman’s taunt. 

The rest of the ride passes in silence. Jason doesn’t even know what he did wrong. He hasn’t killed anyone in months, hasn’t gotten into an argument with any member of the family, hasn’t ignored them just because he didn’t feel like dealing with them. Yet he cannot shake the feeling that Bruce is angry at him and that it is all his fault. It always is, after all, isn’t it? It’s Jason’s own fault if he got killed, it’s his fault if he doesn’t get along with the family, his fault if he and Bruce have screaming matches so often. His fault, his fault, his fault. 

Batman stops the car in the Cave, and Jason gets out immediately, putting on a mask of indifference. Tim and Damian are already in the Cave, bickering, as always, though it has been less heated lately and more good-hearted. Cass watches them silently, perched on the back of a chair. Jason nods at her when he catches her gaze, and heads for the showers. If Bruce is angry at him, the less time spent in his company, the better. Once he’s showered, Jason can go upstairs and see if Alfred made any cookies. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” asks Bruce. 

Jason stops in his tracks and turns around. It is indeed him Bruce is talking to, the man’s face free of the cowl and his features carved into anger. 

“Showering,” answers Jason, his voice as level as possible. The boy inside him, the one who died too young and was never avenged, shrinks in fear learned in Crime Alley. The other part of him, the one tainted by the Pit, surges up and urges him to violence and vitriol. Jason listens to neither. He stands his ground as he waits for Bruce to spit out what is bothering him. 

“Do you really think I’m going to let you go and shower without debriefing after that mess of a night?”

Jason rolls his eyes, but the Pit seeps into his veins drop by drop. “It was nowhere near a mess. Actually, it even went very smoothly. I don’t know why you’re being dramatic.” 

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m berating you because you never do anything right.” 

Jason hardens his face so his emotions cannot show. Under his armor, Bruce’s words are like a tempest, ravaging all the hard-won progress Jason had made to defeat his self-doubt and self-hatred. “Is that so?” he asks. 

“Father is right, Todd,” answers Damian in the stead of his father. His snippy, holier-than-thou voice grates on Jason’s nerves, but, again, the words aim too close to his heart. “You always find a way to ruin everything. Cases, relationships, families. Your own life. It is your fault if you died, after all.”

And the thing is, Jason knows this. He knows. But no one has ever told him, no one has ever accused him of his own torture and death, and he cannot handle it. He takes a stumbling step back, his eyes fleeting between the members of his family. They look at him distantly, their faces twisted in similar expressions of faint disgust, akin to the one people wear when they spot a nasty bug. 

“That’s not— I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” says Dick. “You’ve always been a hothead, always acting before thinking. Too impulsive, too abrasive, too stupid. And so entitled. You stole Robin from me and you still had the guts to think yourself better than me. You deserved your death.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Jason falls to his knees. His family comes closer to him, crowding him, like predators watching their prey and waiting for it to keel over so they can eat it whole. This cannot be real. It can’t.

“And then you came back,” continues Tim. His voice is loaded with venom, his eyes alight with hatred. “You came back and everything good in you stayed in your grave. You came back and all the wrong parts surged up. And god knows there are many wrong parts to you. You are made only of wrongness, now, Jason. And yet, somehow, you thought you had the right to try and take Robin away from me too. You couldn’t even keep yourself alive but you think you could keep Robin? Do you know how much you hurt me? Do you know how terrified I was?” Tim leans forward, his cold and slender fingers pressing against Jason’s chin. “Do you know how much of a monster you’ve become?” 

Jason chokes on a sob, his breath rattling in his lungs. It isn’t true. It isn’t real. This is all in his mind, and he’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal. He looks up at his family, his eyes frantically searching for any form of support. They fall on Cass, standing amidst the others. Cass, who hasn’t said a word. Jason’s hopes shatter when his sister opens her mouth. “Murderer,” she says. “Traitor. Better dead than alive.” 

Jason can’t stay here. He needs to get out before he does something stupid. Before their hatred kills him. He pushes himself to his feet shakily, but his family grabs onto him, their hands like claws digging into his arms. He cries harder and struggles against their grip. 

“You should have stayed dead,” they chant, “you shouldn’t have come back.” 

“Please, stop,” he begs them. “I’m sorry, I’ll go. You won’t see me ever again. But please, stop.” They don’t listen to him, tugging harder on his arms to bring him back down to the ground.

“I never loved you, Jason,” says Bruce, and it is the last straw. Jason falls back against Dick’s chest, his limbs limp like that of a puppet. Tears stream down his face and soak the hem of his shirt. Something sharp pricks the skin on his neck. The last thing he hears is his family’s chant. 

You should have stayed dead. You shouldn’t have come back. 

 Jason wakes up on a cot in the Medbay. Hushed voices stream to him from somewhere in the room. Jason doesn’t open his eyes. Maybe if he pretends to still be asleep they’ll leave him alone. Maybe then he’ll be able to sneak out and never come back. Tears push past his closed eyelids and Jason prays no one is paying attention to him. He cannot handle their words right now, cannot know how pathetic they find him.

“Jay?” asks Bruce, shooting his hopes down. “Are you awake? Is there something wrong?”

Jason turns his face away and presses it against his pillow. “Please,” he says. “Don’t. I’ll go, I promise. I’ll leave. You won’t see me again.  Just don’t start again, please.” 

A large hand cards through his hair. More tears escape Jason’s eyes. The hand is far too gentle for the words that were thrown at him earlier. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jaylad. You were injected with a toxin, but it’s out of your system, now. We’re not quite certain about what you saw but you were… upset, to say the least.” 

