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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months

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heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time.

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light.

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense.

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides.

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside.

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement.

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter.

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars.

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors.

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?”

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law.

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him.

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore.

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms.

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag.

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering.

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley.

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion.

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.”

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him.

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval.

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket.

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in.

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade.

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.”

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like.

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet.

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches.

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch.

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked.

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching.

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have.

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look.

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog.

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings.

He’s never been this close before.

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart.

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system.

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 month

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Any ideas for Phantom's number 1 fan? I'm so excited to see Tim and Danny run into each other and figure out OH, so this is what's going on. And also being gay cuz would either of them mind too much about being married? Hey- wait- what's this about a child-

Cut to the watchtower just freaking out full panic. Oh God, the world is gonna end. How do we fix this so the ghost king doesn't kill us all???

John Constantine would go bald from how much stress hair-pulling he was doing. They have been searching for a solid week and have yet to find out where Batman's third son went.

He left a very tiny trail across Europe, seemingly as an art thief and hired assassin. It broke Batman's eldest son's heart whenever a new clue was phoned into the Watchtower, which did not make John feel better about placing a bounty on the kid's head.

It was a neceasery but with each passing day it became clear that no one truly understod the Young Justice Robin. He seemed to always be one step ahead of everyone, and covered his tracks so well that it would have taken them months, maybe even years to follow if they hadn't been looking.

But oh, were they bloody looking.

The entire league had come together to trace Young Justice Robin's path, turning two of the main conference rooms into the center hub for comparing and connecting clues.

It looks like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream in there.

Colored yarn strung around the room, screens displaying messages and photos of cities, and multiple tired-looking league members scrambling to make heads or tails of the new personality that YJ Robin had created in every new country.

Frankl, John was slightly impressed by how much work the kid was giving them. Even the tracking spells that should have pointed in his general direction failed because his soul was not being picked up on a global search whenever they cast it.

It was almost as if the kid had left their world. John wanted to hope that it meant he went to a different planet, but he never betted on a horse with a broken leg.

YJ Robin was trying to kill the Ghost King's fiancee, and despite the guards they placed around known stationed natural portals, he managed to slip through.

It was the only thing that made sense, but it also meant they were running out of time. His contacts on the other side had caught multiple whispers that the Ghost King's army was gathering and would be ready for combat any day now.

At this point, he wasn't even sure the King would listen, even if they did manage to stop YJ Robin. Higher beings took a insult far more serious then humans did.

"Well?" He asks just to be a ass when Batman son teleports in. He gone to speak to some Ghost hunter specilists. Not that John put much stock in thier ecto-research. He perfected magic through hard work and numours deals. The thought the scientist thought they could us maths to build similar defenses were laughable.

But the league was desperate for any form of defense against the army in case they could not please the King in time.

Nightwing—even in the Batman suit, John could only see the young man in Blue struggling to keep everything together—pulled a face. "The Fenton's technology is impressive but....they seemed to really empthis that they no longer build weapons. That it wouldn't work."

"I could you that. At the most, they could detect a ghost but that's only a few second before a deadful shiver ran down your spin anyway." John huffs rolling his eyes.

"No. I think they were lying. They seemed really determined to make me believe they had no real means of harming a ghost. And get this: The Fentons dismantled the ghost portal they claimed allowed them to enter a death dimension only two days before we arrived."

Nightwing says with a tone that would have sounded strange in his blue suit. On Batman, it's just the right amount of emotionless that John has to bite his lip to stop him from reaching out and yanking the kid into a hug.

The world was too unfair to the kind-hearted folk like Nightwing.

The boy dressed as a Bat continues, blissfully unaware of how much he breaks John's heart. "They claimed it never worked and were embarrassed they kept it up for so long. I asked Oracle to check their online presence, and they read a lot of articles that speculated what the Justice League was up to days before they tore it down."

Now, John frowned in thought instead of disapproval. He highly doubted those hacks had made an actual portal to the Infinite Realms but they had boasted about it for three full years on their website.

It was the reason the Justice League even bothered to approach them. So why now, did they suddenly tear it down?

"They're trying to cover something up." John concludes watching the other nod in agreement.

The other man's jaw tightens for just a second before he adds "Or they are coving for someone."

Shit.

