gayville

🌅Chasing sunsets like they owe me money✨

[bibigo-lover]

love hypotheticals.

summary: after stratt hires you on as a documentation specialist for project hail mary, you find yourself being more and more drawn to one dr. ryland grace. (part ii here and part iii here!)

pairing: ryland grace x reader

word count: 4.5k

tags: (set on stratt's vat, pre-tau ceti) meet-cute, strangers-to-lovers, forced proximity, workplace relationship, idiots in love, fluff, will they/won't they, documentation specialist!reader

cross-posted to ao3

What would you do if the apocalypse started?

It’s a stupid hypothetical that you make up when you’re trying to get to know somebody. Something you say at two in the morning at a sleepover, or at work in the break room with absolutely nothing to do. It isn’t serious—never that—until the Petrova line. Until the pending death of the Sun. Until Eva Stratt comes knocking on the door of your high-rise apartment, asking you—really, telling you—to abandon your day job and leave for overseas.

She has you document everything. You take notes on all the major classified meetings. You transcribe conversations between officials, especially the particularly tense ones. When you’re not writing, she has you in front of a printer-scanner, making copies for the bi-weekly organizational debriefings. You went to school for technical writing, and now, it appears that you’ve been placed into the absolute life-or-death version of a dream job. It could be worse. You could be at home, knowing that the next thirty years will spiral into world crises and war over rations. At least you’re doing something.

Her latest project for you—and, allegedly, the most important—is technical writing regarding astrophage. For the past few weeks, you’ve done nothing but compile information from Stratt’s several global microbiologists. It isn’t until the big breakthrough—the “great American scientist” who figured out how to breed the little things—that the ball starts rolling. You’ve been hearing all about him, no matter how unwillingly. There’s plenty of reserved comments from Stratt about how reclusive he seems to make himself. From the scientists, who praise his findings. From the agents, too—a schoolteacher, he’s a schoolteacher, and he dresses like one, too. 

The first time you meet him truly is ultimately… gratifying. Dr. Grace lives up to expectations. You’re at the other end of the table when Stratt leads him in: a mousy, blonde-haired thirty-year-old man. Glasses askew, and dark-blue eyes blown wide. It takes a lot of will for you not to tilt your head at the sight of him—the way his eyes dart around the room, his unsuccessful attempt to back himself out of it. It’s… amusing–like watching a baby bird get coaxed out of the nest. What comes next is rather productive. You type fast on your laptop: astrophage, single-celled, Venus, high-CO2, breeding, replication by mitosis. You aren’t able to focus much on him, per say. It’s more his words, his cadence when he talks about the discovery—and the following queries that come with debriefing him on Project Hail Mary. He’s cute. And there isn’t enough time in the world for you to think that.

—

The next time you see him is in the mess hall a couple days after. Clearly, Stratt has him settled in—probably placed him in a nice bunk with another one of the old scientists. He sits mulling over a bowl of cereal, looking almost identical to the way that he did in the meeting room. The greatest change, clearly, is his choice in clothing. He’s got a knit cardigan on, over some punny science t-shirt that you can only vaguely read. Dr. Ryland Grace sits alone. And, he’s in your spot.

Your imagination runs its course. Maybe, he likes solitude. Maybe, he’s still facing the fact that this ship is filled with some kind of Sisyphean effort to try and save the planet. You’re very sure, looking at him stirring his spoon pointlessly in the bowl, that this situation is too big for him. He wants to go home. You’ve got your own tray of breakfast—oats and bottled juice. Clearly, you’re not used to the barrack-like quality of the ship quite yet, or else you’d be able to sit down with just about anyone else. The only downside of your job is that you don’t have very much time to talk—buried in screens and stacks of files. You sit alone, too, most of the time, in this very spot that Grace has decided to occupy for himself.

You approach him slowly, waiting for him to notice your presence on the other end of the table. It’s regrettable that he doesn’t, so caught up on the swirling quality of his cereal. You have to knock your knuckle on the edge of the tabletop. “Dr. Grace,” you hum. He retracts his hand from his spoon like it’s red-hot and stands up to greet you.

“Hi,” he says, pulling his own tray back to make room for yours. “Please, please sit down.” You wonder if he’s going to try and reach out to shake your hand—but he’s back down as soon as you swing your leg over the bench. You follow suit, giving him a polite, tight-lipped smile. Grace hums, eyes squinting as he taps his fingers across the tabletop. “I recognize you,” he says, “You had the, uh, fast hands.” The observation comes out of his mouth disjointed and awkward—but, straight to the point.

“Stratt hired me on as a documentation specialist. Fancy title for making sure that everything gets dated and down on paper,” you tell him. You almost want to light up at the thought of him picking you out in that stuff-full room—but you’ve got to keep your cool. “I’ve been assigned to record all research regarding the astrophage.” Which means you’re going to spend a lot more time together.

“Important work. Historians will love you if everything turns out how it’s supposed to,” Grace nods. In truth, you’d never considered your job in that light. In your head, Stratt had simply wanted documentation as a contingency. If all Hell broke loose, there’d still be the logs that you maintained of all the work of the scientists, the engineers, the researchers… You hadn’t been able, in the rush of it all, to consider what it meant long-term.

“Right,” you chuckle, “And molecular biology’ll make a pretty shrine for you, too.” It’s a silly thought—Father of the Astrophage, on a platinum plaque. The flattery makes him shift in his seat, index finger coming up to push up his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. You have to soak it in a little bit, his nervousness up-close. It’s charming.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, making ample use of your food by using it to keep quiet. Grace has his cereal, and you your oats. It’s easy. You feel like a little kid again, trying to make a friend in the cafeteria; you’re sure that’s what it looks like, too. You take a moment to crack open the lid of your juice, and Grace takes the opening. “Is this where you would’ve wanted it to end up?” he asks, “When… everything, you know—”

“Went to shit? No, not at all,” you huff. It comes up again. What would you do if the apocalypse started? Except, this time, it’s very clear that neither of you have much of a choice. Yes, it’s definitive now. Grace doesn’t know how he got here, still, despite the briefings. He’s in the middle of the ocean, and so are you; he wants advice. “I think most people hope for a conservationist sort of end. Like, in the middle of the redwoods, in a tiny cabin with a stone chimney, or something.”

He lets out a dry chuckle and stifles it quickly with the back of his hand. “Is that what you wanted?”

“No. I mean, I think I’m where I’m supposed to be now. It’s this or slow, slow death.” For an unquantifiable amount of people, you could add. You find it better not to.

“And, your family—?”

“—knows I’m here, if you can believe it. Stratt’s act of kindness. They think I’m doing administrative work for the U.N., which isn’t a complete lie,” you murmur under your breath. He can only nod solemnly. Carefully, you recall: “She told me that you didn’t… have anyone to contact.”

He doesn’t seem phased at all by the inquiry. “No, no. My parents passed away before I finished doing my doctorate. They were older. I moved to the Bay for my tenure track after that. It was the easiest decision I could’ve made, considering—” He doesn’t have to spell it out for you: he bombed his own career with a single dissertation—it was teaching or nothing at all. And, all things considered, Grace really loved to teach. “I lived alone in the end. No dog, one ex.”

