#robin leach

[quotelr]

In Italy, they add work and life on to food and wine.

Robin Leach

[oldshowbiz]

Lifestyle of the Drunk and Pantsless

[cosmicretreat]

[duranduratulsa]

80's Fest Personality of the day: Robin Leach #RobinLeach #riprobinleach #lifestylesoftherichandfamous #champagnewishesandcaviardreams #80s #80sfest #durandurantulsas6thannual80sfest

[prattlinpeach]

Buying lottery tickets...what's $2 and a dream?

Do you buy lottery tickets? Do you check them right away? For me: yes and no. That was yes, I buy lottery tickets and no, I do not check them right away.Whenever I buy one, PSM asks “did you check the ticket yet?” “have you checked your numbers yet?” Um, not yet, I will. I know it sounds crazy, but…the longer I wait to check the ticket, the longer the dream stays alive that we might have won!…

[codesquire]

I just paraphrased Robin Leach's famous catchphrase to someone in their 20s.

I don't expect the reference to land.

I feel old.

Bah.

[the-overanalyzer]

Who wore it better?

[forensicated]

05x01 - Getting It Right

Pete is in with the CID lot today for an operation outside the rundown Camfort Hotel. Frank orders them to keep quiet as they gather outside and directs 2 armed officers where to cover the back.

Bob ushers Uniform out of the door and onto the streets, telling them to 'give the public some value for their money'. It's still early, only just gone 6am.

Once Frank is assured - by two radio clicks - that the back exit is secure, the owner guides them up to the room in question.

CAD is slow and no calls are coming in so Tom and his two extra!PC's are bored. Tom tells Bob that CID are out on an raid with Pete as Pete reckons he's got the address of 'that weirdo who has been abducting women at gunpoint' from a snout. Tom remembers that Bob's son, Patrick, is up in court and assures him that he'll be alright. Bob isn't so sure.

The hotel owner lets CID into the room. Frank approaches the bed and wakes the occupant in a rather unique way...!!!

"POLICE!"

The man is wrestled from the bed and down onto the floor with his arms behind his back. His female companion panics and keeps asking who they are. "You can't do this, this is my room!" Frank barks at the woman to shut up and orders Pete to get the man on his feet. Pete removes a piece of paper from his pocket and looks at it before looking rather ashen at Frank. "... No, Guv."

"Looks like there's been a mistake, sir..." Frank sighs, warning Pete that he'll 'see him in a minute'.

Bob rings home and asks to speak to Patrick. Bob's wife, Shirley, tells him that he's not up yet. Bob can't believe it and snarks that she should wake him and 'remind him that he has to be at court over the little matter of death by dangerous driving'. Shirley accuses him of trying to have another row and Bob assures her he isn't. He asks her to make sure that Patrick is in a suit for his appearance.

Outside the hotel room, Pete growls at the hotel owner for telling him that that was the room for the man they are after. The owner points out that everything Pete said fit the description. "You didn't tell me he was a 7ft giant, did you!" The two silent armed officers simply shrug and walk off.

Inside the room Frank apologises again and the man tells him he'll be hearing from his solicitors. "It was a genuine mistake." The man claims he's going to make an official complaint and issue a writ against Frank for damages, assault and unlawful arrest.

Ted asks the owner if any other residents at the hotel match the description. Pete is desperate and asks if anyone else staying has a beard. The owner mentions that his odd-job-man had a beard but shaved it off recently. He says that he doesn't charge him for the room because he does all the odd jobs around the place but his permanent job is a plumber. "He's a strange fellow..." He claims he's moody and he used to be in the army. Ted asks to be shown to his room. They burst inside but it's empty. Pete is adamant that it could be him "You can smell the sweat!" he exclaims as they search for the gun, remembering one of the victims said 'that terrifying stench will stay with [her] for the rest of [her] life.' Ted keeps reminding him to look for the gun whilst he arranges for forensics to visit.

