Takeout Box

Tim Drake, Sleep-Deprived Overlord Extraordinaire (and the Boy Who Grounds Him)

The thing about Tim Drake is that he’s brilliant. The thing about Tim Drake without sleep is that he’s unhinged.

It always starts subtly. A missed night of sleep here, a triple shift there. His words get sharper, his focus becomes razor-edged, and the bats can practically see the neurons in his brain firing like a thousand fireworks.

Then, somewhere around hour 56 of no sleep, Tim crosses the threshold into full-blown megalomania.

He doesn’t just think he’s smart—he knows it. He’ll drop gems like, “Honestly, Gotham’s infrastructure is appalling. If I really wanted to, I could take over the city in 72 hours, tops,” or “Do you think I could reprogram every Bat-computer in the Cave before Bruce notices? Because I can.”

Which—yeah, okay, the family knows he’s capable of it, but it’s terrifying.

When he’s in this state, Tim walks around with the energy of someone who’s cracked the secrets of the universe and is two steps away from becoming a benevolent dictator. His confidence is unsettling. His hyper-awareness is borderline supernatural.

The bats try. Oh, do they try.

“Tim,” Dick says gently, holding out a cup of chamomile tea and a soft blanket. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

Tim doesn’t even glance at him. “Lying down is for the weak, Dick. Also, you left your phone on the counter. Might wanna grab it before someone texts Kori again.”

Dick freezes. He did leave his phone on the counter, and he can only hope Tim didn't do anything with it (Though his comment definitely says otherwise).

“Tim,” Bruce says, the Big Bat Voice in full swing. “You need to rest.”

Tim smirks, flipping through his tablet. “Rest is for the dead, and I’m not in the mood for ghosts tonight. Also, you forgot to update the encryption on your personal server. Again.”

Even Damian tries, but he gets as far as hurling a batarang at Tim’s leg before Tim dodges it without looking. “Tsk tsk, Damian. You’re getting predictable.”

It’s chaos. It’s exhausting.

Enter Danny Fenton.

Danny’s used to Tim’s shenanigans by now. He’s been around for enough of Tim’s sleep-deprivation arcs to know the signs. The sharp eyes, the slightly-too-bright smile, the way he starts muttering plans for world domination like he’s drafting a grocery list.

Danny lets it slide for a while—Tim in hyper-mode is kind of cute, in a “my boyfriend might accidentally take over the world” way. But then he sees the bags under Tim’s eyes, the way his hands tremble just slightly from over-caffeination, and he knows it’s time to intervene.

Danny doesn’t use tea. He doesn’t try reason. He doesn’t even bother with the blanket method.

Instead, Danny steps into the Cave, tilts his head at Tim, and says, “Honey, can we cuddle?”

Tim freezes.

The bats, who have been subjected to hours of Tim’s unrelenting, untouchable brilliance, watch in shock as their insurmountable sibling folds like a deck of cards.

“I—uh—cuddle?” Tim stammers, blinking like a deer in headlights.

Danny smiles, soft and sweet and just shy of smug. “Yeah, I miss you. Come to bed with me?”

Tim’s resolve crumbles. He’s already pulling off his gauntlets. “Yeah, okay. Just for a bit.”

“A bit,” Danny agrees, but he’s already leading Tim upstairs.

The bats are left standing in the Cave, mouths agape.

Jason’s the first to break the silence. “Did we just get out-maneuvered by Tim’s boyfriend? The guy who hangs out with Harley Quinn for fun?”

Dick snorts. “I mean, are we really surprised? Danny’s been handling Tim better than any of us for years.”

Bruce exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing. “As long as Tim’s resting, I don’t care how it happened. Danny’s good for him.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees with a shrug. “Kid’s weird, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. And if he can get Replacement to sleep, I’ll send him a damn fruit basket.”

The bats exchange a rare moment of collective relief.

Upstairs, Danny tucks Tim into bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as Tim curls into him. He doesn’t care about strategies or what the bats think. All that matters is Tim, finally at peace in his arms.

"Sleep well, genius," Danny murmurs, pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead. And for the first time in days, Tim does.

Humans are Weird “Doggo”

Sorry that I haven’t written in a few days, but I was studying for a test. Regardless, here is another story. Feel free to send me your ideas. Weather I use them or not sort of depends on if I can think of an interesting way to write it. If the idea is small, I might combine it with another idea later on, but who knows. Please though, send me your ideas!