Jason opens his eyes and turns to Bruce, whose face bears nothing but genuineness. 

“A toxin?”

“It turns out the goon with the syringe did get you,” says Dick softly. All of Jason’s siblings are looking at him with solemn worry. Jason looks down at his hands, his throat closing up. 

“So you don’t hate me?” he asks in a whisper. 

“Is that what you saw?” replies Bruce, and engulfs Jason in a hug. His siblings pile up on the bed and Alfred arrives at the same time with a plate full of freshly baked cookies. His family spends the rest of the day convincing him they love him. 

@febuwhump

[batstorm93672]

Batman was with the Justice League at the time when Jason, Dick and Tim were kidnapped. Slightly expert kidnappers and using them as ransom.

That entire situation was enough to tip Damian off the edge, the boy was already feeling off these past days. His explanation was the voices of his teachings and his killer instinct screaming at him, it clashed with Bruce's no kill rule. Damian would take the time to meditate and he would be calm and everything would be good, except fate had other plans when his brothers were taken hostage. Damian put his hood up, spun his sword in his hands before heading out.

The kidnappers were good with the process, not showing their faces when talking on the phone for their demands, but they messed up when they didn't get rid of their signal of the location. Alfred kept lookout on the feed for any information or if the demands would change. Robin head out, they were at the Gotham Docks, he counted the number of people. Not a small group, but he can end them.

End...

Kill

He narrowed his eyes as Ra's voice echoed in his mind, telling him to keep going and kill them all. Shaking his head, Damian leaped down, the first guy was holding a gun and he was scrawny. Easy target, Robin kicked him behind his knee and used the moment of confusion to punch him square in the face. The man began to bleed... a part of Damian wanted to keep going, keep fighting until he pays for what he's done. No, not the time, have to save the others.

Damian tied the man up and kept going in the darkness. Only two more people around and then he can come in through the window. The two men were brawny and one held a gun while the other had a taser. Should be all good as long as he doesn't alert anyone. Taking his sword and slicing at their legs were simple, hitting vital muscles in the leg. The two men shouted and the one with the gun aimed at Robin, he quickly kicked the gun up and away a few feet, the one with the taser got close and stunned Robin. The boy grit his teeth and let the pain go through, he's felt this before, it meant nothing and so he headbutt the man unconscious. Ending the battle with a roundhouse kick to the last guy and he grappled his way to the nearest window.

Behold, his brothers tied up and away from each other, Jason was spitting curses, Tim was tired and Dick was looking after the two others. Four people here. A pathetic little group by the sights of it all. Damian took out three batarangs and aimed for the lackeys, striking them all in the chest, a small explosion knocking them out. Now the leader was on guard, aiming the pistol to Dick's head.

"Show yourself or I shoot!"

Robin said nothing, he doesn't want to get cocky so instead he drops down. "Let them go and you'll be let off easy" "You think I'm that dumb? Like hell I'd let them go" "You know what, I think you are" Damian rushed in and kicked the guy away, using the momentum to jump back and use his sword to stab him in the knee. The man shouted in pain and it felt like music to his ears, so he kept going. Stabbing into his abdomen next, the blood was all over him and a part of him enjoyed to keep going. "You will pay for what you've done" "You piece of shit!" "Shut the hell up" Robin kicked him in the jaw, a sickening crack ringed out. God the feeling was grand, he has to finish it though. Robin raised his sword above his head and then Jason cried out "Robin stop!" The boy was startled out of the feeling and flinched. Everyone looked worried and slightly upset, but does it matter? Not when it's his mission to kill, this man has to pay for hurting his family and he will. "Robin you don't kill remember" Damian grit his teeth and glares at the man below him, he was pathetic and deserved to die. That's what Grandfather would want, he must prove himself.

Robin shut his eyes, his Grandfather's words echoed in his mind, it's all he could focus on. Focusing on the voices, the blood and the urge to kill this man was so strong, it coursed through his veins. Dick shouted "Robin whatever you're hearing him say, you don't have to listen to" Robin tensed up more and raised his sword higher, ready to strike. All three called out his name and he struck down... onto the ground next to the man. He looked to the ones he came for, a shiver ran through their spines.

Damian was covered with blood from his head to his chest, the blood of his enemies stained his outfit and he grabbed his sword from the ground, walking towards his brothers, his mask made his eyes glow white in the dark and it felt like a blood thirsty beast approaching it's prey.

He sighed as he made his way to his brothers and untied them. They all looked concerned at him

"Holy shit, baby bat you good?"

Damian shrugged and Tim tried to smile a bit.

"Thank you for helping us"

Dick stared down at Robin and the boy wanted nothing to do, but avoid the gaze. Damian felt like a failure for almost falling back into his instincts and before he could say anything, Dick hugged him.

"You did good, I'm happy you heard us"

"Yeah"

Dick lowered down to his height and wiped some blood away, Damian then realized that blood was covering him from his face down to his uniform. He didn't kill anyone thankfully, but he caused damage.

"He was... loud this time"

"I know, let's get back to Alfred he's probably worried"

With that, Damian, Dick, Jason and Tim went back home, the voices in Damian's head grew silent.

[hsmtmtsnet]

Tim Federle of High School Musical talks LGBTQ+ representation | Rainbow Crew: Moments That Made Me

Digital Spy caught up with Tim Federle, the creator of High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, to break down all these big changes while also teasing what's to come in season three.

Olivia Rodrigo’s character has a separate storyline of her own this season. How did Jesse Tyler Ferguson's involvement in that arc come about?

