#Tim however sees the sun

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Tim: I can’t tell dick?? I don’t want him to think I’m crazy or not trustworthy bc I’m doing something reckless??!

Jason who saw Dick make out with a mark to steal something from his pocket when Dick was 17:…

Bruce who saw Dick jump off a moving plane and hum the song “I need a hero” instead of calling for Superman:

Wally who say Dick go fuck it and infiltrate a sex trafficking ring as a stripper bc someone said he was too pretty to work for the mob:

Roy who has smacked dick out of delusions 15 times too many:

Clark who saw dick stay in a radioactive city for vibes:

Diana who has heard Donna’s concerned ramblings since she was like 12:

Damian who saw that Dick turned the bat ears into projectiles that can electrocute you:

Steph who saw the same thing:

Tim who refuses to believe Dick Grayson can do anything that isn’t brilliant, premeditated and completely the best option: I CANT HE’ll be so disappointed:(

[orionremastered]

could you do a batfam x oblivious reader who’s so close to finding out they’re a vigilante, but she doesn’t even know if that makes sense? like nightwing crawling in through the window when he thought she was asleep, only for her to be awake and go “wrong house?” not realizing it’s her boyfriend.. who thought she was asleep

this made me laugh. very good thinking brains y'all have

Masterlist

Oblivious

Dick Grayson

The sound of your window sliding open prompts you to look up from where you lie your head on the pillow. You can't seem to get to sleep and maybe it's a good thing— you grab for the lamp on the bedside table and raise it high over your head.

Climbing through the window, however, is not a common thief. It's Nightwing.

"What are you doing here?"

The vigilante freezes, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. "I was told there was domestic abuse occurring in this apartment," he says smoothly. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Where is he?"

You look over to Dick's spot on the bed and only just now do you realise it's empty. There's a note written on paper that reads, OUT TO GET FOOD.

"He's grocery shopping."

"Ah, wrong apartment, then. Sorry to bother you." The vigilante then ducks outside.

Jason Todd

A loud crash prompts you to wake up— far earlier than you're used to. The sun isn't even up yet. Glancing to the side of your bed, you forget Jason's out on a business trip, what ever his business is.

You carefully climb out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and slowly pushing it open. In your living stands Red Hood himself, dismantling an assault rifle.

"What are you doing in my house?"

The vigilante whips his head around, frozen like a deer in headlights. There's a long few minutes of silence where the two of you stare at each other.

"Gun's not working. I'll be out in a minute, just need to fix it. My apologies."

"Oh," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "Stay safe, then."

Red Hood nods, watching you return to your bed with a quiet sigh.

Tim Drake

Waking up at your usual time and kissing Tim gently on the forehead, almost as a reward for sleeping.

After eating breakfast as quickly as you could, you were surprised to see Tim still asleep and give him another gentle kiss, this time on the nose.

You've only got half an hour until you have to go to work, so you rush to the bathroom to get ready.

The Red Robin suit is draped over the shower wall, unmistakeable.

In your bathroom.

"Tim?" You shout, forgetting your boyfriend's need to sleep. "Tim!"

"What?" he replies groggily, slowly getting out of bed.

"The Red Robin suit is in my bathroom."

"Oh, uh, he asked me to clean it for him. We're sort of like, friends. I guess. It's weird."

"You never told me that," you say.

"It's a recent thing. Sorry."

You shrug and get ready for work, ignoring the suit at is it hangs in your bathroom.

Damian Wayne

"Emergency at work," your boyfriend had said. He gets a lot of those, you think. "Be back in the morning. Maybe later."

Now, going to sleep late— towards midnight, where Damian would have already dragged you into bed— you realised you didn't have on of his shirts to sleep in.

When he wasn't with you to sleep, you always sleep in one of his shirts.

You begin scrummaging through his wardrobe— which you never do— only for a shirt. You find one, your favourite black one, and pull it out.

Underneath the shirt, revealed as you yank it from the drawer, is a katanna.

"Oh. Oh."

It's late. You're tired. You've got the shirt.

It's probably just an antique piece anyway. Rich people have all sorts of things.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

[mapis-putellas]

𝐵𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 1299

Warnings: None!

Summary: A typical morning in the Putellas household.

Notes: I’m so sorry for the long wait

"Good morning." You murmur as you slip behind Alexia and secure your arms around her waist, craning your head forward to press a kiss to her cheek. It was early, the sun just beginning to rise against the already blue sky, but Alexia seems to have been up for hours. She was clad in nothing but a black sports bra and a pair of red gym shorts, her blonde hair tied back into its usual ponytail with the fly aways secured by a headband.