"Kid made it to the ghost zone, didn't he?" John swears feeling his heart drop down to his knees.

"We can gather that Young Justice Robin has made his way to the Realms and is now an active threat to humankind's survival. He needs to be taken down by any means possible," Batman declares, his voice like breaking glass. It's sharp and cutting, like the shreds of whatever heart was left in Richard Grayson.

John wonders if Bruce knows his son has broken from wherever his soul rests.

"That would explain the army that has gathered under the Ghost King banner," John grumbles, hands twitching for nicotine. "My sources said they are all gathered and practically ready to march."

"Do you know how long we have before they are here?" Batman asks walking into the conference room and grabbing the attention of every gathered hero with one hand motion.

Everyone tenses in a way that could make the weakest of them choke. They know what it means.

A level ten threat will arrive.

They failed to stop the Third Robin. He managed to spend months doing whatever he pleased, and now that the League was paying attention, it was far too late.

Many of them would not survive the upcoming battle. Many of them who did would lose so many loved ones that it would be hard to decide if they should spend the last few hours on the battlefield or in the arms of their families.

Life, as they know, may come to an end. They could become the next Krypton. Somewhere in the crowd, Kara falls to her knees, sobbing and babbling to Roa, begging for her not to live through her planet's destruction again.

A few of the youngest members start to sob along side her.

Wonder Woman, who was standing next to Superman and Martian man hunter, clears her throat. Her eyes are as hard as steel, her stance unwavering under the pressure of hundreds of pairs of eyes that land on her, and when she speaks, it's like the banging of a drum.

"Warriors prepare for combat. We are at War."

__________________________________________________________

Tim doesn't think when he lands.

He scrambles to his feet, and rushes away from the portal as fast as he can, hoping to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Yetis.

His feet fall into the mud, splashing and nearly tripping him over. It darkens out, and there are no cars in sight, but the smell is familiar, and the feeling of the air is welcome.

Before Gotham stands in all her grey dangerous glory, just over a few hills. He is far from the city, on the outside of Crime Alley, he thinks, but he can see the Bat symbol flowing proudly in the sky, can make out Wayne Headquarters, his Nest, and Babs' Clocktower, and it's so amazing to finally be home.

He pushes his legs to go faster, climbing up the hills into the highway. The streetlight flicker as he rushes by, unafriad of coming trafic. No one goes this way anymore. Not since they turned it into a dead end long before Bruce's parents died.

There are patches of broken road pieces where grass and weeds are growing through, his feet slap against the multiple holes, ruining his momentum but Tim can hardly care.

Tim knows how to find Bruce now.

He can help bring him back from the timeline through the various clues his father figure has been able to leave over his adventures. Tim is so close now, he can actually see the finish line.

He just needs to get to the Cave- when Jason and the Demon are not there, preferably. Maybe Alfred would let him in. The old man had always had a soft spot for Tim- and he could build the machine he needed.

That's if he doesn't build it in his Nest.

Tim runs faster, feeling his lungs and legs burn. He doesn't pay it any mind. The time with the Yeti has made him stronger, likely due to the hours of soaking in some private reserve of Lazarus Pit, so he is going at a faster speed.

One that he had never been able to reach before. He was nothing like a speedster or even on his Red Bird, but damn if it isn't exciting to think he may be able to outpace Jason now.

As he approaches, the city becomes more prominent, shimmering in a faint green glow, as if welcoming him home. Tim's face breaks into a smile when he enters Crime Alley, passing the city limits. In Bruce's city, he is safe from Ra because even without Batman, the city has always shielded them from the Ghuls.

Bruce will be back tomorrow, here in the shadows of Gotham's darkness, protecting everyone, and Tim will finally be able to rest. Months of invading the Justice League, working with the League of Assiasn, the Spiders, and his own doubts were finally going to be behind him.

So close. So very close he could taste it.

A scream cuts through the air.

Tim slides to a stop, feet splashing against the puddles of dirty water he hadn't noticed, swinging his head in the direction it came from. Every part of him wants to ignore it because he has to focus on getting Bruce. He does, but the fear in that woman's voice is too thick to ignore.

He glances back to his Nest, torn between his duty and his heart, biting his lip, but a young whimper- a child likely- makes the choice for him. Tim changes directions, going into the alley and coming across a family of three in the middle of being mugged.