Jesse’s an old friend of mine. We’re both Broadway guys from New York. I texted Jesse and I was like, "Do you have any interest in playing Olivia Rodrigo’s dad?"

And he texted back, "Yes. Yes, I do."

Jesse is as big of a comic star as it gets, and he’d just won a Tony Award, which is so cool. But I think sometimes this business is ultimately: who do you know? And who do you know will bring good vibes to set?

He was just a joy and a masterclass, walking onto set and being an absolute dream, and being a fanboy of Olivia, which was so sweet to watch.

Could you talk us through Olivia's reduced role this season and how this California arc came about?

I mean, anyone paying attention to the music business in the last year… it’s like: you’re not Sherlock Holmes to discover that Olivia’s become the biggest music star in the world, as I think she richly deserves.

I actually went to Disney, and said, "I think Olivia should tour the world. This is her dream. And I think we should do the right thing, and allow Olivia’s music career to explode."

I had Olivia’s support in that, and I had Disney's support in that. We all worked together to give her – I think and hope – a really memorable experience in season three for those OG High School Musical series fans, while also recognising that there’s so much talent in this cast, and there’s other stories we can tell.

I hope people are moved by her appearances, and also celebratory of all the other sort of exciting characters and stories that we tell.

Season three also switches things up with this new summer camp location.

It’s fun, after a couple of years of doing this show, just to shake it up a bit. And I know when I went to summer camp, all rules are off. You’re meeting people for the first time. They don’t know who you are. They don’t know your baggage or your history.

I think summer camp offers not just sort of fun under the sun and a little bit of scandal under the stars, but it allows you to decide who you want to be when you go back to school. And this really is the summer that kind of changes everything.

Why is it so important to see queer themes included so organically in shows that are aimed at children and more family friendly like High School Musical?

Mostly because I think it’s the truth. And even though we’re doing a soapy, mockumentary version of real life that obviously has some super-cheesy, corny, deliciously Disney elements to them, I think our audience knows when we’re faking it.

I have an 18 and a 21-year-old cousin who I like to interview before we start every season. And I’m like, "Ladies, tell me what it’s really like."

They talk about their school, and how extremely queer and accepting their school is, and the changing dynamics of their friend groups as people try on new personas, and accept old personas that were perhaps a little more closeted.

I think there’s a rich history of gay storytellers, especially, in the musical space. That’s sort of my background. And I don’t think you can tell a story about a group of modern theatre kids without a strong queer undercurrent. I’ve been quite fortunate to have that support from Disney, and certainly from this cast and crew, to tell those stories.

[elowenp]

“What do you want?” Barbara asks, voice crackling with static.

It’s a silly question. Tim wants crime rates to go down. Tim wants Gotham to be a safer city. Tim wants to be a part of making that happen.

“A code name that isn’t stupid.” he says instead.

Barbara sighs. It doesn’t sound like a sigh though. It just sounds like the static’s getting louder.

~

“Bernard Dowd, scholar of the ages.” Tim laughs, arm slung round Bernard's shoulder. “I thought you were meant to be the fun one?”

“I am.” Bernard groans, “as soon as these exams are done I’ll be back to the usual student life. Getting drunk, going on dates, Gotham won’t know what’s hit it.”

“Going on dates?” Tim asks jokingly, even as a well hidden part of him turns slightly panicked. “Any successes an old friend should be hearing about?”

“Not really.” Bernard shrugs, jostling Tim’s arm. “Just a couple of girls I was better off friends with.” He pauses, thinking, before continuing with his voice involuntarily going a little higher. “Couple of guys too.”

“Huh.” Tim suddenly becomes very aware of all the places where his arm is touching Bernard. He doesn’t move it. “Better luck next time.”

Huh.

~

Tim’s been avoiding Dick. He’s been awkward around him lately, Tim thinks that Barbara must have said something. He’s not stupid enough to have done something to send Dick spiralling without noticing it.

“What do you want?” Dick asks, curious, without warning.

Tim wants to ask if Barbara put him up to this but he knows it’s a genuine question. Dick isn’t manipulative like that, not with family.

What does Tim want? Isn’t it a little late for Dick go be asking that question? All the things that happened after Bruce’s death put a canyon of distance between them. It’s slowly been growing smaller but it hasn’t disappeared. Neither of them have had time enough to spend together for that to happen.

An awful, bitter part of Tim that hasn’t stopped screaming since Robin wasn’t his any more wonders if Dick would even be asking if Damian wasn’t out of town right now.

“For us to go train surfing.” Tim says. Petty. Just so Dick will say no and his anger can feel righteous instead of ill-deserved.

“Okay.” Dick says instead. Easy and confident. Himself.

“Oh.” Tim’s anger fizzles into non-existence. “Okay.”

The canyon grows a little smaller.

~

“We should go to a skatepark.” Bernard says, a little giggly from the beer in his hand.

There’s a matching beer in Tim’s hand although it’s still practically full. If there’s an emergency he’ll be of no use drunk. “What? Why?”

“Why not? You were so good in high school! And you had fun doing it.” Bernard’s tone turns a little less giggly. “You should do more things you find fun.”

Tim is surprised enough that the “Okay.” slips out of his lips unbidden.

So maybe the beer bottle is a little less full than he’d like to admit.

They borrow a board from one of Bernard's flatmates and catch a bus to a skate park Tim remembers using when he was younger. As they go Tim tries to remember why he stopped. He tries to remember when he stopped. He can’t recall the answer to either question and annoyance rises in his chest over it.