The skin of her stomach was slightly clammy, and that along with the slight aroma of sweat lingering on her suggests she had just got done working out. You wrinkle your nose as you rest your chin against her shoulder, giving her a playful poke. "You stink." You add as an afterthought, grinning at the scoff that fills your ears.

“Good morning to out too, amor.” The sarcasm was evident as she pats your hands still pressed against her stomach.

“Hey!” You say defensively. “I said good morning first!”

“Before telling me I stink?” She glances back at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

You shrug. “Well, you do, so…”

Alexia turns her head to look back at you, a look of playful resignation on her face. "And yet you’re still hugging me." She retorts.

"The things I do for love," You joke wistfully before suddenly yelping at the not so gentle swat that meets your backside. "Hey, oww!" You whine, reaching back to rub at the smarting skin as you pull away from her. "Did you just swat me with the goddamn spatula?!"

Alexia's face holds no remorse as she turns to face you with a spatula in her hand, a single eyebrow raised. "Yep. And I will do it again if you do not behave, amor" She warns, and you mock salute her as you stomp away to the refrigerator with the intention of making your own breakfast. You all but yank open the door and grab the first thing you see -which just so happened to be a punnet of grapes- before slamming the door shut and tossing your chosen breakfast onto the counter. You hop up next to them, ignoring your still throbbing butt cheek as you begin kicking your legs.

Alexia glares at you as she turns off the stove, and you pointedly glare back as you pop a singular grape into your mouth and chew all without breaking eye contact.

Surprisingly, Alexia was the first to look away, letting out a deep sigh as she begins to dish out two portions of the scrambled eggs she'd made. "Eres un dolor en mi trasero." She grumbles beneath her breath as she heads to the sink to put the frying pan to soak, and your eyes narrow as you toss another grape into your mouth. You have no idea what she'd just said -curse your inability to learn a new language despite the many months of tutoring you'd had- but you were pretty sure it had been insulting.

Spotting the now discarded spatula Alexia had left by the stove, you reach for it and place it out of sight behind you just in time for the blonde to finish with whatever she was doing. She turns to face you, and you smile innocently as you continue kicking your legs like were the epitome of innocence. Alexia's own eyes narrow, glancing between you and her breakfast, and you roll your eyes again as you swallow.

"I didn't do anything to your breakfast, ale, relax."

Assured by the honesty in your voice, Alexia reaches for her eggs. She bends over, resting her elbows on the counter next to your body before beginning to eat.

"I think my butts going to bruise." You say, effectively breaking the silence.

Alexia glances your way and rolls her eyes as she swallows. "I didn't swat you that hard, amor." She murmurs, and you scoff again as you shift s little to face her. You both knew she'd never seriously hurt you, and even if she just so happened to do so on accident, she’d apologise profusely before promising she’d do anything in her power to make it up to you. This, however, was not one of those times. This was simply a case of who could annoy the other more.

"And how do you know?" You retort. "Are you me? Can you feel my pain?" You hold a hand to your chest, your other hand already behind you tightly gripping the handle of the spatula. You could feel the satisfaction racing through your body already. Oooh, revenge was going to be sweet.

Alexia chuckles in amusement at your dramatic response as she pats your thigh in hopes it would momentarily appease you. You simply blink at her audacity.

"I will kiss it better, amor." She promises somewhat seriously as she scoops up a forkful of eggs, and you smile slightly a you tighten your grip around the spatula.

"Aww, thanks. I'll kiss yours better too."

Alexia looks up at you with a frown of confusion. "But I don't-"

You cut her off by reaching forward and swatting her on the ass just a little harder than she'd done to you. She drops her fork in surprise as an unmistakable yelp escapes her lips, her hand instinctively reaching back to sooth the obvious sting, and you cackle loudly as you hop off of the counter with the intention of finding somewhere to hide before she could retaliate. You feel her fingers just skim the material of your shirt as she tries yet fails to grab you before you could leave the room. 

"Amor! Come back here, right now!" You hear her yell.

"No!" You scramble up the stairs, the sound of her footsteps pounding after you. Your hand was just inches away from the bathroom door handle before her arms grab your waist and yank your body back into her own. "Alexia! Let me go! This is not fair!" You laugh as she hauls you up into her arms and carries you through to your bedroom like you were no more than a rag doll.

"How is it not fair?" She tosses you onto the bed and climbs on top of you before you could even think about making your escape. Your chest heaves as she leans over you, her large hands pinning your wrists to the bed.

"You hit me first! I was just getting my well deserved revenge!" You yell, squirming futility beneath her.

Alexia stares down at you in amusement. "Revenge?"

"Yes!" You cry indignantly. "I have a spatula shaped bruise on my ass cheek because of you! It was only fair you get one because of me!"