Ex. You think it’s probably too soon—and, too much pressure—to tell him that you don’t have anyone else waiting for you at home, either. In some twisted way, you might want him to be curious about it. To wonder if there’s someone waiting for you at the shore, or if you’re hooking up with one of the pilots on-deck. It’s all a bit of harmless fun. Vaguely, you explain, “I had an apartment, too. Nice place. Took forever to hunt for it, lock down the lease, decorate—and then, nothing. Had to surrender the keys after Stratt made it clear she wanted me on-board.”

—

It’s all been a little bit less lonely since Grace’s boarded the ship. You practically have to be glued together on account of Stratt’s orders. “He should rarely leave your sight,” she tells you over dinner one night, in a cleared navigational deck, “It’s imperative that you have his calculations recorded down to the decimal and uploaded to the database.”  Really, it isn’t the hardest task. After that first breakfast, he seems generally comfortable in your company. He floats towards you, seemingly, more than you do him. The greatest tell is his punctuality. Grace makes it early enough to morning meetings so that he can position himself right beside you.

When there’s much more dull conversation being held about different nations providing staff or material, you notice that he has the tendency to get more… distractable. Beneath the table, you can feel his knee brush against yours as he bounces his leg—sole of his sneaker scuffing against the floor. Of course, he doesn’t have nearly as much reason to listen when the conversations turn more diplomatic and less scientific. And, while you’re supposed to pay attention heartily and take your extensive notes, Grace is on the less helpful end of the spectrum.

He likes to pass notes. They vary in topic and seriousness. There’s one particular morning when he chooses to be heavy-handed with them. It starts as soon as the representatives begin to argue. With nimble fingers, Grace slips the note right next to the trackpad of your laptop. Britain is a tool. Britain being the politician from Britain, an older man with too-tight trousers who dissented to almost everything Stratt had to offer. You take the card and slip it between the front cover and the first page of your notebook.

More chatter, and you can already see him scribbling out the next one behind his walled-up hand. You peek over, and he slides it determinedly towards you. Hope they do something other than eggs today at caf. Yes, they’d served it five days in a row. You decided to keep your complaints about it in for the first three days, and broke on the fourth. Grace had heard the bulk of your argument—the grittiness of powdered eggs, and how you’d kill for a stack of pancakes. This note, you slide back over to him. It’s not nearly as taboo as the first, which means he can have it back.

The last one Grace has for you comes a whopping ten minutes later, after he gets pulled into a conversation about laser tech for the breeding tanks. Once that devolves into yet another disagreement, he turns his attention back over to you. This new note, he makes sure to fold in half before lodging it beneath the keyboard of your computer. It takes you another five minutes of conversation lulling for you to open it. You pry the two edges open to read it: What do you do with sick chemists? Helium. What do you do if they die? Barium.

This one makes you snort to yourself too loud for your liking. You brush the index card into your lap with your nose scrunched in realization of how much of a slacker you must look like. This routine of yours is beginning to set itself in most morning meetings, and you’re beginning to wonder if you should start giving him the silent treatment. Grace appears rather proud to have made you laugh, chest puffed out; he tries to hide his smirk by looking down at his lap. If Stratt has an opinion about it, she doesn’t say anything. 

—

You’re staring, and you really can’t help it. Grace has his cardigan shedded and strewn across the nearest lab chair. He’s doing an awful lot of calculations, something on astrophage power output that you’ll have to ask him to spell out for you later. The graphic, of course, is no better than the rest of the shirts he’s worn all week. But, the real kicker is the way that the fabric of his short-sleeves are hugging around his biceps. You couldn't have guessed that Grace would be so… fit. 

You can’t take your eyes off him now, as he takes a black Expo marker to the surface of the whiteboard. The shirt’s tight. You’re checking him out. It isn’t until he peeks over his shoulder at you that you become all the more conscious of it. It’s a fleeting moment; unwillingly, you peel your eyes off of his and onto your laptop on the desk in front of you. You’re supposed to be compiling a folder to send out to the Payload Systems team. Not… this.

“Sorry,” you shoot out mindlessly. You make an exerted effort to examine the inventory list on your screen and cross-check it with another spreadsheet on the tab over. Busywork. It’s better to look like you’re doing literally anything else.

Grace doesn’t take his eyes off the board as he continues scribbling across it. He lifts the marker off the board a moment: “What for?”

You suck in a deep breath. An apology implies that you’ve got something to be sorry about.  You want to leave now—but there’s really no good excuse to. Stratt is off-site, which means that you’re only doing busywork ‘till she’s back with new news. So, you elaborate with an empty “…Nothing.”

“O-kay,” he enunciates. You can’t do anything but return back to your screen with an attempt at dutifulness. Grace stays at the board, head tilted to write some undecipherable combination of greek-letters at the upper-right corner, and you can go back to your previously abandoned work. It’s almost machine-like, the way in which he scrawls the information from left to right, without any hesitation. You write several lines down on the notepad to your left: Hermle centrifuge machine needs replacement. Polypropylene for containment units — CNPC bulk load. And, messily, at the corner of your page, In love with Grace?

It’s difficult to tell. You’re together ninety-percent of the time. You’re clearly attracted to him and his square frames and his dad clothes. He makes you laugh, lets you use his old iPod to listen to Oasis. And maybe it’s  the close proximity speaking, but you feel deeply about Grace in a way that you aren’t sure how to describe. Like now, as he caps the white board marker and slides it into his back pocket, before coming over to check on you with quick steps.

“On a scale of one to ten, how illegible is that?” he asks you. You try not to cave as he rests both of his hands on the edge of your desk, toned arms straining right beside you. You squint as you stare at the board, trying to make sense of the numbers.

“I think I can get everything down except for that bottom-half. It’s not your handwriting, just the formulas,” you admit. You’d never been one for complex mathematics, and you need to make sure you can get the equations recorded exactly as they are.

He hums, “That isn’t bad at all. For now, just note the biomass—circled and labeled it wet weight, in tons. If you need to, you can send the number out to DuBois, see if I got the match right, and I…” Grace trails off, picking up the mug that he has set on the desk next to you. He makes an additional effort to peer into your own empty mug, before picking it up with his other free hand. “Will be right back.” He carries them out of the room without another word. Another plus: he fetches you drinks without any asking.

It’s more quiet when he’s out of the room, presumably at the espresso machine just down the hall. In Grace’s absence, you can actually think more clearly about the situation. You know that Shapiro and DuBois have their own version of a relationship—albeit, more or less casual. At the end of the world, nobody really bats an eye about it. All things considered, it’s actually better for morale. You have to wonder if that’s in the cards for the two of you.

It isn’t long before he comes back with the two mugs. First, he places his a safe couple of inches away from your computer. Then, he makes a slow gesture for you to take your mug out of his hands. “Careful. It’s hot,” he tells you softly, running his hand beneath the bottom of the cup to swipe off the possibility of a wet ring. As he gingerly passes the handle into your hands, your fingers brush against one another comfortably. You note, eyes glancing up from the steaming cup, that there’s a faint blush littering his cheeks. But, he’s too intent on the handoff to take his eyes off the coffee to look up at you. Yes, you think, In love with Grace.

