why are you doing this to me jack

You is a Dad - Tim Drake x Reader

Here’s a fluffy happy times fic. Because I can do those, too. Look at this post first, because it helps things make more sense

Tagging: @speedypan @memento-scribet @cait-writes-stuff @batfamily-imagines

Words: 787


“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.” You huff.

“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 the card.

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 tears.

“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?”

“Blood On Your Hands”.

I can’t get Jack’s title for the final episode of Detention out of my mind.

I have no doubt that it’s Anti talking to us. So why is there blood on our hands? 

Then I remembered the last time blood was spilled on the channel.

Hard to forget. What’s more is that Anti blamed us for what happened.

You could have stopped me… But you just watched.”

… Is this just a reminder from Anti, that all we can do is watch? I’m not sure.

I’m more curious if the blood will ever wash off.

2

a soft and beautiful man and the sharp asshole that lives in his house

i’m imagining fake ah crew jeremy joining the crew shortly after graduating high school and after a couple years deciding he wants to take some college courses part time because he’s interested in music and art and all sorts of shit and now he’s got the money to pursue that

he’s nervous about mentioning it to geoff and the others because what if they’re not cool with me skipping out on some jobs to do this

but instead everyone is actually super encouraging and somehow that is ten thousand times worse

  • like jeremy shows up for a heist briefing and jack’s like “what the hell are you doing here, you have a paper due in the morning, get out, go work on it”
  • he gets a c on a project and ryan very calmly suggests that he can “go have a chat” with his professor, ryan no, why do you have a bat
  • he registers late and there isn’t room in a couple courses he wanted; twenty minutes later gavin cheerfully lets him know that there was a database error and suddenly there’s plenty of room in those courses, how about that
  • geoff picks him up from campus right before they’re ready to do a heist. 
    some kid: who’s the dude yelling in the yellow booty shorts on the motorcycle?
    jeremy, covering his face with his hands: that. would be my boss.
  • michael calls him and tells him he’ll be there to pick him up in a couple minutes
    jeremy: are those…sirens in the background?
    michael: yeah, i can’t actually stop, how do you feel about jumping in through the window while i’m going like thirty miles an hour
  • eventually jeremy’s like the kid in middle school embarrassed to be seen with his mom. “just– you can just drop me off at the corner, actually, right here’s fine, i’ll walk”

jack: you’re in love with lardo and you have been since sophomore year
shitty: that’s disgusting. and wrong. i don’t even get– why would– i’ve never been in love with anyone, anywhere. it’s none of your- you have- the nerve, the audacity, lardo used to be my boss, technically. and she is terrible, face-wise. and how- how- do I know, frankly, that you’re not in love with her?? maybe you are. maybe you’re trying to throw me off? hmm check and mate.

  • Jack: Hey Shits, I was wondering if you could help me?
  • Shitty: Sure bro, what's up?
  • Jack: I'm planning on proposing to Bitty soon and practicing would help so could I practice on you?
  • Shitty: First of all, why didn't you tell me sooner that you were planning on proposing to Bitty, DO YOU KNOW HOW BIG AND FUCKING AMAZING THAT NEWS IS??
  • Jack: I was obviously going to-
  • Shitty: AND OF FUCKING COURSE YOU CAN PRACTICE ON ME! Let me just get into character.
  • Jack: Thanks, this means so much but really, all I need you to do is stand-
  • Shitty: *clears out his throat and bends his knees until he's about Bitty's height before speaking in a terrible Southern accent* Oh Jack, my darling.
  • Jack: ...Why are you like this?

ok but SO MUCH happened in these tweets I’m still wrapping my head around all of it!  I’mma bulletpoint it:

  • they hired a new manager!  
    • nobody is more stressed out about it than dex
  • tater is texting bitty
    • you know that when bitty was on that point streak that Jack was bragging (gushing) about it to everyone within earshot
  • bitty and jack’s first valentine’s together
    • who’s surprised that Jack was 110% extra?
  • rans & holster planning for the future
    • I’m so stressed out about this actually like the thought of them fighting about it makes me so sad
  • SO MUCH nurseydex flirting.  
    • SO.  MUCH.
  • Tango is a Devils fan
    • I don’t know why I find this so endearing but I do.  does this mean Tango is from Jersey?
  • Jack requests that Bitty send him a selfie every morning
    • they are so gross
  • Bitty mentoring Whiskey!
    • even though whiskey is still hanging out with the lax bros
  • actually the most concrete confirmation we have in canon yet that Lardo and shitty are dating
    • I mean you could argue that the tweet only confirms that she’s dating a white person 
    • so you can pretend it’s like Camilla or whatever
    • but the way chowder talked about it as if it’s common knowledge who Lards is dating and we’ve only ever seen her in canon with Shitty
    • it basically confirms that she and shitty are an Established Relationship

And then there’s Bitty being not even remotely subtle, once again:

immediately followed by:

I mean JFC BITS.