"You are going to have a lot more than a spatula shape bruise when I am finished with you." Her eyes had a teasing glint to them, and you knew her next move could go one of two ways. One, she could mark you. Or more specifically, your neck and as a result you'd be forced to listen to the relentless teasing from your teammates until it fades. That was typically her chosen punishment for you when you ‘acted up’ despite your many protests. Or there was option number two . She could-

Hands attack your sides before without any warning, and the shriek the escapes your lips was immediate as you scramble to knock her hands away to no avail.

You guess revenge was a dish best served cold after all.

**

Tags:

@goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @liloandstitchstan @xxnaiaxx @helen-with-an-a @ceesimz

[beardysuits]

Closer to Dad

Tim, a scrawny and pathetic idea of a son wants to get closer to his dad. However, with nothing in common, he finds it will be a lot easier to just take over his uncle to be able to spend some time with his old man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can’t remember the first time I felt like I just didn’t match the expectations set out for me. Honestly it’s been for as long as I can remember. My dad had always wanted for me to be this strong football player who could throw a punch, catch a ball, knock a guy to the ground with ease. But, I couldn’t even finish a season of T ball, delved into fantasy books, and well, ever since I was at least 6, knew that I was gay. 

My dad however, wasn’t too keen on how I had turned out. It wasn’t outright homophobia, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes when I would quit another team sport, or couldn’t do a pull up. I tried to relate to him as best as I could, trying to share my own interests, but I could see his eyes glaze over at every attempt. It seemed like he would find every excuse he could to join my Uncle Rob to go fishing, see a game, etc. Rob lived just down the street, so he would frequently come by to see my dad and watch a game in my dad’s man cave. I joined them a few times, but got bored very quickly every time, and honestly, dad seemed more annoyed to even have me there.

It was after years of trying to just talk to and relate to my dad, and seeing him only want to do that to his brother that I grew to become pretty jealous. I just wanted the relationship that Rob had with him. That was when I started to see how I could possibly achieve that. I always loved fantasy books, but by the time I hit my teenage years, it was magic specifically I wanted to really do research on. I thought I could transform myself into the dream jock son my dad wanted, or force him to like what I liked. But something that really caught my eye was the idea of body possession.

See, Rob was the kind of guy my dad liked to hang around, and the kind of guy I wanted to be. He was muscular, beefy, with a thick dark mustache that just oozed masculinity. My dad was in a similar camp, being a past athlete, but had let himself go a little bit in the past 20 something years. I thought, it would be even harder to make a connection with my dad, than it would be to just take over somebody who already did that for me. I had scoured all over the archive of books I had found in musty old shops until I found not a spell, but a potion which could help me. 

It required a lot of items which I wasn’t sure how to even find, but after months of scouring and plenty of determination, I had brewed it. Now, the only thing left to do was hope that it would work. It was early Sunday morning, before the sun had even risen when I decided to make my move. It was going to be another game day for my dad and Rob’s favorite team, so Rob was sure to come by later, and hopefully, it would be me along for the ride. Rob’s house was only a ten minute walk from ours, and I knew exactly where the hide-a-key was. 

After unlocking the door, I crept up the stairs to Rob’s bedroom, and lucky for me, the door was already wide open. I was stunned to see Rob laid out on the bed, full naked and exposed. I had seen most of Rob’s body before on lake trips or when he got too drunk with my dad. But this… this was amazing. He bushy armpits were on full display, and the treasure trail of hair stemming from his burly chest led to a mountain of fur which rested right above his girth cock. Even soft, it was thick and hung to the side, larger than mine probably could even hope to be. 

I could feel myself licking my lips as I crept in to the bedroom, my heart racing in fear of any noise awakening him. It was once I was standing at the foot of his bed, I let out a large sigh of anxiety and began to strip down. Unfortunately, the potion required for me to be completed naked so I could slither my way into Rob’s body. As I stood there naked, I looked down at myself and saw my lanky frame, practically showcasing each of my ribs, my arms holding barely any substance besides skin and bone. I took out the vial of potion I had brewed and uncorked. Slathering myself with it, I could see my skin becoming slicker and shine. The final bit was my head, as I coated myself in the slime. 

I cleared my eyes, hoping I could see more clearly as I shook the nerves off. Leaning on Rob’s bed, I crept up to his legs and used my finger to find his hole. I figured this would be the easiest form of entry, as the mouth would most likely wake him up too early. I couldn’t even hear Rob’s snoring anymore, only the pounding of my heart as I began to lube up his hole with my middle finger and softly press the tip inside. Rob snorted, freezing me in place. I looked up over his belly rising and falling, seeing his eyes still closed. 