A young girl approaches the front desk and asks for PC Cryer. Robin tells her they don't have one but they do have a Sergeant by that name. She asks to speak to him and he tells her she can if she hurries after the man who has just left - Bob is on his way to support his family through Patrick's court appearance.

"You prat!" Frank snarls at Pete as they leave. Pete protests it was the right hotel but the wrong room. Ted thinks it was good information but Frank scoffs that their suspect walked out dressed as a plumber with a 9mm on him. "I made a boob-" "I've now got a writ slapped on me by some toffee nosed snob spending the night with his bit of rough!" Frank growls before ordering Pete to look for dirt on the man so he can quash the complaint. He reminds Pete that he gave him a 2 week stint in CID because he promised he could bring the goods and so far he hasn't and Frank's neck is on the block.

At Sun Hill, Frank and Ted are extremely confused to hear the sounds of a clarinet coming from CID. Hello Alistair!

Alistair confuses Frank for Ted and goes to shake his hand. Frank snarkily corrects him and tells him he's the DI. Ted grins and shakes his hand, introducing himself. Frank tells Alistair he was supposed to arrive last week but Alistair explains he had a weeks leave already booked to play a 'gig in Hamburg'. "I'll give you a gig(!) My office!"

Pete follows the man from the hotel but his car gives out on him just as he disappears right/ Pete has run out of petrol. 🤦‍♀️

The girl from the station follows Bob on his way home. She manages until they get to a cash and carry where she loses him. Bob appears out of nowhere and confronts her for following him. She tells him she's named Bobbie after him.

Frank growls at Alistair that he has 20 entries in the crime book assigned to him and he wants action on them before he leaves the station - even if it takes him a couple of days. Alistair tells him it's out of the question as he has a practice for the MET band that afternoon because they have a lot of gigs coming up. Frank tells him his resources are already stretched to the limit, he's had to borrow uniform officers and Detectives from other boroughs as it is and he hates 'having to go cap in hand to a Superintendent who hates my guts' to plead for assistance. Alistair tells him it's not his problem but Frank insists it his because he asked for a new Sgt, not a part time copper and he expects him to work his arse off for him.

A court usher ushers Ted into a courtroom as Patrick's case has been moved forward. Noone has told Bob though. He's in a cafe with Bobbie, sure he's alright for time. She was abandoned in a telephone box near the council officers as a newborn and was found by Bob. There was a note taped to her wrist asking whoever found her to look after her. Bob apologises but he can't remember, telling her he's done a lot of things over a lot of years. Bobbie tells him that she heard she wasn't well and that Bob kept returning to see how she was getting on. He slowly starts to remember that it was when he was a PC and that he was asked what his name was. The night she was found it was raining cats and dogs. "I'm glad you weren't christened Fred!"

In CID, Frank continues moaning about Alistair's prior attachment to the band, claiming he's lucky he doesn't play rugby and football for the MET as well as he'd only see him 3 weeks out of 52. "You've made your point... guv." Alistair explains that the MET band is a showpiece and a major part of public relations for the force.

Pete returns to the station and has to tell Frank that he lost the target due to running out of petrol. The car the man was driving is registered to a woman, presumably his wife. Frank growls that he wants to know the man's name and gives Pete an hour. Pete takes to a desk and tries to find out who plays the rates at the address the car is registered under. In the mean time Alistair considers screening some of the cases he'd been assigned to over the phone and Pete warns him not to let Frank hear him say that because he'd do his nut.

Bobbie tells Bob she wants to find her real mother. He tells her to be a good kid and go home to her adoptive parents and he heads off to the court. He arrives to find that the case has been thrown out as the CPS didn't submit the commital paperwork by the date they were supposed to. Bob is flabbergasted, 'Patrick must be guilty!" The father of Patrick's girlfriend who died angrily confronts Bob and reckons that it's a cover up because he's a coppers son.

One of the borrowed CID officers tells Frank there is nothing tangible in the odd job mans room to link him to the crime and SOCO have found nothing either. Frank insists something will turn up - it always does.