Then Bernard is saying something and it has Tim snorting with laughter and he forgets his irritation.

Once they arrive Bernard settles himself at the top of one of the ramps like it’s a throne. “Entertain me!” he calls, “Impress me with your wheel-board magic.

Tim manages a kick-flip on his first attempt and Bernard makes a loud noise of approval.

A lot of stuff comes back to Tim fairly quickly. Most of skateboarding had been muscle memory for him and that’s something that being a vigilante hadn’t exactly hindered. As things return to him he regains some faint memories of why he’d stopped. Nothing specific, just that feeling of not having enough time. Of thinking that going to the skatepark wasn’t a particularly useful way to spend his hours while there was still real work to be done.

Tim’s always been a vigilante first, but he thinks there must have been a point when that wasn’t the only thing he was. Well, when it wasn’t the only thing he was that mattered.

“Come on!” Bernard shouts, teeth flashing white against Gotham’s grey-black sky. “I was promised entertainment!”

Tim laughs. He seems to do that a lot around Bernard these days.

He starts moving on the skateboard, deciding to leave the existentialism for another day.

~

First Dick and now Bruce. Tim’s family has really been making a habit of being weird around him lately.

He would normally think that the Bruce was worried about him, that Dick had passed along some bullshit about his mental health and Bruce was practicing some silent vigil. The problem with that theory is that Tim’s been getting better recently, so there wouldn’t be much point. At least he thinks he’s been getting better. It’s difficult to tell sometimes.

Bruce has definitely been acting weird around him though, so maybe he isn’t getting better. Maybe Bruce spotted something Tim didn’t and he’s on the road to insanity.

“What do you want?” Bruce asks one day as they’re both working in the cave. Not Batman. Bruce.

It’s a far stupider question than it was when Barbara or Dick asked it. Bruce is the person who made Tim’s desires what they are. He’s the one who took Tim’s obsession and carved it into a goal.

“What?” Tim asks, loud and confused and maybe a little angry. “What do you mean ‘what do I want’? I want the mission! What else am I supposed to want?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment and Tim imagines him turning the words over in his head. “Nothing else?” Bruce asks. He sounds sad and it makes the anger drain from Tim’s body. “Just the mission?”

“I don’t need anything else.” Tim says hollowly.

Bruce just nods, thinking. It makes Tim want to scream even as satisfaction rises in his chest.

It’s always been a point of pride that he can to lie to Batman. He’s hardly going to change his mind about that now.

~

“People keep asking me what I want.” Tim says, sat on Bernard's bed. “I don’t like it.”

Bernard's turns away from the laptop on his desk so he can look at Tim. “You ever tell them the truth?”

Tim shrugs. He isn’t sure what else to do. “Ish?”

Bernard smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re impossible, Tim Drake?”

“Only everyone I’ve ever met.”

Bernard barks out a laugh before sobering up and looking at Tim with ill-disguised curiosity. “Do you want to tell me the truth about it? Or did you just want to say the thing out loud?”

“I’m not sure.” Tim admits, and he has to stop himself from acting taken aback by the fact he actually said that. Tim never says when he’s uncertain. There isn’t room for it. Bernard must know that too because he looks at Tim in surprise, then scoots his chair closer to the bed so that he and Tim are almost touching.

Bernard looks very cautious. “You know that’s okay, right?”

“I-“ Tim starts, because is it? Is uncertainty the kind of luxury he can afford? “I want to want things. But it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

“You’ve had a rough couple of years.”

“How do you-“

Bernard smiles knowingly. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Tim. Well you are. But it’s not difficult to tell that some bad things must have happened since I last saw you.”

“Yeah.” Tim says hoarsely, thinking back to the burn of his muscles as he dug up Kon’s grave, the stinging of desert sand in his eyes, the moment of confusion when he woke up in a league of assassins base unsure if he’d had to die to get there. “Yeah. Bad things happened.” He shakes himself a little, because those aren’t the thoughts he wants lingering. He focuses back on Bernard who’s closer than Tim had realised, worry creased between his eyes. “What about you?” Tim asks, trying to exert some measure of control over the conversation. “What do you want?”

“Thought we were talking about you?” Tim might have let it go with that if not for the note of nervousness in Bernard's voice and the red creeping up the back of his neck.

“We can talk about both of us.”

“It’s not important right now.”

Tim reaches out then. He takes Bernard's hand in his because Bernard makes him laugh and he looks so nervous and Tim wants to. Bernard looks down at their hands in surprise and Tim doesn’t actually feel worried. Just expectant that Bernard is going to squeeze their fingers together more securely. He does. “You sure?” Tim asks.

Bernard just looks at him. Mouth parted with shock. He seems to come back to himself though and his expression of surprise turns into something more confident. More familiar. “What if I wanted you?” he asks, hesitancy and confidence rolled into one voice.

“Give me some time to remember how to want things, and I think I’ll want that too.” Tim replies, just as unsure and utterly certain.

Bernard tangles their fingers together a little more firmly in response and Tim feels more hopeful than he has in a long time.

[iguana-eyanna]

The Blood Within Us Chapter 10

Summary: Will the reader do whatever it takes to protect the ones she loves when tragedy hits the Wayne family? How far will the truth be tested when she realizes she’s not the only one with secrets of her own?

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Pregnant Reader

Warning: none?

After spending overnight at the hospital, you were finally released.

It made you reflect on a lot of things, such as Bruce. Even when he came back, he didn't really sleep through the night with you. He was either in his study to update himself on Wayne Interprise as he resumed his role or in the Batcave, doing research. But, you had to have a clear mind as you’re both trying to have a second chance.