I pushed further my finger sliding in almost effortlessly by the time my knuckle had gone in. Becoming more brave, I tried the same with my index finger, this one going in even easier. I introduced more and more of my fingers into Rob’s hole, stretching it out like it was a rubber band. Rob made no indication that he even noticed the penetration happening to him. Soon enough, my entire hand was inside, and I could feel the warmth of Rob’s body encompass it. I was becoming impatient, wanting to finally get all of myself in Rob. I took my other hand and hooked my fingers round the edge, stretching him out. 

I could see inside of Rob, like he was nothing more inside but a dark, damp cavern for me plunge myself into, and I was ready to dive. This was the part I was most nervous about. I hyped myself up, taking a few short breaths, before shoving the crown of my head in. I held my breath, not sure if I would even be able to breathe until the process was over. Soon enough, my whole head was inside, and I had to find a way to maneuver my hands to slide them in alongside. After a bit of wriggling, my arms up to my shoulders were inside, leaving behind the imagery of my body from the chest down hanging outside of Rob’s hole. 

It was pitch black, and felt just as humid and wet as I had anticipated. I found that with difficulty, I could still breathe somewhat, but clawed myself forward, making sure to not hurt Rob in the process. Without the help of my hands, Rob’s hole had tightened once more and I struggled to pull more of myself inside. Surprisingly, what I found to the hardest part, no pun intended, was getting my own cock inside of him. I had become rock hard at this point, and given how slippery I was, and with little grip to go off of, I had to force it down to slip inside.

Once it had, I had almost cum just from the rush of sensation as Rob’s warmth overtook my dick. The rest of my body should be easy at this point, as I shimmied myself upward until the only draft I could feel left was on the soles of my feet. I had balled myself up trying to make sure all of myself could fit, but once Rob’s hole had clenched once more, I found myself encapsulated by him. It as almost cozy, and I could feel Rob’s heartbeat surrounding myself, still blissfully asleep. I could only assume that the potion had numbed him as well, making him entirely unaware of his nephew lodged deep inside of him. 

I had to work quickly though, as I had no idea how long he would stay asleep. That, and I wanted so desperately to feel his hands become mine, his powerful legs, and his massive cock to slide over mine. I adjusted my feet, squirming them down Rob’s like they were a pair of leggings. Despite how much weight he had on me, it was a tight squeeze getting each toe into place. I could almost feel them lock into place as the individual digits took hold. I did the same for the other leg, and despite not being able to see anything, knew they had taken hold. 

My arms were next, reaching out as best as I could to place each of my scrawny, withering fingers into Rob’s thick ones. Despite being almost half a foot shorter than him, it was like my body had elongated to fit into his perfectly. Thankfully with Rob’s arms raised in relaxation, all I had to stretch up like I was reaching for a pull up bar. My chest locked into place shortly after and all that was left was my head. I said goodbye to my old self, not sure how long I would be staying inside of Rob, and pushed my head upwards, feeling a tightness as his neck squeezed around me. 

I felt my scalp reach his, but it was like a barrier blocked my face when I tried to push it forward. After maneuvering around a bit, I found what felt like the inside of Rob’s nose, and pushed mine into it. It was easy to find the spots at which his eyes were, but my mouth struggled. I could feel something thick in front of my mouth and I used my tongue to feel it out, as no other part of my body could be used anymore. It was then I realized it was Rob’s tongue stopping me. I tried to position it the same way I had with the other limbs and found it was almost like a glove. I slipped my tongue inside of it, like my own was using Rob’s as a sock. 

The moment the tip of my tongue reached his, it was like my body wasn’t mine anymore. Rather, Rob’s was. My first instinct was to open my eyes, and upon doing so, I was looking up at his bedroom ceiling. (NSFW Version Here)

I looked around without moving a muscle and took in the view. There was no way this was real, right? I mean, I literally slathered myself into Rob….? I moved my arms, finding them almost falling in a rush with the added weight I wasn’t used to. I forced them up, feeling my chest and tracing my fingers through the dense forrest of hair Rob had proudly shown off so many times before. 

“Whoa…” I uttered, before slapping one of my hands over my new mouth. I sounded just like Rob! I cleared my throat and tried again.

“Testing, testing,” I spoke, the familiar baritone of Rob’s voice rumbling in my throat. 

“Holy shiiiiitttt….” I hissed, loving the sound, manipulating Rob to say whatever I wanted. It was so fucking hot, forcing him to my will. I could feel my dick pulsing in my… stomach? I glanced down and practically jumped off the bed when I saw that Rob’s cock was still limp to the side, while the imprint of a throbbing cock was pushed against my stomach. 