Pete finds out that the man from the hotel is a doctor and asks for a list of local doctors. Pete finally locates him - Dr Matthew de Beyfus practicing at the Longley Medical Practice in Holland Park. He's there as they speak. Frank smirks and reckons that the woman he was with that morning is probably a patient of his. Alistair looks uncomfortable as Frank tells Pete to pull strings to find out.

Bobbie is waiting for Bob as he leaves court. He's in shock about Patrick's case being thrown out. Bob is unusually but understandably dismissiv and tells her to go home to her adopted mother. "Kids are all the same, you don't think of the grief you cause your parents. GO HOME!" he shouts.

Pete swaggers into Frank's office and tells him that the woman from that morning is a patient at the doctors practice "Who's been a naughty little doctor then!" Frank tells him to stay there and not leave the office whilst he goes to speak to the doctor. Pete is clearly impressed and tells Ted and Alistair that he thinks Burnside is a shrewd operator. Ted warns him not to look up to him. "Remember Goebbels! He was a hero worshipper!" warns Alistair.

Ted reminds Pete how keen he was to get the lunatic with the gun that morning but now he and Frank are bending the rules to get off a justifiable complaint. Pete insists it's wrong that the doctor is sleeping with one of his patients. Ted just looks flatly at him. "You ever slept with a bird you've nicked?" "... Yeah. But that's different!" "Not if you get nicked it isn't!" Alistair drawls.

Frank goes to speak to the doctor and tells him it won't take long. The doctor allows him two minutes so Frank apologises for the morning again. The doctor tells him he'll hear from his solicitor and asks him to come to the point. Frank accuses him of having an affair with a patient. "Are you blackmailing me inspector?" "I'm offering a trade..." The doctor tells him that the woman he found him in bed with is not a patient of his. She's registered under one of the other doctors at the practice. Frank casually asks if his wife knows about it and the doctor tells him he doubts it because his wife died 9 months ago. The car he was driving was hers but he hasn't yet told the DVLA but guesses that's how Frank found out her name. He tells Frank his time is up and asks him to leave.

In the canteen Bob notices a PC putting a missing poster up. He takes a double take - it's Bobbie.

[bobzora]

acheron so good she makes me want to complete gold and gears to unlock erudition blessings

[frownyalfred]

You know, about the Eldritch Gotham thing…

We were talking about the possibility of Gotham changing Bruce to be something not quite human over the years…

But the thing is, according to folklore, children are far more susceptible to being changed by proximity of eldritch beings than adults.

Sure, Bruce’s turning point came when he was a child, but that only led to a comparatively vague resolution. Most of his ‘Become a Bat’ training took place as an adult, and away from Gotham.

So the changes Bruce experience is limited.

But Dick Grayson?

Nine year old kid who has just been taken away from literally everything that was his life till then and taking up a mantle, an image, with so much power? Becoming the Avatar of Hope, the Boy Wonder?

He would certainly be changed – in far more ways than Bruce could anticipate, even if he is aware of Gotham’s influence on him.

Dick, somehow becoming something not quite human, something in his eyes, in the way his feet barely seem to touch the ground, the way he bounces back from injuries both physically and mentally, maybe even in the way bullets sometimes seem to curve to miss him…

Bruce, coming to realise this at some point, something undeniable, and he can no longer tell himself it is his imagination…

I love the idea of Bruce thinking his special little power/prayers/Eldritch relationship with Gotham is something limited to Batman, because what evidence does he even have to the contrary? When he takes on Dick as Robin, sure he considers the possibility -- but maybe Dick is just like that, happy and a little punch-drunk on being Robin and leaping high above Gotham.

But the signs become unavoidable. Bruce sees Dick start to come down from patrol the same way he does, at roughly the same times. There's an otherworldly glint in his eyes that he sees in the mirror in the Cave. Gotham is leaching into Dick, just as much as it's leaching into Bruce. And he stubbornly tried to convince himself that it wouldn't happen, that he wouldn't let Gotham change his kid the same way it's changed him...but it does.