Humans are the only known creatures to create mutually beneficial bonds with other organisms larger than bacterium. The parallel evolution of humans and canines is a situation completely unique to humans. Some scientists suggest that it came from the need to survive on such a hostile world, while the lay person might suggest that humans are too clueless to know when something is inadvisable or, for that matter, impossible.

Krill had never seen the captain skip before, not that he wasn’t the skipping type, but because that sort of action proved to be more difficult to coordinate with his prosthetic leg. Despite that fact, Captain Vir made a big show of skipping into the bridge grinning hugely despite nearly tripping over the last stair.

“I got my approval.” He chanted continuing his skip around the room as Krill watched in bemused entertainment. For all their predatory nature, humans proved themselves to be some of the most unintimidating creatures in the galaxy. One minute they could be trying to kill you and the next minute they would be trying to cuddle you.

Perhaps, if it had still been his first transfer aboard the human ship, Krill would have seen the ridiculous display as a demonstration of the captain’s athletic ability as some sort of dominance ritual. That, and the wide grin that split his face showing a row of strong white teeth, might have served to Scare Krill away. But six months was sufficient to know that this was an almost overenthusiastic demonstration of happiness.

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I found and read this cute story on AO3, about Frostbite being Danny's legal parental guardian. In the story Bruce Wayne runs into Frostbite (in his full yeti glory no disguise) who is setting up for school bake sale. Got me thinking about what if Danny's past rogues took turns filling in and doing parental stuff especially at school functions. Like Frostbite does the bake sale, Pandora shows up for his games, Ghostwriter goes to all of the PTA meetings, Clockwork goes to teacher meetings, so on and so forth.

The 43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale by Faeriekit

Ohhh, that sounds good! I'll get it a read when I have some time. Thank you for the rec!

Danny Fenton is one of the lucky few who have a very involved household. His various family members would always sign up for any school event the boy needed support in. It didn't mean that the boy won everything, but as a teacher for nine years, Emily has come to learn how much it mattered to just have someone show up.

She had seen students whose entire faces light up after spotting someone in the crowd in the same amount she saw a student's hope crumble after they scanned the room.

Danny was a polite young man, a bit on the shyer side, but kind and not a troublemaker, his previous school had her believe. If anything, he seemed to struggle with fitting in, but no students blatantly disliked him.

The general opinion of Danny matched, as her students would say, "I know him from class, but I don't really talk to him. He seems cool though".

Maybe that's why so many people were supposed by his family to march into the auditorium during Danny's talent show. Seeing him wave at the row before starting his gymnastic act had been such a surprise.

Now, Gotham wasn't a close-knit community, not with the size of their city and the millions of people living within it, but everyone would have noticed that Danny was adopted.

After all, he was the only one that wasn't glowing or a large humanoid animal. They cheered the loudest among the crowd; uncaring Danny got bronze- having lost to Joey's tapping dancing for second and Damian's spectacular multi-instrumental cover of a meme song for first place- and Danny beamed back at them.

Gotham was known for not being meta-friendly, but that was only due to a few mean people who shouted the loudest on media outlets. Many of Emily's students were meta, had family that were meta, or knew someone meta. It wasn't a common enough trait one would encounter a meta on every outing, but you would see them in Gotham well enough.

Everyone knew, but no one said it out loud. In the same way, she knew which students' parents were in the country illegally but worked harder than anyone else. Saying anything would help the cops, or worse, the rich running Gotham.

Even the most prejudiced Gothamite would rather be spat on then give them aid. And those who were so prejudiced to help the poor man's enemies, well, Emily has lived here long enough to know they vanished rather quickly. The smart ones kept their mouths shut.

No one could forget what happened to that guy who accidentally insulted Penguin. His grandmother had been an illegal immigrant on his mother's side.

No one messed with that side of the family.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson." Danny's adoptive father, Dr. Frostbite said, ducking down to avoid banging his head on the door. On one of his shoulders was a box of hotdog wieners; on the other were multiple bags of bread. "I'm here for my snack bar shift."

Emily tilts her head back to look the Yeti in the eye. He had been shocked the first time they met, but she could admit that Dr. Frostbite was a relatively gentle and wise soul. "Welcome aboard. The girls are just about to take the field. You can put that down by the crock pot over there."

The mountain of white fur brushes by her with the grace of a king as Dr. Frostbite does as she says. There were no customers at the window, so she leaned on the counter and offered him a smile. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Yes. I was saddened our team did not win, but Danny hit a home run." Dr. Frostbite's sharp smile could have been frightening if he wasn't oozing parental pride. "I caught it all on video."

Emily opens her mouth to respond when a hand lands loudly on the counter with a loud crack. Her heart leaps, and she looks into Danny's Ember. She isn't one of Emily's students, though she does appear to be a teenager in appearance.