“What the fuck!” I yelled out, my hand shaking as I reached down and poked at it. The moment my finger touched the imprint, I felt a shiver of pleasure mix with the panic as it coursed through me. That was definitely my dick still not joined with Rob’s. Fuck me! What do I even do about that. I took a few deep breaths, trying not to let the panic overtake me. I took a trembling hand, and grabbed my cock, seeing if I could move it. Sure enough, it still slide around, like it was inside of me just below the skin. 

Cautiously, I pushed it downwards, grabbing Rob’s dick with my other hand. Okay, I had practiced putting on condoms before when bored, how much different could this be? I pushed my own dick downward and guided it through to the base of Rob’s. After poking around it, I found what felt like an opening and pushing it forward. My own bulge pushed through Rob’s, forcing it to harden and grow. It felt fucking amazing, like I was…. I don’t know, fucking myself? 

After pushing my dick as far as I could, Rob’s cock was at full mast, and instinctively I knew they had assimilated. It was a rush of ecstasy as I I could see Rob’s dick at full mast, even thicker and longer than I could have ever dreamed. I was gripping it with his, I mean, my name hands. It was beat red, and what I assumed was my precut dribbling down the shaft. I pumped my hand up and down, moaning to myself, getting loader with each stroke. 

Holy shit I was jerking off as Rob! I sat up to get a better look at myself and noticed the wall mirror across the bed from me. I had a front row view of Rob as he looked himself in the eye and pumped his fully erect dick. In the reflection, I could see a glistening around his hole. Some of the potion must have still been left behind. I used my other hand to grab a small glob of it and lathered up my dick. It was so fucking slick and my hands glided over it. I felt phenomenal, stroking my dick, pinching at my new nipples, and panting at myself. I stuck my tongue out and begged with my eyes, asking to please let myself cum. 

I reached the end, and felt a blast of cum rush out from my new balls and sprayed myself in a thick coating which must have been a combination of Rob’s and mine. It was like I was lathered up all over again as I let my hand drop to my side and admired the view of my once strong armed and militant uncle lay there drenched in his own cum. I rested my head back and sighed in relief, loving the feeling of the new me. I hoped that I could stay like this forever. 

The possession must have taken longer than I realized though, as the sunrise was almost complete, the beams of sunlight making me shine even more. I stood up, almost falling over with my new weight. It was going to take some getting used to. Rob had left a towel by the side of his bed, and I wiped myself off, not bothering to shower. I was going to have plenty of time with this body for that later. I walked over to the pile of clothes I had ditched when I got here and the satchel I left behind. In it was a bright pink jockstrap with a silky finish in the pouch. 

When I knew I was going to possess Rob, I made sure to buy this for myself in what I hoped was the right size. I stepped in, almost falling over once again, and slid the pouch over my knew balls. It fit perfectly, a the silky finish of the fabric was like a second, or rather third, skin. I stood in front of the mirror once more and admired my body, flexing for myself, sniffing my new armpits, and jangling my bulge. I had to leave for my dad’s place here in a bit, so I found a pair of jeans Rob probably never washes, and a jersey of his and my dad’s favorite team. After I had dressed myself, I did one more look over in the mirror. 

“Hey Jim, how’s my lil bro doing?” I asked, trying to imitate Rob to the best of my ability. That part was going to be rather difficult, but I think I’d manage. With one final wink, I picked up Rob’s keys and laughed my way out the door. 

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (5/?)

(Part one, part two, part three, part four, part six, part seven. Also on AO3)

Robin sighed as he sat in the passenger seat beside Batman. Another night of patrol had ended semi-peacefully with thankfully no injuries, but Batman still didn't look happy. He was still in the process of accepting Robin as his partner again, and it tired him out trying to mediate and smooth sharp edges. Everything was just exhausting.

The both of them began turning into the cave, where Nightwing was already standing next to the computers when both Batman and Robin entered. He seemed to have just finished his own patrol, but was still in his uniform.

Robin paused when he saw him.

He looked angry.

That was what usually happened between Nightwing and Batman. The two of them fought like dogs and cats over Robin’s presence and training. When one suggested one thing, the other would argue like their lives depended on it.

(In a way, it did. Robin’s life depended on it.

��� or at least, Robin’s life had depended on it.)

Sometimes, he understood why Nightwing was so angry.

If he was disobedient, he could get injured. He didn’t know how many times Nightwing had pushed that idea into his head.

(And although Tim wished he was, he was not Jason. That Robin would never come back, no matter how much Batman tried to pretend he did.)

Both Batman and Robin exited the car and Robin went straight towards Nightwing.