Poor Dick, of course. He doesn't know what's happening, it's affecting him so acutely, and Bruce is -- so much more, so much larger than life when they're out on patrol. But he doesn't say anything. He doesn't acknowledge this thing between them, this impossible thing burning in their bones and hearts. Until Dick loses it somehow, kicks off a bad patrol and comes down hard and forgets where he is and Bruce needs to be there for him.

[notdotspot]

DP x DC Dreaming

Tim was a dreamer. He had life goals and all, but he was a dreamer. His mind came alive as he slept. Sometimes they were short, bursts of images that passed from one memory to another. Other times, Tim's dreams became whole movies in which he starred as the main character. Dreams so vivid and lucid that the memories from his brain's creations could leach into reality. A conversation he had with Dick discussing a new tactic to track Joker's goons only to mention it while working in the Batcave and realize their talk had never happened. Like any Wayne, some dreams bloomed into nightmares of past traumas and horrific what-if scenarios. Tonight's dream, fortunately, had yet to take that turn.

Currently banned from patrols, the Bat computer, and caffeine by Alfred because of his recent concussion, though he tried to argue four days was enough recovery time for a "minor head injury", Tim lay in his bed dead asleep unusually early. From the door where Bruce checks on him, he is sleeping calmly, but inside Tim's mind is conjuring its newest story.

Tim is running, not just running, chasing. Chasing a shadow. The dark forest is only lit by a half-full moon, making the blur of movement he is pursuing even harder to track. He is not in Red Robin gear so no help from his tech. Tim is pretty sure he is still barefooted in only his pajama pants but his interest in this creature steals too much of his attention. Whatever he is chasing, it is evasive and smart. The slight glow it gives off may be the only thing keeping Tim from losing track of it completely. It whips between and around trees faster than physically possible. It seems to float off the ground instead of running. Tim only stops his pursuit at the edge of a clearing where the being has stilled in the center. The space is too perfect to be natural. Trees line the grass in a perfect circle and not a single plant pokes out from the grass. Too clean and crisp. Tim can see his breath fog in the cold air. It only seems to get colder and colder. He can now make out the figure facing away from him. The slight tinge of blue and green radiating off of the figure is so intriguing. Tim takes a careful step forward into the circle and the beings head whips around. Glowing green eyes are the last thing he sees before he is ripped from the dream. Tim is left heavy breathing and heart pounding, attempting to shake off the sheer terror he experienced upon making eye contact with the visitor in his dream.

He was eventually lulled back to sleep by exhaustion, waking without another dream. Now he has to go to school and work still thinking about those green eyes.

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

this is kinda super random but i have been getting so much dp x dc and this idea came to me at 2 am while scrolling between here and tik tok

I have more ideas for this so more to come

[littlebosslady7]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Quest’s End Whiskey (@questsendwhiskey)

CR partnered with the company that made Sandkheg’s Hide, a reality, and they made Courage a whiskey.

In the animated show, it's red wine.

Also, I'm pretty sure that's Taliesin doing the voice over. It's a mix of Percy and his Robin Leach impression for commercial purposes, in my opinion.

[after-the-end-times]

I've Built My Life Around You

💛Rating: T🩷 Words: 865 🤍 Tags: Future fic, Queer Platonic Steddie & Robin, Family Hurt/Comfort and Fluff, Slice of Life 🩶For @genderthings Pride Things Bingo Prompt: Queer Platonic Relationship 🖤Ao3

💛🩷🤍🩶🖤 💛🩷🤍🩶🖤 💛🩷🤍🩶🖤 💛🩷🤍🩶🖤

The front door slammed open and then slammed shut. Steve looked up at Eddie from his spot at the kitchen table. “You get the m&m’s, I’ll get the wine.”

Steve stood, heading to their small wine rack in the pantry, while Eddie dried his hands of soap suds and pulled the chocolates from the freezer. They converged back at the table just in time for Robin to sulk in. She stood in the doorway, eyes unsettlingly distant.

“Do you think I’m a leach? No-she said barnacle. Am I a barnacle stuck onto you guys?”