You know. If it wasn't for her hair made of fire. Or her blue skin. Or her glow.

"I set a boy on fire," She announces with a cackle.

"That's so?" Dr. Frostbite gently rips open the box, taking out the hotdog packages. With one large claw, he rips a hole into it and lets the few weiners slide into the crockpot with a gentle splash. "What did he do?"

"Tried to slap me on the butt." She huffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk doesn't lose an edge of smugness.

"Well done." Dr. Frostbite praises placing the lid back on. It always surprised Emily to see such careful actions from the large creature. "I assume you did so out of Pandora's line of sight?"

"Naturally. I don't want her lecturing me in front of the whole community." Ember scoffs, crossing her arms. Behind her, the top of Pandora's head can be seen swinging side to side over the dugout, keeping an eye on the ball.

She was the best volunteer referee because even the parents knew not to shout insulting things when she was present. Emily doesn't think she has had such peaceful games in a long while. Hopefully, Danny will try out again for baseball next year so the woman can return.

"Oh hey, you're Danny's English teacher, right? Mrs. Johnson?" Ember asks, leaning on the counter to give Emily a curious look.

When the blond nods, holding out her hand for a shake. "That's right. It's nice to see you again, Ember."

The girl's hair flairs a little as a grin grows on her face. Her hand is ice cold to the touch, but she's got a firm grip that her husband would appreciate. "Likewise. I got a message for you from Ghostwriter. He sent the notes for the last PTA meeting to you and the revision playwright for the musical you two were working on."

Emily's mood brightens up. "That's wonderful. Could you tell him I'll check it out when I get home and get to my laptop since my phone broke in the last Two-Face attack?"

Ember's hair flickers in the wind when she nods, but Danny bounces right up behind her just as she opens her mouth to speak. He's wearing his Gotham Acadamy Baseball uniform with pride despite them losing. "Hey, Frostbite, can I go with Tim and Duke to get Peoeria Pizza? We'll be back before the girl's game ends."

"Only if you take Ember with you," Dr.Frostbite says, nodding to his daughter, who looks alarmed to be included. "She needs more friends."

"Hey!"

"Sure. Come on, Ember, you'll get along with Duke. He likes old-school rock."

"It's not old-school!"

Emily laughs, watching the two siblings bicker as they stride away, blending into the crowd with no one batting an eye at the glowing girl anymore. How blessed that boy was.

"I'm glad Danny has gotten comfortable here. I always worried he never was going to have a normal childhood." Dr. Frostbite confesses to swirling the hotdogs around in the water to ensure each one is cooked.

"I think you and the rest are doing a wonderful job. You're a great father." She assures him, thinking wistfully of her William. He's been on deployment for a few months now and will likely miss the holidays again, but his contract is almost up. They may try for a child when he gets in the reserves. "How are things at the clinic?"

"Oh, wonderful. I'm grateful that Mr. Wayne has allowed the expansion of Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic. Dr. Thompkins will be covering the east side of Gotham while I help those on the west. It's much more fulfilling than working in some hospital that demands funds for the silliest things. Back home, that would have been illegal. The people would have burned me at the stake if I had allowed anyone to pass away due to greed."

"My kind of people." She laughs. A sharp crack sounds from the field as the bat makes contact with the ball, and the crowd goes wild. It's a wonderful day.

Wait! This isn't my House DP x DC

In which Danny's habit of fiddling with all the guns and weapons left in every conceivable nook and cranny of the Fenton household lead to a very awkward moment during his first tutoring session. Meanwhile, Jason is trying not to shit bricks.

"But it's IMPOSSIBLE to know what the author was TRYING to say!!!"

Jason watched the kid sitting across from him threw up his hands in frustration and start pacing the length of his apartment. This was the first time the skittish kid had taken Jason up on his offer to tutor English. Jason just rolled his eyes when he found out Danny's essay was due tomorrow and let him in.

Jason owned all the rooms adjacent to his main safe house, so he was surprised to spot the kid stepping out of the apartment below his a few weeks ago. No matter what Jason tried, Danny Nightingale was a big mystery, but he was definitely running from something.

"The whole point of the essay isn't to figure that out."

"That's literally the assignment!!! Word for word!" Danny huffed then flopped onto the worn couch with his arms crossed.

Jason got up from the stool at the kitchen counter and joined Danny in the armchair by the coffee table. "The point of the essay isn't to figure that out. It's to show that you know how to make a claim and support it. That's it. Most teachers don't care what you argue, so long as you show that it is a possible interpretation."