“Hey,” Nightwing called out, his grimace switching out to a small smile, just like a performer would, “how was patrol?”

“It’s been an easy night tonight,” Robin said, peeling off his mask to give Nightwing a smile. “How was yours?”

Nightwing gave a singular nod and then a shrug.

So probably nothing worth noting either.

Batman was silent, taking off his gloves and cape on the other side of the cave.

Robin studied Nightwing’s face.

He was a pretty boy through and through, with long hair in a mullet style and a light smile on his face that made him shine like the sun. To Robin, Nightwing was his goal and his idol. He wanted more than anything to show him that his decision to allow and help him become Robin was not a mistake.

He looked right back at Robin, his eyes considering.

“Nightwing,” Robin began carefully, “did you want to tell me something?”

There was a beat of silence.

Nightwing paused. Then he nodded slowly, “Actually, yes. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet the cluster.”

Robin's eyes widened.

The Phantom Cluster was an important part of the Justice League’s history and the survival of the planet. Every time something apocalyptic was about to occur, the King of the cluster would warn the Justice League. On occasion, they would also communicate with their hosts through dreams and visions, and prevent even more disasters.

The hosts of the Phantom clusters were only Robins. No matter how much any other hero tried to appeal to them, the stars only favored the wards under Batman.

Though they also seemed to like the younger heroes a lot, having no problem helping them. Tim had heard that Dick’s star had given his personal approval for Starfire and had actually watched out for the Teen Titans before.

The cluster had always loved the Robins.

(Nightwing had called his bonded star, "mine," and his star had responded back in kind. Jason's nickname for his own star was supposedly "Princess." She had called him "dearest" and from what Nightwing would say, their bond was very strong.

It made something inside of Tim ache.)

Essentially, this was possibly an invitation for Tim to get his own star, if it was true that the cluster bonded to all Robins.

Batman, however, whipped his head around and snarled. “Absolutely not! You are forbidden from seeing the cluster!”

Nightwing’s attitude immediately changed as well. He rolled his eyes and snapped, “Who are you to decide that? You don’t have a damn leg to stand on!”

Robin eyed him. He suddenly felt his heart twinge at the thought that it was his fault that he made them start arguing again. The two of them continued arguing and it wasn’t until Alfred came down into the cave that he spoke up.

“Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion. All of the previous Robins met the cluster, so what's the big deal?" He said, trying to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Batman spat, “all of the previous Robins met the cluster, and one of them died.”

Robin winced.

“Don’t you dare blame them for Jason,” Nightwing snarled. “If I can’t blame you, you can’t blame them either. They lost a sibling too!”

Robin did not speak again as he thought about the situation.

He wanted to meet them. All of the files on the Batcomputer about the Phantom Cluster had him locked out. All he knew was that it was a cluster made of sentient stars and planets and two of them had chosen an individual Robin to keep as a “host”. When Jason had died, his star had died with him. Everything else were anecdotes from Dick, who clearly loved them and his star very much.

But in order to be Robin, he also needed to meet them. The cluster made deals with all of the previous Robins. Now that there was a new one, would things be easier if he also became a host with a star?

(And maybe, just maybe, Bruce will accept him if he had a star of his own too.)

Robin started to speak again, "I—"

“No. That cluster has been nothing but trouble. Robin, I forbid you to go!” Bruce roared.

Robin gulped and shivered. The pure rage in Batman’s tone suddenly made him worried for what he was going to do. Nightwing wrapped a protective arm around him and pulled him back.

“The Cluster has never hurt a Robin before.”

“He. Will. Not. Be going,” Batman growled.

Alfred coughed into a fist and everyone shut up and looked at him. Robin tried not to move but he couldn’t help but try to press closer to Nightwing.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said sternly, "may I speak with you?"

Bruce wilted and then trudged after the true patriarch of the Wayne family.

It was almost funny, but Robin was still tense as Nightwing glared at the retreating back of their mentor and guardian. Alfred turned slightly to wink at him, and he relaxed with a faint smile.

Robin stared at Nightwing.

"... Nightwing?" He asked carefully.

Nightwing softened further as he looked at him. "Yes, Tim?"

"... it's okay if I don't go, right?"

Nightwing's eyebrows immediately went up to his hairline. It was like he couldn't believe that he would not want to go see the cluster.

Robin grimaced. He corrected himself hurriedly, "I mean— I want to go, but—"

"Tim, it's okay. If you don't want to go, it's fine. But to be honest, I'd rather have you go at least once. The cluster... they've always been allies of us Robins. I'd like you to meet my star, at least."

Us Robins. That thought made Robin pause.