It's quick work to get behind the man waving the gun, silent as the shadows, he blends in to mask his presense. He stricks just as the fool pulls the triger, the loud bang echoing in the small space.

The woman screams again, this time louder, with far more fright in her voice, as the boy bursts into tears.

Thankfully, Tim had knocked off his aim, and the bullet bounced off the brick near the man- likely the father- who was standing in front of a frightened woman and small child in what could only be an attempt to protect them.

The brick shatters to peices as Tim reels back his fists, bringing them down in three swift but brutal punches and the gunman hits the ground with a loud thump.

He hadn't even had time to scream.

Tim huffs above him, and the large amount of running finally catches up to him. It's been a long time since he was so out of breath, though sprinting at full force for a solid nearly fifty minutes was a good enough reason.

"Is everyone alright?" Tim pants out, shaking out his hand in a showy way. After all, he wasn't wearing a mask, and right now, this needed to look like Timothy Drake got a lucky burst of adrenaline.

"Yes." The man breathes, sounding shocked. "Yes, we're fine. Thanks to you. Thank you so much, you saved our lives."

"Don't mention it. I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time." Tim looks up at him, twisting his face into the perfect meek civilian persona Timothy Drake is known for, and then feels all the blood drain from his face.

At that moment, he realizes two things.

One, Gotham was many shades of depressing but it was never green. Espcailly glowing green but while he had been runing he had swon he saw it shifted to sit behind a filter that made it appear as such.

And Two, Bruce looked a aweful lot like his father.

"Oh my boy." Thomas Wayne says, wrapping his arm around Martha and little Bruce Wayne's. He sends Tim another grateful warm smile. "I don't think you understand just what you've done here."

No, Tim thinks faintly I really don't think I do.

_____________________________________________________________

Somewhere in the far future, Danny Fenton wonders why his portal-making skill has stopped working. He used it regularly as his search and rescue means but ever since Robin fell into his arms half dead he had not been able to activeate it.

It was almost like it was stolen from him.

If only his parents hadn't dismantled the portal. He could ask Frostbite to check him over.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Phantom's Number 1 Fan #Part 6 #Tim just made things more complicated #Kudos to everyone that notice the foreshadowing in the previous part #That's why Danny hasn't made it to the ghost zone #How will Tim get out of this #What's the Justice Leauge doing?#Making things worse #Slight Angst?

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decolonize-the-everything · 1 year

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.....does anyone else get the vibe that the limitless expanse of the internet, media, and consequent ability to interact politically, spiritually, and apathetically with people locally and globally maybe had an influence not only on the individual's relation to the collective but also their ability to participate in it and see their significance to it?

Can we talk about it?

Like I feel like as some who was a frontline activist and now is a disabled social activist who dabbles in radicalizing liberals... The wall I and my peers continuously keep running into is the collective feeling that someone else will do it.

"it" being whatever action.

For me it's signing a petition, protesting, donating, community organizing (both online and offline).

We get tons of interest on stuff. Interest which very rarely translates to doing more than showing a poster to the friend theyre with before trashing it, reblogging a post, or hitting "interested" or like when we post local events.

And on All these platforms posts gets to a point of "enough" responses where ppl just stop responding and sharing, too.

On Tumblr you see this a lot with donation posts and people constantly having to make new ones. Cuz they're getting notes, but not tangible assistance that will help them. And the reblogs stop because there are so many notes that ppl start assuming that the goal was met or will be met soon.

But that isn't what's happening. And like I said this isn't just with donation posts or money so the answer isn't "well ppl are broke" which would be an easy and sensible answer.

Honestly, I've been thinking that with so Many people easily accessible online with so many opinions and varying levels of popularity and followers that it's easy to lose yourself in them. Especially now when so much of life takes place online.

It's so easy to think you're just one of those many people. ....So surely nobody would notice if you were being a little facetious, right?

Gonna be real, it seems a lot to me like a lot of people are trying to hide their lack of integrity through the anonymity offered online.

And like sure maybe nobody would notice if it was just a few people being facetious about supporting something but it's SO MANY (in my experience? Upwards of a thousand once) and Everywhere. Online, offline, and apps.

And the thing that makes it weird is that every one is assuming that people are being more helpful than they are. That more people are showing up.... Even though they themselves are not showing up either. Like I said reblogs for donations stop, shares stop, and only a handful of ppl show up to events irl. You can literally compare reblogs to the signatures when a petition is being shared.