"Then why didn't anybody ever just say that?!" Danny seemed to be having an epiphany while constipated. "I've been pulling my hair out because I actually read the book and wanted to do it right this time! And you're saying I could have just said 'green symbolizes golf or unicorns or something' and called it a day?"

Jason laughed. "In a way, yeah. It's an unobtainable dream so Gatsby is basically chasing something that doesn't exist. A metaphorical unicorn hunt."

"I hate everything."

Jason tried not to laugh.

"I don't care. I'm not going to write about that stupid green light. Not after all that."

"Okay. Then let's look at something else." Jason decided to just start talking about different aspects of the book. It wasn't often he actually got to talk to anybody about literature and he could see a spark of interest and consideration taking root in the boy's eyes.

"The Great Gatsby is also a rare example where the main character isn't the protagonist of the story."

Danny fidgeted in place, having trouble sitting still despite paying attention. His hands wandered over the couch cushions, playing with seams and picking at one of the older stains. Jason hadn't had the chance to clean up properly, and the kid was getting uncomfortably close to-

Jason watched in horror as the kid's hand reached between the cushions and pulled out a full magazine. Jason froze, waiting for the inevitable freak out, running through the possible excuses.

Instead, Danny checked how full it was and tapped absently at one of the rubber bullets, his brow furrowed in thought. "How can the main character not be the protagonist? Don't they mean the same thing?"

Sweat pricked on back. Had someone found out his identity? Red Hood's weakness for kids had eventually leaked. Was this a trap? A threat? Was the kid sent by someone? Jason forced his hand not to reach for the gun tucked in the hidden pocket on the side of the armchair.

"He's actually mostly a spectator or a lens through which we see the story play out."

It was Crime Alley. Someone owning a gun wasn't that crazy. As long as he didn't find any of the hidden pockets that he kept the weapons in, he could play it off.

"But wait... doesn't he actively hide Daisy and Gatsby's relationship from the husband guy? And he does other stuff."

They continue to talk and Danny's wandering hands pull out every weapon he had stashed in the couch without reacting to any of it. Various knives and magazines that were clearly for almost a dozen different types of gun were all looked over for a few moments, then placed back or set out on the coffee table in a line.

Jason cleared his throat and continued the conversation barely aware of what he was saying by the time the kid withdrew one of his spare pistols from the hidden pocket on the underside of the couch.

Danny's hands ran over the surfaces, flicking the safety and pulling out the magazine, checking the chamber while he asked another question.

The next thing Jason knew, the gun was completely disassembled. Every piece scattered across the table

Danny stareed at the ceiling in concentration while his hands are moving and dismantling the gun. Within seconds, it's completely disassembled across the coffee table.

Jason was in awe. He did that faster anyone he'd ever scene except himself and a few other gun specialists, and he did it without even looking. What life was this kid running away from to have enough skill that it looked like a goddamned fidget toy instead of a weapon.

"No. In the context of the Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald isn't the author. Nick Carraway is. Sort of like how the Lord of the Rings is an Autobiography by Frodo."

"Sorry to interrupt, but you have to tell me what oil you use. This thing is smooth as butter. Though you might have to double check your sight alignment on this one. I think it's a bit off."

Jason stared.

Danny looked at him expectantly. Then his eyes followed Jason's stare.

"Oh shit!" Danny's eyes widen in horror and exactly what was in his hand. "I'm so sorry! Habit just kind of took over. I shouldn't have messed with your gun without asking."

That was not the problem here!

The kid reassembled the gun in a blur, tucking it securely back in it's hidden alcove along with everything else he'd left out on the table.

Face tinged red, he turned back to Jason. "So Nick is the author, so he's also an 'unreliable narrator.'"

Jason doesn't know how he got through the rest of the discussion, but by the end of it, they threw together a solid outline and gathered several quotes that would work.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Jason. I couldn't have done this without you." The kid was positively glowing with pride over Jason helping him make a couple notes. "Would... would it be okay if I came back if I have trouble again?"

"Sure kid. This was actually a lot of fun. I got to relax. Nobody wants to talk to me about books anymore." And surprisingly, it really was true. He couldn't remember he'd been this calm or the pit waters had been this quiet. Maybe there was something to that 'art is therapy' junk after all.

"I can see that when you look like fridge and smell like a sewer." The kid dashed off before Jason could ruffle his hair or

"Hey-!" Jason shouted but he was already gone.

Jason pulled out the gun the kid had messed with. It was perfectly assembled and just as he said, the sights were indeed slightly off. Looks like Jason would have to call in the big guns.