—

Once you figure out that fundamental fact, you start to think it over too much. There’s nothing necessarily wrong with your finding. It’s natural, and probably inevitable, for you to have fallen for him. What’s more anxiety-inducing is what you’re supposed to do about it. Under any other circumstances, you’d be okay keeping your mouth shut and letting the opportunity pass you up. But, considering the timeline of the Earth at present, it seems like there’s no time to waste. At the end of the world, it isn’t the sort of thing you should keep to yourself. You should tell him. And still, you’ve been sitting on the idea of it for weeks.

You really hope that Grace hasn’t figured it out, as observant as he is—but it’s really very clear to everyone else on Project Hail Mary. You can tell by the way they watch you both, like it's morning television. Grace rambles on about astrophysics, and you listen. He goes off on tangents about old and wrong college professors, and you laugh. You talk about your life before the project, and he listens with his chin resting on his hand. He asks you questions about what you used to do, where you used to go—like you’re another thing to learn. And everyone fawns.

It’s a good night when you hole yourself in your bunk room. All the engineers and specialists and to-be cosmonauts are all gathered together for drinks and a movie. The simple act of slipping away, letting people assume that you’ve got a migraine or an extra load of paperwork, is easy. It’s in the comfort of your tiny twin bed that you get to listen to the ocean and wailing ship creaks, window propped open to let in the fresh air. It’s strange to think that this room has been yours for so many months; the gunmetal ceiling of it is familiar now.

You get to enjoy this for upwards of an hour, until footsteps come clunking down the hall. You’re sure you know who they belong to. There’s a couple of soft, metal knocks on your door. “Hey, buddy. You sleeping?” It’s Grace’s muddled voice on the other side of the door. “Dinner’s up and everybody’s wondering where you’re at.”

You raise your head off of your pillow, “Door's unlocked. Just come in.” It’s a quick scramble for you to sit up and toss your legs over the side of the bed. As soon as Grace makes it through the doorway, you give him a sheepish smile and a wave.

“Jeez, it’s freezing in here.” Grace’s cardigan is hanging on his right hand. Another tight tee tonight, vintage tour shirt for The Beach Boys. You have to look away as he tosses it on the desk chair adjacent to your bed and as he comes up to sit right beside you. “You know,” he starts, lowering onto the hard mattress, “If you’ve been feeling overworked, I already told you I’d tell Stratt I could handle my own documentation for a week. It’s lab standard, anyway—”

He’s not making it any easier for you. “No, it’s fine,” you insist. It isn’t very easy to tell him that you’re not overworked, that you just have stupid feelings for him. Your refusal only makes him work harder.

Dismissively, he continues, “You can just sit there and watch me work. Read a book or something. A little bit of downtime isn’t going to be the end of the world. And, yes, I know how it sounds given the current circumstanes—but I think you definitely deserve it with the amount of running around that you do.” He’s getting rather impassioned about you resting, so much so that when you mumble out his name—a soft-spoken “Grace”—he doesn’t even pick up on it. He only marches on, “When you think about it, it’d help my research, too. Because if you’re stressed, I’m stressed. And that’s just no good.”

“Ryland,” you blurt. He halts, lips parting and closing. You never call him that, and now he seems very, very dazed. You explain, “I’m not overworked. I just needed a bit of time to think. Alone.”

“Right,” he cedes. “I’m sorry.” You can see his shoulders slump in the slightest, all guilt-ridden about having disturbed you. Grace leans weight onto his sneakers, clearly in an attempt to get off your bed and dismiss himself. Too easily, you reach for his arm to hold him in place.

“No, I want you,” you retract it just as quickly with a blurted, “Here. I want you here.” Grace looks more puzzled than before, but sits himself more comfortably on the end of your bed. Open to listen. You clasp your hands together, “Okay. I’m going to give you a hypothetical… Say, you have a decent life, nothing crazy. Good job at a library. It’s modest, and you’re happy with it. Go You have a good place, good friends. No… partner.” Maybe, the two of you are more similar than you realize. “And that’s okay,” you add, paying no mind to the way Grace’s eyes soften behind the lens of his glasses.

You carry on: “You’ve been okay with that for a decent amount of time. Then… apocalypse starts. You find somebody by chance, who you’d probably never cross paths with otherwise, and you realize that you like being with them. And, suddenly, because the apocalypse has started, you probably won’t have another opportunity to like another person like you do this one. And you really like the one.” You can feel your palms clam up at the confrontation of it all, the vulnerability.

He blinks slowly once. Then, twice. Grace raises a slow index finger up towards himself, eyes peering just over the frame of his glasses, “That’s me.” He states it out like an educated guess, cut-and-dry.

“No, it’s Yao,” you shoot back. “Yes, it’s you, obviously. Who else would it be?”

“Okay,” he says, hand reaching up to take his glasses off. Grace stands up with a deep breath, hand ruffling through his spiky-blonde hair as he walks further away from your bunk. Again, he mutters out a soft, “Yeah, okay,” not far off from how he looks trying to expand out a calculation. Grace taps his foot on the floor, paces left, then right, rubs his palm over the scruff on his face. A torturous lack of response. Then, finally, he turns around. “So, the whole time you weren’t just really into microbiology?”

You have to gawk at him. “Are you being serious?” He looks completely serious, glasses hanging off of his chin, blue eyes inspecting the irked look on your face with doe-like curiosity.

“Well, can you blame me? You’re gorgeous, and you’re also impossible to read.” Gorgeous? He thinks you’re gorgeous. That’s nice. You can feel the warmth bloom in your chest at the implication—but you can’t help but scoff out of pure offense. He puts his hands up in a haphazard shrug. “I mean, now that I know, it makes a lot more sense why you look at me like… that. I wasn’t totally sure.” Now, it seems that he’s making a bit of a game out of it. You don’t care to ask him to elaborate on what “that” looks like.

Stubbornly, you tut, “I’m taking it back. I’m taking it back, and it was completely hypothetical!” You stand up from your spot on the bunk, walking narrowly past Grace to your desk. Briskly, you pick up his cardigan—disposed of on your desk chair—before bunching it up and shoving it towards him. 

“No, no, no—you can’t take it back. Cat’s out the bag,” Grace insists teasingly, hands clinging to the cardigan. Before you can completely let go of the woollen fabric, he makes sure, next, to grasp his hands over yours. They’re significantly larger and warm, too warm; with your hands plastered to his chest, there isn’t really anywhere for you to go. You think he must feel the nervousness practically radiating out of you, because he seems to slow down: “Okay, I’m being difficult. I can grovel if you want me to.” Grace’s voice lowers down into a rasp.