On your way back to the manor, Bruce could see that you were a bit nervous about your brief vacation that he promised. As he mentioned that there's not a lot of people who lived in the area and the hospital was out of reach from the distance, you began to worry.

"I trust you, Bruce. But what if something happens?" You ask as your right hand softly brushes the fabric of your growing belly.

"We'll have an emergency phone. Clark or Barry can arrive if anything does happen. But I promise you... nothing will happen on my watch." Bruce said as you arrived at the stoplight, taking your hand into his.

You give him a small smile and then let go of his hand as the light turned green. You promised each other that there will be rules on this trip:

No bringing work to the cabin

No vigilante activity

Bruce will answer any questions from you

You're able to bring an emergency phone to call the kids once you settle. They were glad that you're able to get some fresh air and get away from the city life.

You arrive by the manor, and see the boys loading up a different car for you to drive for long-term trips.

As you get out of the car, Damian rushes to your side.

"We packed all of your things, mother." He says brightly.

"Thank you Dami, but you guys know that we're staying for a couple of days and not a month, right?" You joke as you see more than five suitcases.

"Alfred packed food to last you guys for a while, he even wrote how to cook it on a paper inside of the baskets." Dick quipped up as he puts one of the final containers in the back of the car.

"I can cook, you know?" Bruce added as he walked closer to all of you.

"If my memory serves me right, Alfred kicked you out of the kitchen when you almost burnt last year's turkey for Thanksgiving." Jason added

"and that creme brulee you tried making for mom on new years." Tim chimed

"You can't even cook popcorn right." Dick joked.

Bruce rolled his eyes as the boys started laughing at his cooking skills.

You smile to yourself as you see the boys warming up to Bruce. You could imagine Alfred was up to this, he probably scolded them to not give their adoptive father a hard time as he truly wants to mend this family.

You have to thank him before you leave.

Tim makes his way up to you, his head bowed down.

"I know you're about to leave in a few minutes, but I wanted to apologise for everything." He said in a serious tone.

You exhale and hug him tightly.

"It should be me apologizing. I never had the heart to tell you boys about my father. I betrayed your trust Tim, and I'm sorry."

You feel him shake his head in denial and looks at you.

"You had the hardest time out of all of us these past months, mom. Like you said, visiting him made you forget that for awhile. I understand now, I was just angry and everything started bottling up."

You move his locks away from his eyes, seeing how much he truly loves you.

"When I come back, we'll talk more, okay? I want to tell you and the rest of the boys about my past. You all deserve to know where I came from." Tim nods his head and hugs you again one last time.

Bruce sees this and walks up to you two, following the other boys in tow.

"I don't want any parties, you hear me? Alfred will be taking a small vacation so the house better not be in flames by the time we come back."

All the boys agree, grumbling under their breath.

Just then, Alfred comes down the stairs with his own luggage.

"Thank you, Alfred. I hope this vacation serves you well." You said, as you approached him at the end of the stairs.

"I am very well excited to head back to England. Before you leave, Mrs. Lance-Queen dropped a little package for you in the car." You chuckle a bit as you remembered Dinah talking to you on the phone yesterday, wanting to give you something.

Alfred walks up to Bruce and whispers something as Bruce nods his head. All you could hear him say was "Thank you."

Finally, you and Bruce started the car and you waived Alfred and the boys goodbye. You start driving on the smooth road and await your destination.

The car ride was a bit silent, and you see Bruce deep in thought.

"So you said your dad bought the property of the cabin?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, he bought it as an anniversary gift for my mom. They owned it before I was born, but I remember we’d go there for the winter when I was a kid. It was really fun." Bruce said, reminiscing.

You give him a small smile as you stared off to the window, leaving Gotham and entering the country side of the state.

It takes two hours to enter a forest, where you finally found a paved road that leads to a state of the art cabin.

The car slowed down as you both drove into the driveway. Bruce parks as he takes the key out of the ignition and opens the driver’s side. You take in your surroundings as you see how the trees touch the sky. You didn’t notice Bruce opening the trunk to get the bags out, already placing them by the patio. As you opened up your door, he gave you his arm so you could get out easily. You hesitantly hold on to him, breathing the fresh air.

Once Bruce opens the cabin door, you cover your nose as a wave of naseua hits you. "Are you okay?" Bruce said attentively as you stumbled back from his hand.

"The- The smell. You could really tell Constatine has been here." You try joking, guilty that Bruce wasn't bothered with the strong tobacco scent that lingered inside.

Bruce walks in, noticing that your pregnancy symptoms taken notice of the faint scent then he did, so he joins you out on the patio.

"Let me clear the air in here, maybe you could sit by the river to do some light reading." He says as you placed some books in the cabinet of the car.

"Are you sure?" You ask, not wanting Bruce to hassle around to get rid of the stench.

He takes your wrist softly and kisses it. "I want to. Go enjoy yourself."

You take one final look at him and you make your way down, getting your book and heading over the peaceful river. You notice a lonely log that was comfortable enough for you to sit on and you start to read.

20 minutes flew by and you see Bruce in the corner of your eye.

"Was able to air out everything. Want to come inside?" He asks you. You nod your head as you have Bruce help you off the log. The rocks underneath you were a bit slippery but Bruce caught you in time in his chest. You look up to him, a bit shell shocked, but you pull out from his embrace.

"Thank you." You muttered shyly. He doesn't say anything but he gives you a smile. You both walk up to the cabin where you were so shocked with the interior.

