picture prompt meme;

[countofthree]

the picture prompt meme

— Comment with your character and any preferences.
— Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
— Reply to them with a setting or text thread based on the picture.
— Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please.
— Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy.

Comments

[bloodson]

( x | x | x | x | x )

and they were(n't) roommates: boyschool undercover assignment BABY

[success_story]

By lunch time, the rumor has made it all the way to the upperclassmen. Damian will know not by any waves of whispers that follow Tim across the courtyard, but by the fact that Tim approaches him at all. They've kept careful distance over the course of the semester, which hasn't been hard. There's three years between them, and the upper and lower classes have separate floors for learning and separate dormitories for lodging. 

As far as Tim has been aware during this stint at normalcy, there's been absolutely no reason for him to incur Damian's shitheadedness. 

And yet, here he comes between classes, lunch abandoned in favor of marching out to Damian's seat of choice on sunny days, out in the trees at the far end of the courtyard. The fact that he's blowing fifteen minutes of his break on walking would be enough to annoy him on it's own. Extenuating circumstances help nothing. 

Tim is loosening the uniform tie when he gets within earshot, but he keeps the jacket on, hands tucked deep into the pockets of the standard issue plaid slacks. One more signifier separating them; the underclassmen have blue slacks as well as jackets, simpler and sweeter for younger boys. His head is already shaking before he starts to talk, heedless of literally anybody Damian has with him. "Do you seriously have nothing better to do?" 

Than talking shit goes tactfully without saying, but he'll say it gladly if pressed. 

chef kiss

[bloodson]

The monotony of maintaining an almost entirely civilian routine aside, there are certain unforeseen upsides to this assignment. The amount of independence from all manor communications save a twice-weekly encrypted summary email to Alfred for starters. Acceptable meal plans with a variety of vegetarian options. Lesson plans that no one could exactly call challenging, but that allowed enough freedom to explore virtually whatever he wanted. And despite initial frustration with this whole operation being a two-person ordeal, it's surprisingly easy to avoid Tim at every turn during the day. Different years, different wardrobe, different leads to track, and different social circles to occupy their free time.

Even free periods are staggered and never completely overlap. It's almost enough that Damian can pretend the other simply doesn't exist.

...almost.

But never so completely as to not make his dislike known to anyone who could listen. And never so entirely to not spot a familiar face and agitated gait approaching across neatly manicured grass. Any company around him is casual at best, an unintentional lunch group of classmates who's names he only passingly knows, and a few of them seem to pick up on the absolute tidal wave of impending confrontation shortly after Damian does. One or two poorly conceal a snicker behind their hands, but since they're apparently doing tact today, Damian doesn't fully look up and acknowledge Tim until their nearly toe to toe.

"Calculus, I suppose." There's a thick volume on guerrilla warfare during the Peninsular War of 1807 open in his lap that staunchly protests any intention to crack a math textbook. But he closes the pages with a snap and offers a raised eyebrow, a silent refusal of any base allegations of talking shit.

[success_story]

"Calculus, my ass." As casual as it is, the language gets one of the girls wide-eyed and standing to leave. As well behaved as they've both been, everyone knows they're from Gotham City. Is profanity preamble to violence? Even as soft-spoken as demure-looking as Tim is in uniform, an anxious charge starts to run through the little collection of students. He gestures around around the group. "Are these the kids you're running your mouth to? Which one passed it along, do you think?"