lowkey one of my favorite dynamics: supergenius billionaire with the unstoppable will and the unbreakable superpowered alien savior both secretly don't understand why the other is friends with them and actively and constantly work to impress the other
YES IT’S VERY NECESSARY FOR ME TO DRAW COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF JAYTIM AFTER DOING ART FOR WORK…. It recharges me…
There was even more like… weird “horror” crap because I was watching horror lets plays… (It’s a really sad excuse for horror though don’t get me wrong)
Also I have no idea what Tim is looking for in The top picture LET YOUR IMAGINATION REIGN FREE
The ultimate fear of parenthood: despite your best attempts to raise a gothic, whip-smart sharply dressed individual, they prefer a goofy style so embarrassing that it's still being discussed four decades later.
imagine you make microwave popcorn and by wild chance every single kernel has the same exact popping point and after like a minute in the microwave the bag instantly fills up with a single earsplitting gunshot noise would that be fucked up or what
My friend @magebirdi gave me this idea like a month ago about a character dealing with a leg injury, period cramps, AND allergies all at the same time, so naturally I had to inflict this all on my boy Tim because who else am I going to project onto dfghjk. Anyway I saved this idea until the next time I had really bad cramps because what better way to take your mind off pain than by inflicting that pain on your comfort character <3
(Featuring the rest of the batkids and a movie night!!)
“This is depressing, even for you, Drake.”
“I’ll fucking kill you,” Tim says without any real heat. It’s hard to sound intimidating when he’s congested and his vocal cords sound like they’ve been attacked by a cheese grater.
Damian arches an eyebrow. “Now that would impress me. You know what? In the spirit of good sportsmanship, if you can make it all the way over here, I’ll let you get in a free shot.” The brat sits on the floor closest to the television, roughly ten colossal feet out of Tim’s reach. Dick put Damian in charge of picking the selection for movie night—a horrible idea, in Tim’s opinion, but he lacks the energy to complain.
Tim has buried himself under three blankets, arranged in the corner of the sofa that has served as his cushy nest. A heating pad is laid out on his lower stomach, a soothing contrast to the ice pack wrapped around the cast encasing his ankle and foot. Tim’s leg is propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. A box of tissues sits near his leg, right next to a pile of candy wrappers and empty milkshake cups.
“Don’t antagonize him, Damian,” Dick chides, returning from his trip to the kitchen. He carries with him three pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Just the sight of it is enough to relieve some of Tim’s pain. Dick tosses a pint to Damian before taking back his spot on the couch next to Tim. He hands over the salted caramel brownie flavor, which Tim snatches gratefully and drags into his nest.
“Did you pick a movie yet?” Dick asks Damian. His head is bent to the task of picking the plastic seal off his ice cream.
“Don’t rush me.” Damian paws through their DVD collection like an archaeologist on a dig. He takes one out and reads the back summary of what Tim is pretty sure is one of the Shrek movies. After a minute, Damian tosses it back into the bin and picks out another.
Dick nudges Tim with his elbow. “Feeling any better?” he asks, his voice low so Damian can’t eavesdrop.
Tim shovels ice cream into his mouth as an answer. He’s not usually so blatant about his suffering—he’s a superhero, after all—but there is no better excuse for wallowing than the perfect storm he’s been thrown into: broken ankle, pesky seasonal allergies, and it’s the heaviest day of his period with cramps so bad he’s one dark impulse away from jabbing this spoon into his organs and ripping something out.
Dick pats Tim’s leg in sympathy. He looks around the room, narrowing his eyes at the obvious absence of the rest of their siblings. “I called everyone downstairs, like, ten minutes ago. Where the hell are they?” He sighs tragically. “I ask for so little.”
“I don’t blame them,” Tim says. “The only reason I’m still here is because I’m physically incapable of moving.” He gestures to his aching leg.
“What are you talking about? My movie nights are great.”
“Not when you skip all of the sex scenes.”
“There are impressionable children here!”
“In all fairness,” Damian says, raising a finger, “I have decapitated human beings before. Film depictions of intercourse is the least of your concerns.”
Tim waves his hand in a there you go motion. “See? We need to start branching out movie night.”
“I vote we watch The Exorcist,” Duke says, appearing in the doorway. He’s wearing a bright yellow snuggie that Tim recognizes from Cass’ closet. That’s probably fair, considering that half of what Cass wears is stolen from her brothers. Tim silently applauds the act of rightful civil disobedience.
“Absolutely not,” Dick says. “No horror movies.”
“What’s the difference between watching gore on TV and seeing it happen in real life?” Duke asks. He sits on the floor in front of the couch, being careful not to jostle Tim’s leg in the process. “We’ve witnessed stuff way worse than a little demonic possession.”
“Because the last time we did a horror movie night, Jason tried to stab Tim with a meat hook.”