"Wow." you mutter to yourself, noticing the dark accents and the handcrafted detailed that was around the space.

"Have you ever came here before, you know..." you referred from his hiding these past months as you walked around.

"I visited the place from time to time, made sure that it was maintained. I never stayed long enough though. Reminded me too much of who I was before life hit me." He says, following you in tow.

You walk towards the master bedroom and see how most of your luggage was beside the foot of the bed.

"I'll let you change if you need to, I'll start working on dinner." You nod your head as Bruce made his way in the kitchen.

You start looking though your luggage and see a box with your name on it, attached to a letter.

I'm really glad that you're okay and you're patching things up with Bruce. Bought this for you to try on, love you!

- Dinah

You smile to yourself and lift up the box, laughing as you saw what was inside.

"Oh my goodness." you say to yourself, shaking your head.

You put the box away and change into comfortable clothes. Once you're done, you come out to the kitchen to find Bruce struggling with a recipe.

"Need help?" you quipped.

He looks at you like a deer in headlights, putting his head down.

"It's simple ingredients, but every time I try it, it's bland." he says, referring to the half made meal.

You take a small spoon and taste a small portion.

"You're missing some spice, did Alfred pack any?" you ask.

Bruce looked at what Alfred prepared and gave you the other ingredients. With his help, you both made a good dinner. Bruce was grateful that you didn't kick him out of the kitchen but instead include him into making it.

"I'm really sorry, it seemed so simple at first." He says, taking away your empty dishes to wash.

"It's totally fine. I started cooking for myself at a young age, almost went into culinary school." you reply.

"I didn't know that." He says, looking at you while you dried a plate.

"Yeah, my great aunt wasn't the most agile so I started cooking for her when she brought me in." You say casually.

He sees that you're holding back on why you were brought up by a relative, so he decided to just wait another day till you were ready.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" You said, rushing to the bedroom to grab something.

Once Bruce was done on the last plate, he dries his hand and walks near the fireplace, seeing you sat on the couch with a small tub in hand.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asks.

You turn to where he was as you lifted your hand with the item.

"I need to put on some shea butter so my skin won't irritate. It's been a night ritual. Want to help?" you offered.

Bruce brightens a bit as he sits on the coffee table in front of you as you lifted your shirt.

His breathing got hitched as he saw the dominant bruise on your belly.

"I know... I don't like it too." you said in a low tone. Bruce then takes the shea butter from your hand and opens it.

"Does it hurt?" he softly asks.

You shake your head no as you place your hand on his. "It's okay if you're uncomfortable." you tell him as he looked so solemn.

"No, I want to help you." Bruce says with more assurance in his voice. Then, he scoops out some butter and rubs it in his hand.

"Might be cold." He kids.

You smirk as you feels his big hands on your belly. You see how concentrated he bites his lip, making sure that every movement he smoothed out the butter.

He takes his time until most of the moisture finally dried.

"That should be it, I'm glad I could help."

You shifted space for him on the couch. "Maybe you could sit with me?" you asked quietly. Bruce thinks for a moment, then nods his head softly as he sat beside you.

You both stared at the fireplace for a while. It felt so strange, two people who deeply love each other being so close but feeling so far away. You slowly reached his nearest hand and placed it on your stomach. "She's kicking." You said sleepily as you tried to stay awake.

Bruce waited for a couple of seconds and felt the fluttering underneath his palm. You both move in sync as you turn on your side as Bruce starts cuddling behind you, his hand still in your middle.

"Did you want a girl when I told you I was pregnant?" You ask out of the blue.

You feel him hum behind you, his head in the crook of your neck.

"I wasn't sure what I wanted the baby to be. We brought up four boys together and I have no idea how to raise a baby, let alone a baby girl. But, I'm excited." He says, smiling to himself as he imagines a life with a little girl in his arms.

You then take this accepted silence for a bit as you breathe out in content.

“We should take the kids here during the break” you murmured quietly. Bruce was about to agree before he stared down at your now sleeping figure. He gets up with you in his arms as he swiftly carries you to the master room and tucks you in bed. He also rubs your belly one last time and gets up. His actions were noticed as you caught his hand in time before he left.

“Stay…” you said with your eyes closed. Bruce couldn’t tell if you were asking or telling him, given your dazed state. But he makes the decision as he opens the covers again, holding you in his arms and kissing your head. “Always.” he said as his slumber succumbed to him, with the night being at peace with these broken people.

taglist:

@elizamalfoyy

[iceeckos12]

A time travel au. angst and h/c. inspired by this post

Warnings: jon’s very low self-esteem

“What do you think of him?” Jon suddenly asks, staring blankly at the wall of the breakroom.

Tim pauses in the middle of chewing his sandwich to give him a long, considering look.

He’s mostly decided to suspend his disbelief until further notice, simply to keep from losing his mind. What else is one supposed to do when future versions of Jon and Martin, who are also apparently dating, tell you that your workplace is currently involved in a plot to end the world? Ideally he would’ve processed one big revelation at a time, but apparently they don’t have time for that, so goodbye grip on reality, it was nice knowing you. I’ll hit the restart button as soon as things start making sense again.

Tim wipes his hand across his mouth, swallows, and asks, “You mean Jon II?”

Jon rolls his eyes, like Tim’s being obtuse on purpose just to annoy him. “Yes, I mean...him. Me. Jon II.” Then his nose wrinkles amusingly, the same way it always does whenever he says the moniker. He’s hated it since the beginning, but it was a battle he quickly lost, what with all three of his assistants opposing him.