There’s a cockiness about it that you haven’t exactly seen from him before. You can’t tell if it’s making you flustered or annoyed—both, likely—and in some bout of courage, you get on your tiptoes to press your lips against his. The cold, metal frame of his glasses nudges against your face as the two of you kiss. Grace takes one hand up to cradle your jaw, and you can hear a quiet, satisfied hum come out of him. It does live up to hypothetical expectation, the way his body melds against yours clumsily around the barrier of the cardigan. It’s very him, and it’s very you. 

Grace can barely be convinced, with your hands pushing back against his chest, to let you take a breath of air. Once the two of you split, Grace has a sideways smirk. “I really like you, too. Not sure if I made that clear,” he murmurs. “So, would you come grab dinner with me?”

[buzzbuzzlilbee]

😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕💕

[torstherapy]

[potejto-potato]

The brain worm of "aperture" continues to burrow in my brain.

Fic link: Aperture

Fic creator:

@birdbyrne

Edit:

I have never recieved so much attention in my life, I am in tears! I love reading all your tags T^T Also check out the fic! It's really really good!

[atrusovaartist]

acrylic on canvas 60*70 cm “lace over the river” 2022 #river #volkslovers #art #painting #sky skylovers

[2-board]

Omg the og artist O.o i feel like im meting a celebrity, i see this style all over Pinterest 🤩

[rebloggingitall]

the planet and the fates and all the stars aligned: Masterlist

Summary (also posted on AO3):

“You’re awake!” He exclaims, taking several steps forward to where you stand next to the ladder, and begins speaking quickly. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I could wake you. The computer hasn’t been helpful at all, and all those medical textbooks don’t have information about situations like this—” He cuts himself off, perhaps realizing that your eyes are wide at the flurry of information he throws at you. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself,” He apologizes, running a hand through his hair again and adjusting the gold glasses that had been slipping down his nose. “You just woke up, and I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Ry—” “Ryland Grace,” You complete for him without thinking. “You remember?” He exclaims, his eyes brightening. You pause. How did you know that? You didn’t remember your own name until two minutes ago, yet you instinctively knew his. Something about him was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

You wake up nine days late aboard the Hail Mary with no memories and the faint feeling that you know Ryland Grace, the only other person aboard the ship. Oh, and he just met an alien.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

More chapters incoming...

[squirmitherium]

Would you beat your current phone/computer wallpaper in a 1v1 fight?

I would pound their ass immediately.

I would, but I choose not too (for moral reasons).

Fair chances on both.

I would be the one getting slimed.

…what.

Voting ended onJun 24

*you have to provide an image

[2-board]

I couldn’t do that to hello kitty 😞 it would be physically very easy but imagine the emotional toll

[tu-turu-turuh]

- Masterlist -

Here it is people of Tumblr, I'm gonna update this masterpost whenever there are new parts on the AUs and other stories that I post here in Tumblr. Fandoms will vary.

Danny and Damien are friends (also known as: Damian has a crush on Danny). Danny Phantom x DC comics AU. Dead serious ship (Damian x Danny). PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12 PART 13 PART 14 PART 15 PART 16 LAST PART

Dr. Danny M.D. Danny Phantom x DC comics AU. PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Not Batman's sidekick. Danny Phantom x DC comics AU. PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10

To babysit a mafia boss. Trash of the Count's Family x Katekyo Hitman Reborn Crossover. PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Accidental Crime Lord/Mob Boss Danny. Danny Phantom x DC comics AU. Oneshot.

Danny is Dick and Barbara's kid. Danny Phantom x DC comics AU.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9

Fem!Damian (Talia) x Danny. Danny Phantom x DC comics AU. Dead Serious ship (fem!Damian x Danny). PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6

Damian & Danny are dating (Damian has a crush on Danny second part). Danny Phantom x DC comic AU. Dead Serious ship (Damian x Danny). PART 1 PART2 PART3 PART4-A PART4-B

Danny can sing. Danny Phantom AU. PART 1 PART 2

How I think Danny looks in "Damian has a crush on Danny" and "Damian and Danny are dating" (ART)

Damian and Danny practice (ART).

PROMPT: Growing Pains.

PROMPT: Pretty Witchy Danny. ONESHOT

PROMPT: Danny Phantom x MARVEL.

PROMPT: DANNY PHANTOM X DC COMICS, ARCANE AU.

[mintmatcha]

immortal and the human they've been cursed to watch die over and over again

[mintmatcha]

he remembers the first time you left him, the way you gently gave into the fever and went. the heat of your skin rose and rose, then it was over, and then you were gone. he gave you one last kiss on your cracked lips and pretended you were there to feel it.

he mourned, of course. harder than he had ever mourned any other lover he had ever entertained.

it was fifty years later before he saw you again. a baker's daughter, softer around the waist, with the same laugh you've always had. of course, you had no memory of your past life, but you fell into loving him like it was habit.

that death was the hardest.

Heat took you once again, this time in the form of fire. the bakery's flame caught your skirt and you along with it. by the time you were saved, it was too late. the final days of your life were spent in horrible pain, crying and screaming and begging for death. by the time it came, it felt overdue.

the cycle kept repeating. the two of you would meet and within five years, you would die. illness and childbirth and a stray bullet from war; even in the lives he tried to avoid you, tragedy would follow. once, you had married another man, only for him kill you within the month.

the worst part, he thinks as he stares at the most current iteration of you, is that his chest still flutters with joy when he sees you for the first time. that, despite the trauma and heartbreak and horror, he still loves you more than anything.

[mintmatcha]

He can feel it coming this time. There's a tickle in the back of his mind, like a click ticking down each second he has left.

"You've got-" He tugs the laces of your boots, your foot stepping up on his thigh. He loves kneeling over like this, at your feet. it reminds him of the very short life you had as a princess. "To tie your shoes better."

"What's gotten into you?" you laugh. "I'm not made of glass."

He lets you pull away, sitting back on to his heels. It's amazing how little your face has changed over all of your lives, how you still look the way you did when he first laid eyes on you, just with more lines around your smile. This is the oldest you've ever been-- and maybe ever will be. "Are you sure? I could swaddle you in bubble wrap, just to be safe."

You roll your eyes with a smile. "Sure, I'll just walk around the office covered in bubblewrap. My boss will love that."

The itch in his head gets stronger.

"Why don't you stay home for work today?" His hand runs up your leg, more appreciative than sexual. "Spend the day with me."

He leans forward and presses his head into your thigh, the way you've always been weak for. Your hands immediately find his hair and scratch his scalp, your body's tension giving in just a bit.

"Well..."

"Please." He's not really speaking to you. "Just give me one day."

You give in gently.

"Anything for you."

.

It happens three hours later.

You're laughing, pulling your shirt back on post sex. Lately, you've been insatiable and he knows why.

"I'm just saying-" you muse. "we're stable, we're in love. I'm just waiting for the ring."

He knows. He still has your original ring, the one he always takes from your finger before burying you.

"I'm not getting any younger. I wanna have babies and t-"

Your eyes shift a bit. It's subtle, until you make this garbled sound, not quite a word at all, like your tongue has disconnected from your brain.

Before he can get up, you're on the ground. Just like always, you're give into death gently.