Wanting to show up isn't the same as showing up.

"People" are not coming to change or show up to the revolution. It's you. You are the people. You are the people that need to show up. Not just as a notification on my screen but actually, because you think someone else will have enough integrity to show up for you but they don't.

Your integrity matters.

You matter so much. I don't know what it is behind this mass behavior that has y'all acting otherwise but I'm telling y'all right now that YOU and the choices that YOU make matter. The events that you choose to spend your time at and how you spend your energy and protecting your rights matters!

That isn't some "im just another drop fighting an endless battle in the ocean" kind of deal.

I'm telling you from experience: there is no ocean! We are in a fucking drought and every drop matters.

Show up. Nobody else is doing it on your behalf.

.......or is it just me? Has anyone else noticed this

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cipheramnesia · 2 days

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I'm trying to push "just" as a minimizer further out of my vocabulary, not to eliminate but to crack down on using it. I don't need to use it as often as I do, and then I'll poke around and see stuff like "it just happens to intersex people" or "intersexism is just an edge case" or other language along that lines, and that's kinda where I notice the word "just" has some claws deeper in my brain than I would like because it's super easy to roll with that. "Oh well that's fair it's just a little small amount." And that's just fucked up I think.

Cuz that sort of minimizing language has been around forever. Oh it's just intersex people, oh it's just trans people, oh it's just gay people, oh honestly, how much could that part of the population be, ten people? But it's always tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions however you cut it. Like you live in a small town, a thousand people, if intersex people are "just" one percent of the population, maybe ten people there might be intersex and you probably know one or two. You meet a hundred, a thousand people, more in your life, it means you probably met someone intersex or trans or queer or all of that. In a global population of seven billion people you can six degrees your way to famous actors Kevin Bacon and he's one guy. That "just" thing, that easy and agreeable minimizing sentiment, it's tricky and so I'm trying to make it a caution point. It's just language though, just one word that happens to be widely used by millions of people and which directs your brain to think a certain way because language is how we share our brains.

Anyway this is too long.

#just #idk i saw the whole intersex dismissal thing again and was gonna make a shitpost but i had feelings #it just affects intersex people okay what if eagles just carried you into the middle of the ocean #long post #ciper just stop

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bearieio · 1 year

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too hot for you...

cod guys during a heatwave

characters: simon "ghost" riley, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, johnny "soap" mactavish, alejandro vargas, rudolfo perra, könig

warnings: fluff! gn!reader

a/n: the weather has been UNBEARABLE down here in the south.. send help! thanks a lot global warming! (thanks a lot industrial revolution!) (￢_￢;) i also plan on doing a cold weather version once the weather calms down, so expect a pt. 2 in the fall/winter! also this isn't proofread bc it's 23:49 on a school night...

gaz quite literally RADIATES heat... so he is NOT having a good time during this heatwave. he's never gotten to the hotter climates on missions that took place in the hotter side of the hemisphere.

he definitely adores the cold. which is why his electric bill is so high..

one hot days like this one, he makes sure to plan out the day accordingly because he knows that no one, especially you, wants to go out in the blistering heat.

he’d be a little weary about touching you for too long, knowing how it makes you feel uncomfortable to be hot and sticky (wink wink) for too long.

kyle would most likely make one of those forts that have a fan running through it (cuz he crafty like that) to keep the both of you cool while laying down together, both of you in starfish positions.

price is the exact OPPOSITE of gaz. he likes the heat.. but not when it’s like this.

“todays high is… 103 DEGREES? FAHRENHEIT? CELSIUS?!”

“yeah… let’s stay inside today, sweetheart.. the mall can wait.”

unlike gaz, he’s immune to most amounts of heat, but in SOUTHERN WEATHER? this man gets RED when he even takes a quick look outside. the sun is this mans only enemy.

he makes a MEAN smoothie. filled with both veggies and fruits to make sure you take in as many vitamins and minerals as humanly possible. he loves taking care of you wherever and whenever he can :')

definitely hosts the world’s best barbecues and invites everyone. he’s also one HELL of a cook. he gets the grill goin’ and he can make some shit happen.