Normally, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice about shrugging and answering, but...Jon’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Oh sure, he’d blushed up a storm upon learning that his future self and Martin were dating, and he’d expressed his own misgivings at the beginning, but...since then he’s been eerily, silently watchful. In Tim’s experience, when presented with this sort of puzzle Jon generally buries himself in research, and doesn’t emerge until he’s good and ready to do so.

There’s something else on his mind.

So Tim puts down his sandwich and gives himself a moment to think carefully through his response. “I mean...he’s a lot like you, obviously. But he seems…” What’s a polite way to say, the trauma and the boyfriend seems to have made him a little more easygoing? He certainly smiles more freely than he ever has, which...honestly, makes Tim want to cry sometimes. How horrible, that so much abject cruelty had just made him more kind. “...tired. A little less high-strung?”

“I see,” Jon says, turning his mulish gaze to his curry, dragging his spoon through the thick sauce.

Tim waits a beat longer, but when nothing else seems forthcoming he prompts, “Why do you ask?”

Jon’s reaction is only to press his lips into a thin, tight line. Tim knows this mood; he’s weighing how insecure he’ll look if he says whatever’s actually bothering him out loud, versus how much he wants someone else to hear it. Pushing him now will only make him clam up, so Tim just waits.

Tim’s patience is rewarded when Jon blurts, “But you like him. You...you all do.”

“Yes,” Tim says slowly, because it’s true. Martin’s so enamoured with a Jon that actually likes him that he keeps bringing him tea just to get another glimpse of that gentle, thankful smile, just to strike up another conversation about nothing. Sasha has decided that he’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her, and insists on consulting him whenever she reads a new true statement.

Tim’s personally a little unnerved by the awful, sad way future Jon looks at him sometimes, or the way he flinches back whenever someone tries to touch him without warning. But he’d taken Tim aside and quietly explained everything he knew about what happened to Danny, so.

Oh, Tim thinks, feeling like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Jon may be an old hand at fooling others with his grumpy persona, but Tim knows that he’s just using it to hide his massive inferiority complex. “Wait, are you jealous?”

Jon ducks his head, and his ears darken. Gotcha, Tim thinks. 

“Jon, you know that that’s still you, right?” he explains gently, quietly relieved that it’s not something more complicated. “We like him just as much as we like you, because you’re the same person.”

“But he’s not the same, is he?” Jon protests. “Look at the scars on his neck, on his hand. And he has panic attacks, and he flinches at loud noises, and, and—”

He breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, threading a hand through his hair.

Tim stares at him, feeling off-kilter, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. That doesn’t sound like jealousy. “...Jon?”

Jon shakes his head, his breath escaping him in thready, devastated gasps.

He can’t tell what’s going on in Jon’s head, and it’s starting to scare him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jon just sits there for a moment long, tugging at his hair, staring sightlessly at the middle distance. Tim gently untangles his fingers, giving him something a little more solid to hold onto.

“You all like him,” he says at last. “You all...he’s so kind, and he’s funny, and you like him, because someone hurt him first. He’s different—we’re different—because someone cut our throat and burned our hand, and you like him better.”

Tim’s horrified. “Jon—”

“Should I accept that?” he continues, the words flooding from him like a dam finally exploding in a shower of groaning wood and weathered stone. “Do I—how do I carry on knowing that I could be the person I want to become, if only I give myself to monstrosity, if only I let myself be hurt like that?”

“Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you!” Tim interrupts, voice higher and more frightened than he meant it to be. He’s applying duct tape to a raging river. He has no fucking idea how to fix this. “You don’t deserve—”

“Don’t I?” Jon demands, whirling on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t I deserve to be happy? Or am I unworthy of even this kind of improvement? Am I doomed to be like this forever?” Tears well in his eyes, spill over. “Don’t I deserve it?”

And then he slowly, inevitably, dissolves into tears, his slim shoulders shaking as he curls over and buries his face in his elbow. Tim drapes an arm across his back, angling his body so he can gently tuck Jon’s head against his shoulder. He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Even if Jon were in any shape to hear it, he has no idea how to fix this.

Tim could tell him that he and Martin and Sasha all think that he’s fine the way he is, and it’s the stress of an apparently eldritch job that’s causing him to push people away, but he doubts Jon would believe it. Words mean nothing when actions have been screaming something entirely different all this time, and Jon’s always been more observant than they give him credit for.

“Oh, Jon,” he whispers when the tears finally start to slow, dropping a kiss onto silver and black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

Jon pulls away and shrugs, averting his reddened eyes. Tim squeezes his elbow to prevent him from retreating entirely. They sit like that for a moment, Jon going very still and very tense under Tim’s hand, settling into the vulnerability like an open wound.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says finally, sniffing heavily. He’s aiming for his usual brusque, dry tone, but his voice is shaking, and he’s not fooling anyone. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Before Tim can stop himself, an incredulous laugh rips out of him. “Jon,” he says quickly, “We’re well beyond professional. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jon flushes. “Yes, well—it was unfair for me to put this on you, as your fr—as…” His expression goes all fragile and uncertain, and Tim’s heart aches.

“It’s not unfair,” Tim corrects gently. “As your friend,” and here he pauses for emphasis, “I want to know when you’re feeling like this.”

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, then straightens and scrubs the teartracks from his cheeks. “Oh.”