A Phone Call
  • Shitty: Hello?
  • Jack: Shitty. Bittle just did the cutest thing.
  • Shitty: What?
  • Jack: He sent me this pie, right? And the top is shaped like a heart. A heart, Shits.
  • Shitty: Okay? That is pretty cute.
  • Jack: I love him so much, Shits. I think I love him more than the Stanley cup.
  • Shitty: Woah, wait, what?
  • Jack: He's perfect. His smile is like sunshine. One time, he hugged me, and my knee pains were gone. Gone, Shitty.
  • Shitty: I think that might have been a byproduct of you straightening up to hug him, Jack.
  • Jack: No, and see, his hair-
  • Shitty: Jack, I love you. I really do. But you've gotta stop.
  • Jack: Stop what?
  • Shitty: Stop calling me just to tell me how much you love Bitty. Why don't you call Bitty and tell him all that?
  • Jack: I do. Every night. Also in the mornings. After games sometimes. Sometimes after lunch.
  • Shitty: Holy shit, Jack.
  • Jack: *choked up* I love him so much, Shitty.

…Haha…Hahahaha!

Look at your face… Yes, that’s the face I wanted to see.

Your heart’s racing, no? I can see your hands shaking…haha…

“What!” Tater says. “Zimmboni, why are you smile so much?”

Jack looks up, the grin curving his face, and pushes the laptop back a little like a small invitation to watch. “My old team asked me to watch some of their tape and give them some feedback. They… get a little goofy.”

Tater happily settles in next to Jack to get a look at the people Jack loves so much, and grins himself at their warmup antics, at the coordinated dances the captains do after a goal, at the way the boys mug the rinkside camera, like they know it’s for Jack. He stays sitting when Jack finishes writing his post-game notes, starts up the next video. The file name says it’s a practice, not a game.

The overhead camera shows that one of the captains is geared up and doing laps around the empty rink with their team manager on his shoulders; after a second the figure obscuring the rinkside camera backs up from where he was turning it on, and carefully checks it over before backing up more, so he can make sure it’s perfectly positioned. He’s the second captain, the fearless one who occasionally pulls off prodigies of stick-handling, who gives the camera a heart-melting grin and a thumbs up before turning and skating away. OLURANSI, his jersey says.

Tater unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “I like your team,” he says. “I come meet them, yes? You introduce us.”

Jack looks apprehensive for a minute, and Tater tries not to feel hurt, but then he smiles. “They’d love that.”

I’m love that,” Tater says firmly, and then looks back at the screen. Other players are coming in, so Birkholtz and Oluransi have put the team manager down, put their serious faces on; but Oluransi’s smile lives on in the warmth of Tater’s stomach.

I want Kent and Tater that both have huge crushes on each other, who know that their feelings are requited, but who are too stubborn to make the first move.

Like every time they see each other the flirting is so instense that the rookies get embarrassed and have to leave.

When Jack asks them why they won’t ask the other out, Kent tells him “I like making him work for it. If he wants a piece of me, he’s gonna have to do something about it.”

Tater responds “Kent is too cocky. Need to knock him down a peg. He is needing to admit what he wants.”

So they continue to dance around each other, until a party at Jack’s one weekend when the Aces are playing in Boston. Tater finds Kent leaning against a wall in the hallway, nursing his drink and looking contemplative.

“Kenny, why so sad looking? Aces lose again? Or you just disappointed I am not in your bed?” Kent grins at that, looking up at Tater with those bright eyes that just get him every time.

“No, just wondering when you’re gonna get the courage to wine and dine me like you know you want to.”

“Am ready to do so much more than that, am just waiting for you to give word.” Tater is, he really is, but he’s not ready to give up on this game yet.

Kent sighs and look down at his drink, somwthing Tater was not expecting. “Why do we do this, Alexei?” Tater is surprised, and it takes him a moment before he can answer.

“Am liking chasing you, Kenny.” Tater tries to keep the conversation flirty, but the air has changed, and he’s not sure what to do. Kent looks back at him intensely, and Tater feels naked.

“I’m done with games, Alexei. I think it’s time I let myself have something that I deserve.” Tater is sure that Kent is ending this thing they have, that he’s getting thown aside so Kent can chase a real relationship, and Tater is ready to leave now. He wants to go home and bury himself in his blankets and never come out.

Tater is so buried in his thoughts that he nearly falls over when Kent pulls him down into a rough, searing kiss that leave him a little lightheaded and yearning for more.

