I daydream about what would happen if I ever saw you again
Maybe it would be in a bookstore
or a coffee shop
or a grocery store
Maybe you would be alone or with your new girl
I would be with my family or with a boy who treats me so much better
We would make eye contact
Or maybe you wouldn’t see me at all
But I am certain you would
However I would just see right through you, because you are no longer real to me
But perhaps you would try to resuscitate me
like a dead flower you try to revive by intense watering
You can try and act like we are still alive
Except honey I died awhile ago
So if we do ever meet again
Don’t try to make small talk
Just take in the image of me
Because I don’t even want to picture you anymore
Fantastic Beasts made me cry because Newt reminded me so much of myself as an autistic person. He doesn’t make eye contact and he has pretty good verbal skills, and just basically all of his mannerisms and stuff made me feel like I could do really great things and have a really cool life.
The first time Neil meets Andrew, there isn’t any intention behind it. Or rather, there’s no intent to go out and meet new people. Neil doesn’t intend to catch someone’s eye and share a joke from across a room. And he definitely doesn’t intend to be rescued from his own drunk self by the same stranger.
Matt seems kind of alarmed to see Neil with a stranger - probably because Neil openly resisted getting to know Matt, the least threatening person in the world, probably, and now he’s in a decidedly angry-looking stranger’s lap on a curb. “Neil, I left you alone for five minutes, how did you make everything go wrong in that time?”
Neil doesn’t groan. He doesn’t. “Bad luck follows me?”
The blonde guy doesn’t laugh. Neil’s not sure he said anything. Neil really doesn’t know why he’s the one to follow Neil out of the bar when the world started spinning.
Matt laughs, a little. “Not entirely unlucky. You’ve made a friend?” Neil’s sure he’s sizing the other guy up, making sure he has no untoward intentions with Neil, but he doesn’t see it. All he sees is cement and surprisingly nice shoes (not his own).
“Andrew,” the guy offers, not unkindly. In fact, there’s not much of anything in his tone.
“Right,” Matt says, sounding somehow unsure. “Well, thanks for helping Neil. He’s kind of a danger magnet. I should, uh, get him back home.” Matt’s voice is hesitant, and even through the fog in Neil’s mind, he knows why.
“It’s Dan’s night,” he protests weakly. “Go back in. I’m fine.”
“Neil,” Matt says, and his voice is as hard as it always gets when Neil lies. “You freak out when I pat your shoulder and you’re in this guy’s lap. Can you even stand up? Don’t- don’t try it, man.”
Neil tries it. The world shakes, and he ends up back in Andrew’s lap, with only the addition of a hand on his back that might be for stability or maybe just for ease. Andrew seems nonplussed by all of these events. Any other time, Neil would be full of questions for Andrew. Any less drunk, and he’d ask them. Maybe it’s good you met this way, some self-preservation instinct suggests, but Neil isn’t sure this state is good for anything.
“Dan won’t mind,” Matt says, and Neil knows he’s right. “It’s part of parenthood, eh?”
So Matt starts to pull Neil up, and wraps an arm securely around his waist despite the height difference.
Neil was never really taught manners, but something sticks out anyway. He looks at Andrew with all the focus he can muster, trying to commit his face to memory, and says, “Thank you,” carefully. Andrew doesn’t respond, or maybe Neil just doesn’t notice, and then he’s gone.
“Can somebody please tell me why we’re
watching Titanic? Again?” Jason asks
as he plops himself down on the couch.
“Because it’s a beautiful work of
cinematography, and it’s my turn to pick the movie.” Dick sits in front of the
TV and inserts the movie into the DVD player.
“You do know that Rose and Jack
weren’t really people on the Titanic,
don’t you?” Tim sits down and leaves space for you to sit next to him.
“I don’t care! It’s a beautiful
story!” Dick rolls on the floor until he’s sitting in front of the couch.
Apparently furniture is too good for him tonight.
Bruce walks in holding Damian by
the scruff of his shirt and plants the younger boy in a chair before finding a seat
himself. Damian sulks in his seat, bitter about the fact that he can’t escape
another movie night.
You walk into the living room with
a plastic shopping bag just before Dick hits play on the movie.
“Hey, Timmy, we found a card while
shopping today that I think you might like!” You sit down next to him and pull
out the card that Jason had pointed out earlier. Now is as great of a time as
any to tell Tim your big news.
You’d accidentally let it slip to
Jason that you were pregnant, and you needed a way to tell Tim that he would be
a father. So when you read the pale blue card with the words “What is a Dad?”
printed on the front, you knew it would be perfect. The words “You. You is a
Dad” on the inside only solidified the card’s perfection, and you bought it
without a second thought.
Tim looks at you with a raised
eyebrow as he takes the envelope from your hand. “Why did you buy it? It’s just
a card. You could have taken a picture or something.”
“Just open the damn card, Timothy.”
“I’d do what she says, Timberly.
Before she accidentally kills you.” Jason leans forward and speaks in a stage
whisper. You shoot Jason flaming daggers with your eyes, and he falls back into
the couch, trying to avoid upsetting the hormonal pregnant lady.
Tim opens the envelope and reads
But instead of getting excited like
you thought he would, he just stares at it with confusion.
“How did this card get past any
editors? It isn’t grammatically correct.”
“Oh my god, Tim, that is not the
point of the card.”
“But the point of the card isn’t
even relevant because I’m not a dad.”
“Just give it a few months.” You
roll your eyes and lean into the couch, completely done trying to explain the
situation to your boyfriend in a fun and creative way.
“Y/N, what are you talking abou—Oh,
shit.” Tim’s eyes double in size as soon as he realizes what you’ve been trying
to tell him. “You don’t mean that you’re…?” He points to you.
You simply nod your head.
“So that means I’m…?” He points to
himself, and you nod again, this time with a faint smile.
“I’m going to be a dad?” He asks
more to himself than anyone else. He stares at the carpet for a few seconds,
letting that fact sink in. When he looks up his eyes are wide and full of life,
and he’s radiating a new, warm energy that completely melts your heart. “Bruce!
I’m going to be a dad! Y/N! I’m going to be a dad!” He leans closer to you and
gently places a hand over your stomach. When he talks, his voice is full of
wonder. “And you’re going to be a mom.”
“I’m proud of you, Timbo. I didn’t
know you had it in you.” Jason speaks up from his place on the couch. “Or
rather, I didn’t know you had it in Y/N.”
Your smiling face instantly falls
into the did-you-really-just-say-what-I-think-you-just-said-I’m-going-to-kill-you
expression that Jason has been causing so much lately. Without breaking eye
contact with Jason, you hurl a pillow at his face, which he easily catches and
holds to his chest.
Tim either didn’t hear what Jason
said or is choosing to ignore it. He is completely enamored with you and your
growing child, and he looks up at you with eyes that are full of love and
“Y/N. We’re going to be parents.”
He kisses you before resting his forehead against yours. He’s crying happy
tears now, and you brush one from his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “I can’t
believe it. We’re going to be parents.”
“So,” Jason speaks up from behind
his pillow. “How long until we find out if it’s a Timothy or a Timberly?”