Tim nods reassuringly, takes a deep breath, and makes an educated guess. “I know you’re scared, Jon. We all are. This place is...horrible, and seeing what you went through is...terrifying. I can’t imagine how that must be for you.” He lets his eyes flicker up. Jon’s still watching him, rapt, and good, good. I haven’t lost him. “I won’t deny that he’s getting along with Sasha and Martin quite well, but...but that’s not because of what he—you—went through. It’s because….right now, you’re pushing people away because you’re scared, but he’s already done that. He knows that pushing people away just means you end up alone. It doesn’t mean he’s a better person, just that he’s a little wiser.”

“But how can you be sure?” Jon asks, leaning forward, eyes big and desperate.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have become your friend if I didn’t like you,” Tim admits unashamedly.

His bold honesty is rewarded by Jon flushing and ducking his head.

“But even so,” he continues, sobering, “Even if you were the worst person on the planet—and you’re not—you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt like that, no matter what the outcome. Does that make sense?”

Jon looks thoughtful as he says, “I—yes. Yes, that makes sense.”

He can tell though, that Jon doesn’t quite believe him. That’s okay—honestly, it’s what he was expecting. Tim’s been running headfirst into the wall that is Jon’s terrible self-esteem for as long as they’ve been friends. This problem is going to take more than one half-assed pep talk.

That’s okay, though. Jon’s worth the effort.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

I wanna ruin our friendship

Timari Januray: Day 25 (You mean platonically?) by @maribat-calendar-events

Summary: We should be lovers instead.

Back to Timari January 2023 Masterlist

Marinette hugged a bundle of flowers to her chest. She knew she should probably loosen her grip, flowers were delicate things and she certainly didn’t want to give Tim wrinkled flowers, but her body didn’t seem to want to comply with her.

She had done a lot of death-defying things in her life. Had had a gun pointed at her head more times than she could count. Had befriended some of the most dangerous people to exist. Had fallen asleep unsure if she would ever wake up.

So why was this what had nerves clawing at her throat?

She had asked out plenty of people before, had been asked out even more times. Granted, most of those relationships weren’t exactly serious, but she wasn’t inexperienced. She shouldn’t be hovering just out of range of the cameras he had set up outside of his base, shouldn’t be considering walking away as heavily as she was.

But there she was, staring down at a carefully selected bouquet, wondering if she could just toss it aside and go up to him as normal. It would be easy. No one had to know.

She didn’t have to know.

She scuffed her shoe on the concrete.

She didn’t want to lose Tim.

But he deserved to know either way.

She took a deep breath in, taking in the many different mingling scents of the flowers in her hands. Aster, daisies, gardenias, and morning glories all to say that she loved him. Forget-me-nots to say she wanted to make lovely memories with him. All tied together into a lovely smattering of white, blue, and purple.

Okay.

She walked the rest of the way to his safehouse. This one was just a regular apartment, but it was close to the meeting he needed to go to later. It took her less than five minutes to get there, and the time was gone in an instant.

The door swung open before she had even knocked, as usual. He had probably been watching since she had walked past the first camera.

“Any longer and I was going to go looking in alleys to see if you were getting mugged.” And then his eyes landed on the bundle in her hands for real and his head jerked back in quiet surprise. His face did a complicated twist she couldn’t make sense of. “Oh. I see. You got harassed by a flower vendor, huh?”

“No,” she said, laughing a little at the mental image of Tim shaking down a poor man just trying to sell bouquets for an apology. “I – uh – got these on purpose.”

Tim tipped his head to the side. “Oh. Did you get asked out?”

She shook her head quickly. “Not unless you count getting catcalled by the construction workers outside of GU. I don’t, they’re not really asking for a date, y’know? And they’re not being all that gentleman-ly about it, if I’m honest. I mean, I’m not that hard to please, but even I’m not swayed by ‘hey baby why don’t you come over here for a bit’. Like, really, is that the best you have –?”

Oh, great, she was rambling.

Thank god he cut her off: “Then what’s with the flowers?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She had just gotten rid of her excuses.

Guess she really was committing to this.

“Tim, I’d like to take you on a date!” She blurted, holding them out.

There was a beat where his eyes widened. He looked down at the flowers for a moment. She knew he knew flower language, he had encountered Riddler and Poison Ivy too many times to not pick anything up. He knew that the overall message was a very clear I love you. He knew that the inclusion of borage meant to take the other flowers literally.

And, if he didn’t, the words ‘I’d like to take you on a date’ done while offering flowers should have cleared things up rather well.

She watched his shoes as he took the flowers. Not because she was scared, they were just very nice shoes. Leather. She could appreciate that.

There was a moment of silence. She spent the entire time looking anywhere but his face.

“You mean platonically?”

She wondered if it was bad form to slam her face into a wall in the middle of a confession. Because apparently she was still in the middle of a confession.

She twisted her ring around her pinky nervously. If he saw such a blatant confession as platonic, did that mean he didn’t see her as anything but a friend?

She could still back out.

She sighed. “No, Tim, I don’t,” she said quietly. “I mean a date date.”

And then she chanced a look up. Just in time to watch his face flush a deep red that looked strange next to all the purple and blue clustered by his chin.

But that was nothing compared to the soft smile on his face as his eyes flicked from the flowers to her and then back to the flowers. “Oh. I’d… I’d really like that,” he said, hushed, as if she was the only person he wanted to hear it.

And hear it she did.

She smiled, letting him reach forward to intertwine their hands around the flowers.

“Me too,” she said.

“Would you like to go get something to eat?”

“Well… you have work to get to…” she said carefully, and then giggled when his face managed to, somehow, get even more red.

“After that?” He tried, and it was nice to see he was a little nervous, too.

“After that, I think we can work something out.”