Suddenly Tater’s hands are on Kent’s waist, pulling him in closer, and Kent’s hands are burying themselves in his hair, and he’s pressing Kent against the wall like he’s afraid Kent might slip away. One of Kent’s legs is in between his own, pressing up into him, and Tater’s whole body is on fire.

Kent’s mouth has moved to his neck, and Tater is gasping into Kent’s hair, breathing in smell of him. He pulls Kent back up to kiss his mouth, murmuring “Go on date with me, real one”

In between kisses Kent laughs softly. “Thought you’d never ask”

Post Apocalyptic Prompts

So, fair warning, while I have read some post apocalyptic novels I am not widely read so if all of these have been done before I do apologize. But, as requested, some post apocalyptic story prompts:

1) I had seen nobody, heard nobody, for 452 days. I hadn’t heard music since before the world went to shit. So the tinny blare of Dolly Parton’s “Son of a Preacher Man” had me more than a little startled. 

2) “If you’re the Anti-Christ, why are the zombies attacking us still!?” 
“It wasn’t a Christian apocalpyse was it? Radiation stole my life purpose.”

3) Jack was a famous post-apocalyptic writer. Cannibalism, grey skies falling, deep undertones of existentialism, the quintessential lot. He reveled in the misery of the worlds he created and the tears of his readers. It was all well and good until he ended up trapped in his latest bestseller - Husk. Surviving the wasteland was bad enough without letting anyone know it was his fault. 

4) “You’re a girl. She’s - she’s an actual girl.” 
“And who the fuck are you then, Peter and the end of the world lost boys?”

5) The androids sat in a solemn circle around the conference table, human faces flickering in the hologram between them. 
“I believe the ship that landed contained the survivors of a violent species called homo-sapiens. They will need to be managed, we are only just beginning to clear up their mess.” 

6) “You know, when I said I was literally going to hell for this, nobody was supposed to actually take that literally.” 
“I just got my head sliced off by one of the four horseman, I don’t care about you being a grammar nerd.”
“So what now, we Dante Inferno our way up to Heaven?” 
“You want to break into Heaven? This is why you’re literally in Hell.”
“Well, I don’t want to be tortured for all eternity, do I? And it’s not like going back to earth is in an option is it?”

7) The cannibal sprinted through the dead forest after his prey, eyes gleaming, hunger tugging at his bones. Tonight, was the night of the wild hunt. His favourite night of the new year.

8) They were supposed to leave together. Or maybe she was supposed to die. But she survived, and she was waiting when the ship came back.

9) They slept under the earth like corpses ready to rise for judgment day, waiting for the air to be clean and for the sky to change from purple to yellow like a healing bruise. Everyone knew not to wake the dreamers at all costs.

10) Money was a story of an old world, now, if you needed a new oxygen tank or food, you sold your body parts. Bones were handy, eyeballs could do a month’s rent, clean lungs were worth a small fortune. But hearts, oh a strong heart was the most valuable currency of all.

11) Those who still remembered the world before were considered blasphemers and madmen. The punishment for liars was swift.

12) The radiation kept their minds alive forever, even when their bodies were no longer whole. Trapped in the dust and the rock, like fossils as the world changed and began to grow again. Nobody knew they were still conscious as they began to mine.

You know the Lads would be a fucking nightmare if they were kidnapped. Not the irritation of Geoff’s sarcastic drawl, the disquieting politeness of Jack’s unerring calm or the terrifying menace of Ryan’s entire existence, but a full blown regret all your choices, please god take them back nightmare.

Ray not so much; he shoots off a few snarky comments then closes his eyes and settles down, for all intents and purposes appearing to go to sleep despite the chains on his wrists and the cold concrete cell they’ve been locked in. Just sleeps and refuses to stir, limp and unaffected by anything from physical pain to the yells of his crew-mates. It’s an infuriatingly difficult reaction to combat and eventually their captors just give up and ignore him.

It’s impossible to ignore their other three captives though; they’re fucking loud, for one. Michael is throwing insults around left and right from the moment he opens his eyes, from the state of their lodging to the intelligence of their captors and everything in between; no threat works to shut him up and hurting any of the others only makes him exponentially louder. Michael calls out every ridiculous statement and every ineffective torture technique as though he’s merely watching a bad movie rather than living through one.

Jeremy is nearly as vocal as Michael though not nearly so straight forward about it; Jeremy drips sarcasm as he pushes every question back against his asker, inviting them to share where they stole their ideas from, who they thought they were kidding with this whole big bad act, if they’d chosen their last words yet. He and Gavin goad each other into increasingly absurd conversations whenever things are getting too tense, and Jeremy repeatedly acts like he’s broken and is ready to talk only to whisper another dumb pun into the interrogator’s ear; cackling wildly at his own jokes even as he spits blood.