“What the fuck?!” Eddie stood up straight, his chair screeching backwards.

“What.” Steve slammed the bottle of wine on the table, checked that it was fine, and looked back at Robin outraged. “Who said that? Was is Cheryl? Fuck her.”

Robin slouched into a chair at the table and wave her hand regally over the wine. Steve went to the cupboard for wine glasses, Eddie got the corkscrew out of the drawer; together they poured her a too full glass of red wine.

She took a large sip, sat it down, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pulled the bag of m&m’s over to her side of the table.

“Robin, I don’t know where she got that idea, but we want you here.” Steve said. Looking over at Eddie, he raised his eyebrows while pouring Eddie and himself smaller glasses.

“Yeah,” Eddie picked up, “and it’s not just that we want you here, but we also wouldn’t want you to leave.”

Robin leaned back, tipping her head to look at the ceiling. “So, I’m not just a hanger-on to your guys’ happy relationship? Some roommate you wish would get her own place and life?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Robin, no, you’re our best friend.”

“What, and I repeat, the fuck?” Eddie reached across the table to hold her hand. “If you didn’t already, break up with her. Who fucking says something like that? A bitc-”

“She broke up with me,” Robin said, squeezing his hand. “after she asked me to move in with her and I said I didn’t think I could- or, well, didn’t want to. I didn’t want to move out of here. Told her it’s my home. She said it wasn’t my home, that I was just a renting a room in your home.”

Steve sat back hard like he was knocked back by Cheryl’s audacity, even delivered second-hand. “That’s fucked up.”

“Robin, if we could marry you in a friend way we would. We need each other. We all balance each other. So yeah, we’re friend married! It’s official.” Eddie spoke, waving his hand around to encompass him and Steve and Robin.

Steve nodded, grabbing onto her and Eddie’s hands so they formed a lopsided triangle. “We’re a packaged set. Anyone you end up with will just have to understand that and join us.”

“And if one day, you and your partner decide you absolutely need to have your own space, we could just build in the lot next door! We’d live next door to each other and we could have a secret passage or bridge connecting them and we could share a huge back yard with a pool that runs the entire length with diving boards on both ends!” Eddie said faster and faster, running out of breath at the end.

“Oooookay, didn’t even have the chocolate and he’s already worked up and excitable.” Steve patted Eddie’s hand and took his empty wine glass to fill it with water, setting it back down in front of him. “No more wine for you.”

Robin laughed, her heart finally felt settled after her fight with Cheryl, and just from watching Steve and Eddie. They were right, they do balance each other. Reading her mind, Steve looked back over to her.

“So, it’s settled. We’re friend married and anyone you’re with will just have to accept that up front. They’ll have to understand that they’ll be moving in here rather than you moving in with them. Your room’s plenty big enough and we have the back craft room that Eddie never uses if they need an office or workroom.”

“Okay, rude. The lighting’s just better in the kitchen. That’s not something I can help.”

“Well, you could help it by going to the eye doctor for glasses. ‘Cause I can see just fine in the back room.”

Eddie reared back in not-completely-faux outrage. “How dare you call me old. What’s next? Telling me I need more fiber and need to take all those vitamins you take in the morning? Hmph! No thank you.”

Steve gave him a flat look, one eye brow raised. “38’s not old, babe, but we do need to start taking care of our bodies now, so that we can all make it to 80 and living in an old folk’s home together.”

Robin took a sip of her wine, smiling as she watched Steve and Eddie continue to bicker like an old married couple- well, like two thirds of an old married couple.

Yeah, she wasn’t going anywhere. They were hers and she was theirs.

For the rest of their lives.

💛🩷🤍🩶🖤 💛🩷🤍🩶🖤 💛🩷🤍🩶🖤 💛🩷🤍🩶🖤

[duranduratulsa]

80's Fest Personality of the day: Robin Leach #RobinLeach #riprobinleach #lifestylesoftherichandfamous #champagnewishesandcaviardreams #80s #80sfest #durandurantulsas5thannual80sfest

[brucewaynehater101]

Brainrotting again

Ever read "A Thirteen Year Old's Fake ID" by OneoftheUnknown on ao3 ???