++ he also own those silly aprons that have like “kiss the cook,” “my wife loves my meat,’ “real men like their pork PULLED,” "bearded cooks are way better"

+++ he takes ice baths in the backyard.. a cigar in his mouth, news paper in one hand, ice cold beer in the other. idk it just seemed like something he'd be doing.

soap loves to cuddle and refuses to let go when you tell him that you’re getting sweaty.

“ugh! c’mon, you know i love your hot n’ sweaty scent!”

“..ew johnny.”

makes a KILLER lemonade. idk what he puts in it but oh my god it’s amazing. not too tart but also not too sweet. brings it to every one of price’s bbqs.

his tolerance to heat it quite moderate, and he doesn’t mind the heat. but naturally he’ll be outside until he’s about to collapse because of the sweltering heat.

he literally tries to fight heat stroke back. he strokes the heat stroke.

when you complain about being hot he’ll fan you with anything, for however long. you always feel bad about letting him fan you for an extended period of time, but he reassures you that he doesn’t mind.

“it's fine, baby. don't worry about me." he says with a slight smile, watching you lie there, enjoying the fanning johnny provides you with.

ghost is always cold to the touch, even when he’s been outside, going through drills with his other teammates.

“how are your hands so cold?!”

he gazes over at you, breathing hard, a thin layer of sweat atop his skin, “what? i’m dripping with sweat. i been outside for the past 2 hours!?”

can and will drink piping hot tea while it’s 99191099 degrees outside.

“sweetheart can you get me a cup of tea?”

“…what? in this weather?!” you reply, confused and kinda terrified.

he returns the confused look, “um… yea?”

i don’t think he likes dresses according to the weather.. like he will wear 4 layers of clothing + his trusty balaclava, and seem completely fine (he’s not).

++ in winter he’ll be like one of those middle school kids who wears shorts and a short sleeve shirts, without a jacket.

+++ i think he secretly hates the heat and prefers to live in colder places, since it was usually cooler where he grew up.

unfortunately, rudy's love language is physical touch and CANNOT keep his hands off of you. even when the A/C goes out and the both of you're left to fend for yourselves in the sun-drenched heat.

“r-RUDY GET OFF OF MEE!”

“mi amor, PLEASE!-“

hosts the best carne asadas with alejandro and invites everyone (mostly to one up price’s bbqs). serves the best horchata, limonada, and other agua frescas.

picks the hottest days to invite people over and spend hours with you in the kitchen, cookin up a STORM! most DEFINITELY loves teaching you new cooking techniques and ways to improve the flavor, texture, and presentation of your food.

with having grown up in las almas, he’s pretty used to the heat. he enjoys the hotter months out of the year because thats when his family came together the most.

++ i actually think rudy is a really good cook… like his skills are literally otherworldly. and tamales de puerco are his specialty ^^

alejandro loves hot weather as much as rudy does. in fact, its the time of the year when they hang out the most. hosting parties, gatherings, and other events in the sweltering heat… but it’s okay because everyone leaves with new memories and smiles on their faces (and maybe a lil bitta heat stroke).

the days where he isn’t hanging out with rudy or the rest of the guys, he’s at home with you. playing all kinds of games that he grew up playing with his friends and family. he beats everyone in loteria EVERY time. luckily he doesn’t make you bet like he does when he’s with the guys.

ale stays outside more than the average person when it’s hot. you’d be on the couch, binge-watching a show you promised your friends that you’d catch up on, when you actually get to watching the show, ale heads outside. by the time you’re done with the first season, he’s coming back in, slightly red and covered in sweat.

“where did you go?”

“around the block… why do you ask?”

“yOU’VE BEEN GONE FOR 3 HOURS?"

++ when the weathers nice and hot, he likes to get away and go on roadtrips with you. of course he's usually the one driving, but he loves when you offer to drive.

+++ he LOVES being by the pool. whether it's the one that you guys have, one of his buddies' pools, or the one located inside his base, he cannot stay out of the water. he also has MULTIPLE pairs of swimming trunks... for every occasion.

++++ he most likely keeps up the summer tan he has goin' on.

"it's not a skin color, it's a lifestyle [name]- see you wouldn't know that because you’re-"

könig doesn’t have any particular opinions about how hot it is. he notices it but it doesn’t bother him. not like how the cold bothers him.

during the hotter months i think he doesn’t mind staying inside but he’d also love to be out n’ about, with you by his side.

the days end up being long and peaceful. especially because all the two of you do is nap and watch TV together. he thinks it’s nice to be with you, but he’d rather be outside.

the only time that the two of you would go out is during the evening when the sun decides to be less aggressive with the earth.