“You really need to let that go,” Jason says. He enters the room, Cass trailing silently behind him. “I wasn’t actually going to gut the kid. I just wanted to see if I could.”
“I’ll gut you,” Tim grumbles, wincing through another cramp. Cass makes a spot for herself on the couch between Dick and Tim, lying down with her head in Tim’s lap. Dick shoves away her socked feet when one of them knocks into his ice cream.
Jason goes for the other couch across the room, but he makes a pit stop to steal Dick’s ice cream on the way. “Thanks, my favorite,” he says. Dick grabs Tim’s pillow—“Hey!” Tim protests—and throws it at Jason.
“What about a mystery?” Duke suggests. “It’s been a while since we did one of those.”
“Yeah,” Tim says, bunching a blanket under his head, “because every time we do, it ends in a brawl when we all compete to see who can solve the case first.”
“That’s the best part!”
“I needed five stitches last time!”
Cass shrugs innocently. “Told you it was the maid.”
“Whatever we watch,” Dick says, “I’m just glad you all came to your senses and decided to join in on movie night.” His cheery mood has returned in full.
Jason snorts. “Like we had a choice. Last time I dodged movie night, you put glitter bombs in my underwear drawer.”
“Only here for popcorn,” Cass says. Not that anyone in this household besides Alfred knows how to make good popcorn. Cass grabs a handful of blackened kernels from the bowl on the side table and digs in happily.
“How’s the leg, Timmers?” Jason asks around a scoop of mint chocolate chip.
“Painful, thanks.” Tim sneezes into his elbow. Duke hands him a tissue. “I hope Killer Croc is having a terrible
night,” Tim says, sniffling.
“Don’t blame the poor mutated lizard for your own clumsines,” Damian calls from the DVD bin. “It’s pitiful.”
“He pushed me down a sewer.”
“You knew he had a tail. You should have been more vigilant.”
Tim is about to retort—something along the lines of, You can’t even reach the top shelf without help, you snot-nosed bitch—but he’s cut off by yet another sneezing fit. He nearly knocks Cass onto the floor with the violence of it. Tim’s eyes water. “Jesus, fuck.”
“Can you go be sick somewhere else?” Jason asks. He’s got his hand held protectively over the top of his ice cream like he’s shielding it from a bomb threat. “I don’t want snot in my ice cream.”
“In my ice cream, you mean,” Dick says. Jason flips him off.
“It’s just allergies,” Tim grumbles into a tissue.
“I’ll bet that’s what the plague victims said,” Duke muses. “You know, before they died. Of the plague.”
“I should’ve stayed an only child,” Tim says miserably. He pulls one of his blankets over his face, shutting out the world and its curse of siblings.
“I vote Silence of the Lamps,” Cass says. She burrows closer to Tim’s stomach, stealing the warmth of the heating pad.
“It’s lambs, Cassie,” Duke says. “No one wants to watch a movie about cannibalistic lamps.”
“Um, I would?” Dick says.
“Yeah, but you also watch Grey’s Anatomy in your free time. You have no taste.”
“I vote for anything that’ll make Tim cry,” Jason chimes in. “I could use another blackmail video.”
“Fuck you,” Tim says. He picks another caramel cup out of his ice cream and hands it down to Cass. Whoever decided that the world needed a caramel version of peanut butter cups deserves to die. Disgusting.
“Remember last month when we watched Brother Bear?” Duke asks. He’s dug a black Sharpie out of his pocket and is now doodling a cat on Tim’s cast. “That was the greatest day of my life.”
“You try watching that thing and not getting emotional!” Tim says. “The part when Koda gets to hug his mom again one last time…” His eyes get misty just thinking about it. Dick laughs and reaches over to ruffle his hair. “Oh, fuck off,” Tim says, shoving him away.
“In that case, I vote we watch whatever film will make Drake cry the most,” Damian says.
“Stitch,” Cass says knowingly.
Tim gasps. “I told you that in secrecy!”
She shrugs. “Don’t hate players. Hate the game.”
Duke tries to stifle his laughter and fails horribly. Tim goes to smack him in the head with his spoon, but the next cramp has him curling into himself with a pained squeak. He falls back against the couch, arms wrapped around his aching middle. “This is the fucking worst.”
“Quit being such a baby,” Damian says. “You’ve had worse.”
“I hope you die in your sleep tonight.”
“No, no, he has a point,” Jason says. “You didn’t whine nearly this much when I stabbed you that one time. Or any of the other times.”
“Can we just pick a damn movie?” Tim says. “You guys are gonna make my head explode.” His sinuses feel like they’re filled with concrete and he’s pretty sure if he moves an inch, his organs will disintegrate.
“We’re watching Lilo and Stitch,” Damian says decidedly. He’s already putting the movie in the DVD player. “Feel free to cry as much as you want, Drake.”
“I hate you all.”
gummygunk
areudirty
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
2087
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
kianamaiart
snowghoul
romaincrisis