The beat of your heart is gone before he can even call for help. By the time the EMTs arrive, you're cold. They cover you with a blanket, like it saves your diginity as you wheel you out of the apartment building. He cries, just like he always does, when the doctors tell him it was an aneurysm, that nothing could have saved you.

That's the horrible truth he needs to learn to swallow. Nothing could have saved you. Nothing will save you.

[mintmatcha]

For the first time in centuries, he speaks to the thing that made him. It comes only in the deepest of nights, when the winter air is most bitter.

"Why do you curse me like this?"

The voice tastes of forgotten pine, a species now lost. "Why do you speak in tongues I do not know?"

The language should be dead, but it rolls off his tongue as easily as it did back then. No written word, no official name in the modern tongue: a secret between him and the monster he's bonded to.

"You take her from me, life after life." He never ages, but he feels young again, angry, reckless. "You lied to me when you promised a painless life. You lied when you promised no one else would die."

The wind howls with insult. There's a moment where he can feel it there, hunched and hovering above his shoulder, maw gaped and empty.

"The only lie is the one you tell yourself."

It's gone again, nothing but a whispering voice on the breeze. Without worshippers, it no longer holds much power. Without him, it would fade into nothing, just like the other forgotten gods.

"I know your mind does not fail you. You remember your first meeting with the girl."

"In the summer fields."

"Ach. Your lie." It growls its words. "That was her second life."

He has no answer to that. No, he had met you in the fields, right after the grain had sprouted. The memory is his prized possession.

"You play your tricks again."

"You truly forget the face of the woman you sacrificed in my name?" The hiss runs a chill up his spine. "The one who you killed with your own hands? The one who's blood you drank to live for all eternity?"

Blood is always the price. He had taken a woman from the neighboring village, covered her face in cloth so he could not see the tragedy he was committing. The ritual was long, grueling, and the girl had almost died too soon multiple times, but she fought to live, fought against his hand-

"No." Those screams. Were they yours? "That's- no."

"You had chosen her to die, so you may live."

His stomach turns as he remembers the taste of your blood on his lips, the metal aftertaste as you fought with the last ounce of life-

"Now, she dies."

[tsukimirecs]

GRYFFINDOR BOYS

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

FRED WEASLEY

mad woman

cupid crystals

a special friend

recovering a life

deep breath

strawberry letters

date after date

SIRIUS BLACK

complimentary quills

just a natural fact

brighten your days

black dog neighbour

padfoot

HARRY POTTER

harry potter and the long-lost beach episode

harry potter and the late-night company

potter love

gifts

green-eyed idiot

romancing professor potter

CHARLIE WEASLEY

creative writing class

favourites

taming the dragon tamer

lucky charm

let's pretend

GEORGE WEASLEY

heart-to-heart chase

beating a weasley

well-meaning deceit

see you again

it's definitely you

coming home

[mias-back-from-the-dead]

tbh i think the funniest phenomena that's been happening in the last couple years is "youtuber, having gone too deep into the research hole, has been made an investigative journalist against their will"

[aces-and-anime]

Shout out to the guy who wanted to do some fun & silly little reviews but uncovered an illegal gambling operation

(Review 2)

[json-derulo]

this guy started out poking fun at australian politicians and ended up investigating the firebombing of his own home, during which he uncovered connections between the same politician he was making fun of + major organized crime

[wedding-funeral-waitress]

JasperDasper started out just curious why everything had suddenly become about trans people and questioning some of the sources used in a book. He came out of it, 4 years later, with a 5 hour long video that connects all transphobia to less than 60 people. (I'm not joking. literally every single transphobic rhetoric and bill passed is because of these 50 or so people.)

If you wanna watch it I cannot recommend it enough; I just warn that it covers a LOT.

[starstrucktoby]

Covey Name Ideas

As promised here is my list of Covey-inspired names.

I tried to follow the typical naming convention of the first part of the name being a traditional folk poem or ballad, but I did add some names that differed from the typical names, and still fit the covey vibes. Suggestions appreciated :)

I also posted a list of shades of colors in case some people needed it!

https://www.tumblr.com/starstrucktoby/795797713663000576/color-shades

(145)

Annabel (Annabel Lee) Alice (Lady Alice) Arthur (King Arthur) Annie (For Annie or Gentle Annie) Ariel (Ariel by Sylvia Plath) Annachie (Annachie Gordon) Andrew (Death of Young Andrew) Angelina (Farewell Angelina) April (April Come She Will) Annet (Lord Thomas and Fair Annet) Augustine (The Ladder of St. Augustine) Allegra (Children's Hour) Amoret (The Faerie Queene) Amarantha (Song to Amarantha)

Barbra (Barbra Allen) Billy (Billy Boy) Bonny/Bonnie (‘Bonny Barbra Allen’ or ‘The Bonnie Lass o’ Fyvie’) Bridget (The Banks of Newfoundland) Bill (Railroad Bill) Bess (The Highway Man)

Clerk (‘Clerk Saunders’ or ‘Clerk Colvill’) Claribel (Claribel by Ralph Vaughn Williams) Christabel (Christabel by Samuel Taylor Coleridge) Clementine (Oh My Darling, Clementine) Clara (The Song of Maria Clara) Clarinda (To the Van Morte Clarinda) Celia (To Celia) Claude (Claude Allen) Cole (Cole Younger) Corey (Darling Corey) Charlie (Mr Charlie) Catherine (Catherine Howard’s Fate) Carolina (Carolina in my Mind) Curtis (Ballad of Curtis Loew) Cecilia (Cecilia- Simon & Garfunkel) Corinna (Corinna’s Gone A’Maying) Catskin (The Wandering Young Gentlewoman or Catskin)

Delia (Delia by Samuel Daniel) Davy (The Ballad of Davy Crockett) Donnie (Ballad of Donnie Gene) Delilah (Hey There Delilah) Delta (Delta Dawn) Donald (Ballad of Donald White) Danny (Danny Boy) Delaware (Lord Delaware)

Earl (‘Earl Brand’ or ‘The Earl of Westmoreland’) Evangeline (Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) Eulalie (Eulalie by Edgar Allen Poe) Eliza (Eliza Jane) Edmund (The Wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald) Ellen (Poor Ellen Smith) Enoch (Enoch by Lord Tennyson) Edith (Children’s Hour) Emmeline (The Sparrows Nest-Wordsworth)

Frankie (Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest)

Godiva (Godiva by Alfred Tennyson) Grace (Amazing Grace) Gloriana (The Faerie Queene)

Hollis (Ballad of Hollis Brown) Hazel (Hazel- Bob Dylan) Harry (Harry's Courtship)

Isabel (Adventures of Isabel) Ira (Ballad of Ira Hayes) Irene (Goodnight Irene)

John/Johnny (Johnny Has Gone For a Soldier, Young Johnny, or John Henry) Jane (For Jane by Charles Bukowski, or Death of Queen Jane) Juliet (Romeo and Juliet) Janet (Janet Waking or Fair Janet) Jackie (Jackie Boy) James (St James Infirmary Blues) Jeannie (Annachie Gordon) Jenny (The Ballad of Jenny Rae or Ballad of Jenny Ledge) Jack (Jack Orion) Jubilee (Jubilee) Joshua (Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho) Jim (Jim Bowie) Johanna (Visions of Johanna) Judas (Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest) Joan (The Clowns Courtship) Johnnie (Johnnie Armstrong)