++ i just have a feeling that könig loves to be outside and “one with nature.” he loves how calm everything seemed when he takes hikes in the forest or atop a mountain.

+++ i also think that könig would be the best bartender EVER. idk i feel like he knows his way around a martini glass or whatever. he puts those skills to use whenever you guys have date night/a night in, concocting drinks with flavors you don’t think you’ve ever tasted before.

“schatz, what will you be having to drink tonight?”

“surprise me” you chirp back at him, winking.

he looks down at you, sitting on the stool at the island located in your guys’ kitchen “coming right up!”

a/n pt2: alejandro's tan will never be better than mine (i'm black)

ANYWAYS! constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

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appleblueberry-pie · 5 months

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rant abt jjk

hey. so....(jjk 259)? you guys are soooo lucky that i am mentally not attached to the actual storyline of jujutsu kaisen anymore. or else i would've been got off this app lmao. it is so....mind boggling how he just bluntly killed him like that. I FORGAVE gege when gojo was off-screened because it lowkey made the most sense to me out of all of these deaths. but like.......the death and then yuji's recovery in 2.5 seconds is so 5th grade short story. never show me sumn like that again. this is absolute bullshit. but honestly....? I can't hate him for it. because you can literally see that gege is so fucking sick and tired of jjk now with the way he's treating it. like i lowkey dont wanna be that person, but like imagine having to finish a story you genuinely don't like anymore because it is globally worshipped. i would be pissed and kill off everyone just for the reactions too! yup! cuz i would still b getting paid for it LMAOO. but from a fan's perspective, i just wanna say sorry to yall. it's so fucking bad, I wanna apologize on his behalf for no reason.

#jjk 259 #jjk spoilers #jjk smau #jjk imagines

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lecliss · 2 years

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Some people on twitter are annoyed about Weiss getting into Omnia but like ITS WEISS!!!! Who gives a shit about Rikku or Red when Weiss is here, confirming Nero will in fact get in one day!!!! NERO'S GONNA GET IT!!!! We miraculously got Kadaj a few years ago and now we are on the path to getting Nero!!!!! My two bestest boys ever can one day be on the same team!!!! What more could you want!?!?! A best girl and a dog???? Fuck off, ITS WEISS AND NERO!!!!!

#and i saw my fave nero artist got super excited about the news too!!!#and yes i kinda only really care about weiss getting in cuz it confirms nero will eventually too and nero is my special boy #i like rikku and red just as much as the next person. but rikku's probably never happening and red will get in after rebirth comes out #AND WEISS IS MORE IMPORTANT!!! ITS FUCKING WEISS!!!! WHICH MEANS NERO WHICH MEANS DIRGE SWEEP BABEEEEYYY!!!!!#itd been 9 hours and in still freaking out about this. LIKE. it feels like a dream. ive been waiting for so long and im just shocked its #happening much sooner than i expected. i really thought it would be genesis then nero then weiss. but weiss is first!?!?!?!#i mean. he is the official antagonist not counting hojo. but i kinda always view more as nero considering he takes the lead for most of #the game while weiss is kinda dead until the final chapter. i really thought nero was a bigger candidate lol #i also really wonder if weiss's moveset is gonna lean more towards dirge or 7r. god i wanna see his kit so BAD #but the video's not getting posted until like. tuesday? it should be tonight that we see his 3d model at least #oh yeah. and theres the fact that global wont be getting him until about october. so 🙃#i have to wait........ i want him now thoooooo!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#personal

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littlestpersimmon · 1 year

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Even if I get paid by my industry job tomorrow I would still need to have three jobs bc my contract states that if the comic I'm working for ends up not getting published, I would have to return every single penny I make, yes even the advance, even if I have the story 100% drawn already. I was so taken aback I had to ask for clarification *twice*. They said this rarely happened, so I asked my two other friends who worked in the same industry if this was normal, and one of them was from Europe and the other was American (all three of us worked for the same American company) and they both said yes, this was in their contract too. So I guess it's not cuz I'm from the global south. Okay well guess what, both of those friends had comics they were working on, and it got dropped later this year, Literally whilst they were midway working and they didn't make a single cent lol. Why is everyone acting like I am crazy for thinking these kinds of contract are like. Absurd and predatory. I'm going crazy bc I'm always overworked and dying of poverty and anxiety bcos now I have to be an artist, an influencer or whatever, like I have to both work and work and then stay relevant when all I want is to just not starve to death and draw my gay little guys. This is so crazy. I don't want to exist like this forever. I don't want to continuously depend on the grace of my friends and my followers I just want to live!!