*cracks knuckles*

Lets take this idea and run away with it

Unreliable Narration, I choose you!

. · • ★ • · .

Tim—simply put—loves too much

Loves his parents too much to expose their neglect

Too much to do something as scandalous as get caught photographing Batman and Robin

Tim loves the Batman and Robins he's dreamed up too much to not follow him at night, not photograph them, not become Batman's Leash after Jason's passing so as to preserve the hope they symbolize, preserve the childhood hero he's loved for so long

Tim loves his parents too much to be caught being affiliated with Batman, even to the Dark Knight

Timothy Drake never becomes Robin after all . . .

Alvin does!

Alvin works desperately to drag Batman out of the pit of despair he is trapped within and spreading, works to become the most efficent co-worker, and works to build the paper trail that disproves any possibility of fraud

Wigs, contacts, makeup, civilian wear, hobby and even personality that differ dramatically from Drake and Draper are the cherries on top

. · • ★ • · .

Drake is perfect for his family name, and Draper is the idealized Robin who's light preserves the Night and Justice that is Batman

Yes, it is a pain concocting a personality which is the perfect Robin yet detestable enough to go unmourned, such a personality born of an upbringing that would stand up to scrutiny is such an impossible task for anybody not a Drake

Tim is confident he's done it. Once Alvin's no longer entrusted with the burden of Batman's Robin Leash, a Young Justice member, and a hero all around, nobody will gave a damn if he vanishes

[Jason's attack on Titan Towers, Damian's murder attempts, the constant calling of Replacement, his Sweet Sixteen, Dick taking away Robin and ruining his reputation in the hero community, nobody believing that Bruce is alive

Bart and Kon's deaths, the cloning he attempted in his G R I E F which will only serve to soil Draper's name further once it leaks at the press of a button]

All of that, all of that were utterly perfect moments, perfect to lash out in ways that would make Alvin detested more and more

The clock was ticking.

He is a leach of a cast over a long healed limb

. · • ★ • · .

Alvin hates Damian and Jason and Dick to the ends of the Earth. The first two tried to kill him, the third took away the Robin he wrongly thought belonged to him and he stole Red Robin just to be petty

He left a note saying he's only proving them wrong in Bruce being dead just to spite them

Alfred is the only person he is respectful at all too

He doesn't get paid enough

Alvin tried to ignore that giggling fighting to be made at the thought of Batman's accomplice having to suffer through all this

This feeling that's been there since his sixteenth

. · • ★ • · .

Hating the Bats? That's Alvin's job. Timothy knows it's irrational

Jason dug himself out of his grave and was trained in the very same cult as Damian. Batman picked his murderer over Jason

They're traumatized in ways he can't even summarize. The family's they should trust have done horrible jobs at helping the heal, going as far as to exacerbate their issues

It's not just wrong, but inhumane to wish they were Perfect Victims

Alvin is only half right whenever he demands—yuck! have some manners—apologies

. · • ★ • · .

Awful as it sounds, BruceQuest couldn't have come at a more perfect time, a hero on his high horse, insisting against his betters on running away to prove them wrong, a rebellious stint below his age

So what if he died with the League of Assassins after proving Bruce alive and bringing him back?

Everything is right with the Bats again

. · • ★ • · .

Tim hates the Bats more than anything

He knows it's irrational. Declaring in his heart that he hates is for older adults. He can't help it

When Batman disappeared and his family was scrambling to pick up the pieces, he set eyes upon Bruce's side

Who would take up the CEO mantle? Who could be trusted with the family name that swayed Gotham's civilians and Dark Knights?

In the end, with Alvin declared a madman, they could only rely on Timothy Drake, set to inherit Drake Industries following his parent's death and Uncle's adoption of him

Not that the family would ever know it. Not that they needed to know it

It became easier wrangling being a vigilante and CEO, as well as two identities when one of them was dead

Not that he stopped being a vigilante. They're just never gonna show up on the field

But try as he might, he couldn't put the Batfamily quite back together as Alvin wanted

Bruce won't let him step down from being a CEO

. · • ★ • · .