Lucy Gray (Lucy Gray by William Wordsworth) Lenore (The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe) Lorelei (Lorelei by Heinrich Heine) Lamia (Lamia by John Keats) Lillian (Red Dirt Girl) Lance (Poor Old Lance) Lyonell (Sir Lyonell) Louise (Visions of Johanna)

Maude (Maude Clare) Molly (Molly Malone or I Never Will Marry) Michael (Michael Finnigan or Fields of Athenry) Marina (Marina by T.S Elliot) Mariana (Mariana by Alfred Tennyson) Margaret (Spring and Fall or Proud Lady Margaret) Maria (The Song of Maria Clara) Matty (Matty Groves) Mary (Miss Mary Mack or Fields of Athenry) Maurice (Child Maurice) Minnie (Ballad of Minnie Dean) Moll (The Ballad of Moll Mcgee) Maggie (Little Maggie) Maisry (Lady Maisry) Maple (Maple-Edgar Allen Poe) Martha (The Bowes Tragedy)

Nellie (Nellie Clark) Nancy (Nancy by William Cowper) Naomi (Naomi Wise)

Oliver (Sweet Polly Oliver) Ophelia (Ophelia by Arthur Rimbaud) Owen/Owyne (The Lament for Owen Roe, Kemp Owyne) Orion (Jack Orion) Owlet (Child Owlet)

Polly (Pretty Polly or Polly Vaughn) Phoebe (O Sister Phoebe) Persephone (Double Persephone by Margret Atwood)

Robyn/Robin (Robin Hood's Death, A Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood, there are lots of Robin Hood poems) Randall (Lord Randall) Rosemary (Balled of Rosemary Lane) Ruby (Ruby-Are You Mad at Your Man) Rosaleen (My Dark Rosaleen) Rosalind (Rosalind by Lord Tennyson) Ruth (Ruth by Wordsworth, or The Beautiful Lady of Kent) Roger (The Bowes Tragedy) Ryalas (The Jovial Hunter of Broomsgrove)

Simon (Simple Simon or Simon Lee) Sadie (Little Sadie) Sam (The cremation of Sam McGee) Shady (Shady Grove) Saro (Pretty Saro) Sally (Aweigh, Santy Ano) Susan (Reverie of Poor Susan) Suzanne (Suzanne-Leonard Cohen) Susanna (The Journals of Susanna Moodie)

Tam (‘Tam Glen’, ‘Tam o' Shanter’ both by Robert Burns, or Tam Lin) Thomas (Thomas the Rhymer) Tobias (Where are the Days of Tobias) Tamerlane (Tamerlane by Edgar Allen Poe) Tom (Tom Dooley)

Una (The Faerie Queene)

Vincent (Vincent-Don McLean)

Willie (‘Willie’s Lady’ or ‘Willies Lyke-Wake’) Waterlily (Water Lily by Ralph Stanley) William (Sweet William’s Ghost or I Never Will Marry) Willow (Down in the Willow Garden)

Zuleika (Zuleika by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy)

[starstrucktoby]

Covey Name Ideas

As promised here is my list of Covey-inspired names.

I tried to follow the typical naming convention of the first part of the name being a traditional folk poem or ballad, but I did add some names that differed from the typical names, and still fit the covey vibes. Suggestions appreciated :)

I also posted a list of shades of colors in case some people needed it!

https://www.tumblr.com/starstrucktoby/795797713663000576/color-shades

(145)

Annabel (Annabel Lee) Alice (Lady Alice) Arthur (King Arthur) Annie (For Annie or Gentle Annie) Ariel (Ariel by Sylvia Plath) Annachie (Annachie Gordon) Andrew (Death of Young Andrew) Angelina (Farewell Angelina) April (April Come She Will) Annet (Lord Thomas and Fair Annet) Augustine (The Ladder of St. Augustine) Allegra (Children's Hour) Amoret (The Faerie Queene) Amarantha (Song to Amarantha)

Barbra (Barbra Allen) Billy (Billy Boy) Bonny/Bonnie (‘Bonny Barbra Allen’ or ‘The Bonnie Lass o’ Fyvie’) Bridget (The Banks of Newfoundland) Bill (Railroad Bill) Bess (The Highway Man)

Clerk (‘Clerk Saunders’ or ‘Clerk Colvill’) Claribel (Claribel by Ralph Vaughn Williams) Christabel (Christabel by Samuel Taylor Coleridge) Clementine (Oh My Darling, Clementine) Clara (The Song of Maria Clara) Clarinda (To the Van Morte Clarinda) Celia (To Celia) Claude (Claude Allen) Cole (Cole Younger) Corey (Darling Corey) Charlie (Mr Charlie) Catherine (Catherine Howard’s Fate) Carolina (Carolina in my Mind) Curtis (Ballad of Curtis Loew) Cecilia (Cecilia- Simon & Garfunkel) Corinna (Corinna’s Gone A’Maying) Catskin (The Wandering Young Gentlewoman or Catskin)

Delia (Delia by Samuel Daniel) Davy (The Ballad of Davy Crockett) Donnie (Ballad of Donnie Gene) Delilah (Hey There Delilah) Delta (Delta Dawn) Donald (Ballad of Donald White) Danny (Danny Boy) Delaware (Lord Delaware)

Earl (‘Earl Brand’ or ‘The Earl of Westmoreland’) Evangeline (Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) Eulalie (Eulalie by Edgar Allen Poe) Eliza (Eliza Jane) Edmund (The Wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald) Ellen (Poor Ellen Smith) Enoch (Enoch by Lord Tennyson) Edith (Children’s Hour) Emmeline (The Sparrows Nest-Wordsworth)

Frankie (Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest)

Godiva (Godiva by Alfred Tennyson) Grace (Amazing Grace) Gloriana (The Faerie Queene)

Hollis (Ballad of Hollis Brown) Hazel (Hazel- Bob Dylan) Harry (Harry's Courtship)

Isabel (Adventures of Isabel) Ira (Ballad of Ira Hayes) Irene (Goodnight Irene)

John/Johnny (Johnny Has Gone For a Soldier, Young Johnny, or John Henry) Jane (For Jane by Charles Bukowski, or Death of Queen Jane) Juliet (Romeo and Juliet) Janet (Janet Waking or Fair Janet) Jackie (Jackie Boy) James (St James Infirmary Blues) Jeannie (Annachie Gordon) Jenny (The Ballad of Jenny Rae or Ballad of Jenny Ledge) Jack (Jack Orion) Jubilee (Jubilee) Joshua (Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho) Jim (Jim Bowie) Johanna (Visions of Johanna) Judas (Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest) Joan (The Clowns Courtship) Johnnie (Johnnie Armstrong)