Pulling out his phone, he grudgingly dialed the number. This was going to cost him. "Yo Timberly, I need your help and you can't tell Bruce."

Danny bounced down the sidewalk on his way to the library to type up his paper. Who knew having somebody actually explain things

Danny's face heated at how inconsiderate he'd been. He was amazed Mr. Jason was okay with him coming back after he'd made such a fool of himself. He'd never done anything like that before. Sam and Tuck hadn't cared if he stripped down the Fenton Bazooka while talking.

His mo- Maddie could get really possessive when he'd accidently mess with her guns. Of course he should have asked first. Wait, he was missing something.

Danny foot caught his ankle when something obvious clicked into place and almost face planted. He grabbed his hair in both his hands. "Ancients! That's not my house!"

I wrote this as a reblog for someone's concept, and Tumblr ATE IT!!! Then I absolutely could not find the original post. It's been a few weeks, and I did the best to recreate some of it, but I'm getting frustrated. This is what you get. Take it or leave it.

Found it! Inspired by this post: here!

i don't wanna love myself like "buy this feel good". i wanna love myself like i made a sandwich for later because i knew i'd be too busy. i wanna love myself like hang on take a breath do you actually like this. i wanna love myself like okay we're gonna set a reminder to get up and brush our teeth. i wanna love myself like - it's okay to say no, it's okay to take that nap, it's okay to go home.

i don't wanna feel sexy like tv. i don't wanna feel sexy like little black dress. i wanna feel sexy like high note during karaoke. like just got done writing 14 pages of poetry. like let me show you this scarf i've been knitting. i wanna feel sexy like hand on the back of the headrest while you parallel park. like did i tell you about that time i saved a baby bird. like don't tell her but i've been sneaking money into her purse.

i don't wanna feel pretty like expensive. like high fashion. like paid to be here. i wanna feel pretty like a bird in a puddle. i wanna feel pretty like streak of dyed hair. i wanna feel pretty like calligraphy, like new leaves, like a skinned knee bleed, like a dog running at full speed. i wanna feel pretty like lying next to you. i wanna feel pretty like the new album just dropped, i wanna feel pretty like a shower, i wanna feel pretty like a stone wall all covered in moss.

i keep saying body neutrality. that feels negative - no bad things, no good things, just body. but i mean - my body is neutral like a flower is neutral like an oil slick is neutral like a day is neutral, too. my body is neutral so a kiss can feel like lightning so a dance can feel like a hula hoop so a walk to get coffee can feel like - god, i'm so happy to just be around you.

my body is a site. not the source of the joy, just where i can find it. i don't wanna love like - finally got my body tight/forced myself through a diet/whatever trend is the current hype. i wanna love myself like - i go to this river and i find gold every time i shift around inside it. i wanna love myself like - i feel sexy because it's sexy to be alive, and laughing. i wanna love myself like - bitch, i could have died, and i didn't, and if that isn't the prettiest almost in the whole world, than i don't know what is.

this is a sequel to this.

The hoodlums and nightlings: @skulld3mort-1fan, @satanicrutialspecialist, @terzatheunderscorerima, @autumnwulf, @jaggedheart11, @froartuck,

Danny is panicking.

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I think anyone that studies medicine with Damian would lowkey hate his ass.

Not in a mean way, but in a petty why-aren't-you-struggling-like-me type of way. I mean, thanks to Robin and the league Damian is light years ahead of everyone on terms of experience and it would show.

Half the class is puking their guts out the first time they see a patient with an open fracture. Damian has been there, done that, seen that and worse. He's eating m&m's in the back.

They're all practicing making sutures until late. Damian is like "No, I don't need to join you. I could suture with my eyes closed" and then when someone is like "prove it, rich-boy" that mf actually blindfolds his eyes and sutures perfectly using four different techniques.

He also passes everything with flying colors! Because of course, the guy can't just be rich, good looking and famous, he has to be smart too.

And it just gets worse when he starts his actual residency.

Nothing shakes him! Thirty hour shifts? He doesn't even yawn. Extreme stress during a surgery gone awry? Damian is the one telling the other members of the surgical team to stay calm. Violent patient? They don't even get to call security, Damian has the guy pinned already.

And it would be easier to not get jealous of him if he somehow was a souless blood sucking asshole. But Damian is a good person, awkward and standoffish but always willing to help. He's there for whatever people need. He aids nurses, listens to patients, conforts victims. He sits with people for the bad news and when someone dies he gets this sad faraway look that shows he cares.

And it's just so unfair.