Brucie insisted on a dinner between family and CEO

It makes sense. None as well. Nothing is suspicious of Tim Drake minus his youth

"You have another brother? Where is he?" He hadn't heard of another adoption yet

"He died asshole." Draper? Why would they still speak of him like one of their own?

But then again, he died

He wasn't Jason Todd dead, but rather a "Don't Speak Ill of the Dead" dead

. · • ★ • · .

It's kind of funny how Brucie—no, Batman—seemed to not tell the family how Tim requested to resign multiple times.

But the family was traumatized by his own hand. They needed something to stand against, to become a cohesive family unit. Bonds forged from pressure are a powerful, powerful thing

He can testify I'm so sorry Kon and Bart and Cassie and—

. · • ★ • · .

If Tim were a civilian through and through, he'd say it's fucked how Batman still employs manipulation to make sure family progress stays up

Then again, he has to find some kind of way

It's Batman

. · • ★ • · .

Tim miscalculated

Tim miscalculated sooo, so fucking much

. · • ★ • · .

Nothing but good things to say about the departed Alvin in interviews

A shrine—a shrine!!—in memory of Alvin

Talks and discussing he gathers on his computers regarding the family includes talks about how horribly they mistreated Alvin comparing him to Damian and Jason?!

Alvin had a working and antagonistic relationship with the heros. Timothy Drake was purely professional. Tim Drake's relationships are exclusively parasocial and delusional

And he's trapped the Bats in parasocial relationships with a boy not even real

. · • ★ • · .

Tim wants to be sick

He calls in sick

'Suck it Batman'

. · • ★ • · .

Only after dying is Alvin getting the love Timothy Drake is above wanting for

It doesn't make any sense

. · • ★ • · .

Tim Drake wants to step down from Wayne Enterprises all together, to cut all contact—being a CEO has been such a strain, with Bruce refusing my nephew's several requests to step down—and have his Fake Uncle move them away from Gotham for both of their own mental health

Somewhere he won't fear the Bat's finding him

Bruce refusing his requests are the perfect excuses to go as far as to cut contact with the world—

Tim Drake knows his heart belongs to Gotham

. · • ★ • · .

Tim Drake hates the Waynes and Batfamily to the ends of the earth

There are exceptions. Steph and Barbara, Cass and Duke, and—

. · • ★ • · .

Jack and Janet love archeology too much

Tim, his own family

Dead or Alive

Thus is the way of Drake

Have I ever read "A Thirteen Year Old's Fake ID"? Perhaps.

In all jest, I am so so glad you liked it. To see something inspired off something I wrote is so heartwarming.

Ngl, I like that your version bashes on Bruce a bit more than mine did.

I like to think that Tim, in these AUs, would be pissed about a shrine to Alvin. Part of him would be so angry that they built a shrine to a person they didn't even know. They didn't know Alvin was just a fake identity. They didn't care enough to find out. Yet, they want to make a physical demonstration of their guilt and call it a mourner's monument?

Two more points I like about your AU are the ways Tim separates himself from "Alvin" and how he built Alvin's personality specifically to be a slightly disliked coworker. It's distressing and disheartening (in the best ways) to think of a younger Tim desperately trying not to hate the Bats for what they did to Alvin. It wasn't him, it wasn't Tim, so it shouldn't matter, right? He can still love them?

An older Tim knows better.

[luveline]

OMG need to see more of Steve drawing reader in the zombie au!!!

steve zombie au —steve draws you all the time. fem

Sometimes, you collapse under the weight of it all. A lot of bad things have happened to you, and the world in this state is overwhelming. You used to wake in a soft, warm bed, spend days surrounded by loved ones, eating and drinking when you needed to, when you wanted to, with no worrying about where your next tube of toothpaste or toilet paper was going to come from. 