Lucy Gray (Lucy Gray by William Wordsworth) Lenore (The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe) Lorelei (Lorelei by Heinrich Heine) Lamia (Lamia by John Keats) Lillian (Red Dirt Girl) Lance (Poor Old Lance) Lyonell (Sir Lyonell) Louise (Visions of Johanna)

Maude (Maude Clare) Molly (Molly Malone or I Never Will Marry) Michael (Michael Finnigan or Fields of Athenry) Marina (Marina by T.S Elliot) Mariana (Mariana by Alfred Tennyson) Margaret (Spring and Fall or Proud Lady Margaret) Maria (The Song of Maria Clara) Matty (Matty Groves) Mary (Miss Mary Mack or Fields of Athenry) Maurice (Child Maurice) Minnie (Ballad of Minnie Dean) Moll (The Ballad of Moll Mcgee) Maggie (Little Maggie) Maisry (Lady Maisry) Maple (Maple-Edgar Allen Poe) Martha (The Bowes Tragedy)

Nellie (Nellie Clark) Nancy (Nancy by William Cowper) Naomi (Naomi Wise)

Oliver (Sweet Polly Oliver) Ophelia (Ophelia by Arthur Rimbaud) Owen/Owyne (The Lament for Owen Roe, Kemp Owyne) Orion (Jack Orion) Owlet (Child Owlet)

Polly (Pretty Polly or Polly Vaughn) Phoebe (O Sister Phoebe) Persephone (Double Persephone by Margret Atwood)

Robyn/Robin (Robin Hood's Death, A Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood, there are lots of Robin Hood poems) Randall (Lord Randall) Rosemary (Balled of Rosemary Lane) Ruby (Ruby-Are You Mad at Your Man) Rosaleen (My Dark Rosaleen) Rosalind (Rosalind by Lord Tennyson) Ruth (Ruth by Wordsworth, or The Beautiful Lady of Kent) Roger (The Bowes Tragedy) Ryalas (The Jovial Hunter of Broomsgrove)

Simon (Simple Simon or Simon Lee) Sadie (Little Sadie) Sam (The cremation of Sam McGee) Shady (Shady Grove) Saro (Pretty Saro) Sally (Aweigh, Santy Ano) Susan (Reverie of Poor Susan) Suzanne (Suzanne-Leonard Cohen) Susanna (The Journals of Susanna Moodie)

Tam (‘Tam Glen’, ‘Tam o' Shanter’ both by Robert Burns, or Tam Lin) Thomas (Thomas the Rhymer) Tobias (Where are the Days of Tobias) Tamerlane (Tamerlane by Edgar Allen Poe) Tom (Tom Dooley)

Una (The Faerie Queene)

Vincent (Vincent-Don McLean)

Willie (‘Willie’s Lady’ or ‘Willies Lyke-Wake’) Waterlily (Water Lily by Ralph Stanley) William (Sweet William’s Ghost or I Never Will Marry) Willow (Down in the Willow Garden)

Zuleika (Zuleika by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy)

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On, ch11.p1 ⛰️

masterpost, I let the HH discord vote and hill won by tiebreaker. please no editing or concrit, I know there are tense changes I missed but the world is burning and I am tired

Tim ran his fingers through Danny’s hair. Danny was asleep. Three days in and it was very much the normal for Danny to be asleep. Combined with how little Danny managed to eat each meal, it all had Tim concerned. This morning Alfred has spoken to Danny about being certain to eat something each time he was awake. Tim knew the next step was IVs or drip feeds if that didn’t work. He didn’t think that either option would go well.

Alvin shoved back at the constant worrying. He was right, but he was also a hypocrite. Alvin was the biggest mother hen of all of them. If he was fronting then… but Alvin couldn’t.

Because the family still didn’t know.

Half and half. Halfish.

They were in the most comfortable living room. Jason was on the other couch reading. Cass had tucked herself at his feet. Duke was in one of the massive bean bags. Damian sat cross-legged on a plush armchair, bent over his drawing tablet.

Half and half again. Halfish.

“I have dissociative identity disorder,” Tim blurted out.

Damian sat up and stared at Tim. Duke looked like he didn’t know if he should be there or not.

“It’s not exactly new, but me… recognizing what it is and giving the other alters the room they deserve is,” Tim continued, because he had to. Alvin and Caroline deserve it. “Dick and the girls have known for a few weeks—months. Sorry. I forgot that it’s been…”

Damian slided smoothly from his seat and over to the couch. He sat next to Tim and held his hand palm up on his knee in invitation.

Tim took it. He stared down at their joined hands. Would the next part be the deal breaker? “Dick learned when he visited suddenly and accidentally met Caroline. Caroline has always been with me, I think, but the mission where she got her name was important.”

Damian tilted his head. “Another sister then. Are you alike?”

“No,” Tim said, the word let out in a relieved breath. He at least had a chance to explain. “She’s amazing. She’s so confident about herself and everything that she does. It’s hard to see… feel that she’s really struggling with the events of this.”

Damian gave a slow nod.

“We will bring her clothing here,” Cass offered.

Tim ran his free hand over his shaved head. There was the peach fuzz of new hair coming in. “Maybe a wig too.”

“She is a Wayne,” Damian said with a little sniff, “she can have whatever she needs.”

That made Tim smile. Caroline would like Damian if he accepted her this easily in person. They could bond over looking down on the rest of the upper class. “Thanks. That would help a lot. She’s been… it’s hard to explain but it’s like she’s a program that’s running on another hard drive or something.”

Damian nodded as if he understood. “When she is ready.”

Cass cleared her throat.

“There’s also Alvin,” Tim said. Another moment where it might be too much. Caroline was classy. Alvin wasn’t. He didn’t want to be. “We think he came around when I started running around after Batman and Robin. I used him as an alias too before I recognized how… separate we all were.”

“Ah, someone to attempt to prevent you from being so stupid,” Damian said.

“Hey!”

“I mean, you are pretty reckless,” Duke said. He was still sitting like he might be asked to leave at any moment, but he was still there.

“Yeah, like you aren’t,” Tim said. “Alvin and you will get along.”

“Look forward to meeting him,” Duke said. They can almost believe him.

“Thanks for not freaking out about this,” Tim said His smile might be a little wobbly, but he didn’t think anyone could blame him. “It’s not how any of us would have wanted to tell you, but… what happened happened and I need to make sure that Caroline has what she needs to heal too. Oh, and Alvin needs to fuss over Danny.”

“Oh, because you don’t,” Duke says with a snort.

“I’m nothing compared to Alvin—a point he denies, but I’m right here,” Tim said.

“So just Bruce and Alfred left to know before that can happen,” Jason said.

Tim frowned. “Right.”

“Do you think that Father will be anything less than noble in his response?” Damian asked, affronted.

“No, I mean, not exactly. But you know him, he’ll have questions and do research and DID hasn’t had the best history of acceptance. And also there’s… I mean, well, there’s Harvey and Two-Face…”

“Ah.”

“I’ll punch him if he’s a jerk about it,” Jason said. Tim was sure the offer was genuine. “Do you want me or Dick to explain it to him?”