Gavin flips back and forth between antagonising and commiserating, endearing himself to their enemies only to pick on their weaknesses and instigate in-fighting. He critiques their captors like they are on even footing, scathingly judgmental and haughtily unimpressed, identifying soft spots for Michael to tear into. For all his ability to deflect the anger of other people Gavin’s never been great at sitting back and watching his boys get hurt, so when things get a little too heated his comments tend to get more vicious and offensive. He twists deep into every insecurity, grinning wide enough to show all his teeth as he carefully pulls everyones attention back to himself. This honestly only pisses Michael and Jeremy off - Gavin you are a twig alright, just shut up and let the brawlers take the bruises - so soon enough all three are fighting each other as much as their captors, bellowing so loud and incomprehensible that the cell doors rattle and their interrogators are forced to take frequent breaks or risk going deaf.

Another strike against the Lads is their combined impatience; never content to just sit back and wait for the Gents to collect them, no matter how dire or trivial their situation may be. It’s not like the Gents won’t come, it’s not like their arrival wouldn’t be one hell of a show, a firestorm of possessive rage and righteous fury. It’s just that the Lads have never been passive, have always been threat. It’s just that they’re smarter than anyone gives them credit for, and nastier than most could ever imagine. It’s just that the Lads never could let anything slide, lean full force into everything they do and what they do is devastate, what they do is destroy.

The end begins, as most ends do, with a regrettable mistake. With a guard cocky enough to come in on his own, to taunt and jeer and rile them up. A guard green enough to let them see the keys he drops into his pocket, to think himself safe in their shackled presence. He’s clearly not well versed in the art of breathing menace, his efforts are rudimentary and uninspired at best, an embarrassment to the craft, and the Lads play him like a fiddle. He’s frustrated when Gavin lays on the mocking flirtation too heavily, circling behind in a clumsy attempt at intimidation and failing to notice to moment his pocket grows lighter. He rises to the bait when Jeremy sneers out a cutting commentary on his skills, completely missing the flash of silver flicking from Gavin’s hands to Michael’s in the blink of an eye. He turns his back on the three of them to aim a petulant shove at Ray, whose eyes pop back open for the first time in hours, snapping into motion as quick and dangerous as a snake. Ray uses his chained hands to pull himself up and deliver a solid kick, propelling their guard right into Michael’s waiting arms.

It’s unsalvageable after that; not quite quick, by no means clean, but hopelessly unstoppable; something akin to watching a man being torn apart by wild dogs. The rest of the mysterious crew have no chance to intervene, left watching in shocked silence over the security feed, their horror unnervingly acknowledged as the Lads bare their teeth at the cameras, chilling mockeries of real grins, full of promise. It doesn’t get better, the restless energy in the cell only growing as the four efficiently free each other from their remaining binds, laughing and crooning out childish singsongs as they destroy the room; Ready or not here we come.

See, the worst thing about taking the Lads hostage, the very worst part, isn’t their volume or aggression, isn’t the indifference and blatant disrespect. It’s not the looming danger of retribution from the rest of their crew, not even the way they will eventually, inevitably, break themselves free from any restraints. No.

The worst thing is the fact that even when they get out the Lads will not leave. There is no stealth, no mad rush for freedom or careful plans to storm the exit; they won’t escape, at least not until there’s nothing left to escape from. When the Lads break loose they don’t look to regroup, aren’t interested in taking a moment to recover before coming back with support. They want their vengeance and they want it immediately; want compensation for every injury, want to fulfil every promised threat, make good on every nasty laugh and hungry smirk, watch the terrified realisation in the eyes of their prey. When the Lads break loose they want to play.

I’m a little annoyed

I posted a drawing of Robin and Jack from the drawing meme I did yesterday on twitter and as soon as Robin and Jack replied to my work, the majority of people were commenting about septiplier when the drawing had nothing to do with that ship.

I’m annoyed in how out of hand this ship is, how people fight over how actual REAL people “should” be together as if they are fictional characters, I’m annoyed in how I will find these comments on any Mark or Jack related artworks I create when it has nothing to do with this ship.  It really takes the fun out of it which is why there has been a heck lot less of me drawing these guys.  And if they read this, I don’t want them to feel like they have to stop commenting on said works so that I don’t have to deal with it cause thats not gonna solve anything (and plus you’re lovely people <3).

I’m just annoyed that people don’t think before they speak, that there is no filter in how annoying it must be to receive a shit ton of the same comments and be excessively annoying about something that will not happen.  I just don’t understand, no matter what age you are there’s just no excuse imo cause I was never like that growing up and talking to people.

I’m not speaking on anyone’s behalf but mine, I’m just annoyed that this has been happening to my work as of late.

This has been a psa. thank you for reading, and hope everyone is having a good day.