These days, you wake, and it's into a world where you've seen agony, and inhumanity, and it's hard. You're his sweetheart and he doesn't care, he'll take care of you for the rest of his life, but there's only so much he can do. 

“Sure you don't need anything else?” he whispers, pulling the linen blankets up to your chin. 

“M'sure. Thanks, Steve.” 

He feels bad touching you when you're squirming. “Yeah, no problem. I'm just gonna sit outside and read, okay? I'll be right there.” 

“Okay,” you mumble, pressing your face into your pillow. 

Steve grabs his rucksack and drags himself outside of the tent. From here, the sea of tents, he can see the fire in the centre of camp leaching smoke into the air, and he can hear the unmistakable hum of hundreds of people in one place. He figures it to be almost like an army base, and the small amount of military personnel only cements that. 

Robin's off somewhere. He misses her more and more lately, not sure where she is, but you've been sick this week. He has to stay close to home. She'll be back tonight for sure to see you both. And Eddie, your new (and, to Steve's reluctance, good) friend, popped by to see you both an hour ago. You weren't in the mood to talk and so he mostly talked to Steve about the next run for supplies. 

You're loved, but you're lonely. You lost everyone you knew. 

You need time to mourn now you're somewhere safe enough to do it. 

Steve rummages through his rucksack for his novel, but he doesn't want to read it without you. Between that and his sketchbook, he has very little to do. Still, you'd brought him those nice pencils and a new skinny sketchbook full of smooth paper, and there are pages yet to fill. 

It's all you. Every inch of space. Your unknowing smile as Eddie showed you how to make an origami crane, or your stomach in the dark as your t-shirt rode up in sleep. Your hands clasped around one of his, squeezing, and the figure of your crouched by the river watching tiny fish swim by. You're in lilac, and sepia, and green, green-green-green, the darkest green pencil he has in want of a black detailing your pupils and the seam of your lips over and over. 

He looks in through the tent door and sketches the curve of your hip under the blanket. He could likely draw you head to toe and inch by inch without reference, or he likes to think it, having seen it all a hundred times, maybe more. You sigh in your dozing and curl inwards, and he starts again. 

He notices when you start to cry because he's focused on your shoulders as they tremble. Steve folds the pen between leaves of paper and shoves it all back into his bag. To comfort you or let you cry? Sometimes people just want to be left alone. 

“Steve?” you ask through a little sniffle. 

“Yeah, honey, I'm here.” 

“Will you come in here?” 

He must be doing something right if you're calling him in when you need him. Finally, something right. Steve crawls into the tent and presses your shoulders against the tent flooring, shaking his head at you. “It's okay,” he says, enthusing his voice with a light amount of loving ridicule. “What are you crying for, huh? You're okay.” 

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you agree, snuffling as he touches your cheek. 

“You are. You're okay. You're beautiful.” He goes sticky like syrup, praising. “I'd write you love letters if I had a pen.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Just talking about how pretty you are would take up ten pages. I keep trying to get it down, you know? So when I'm gone, they'll know someone as pretty as you was walking around loving on some loser,” —you laugh wetly and distract him— “right? So why are you crying?” 

“Just don't feel well.” 

“I don't blame you,” he says, nudging a tear off of your cheek with his thumb. 

“But,” you say, smiling at him weakly, “I have to keep my head up. Yes?” 

“Yeah, honey.” He swallows a funny lump. “God, you're fucking everything when you smile.”

It's not that he doesn't care, he wants to hear it, but you just don't know how to tell him. How do you verbalise a mountain of grief? So he rescues you instead, flirts and soothes the wound with a warm smile. You respond to it as he'd hoped and perk up with a couple of carefully pressed kisses. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

“Were you drawing me, before?” 

“How'd you guess that?” 

“You were really quiet. It's like you go somewhere else.” 

“Nah. Just with you.” He clears his throat. “Did you… wanna see?” 

“Really?” 

Steve would write an itemised list of all his worst secrets if it meant you'd smile. A few pages of shoddy pencil sketches is nothing.