Tim hesitated. “I should do it myself…”

Jason shrugged. “I can still be in the room.”

“That… yeah, thanks.”

“Alfred?” Cass asked softly.

“Like I said, DID doesn’t have the best history. And Caroline being a she…” Tim didn’t want to think poorly of Alfred, but he was born and raised in a very different time.

“Yeah, if Alfred hasn’t cross dressed before I’ll eat his waffles,” Jason said. “I get the fear, but give him a chance, okay? If you tell him after Bruce there will already be research Bruce can hand him too.”

Damian squeezed Tim’s hand. “You are family. That means all of you are. I believe both Father and Alfred will accept Caroline and Alvin, even if they do not understand.”

“Yeah, dude. Like, we’re not a normal family. This is way less weird than dressing up like a giant bat. He can’t judge any of y’all,” Duke said.

It made Tim give a startled snort of laughter. “Yeah, it sorta is.”

[deiliamedlini]

what are your favorite zelink fics?? i need recs

OHOHOOHOH LEMME GO TO MY BOOKMARKS!! (fair warning a lot of them are E and oneshots and a couple aren't finished). I don't bookmark a lot of fics that I love because I just go look them up when i want to reread, but here are a few I've actually bookmarked! (also if i didn't tag you I couldn't find you in the suggested names or I don't follow you)

In no particular order:

I'll Walk With You- Zestycrouton

To Those Who Wait- CrazygurlMadness

Friday Nights in Apartment 407- @ashleyswrittenwords

Tales from the Royal Close Protection Service Series- (Also ashley)

The Queen's Desire- PearLynn

Stress Relief- @intangiblyyours

A Love Transcendent- @spicychestnut

OnlyFandom- AnxiousAndAfraid

A (Not So) Blank Canvas- @embywolf

step, step, close - @hyperphonic

Honor Among Thieves- @dawn-the-rithmatist

Forgotten Instincts- @farore-or-less

Say Something- RealmOfBlue

Piece Me Back Together- Anon

Antumbra- @embyrinitalics

All the Trashy Novels- @airplanned

Falling in Glove With You- @ghostgirl19posts

The Oracle- Also Ghostgirl

governor's daughter- @honestground

By the Book Series- GourdKin

The Calamity of Link's Cargo Shorts- @zeldaseyebrows

Pleasuring Downpour- @kenlair

Girl at the Museum- wavebreeze

Restraint- AndelynKinsey

Ingenue- sparklyfaerie

Tacet- @1up-girl

[homunculus-argument]

I find it funny how most working dog breeds are pretty cut-and-dry, they do exactly what it says on the label, but with hunting dogs it gets all No Such Thing As A Fish.

Like herding dogs herd, right? And shepherd dogs herd sheep. They make the flocks move where you want them to go. Some nip at their heels, some just use scare tactics, but their whole job is to make the flocks move. They run around them going hehe get relocated, idiots.

Guard dogs guard. Sure there's the patrolling alarm dogs whose whole job is to go around and supervise that nothing is out of place, and there's the four-legged security guard type that make sure that either the intruder leaves the premises on their own or with several limbs removed, but the principle is still pretty simple. This Is My House, My People, Our Livestock, And You Can Fuck Off.

But hunting dogs? Are we talking about the mushy temperament eager-to-please soft-mouthed retriever who can hold an egg in their teeth without breaking it? A bear dog that fucks off into the woods to find big game the size of a truck and then barks to keep it in place until the hunter with a gun can get there and deal with it? The noble dachshund that is specifically tube-shaped and audacious-natured in order to bolt into tunnels to go badger a badger in its own damn house? Or a pointer, who points.

My boyfriend's family's dogs are a very rare seal hunting breed, that are no longer used to hunt seals. They make pretty good alarm dogs, though, and for breaking your ear drums.

[theladyphantom]

Tim noticed his shadow about two weeks ago following him during his patrol routes. It had started small enough; shadows that moved, flickered of light in places it didn’t belong, the unmistakable shutter that came with being watched, and that gut feeling that he wasn’t alone.

Red Robin was being followed—and tonight he’d confront them.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who noticed his little stalker. Batman noticed about a week ago and was being all paranoid about it. Hence the listening devices and trackers (even more so than usual) on Tim’s person along with the rest of the bats hidden close by in case things went south.

As annoying as B’s paranoia was, Tim had more pressing matters to attend to.

“I know you’re there,” Red Robin called out, eyes flickering around the empty rooftop, “Show yourself,”

He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting to happen, but it definitely wasn’t a floating boy to appear into visibility just some feet away.

The boy, despite his otherworldly features, looked to be about Tim's age. He had pale blue skin, blood red eyes, clawed hands, stark white hair that flickered at the ends of the ponytail it was placed in like flames, fangs that glinted in the moonlight, and an absolute predatory look on his face.

The boy was wearing a full black body suit with some white stripes and lines here and there along with slightly heeled white boots and white fingerless gloves. He wore a completely white leather jacket with a graphic design of a pair of black teeth with fangs on it placed on the back.

The boy lowered himself to the ground; unsettling wide, red eyes staring intently at Tim.

“Who are you?” Red Robin demanded, ignoring the sudden chill of coldness that came with the boy being visibly present.

“Dan,” He answered, walking closer slowly until he reached out a clawed hand and twirled a piece of Tim’s hair.

Tim ducked away from his grasp, “Why are you following me?”

The boy, Dan, snapped his fingers and the vigilante watched as a rose formed out of pure ice appeared in the being’s hands.

Dan handed the rose to him, “You have the worth of gods,”

Tim.exe stopped working.

“Beautiful,” Dan brushed his claws gently across Red Robin’s cheek, “and dangerous. My bejeweled dagger. My cursed treasure. My haunting moonlight.”

“What are you?” Tim forced himself to properly function.

“I,” Dan made a static-humming sound, “Am yours, my dear Timothy,”

With that said, Dan vanished into thin air.

[district3autism-moved]

district 6 headcanons

district 6 is mostly located around modern-day pittsburgh, and has a large steelworker population as well as those who work in the production of trains, hovercrafts, and the parts for boats and cars

they are also the shipping centre of panem, which is one reason the district has such a big drug problem

it is important to district 6 citizens to be hardworking and resourceful

before the dark days, district 6 had a reputation for being headstrong, often protesting their treatment by the capitol, and being one of the first to rebel

to tamp this down and keep the citizens complacent, the capitol encouraged illegal opiate trafficking in district 6

this opiate trafficking intersects with gang activity in district 6 - usually overlooked by peacekeepers to keep the district addicted to drugs

ghosts are an important part of folklore in district 6, with several factories and tunnels being believed to be haunted

there are rumours of 'greenmen', the ghosts of missing train workers who died in electrical accidents and haunt the tunnels with a ghostly green glow

this is a way for the people of the district to explain/understand the amount of train workers who are killed or imprisoned by the capitol, for witnessing things they shouldn't in other districts

food in district 6 is usually hearty and resourceful - many dishes are some variant of meat in a bun, and lots of people eat scrapple (patty of meat scraps fried with cornmeal and flour)