Nightwing always tried to be accommodating and gentle with him. The thought of disappointing him gave him determination.

Robin shook his head and said in a firm tone, "No, I want to go."

Nightwing grinned. "Let's go now, then."

Robin glanced back at where Alfred and Batman had left.

"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of it, okay? I'll say that I forced you or something. B is just a paranoid asshole."

Robin's lips twitched but he nodded quickly and followed Nightwing. The two of them entered the teleportation tube that was installed in the cave and then away they went.

When they landed in the space station, Nightwing immediately locked the doors so nobody would enter.

Robin eyed him. Nightwing gave an innocent smile back and said, "It's just in case he decides to come after us."

Robin didn't say a word as Nightwing lead them through the metal halls before they finally ended up in the main room, where windows covered all of the walls, revealing a beautiful starry world outside of the space shuttle.

Robin gasped as he stared out the window at the close stars and planets. They were so close that Robin could almost see the surface of each star move and shift. Thankfully, the tinted windows allowed them to look directly at them.

"Hello, my star," Nightwing breathed and the stars remained silent. Nightwing didn't seem angry, just sad as he pressed his forehead and left hand to the glass, sighing.

Beyond the glass, the stars inched around an empty space, where the Jason's star used to stay.

Robin bit his lip again.

Jason's death had not only hurt Batman and Gotham, but also the heavens.

He might not have known it, but he was so very loved.

Nightwing exhaled again and then stood up straight. He looked at Robin with a thin smile and beckoned him forward.

"Come on. They don't bite."

Robin came forward, eyes darting towards the stars with silent awe and reverence. The stars and planets glittered and shone with a brilliance that matched the Sun, and Robin couldn't help but stare at the sentient celestial objects that floated in the sky.

"They're beautiful, right?" Nightwing said, and it startled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. They are," he agreed, because if he said otherwise, it would've been a lie.

It was awe-inspiring (and a little bit terrifying) to see somethings so big and large that were benevolent enough to help them.

It made Robin feel smaller than ever.

Nightwing hummed.

The communicator crackled then, taking away the sound of ocean waves and faint TV static.

Nightwing whipped his head around and Robin followed, staring between the communicator and the window, where the stars lied in silence.

"Hello," a thousand voices called and a shiver ran down Robin's spine.

Like the chorus of angels, a symphony of voices, a choir of sirens, the voices were soft and gentle.

They sounded sad. Tired. Wane.

Robin felt like it was odd that he understood what they were feeling, but he said nothing as he looked at Nightwing's face, which was tinged with the same exhaustion in the stars' tones.

"Hello. This is..." Nightwing gestured to him, "Robin. I'd like to introduce you to him."

The sound of ocean waves again. Robin felt his stomach swoop and drop.

Had they rejected him?

He knew he wasn't Jason, but he had to do it. In order for Batman to be the best hero that he could be for Gotham's sake, he needed a Robin.

Nightwing placed a hand on his shoulder and Robin tried to breathe past the panic.

The voices came back and said, ".... we know."

A different voice differentiated itself from the rest. It was distinctly masculine and adult-sounding, unlike the androgynous and childish voices of the others.

"My Nightwing," the voice called softly and Nightwing beamed.

"My star," he returned the call with a nod and a smile.

Nightwing's star continued, "Our little sister wants to make a deal with Robin. If he wants."

Robin startled. "Who?"

Hope filled inside of him. He wasn’t rejected after all!

Nightwing chuckled. "The little sister of the cluster is the protostar. That one, right there."

He pointed outside, towards a small, bow-tie shaped cloud of dust and gas, all of it converging into one center. She spun and consumed nebula swiftly, but did not move otherwise.

"That's the little sister?" Robin tilted his head.

She was oddly... vulnerable. With the way the other stars and planets circled the point of their cluster, and the way they directed the nebula towards her, they were clearly very protective of her.

"Yep," Nightwing said, but he was quickly interrupted.

There was a crackle from the communicator and then an angry hum like that of a buzzing hornet. Robin flinched and looked at Nightwing, who suddenly burst out laughing.

"My star! Please, Robin isn't going to take her away!"

Another angry hum, though less loud and more indignant.

Robin blinked and then relaxed. His lips twitched and he asked, "Is your star jealous that I'm looking at her?"

"He's the most jealous star I know," Nightwing said, in a loud and teasing tone that was clearly meant to be heard by the stars. "Such a sis-con."

Robin snorted, suddenly feeling a little better. He looked at Nightwing, who now looked more relaxed and encouraging. "You can talk to them," he said. "I promise, they're nice."

Robin nodded firmly and stepped up the communicator. "Uhm. Hello," he said, then winced from the awkwardness.