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notyouraryang0dd3ss · 4 months

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hii, ⏳️ here!! I saw your other asks about how swifties say that taylor could be killed for speaking up, as if other ppl who are not as rich as her aren't facing a lot worse, as if her life matters more, and stuff... and that is just the mindset most, if not all, swifties have. They literally think her life matters more than others.

They use this safety argument for her carbon emissions, too, saying that she could never fly economy she'd get killed 0.001 secs into the airport. She has 2 jets (last I checked, she "quietly" sold one of em and quietly bought another just after). Like. I'm so sure that the safety concern being that big is not true, first off. Secondly, can't she fly in first class?? I might be wrong, obv, but most of the ppl flying in first class are extremely rich ppl and isn't the first class mostly empty cuz no one takes it? Also, she has her entourage of bodyguards, be so fr. Also, it's up to her and her team to find a sustainable solution, not us common folks like tf.

But more importantly, even if it were completely impossible for her to travel in the same plane as us poors, without endangering her safety, swifties basically sound like "taylor swift>lives of other ppl".

Like, the top 1% and companies (which she is also a part of, btw) are mostly responsible for climate issues and global warming. They are also the ONLY ppl who have enough resources to protect themselves from any climate issue they create. They INTENTIONALLY make mistakes, and 90% of the world have to face the consequences. According to swifties, not only is that okay, but the lives of literally 8 billion ppl don't matter. Her's matters more than everyone else's, and thus, to protect taylor swift from possibly getting an inconvenience during her flight, we (and all other creatures on earth) have to pay for it with our lives.

(and before anyone says it's not that deep, it is. global warming, climate change, the state of the literal planet we live on, which is also the ONLY livable planet in the entire universe, IS that deep. It's airport security for her, disease, and death for us)

(also, I'm gonna send the link of the Palestinian woman getting doxxed by swifties once I find it)

-⏳️

I love how Swifties are going full mask off and openly admitting her life matters more than the millions of Palestinians. I understand there are #SwiftiesforPalestine actively posting online and even holding IRL protests, but when we live in this late stage capitalist world, the best protest is to divest, divest, divest, and if swifties continue to purchase her content regardless, then their protests are useless. It’s performative and they want her to perform too.

Well, the private jet controversy is more complicated than what she flies on. A lot of celebrities use private planes, either their own or rented from others, to travel so they can avoid the excess security measures and be spared harassment from public transportation sites.

What is controversial about Taylor Swift’s private jet usage is how excessive and unnecessary she is. She took a 13 minute flight from Cahokia, IL to St. Louis, MO, which would’ve been a 30 minute drive. During her US/North American leg of the tour, she would take red eye flights from tour location to known locations of her purchased homes, such as Beverly Hills, Nashville, Rhode Island (? idk where), instead of staying in a local hotel. Her flight usage is excessive and wasteful and actively endangers us through the CO2 emissions she produces by herself. Like you said: she is actively making us pay for her climate change crimes with our lives.

When New Delhi is experiencing heat waves that are pushing the brink of human survivability, its imperative that now more than ever we resist and push back against uber wealthy individuals Taylor Swift and major CO2 producers ie companies who actively accelerate contribute to irreversible climate change damage.

So yeah, if you’d rather defend the life of one woman who produces 1000x CO2 emissions of the average European, you’re telling everyone that you find the lives of billions of people in the global south, who have no infrastructure in place to protect them from climate change, that you would actively sacrifice their lives for the comfort of someone you don’t even know, and will never care about you.

#swifties are the most racist fanbase ive ever seen and no im not exaggerating #anyways anon thank you sm for sending this in #future anons if youd like to sign off with any emoji and i’ll make you a tag with it #anti taylor swift #ask #notyouraryang0dd3ss #anon #ts: carbon emissions #ts: palestine #anti swifties

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