Silence again, and then, a soft, "Hello, Robin."

The word “Robin” was said with so much unspoken affection that it made him flustered. He stuttered then, but as Nightwing looked at him encouragingly, he continued.

Robin took a deep breath and said slowly, "I'd like to make a deal with the protostar, if that's okay. I can't promise that I'll be a good host, but I promise that I'll be the best host I can be. I'll take care of her and Batman too."

Silence.

Robin glanced back at Nightwing, who was grinning widely and giving an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.

Robin turned back as the communicator crackled once more and then the stars said, "Okay."

One voice in particular, softer than the others and lighter, spoke up then. "Let's make a deal, Robin."

She sounded tired, like she was struggling to stay awake and Robin felt his tone softening as he spoke to her, "Okay. I'll make a deal with you. We'll protect each other, okay?"

The protostar said softly, "I'll protect you."

Robin knew that she purposefully did not mention how he would protect her. He knew it, and he felt like he should've said something to make it fair, but the reassurance that she would be there for him suddenly made him breathless. He felt like he was robbed of all oxygen as he stared at the sky and suddenly understood why Nightwing was so fiercely and deeply protective of the cluster, even against Bruce.

They were kind. So very kind despite being cursed children who had become stars.

"Okay," he said slowly, already feeling a deep affection for his star blooming in his chest, "okay."

He instinctively put his hand on the glass and a bright light, flashing and fast, shot out of the nebula cloud she was consuming and flew towards him. It struck the glass and hot warmth entered Robin's body and then into his side.

He paused, taking a deep breath to calm his heart from racing before he opened his tunic, already knowing where the fated mark was.

On his left side, around the area of his ribs, was a four pointed star, white and pastel yellows and blues slowly tattooing itself into his side.

He beamed. "Dick! Look!" He had accidentally called him by his civilian identity, but Nightwing didn't seem to care as he bound forward and then picked him up and twirled him around.

"You did it! You've got your own star!"

Robin beamed.

He was accepted as a Robin and got his very own star from the Phantom cluster!

He wished he could've heard them singing, like Nightwing used to talk about, or maybe made a deal with his star in happier circumstances, but this was nice too.

Nightwing was still cheering and celebrating, but Robin couldn't help but look out past the stars. His protostar spun in place a little, looking a little more cheerful and he smiled.

"Thank you, Robin," she whispered and Robin grinned.

"No, thank you.... partner." That seemed like a good nickname for her.

A beat of silence from her and then she said, in a slightly more upbeat tone, "You too, partner!"

"Pfftt— you're like a couple of cowboys," Nightwing muffled his laugh.

Robin rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly. "Shut up, Dick. You're the one with the creepy, "my star" thing."

Nightwing gasped and put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Y'know what? You're grounded! I won't take this slander anymore!"

Robin laughed and as the tension bled out from previous days of mourning and grief, he almost wanted to believe that things would be okay again.

He looked out the sky, as Nightwing put him in a headlock, and watched the stars begin to move slowly, as if suddenly gaining the energy to do so.

He watched that empty hole in space be avoided and he thought of Jason again.

No matter what would happen, he would make him and the stars proud.

————

Bruce seemed resigned when he came back bonded. He didn't say anything and just went to his room. Usually, Tim would've been worried, but he wasn't too concerned since he was so excited about having a star for himself.

Dick gave him the codes to unlock the files on the Phantom Cluster and Tim dove right in without hesitation.

He researched everything he could about the cluster, from what they told the Justice League, from Dick's own secret files that he sent over into his computer, from astronomy websites, and he even hacked into NASA's database on stars and astronomical bodies.

Tim finally found another purpose besides being Robin.

He was his star's host.

Being a host for a star belonging to the Phantom Cluster meant many things. For one, their condition reflected on their stars.

If Robin was whole and healthy, so would his star. If he was sick or tired, it would show on his star too.

For another, being a host meant being protected and watched over by the stars.

Nightwing had mentioned before that sometimes, the stars gave them powers. Robin had a hypothesis that with each host being bonded to a star, the powers that they were able to gain grew stronger or increased, since he discovered new abilities that were not recorded since he was bonded to his own star.

A lot of it were minuscule, barely able to make a difference unless it was a split second thing, when Robin miraculously needed just a little push to solve a mystery, fight crime, evade a dangerous situation, or defeat a bad guy.

Nightwing had mentioned before that he had never had a bad landing after being bonded, and that he had a small immunity to heat and fire. He had also said that sometimes, bullets would mysteriously be unable to hit him, but this was a hit-or-miss thing (quite literally) and didn't always happen, so Robin still had to be able to dodge well.

In the reports, the previous Robin mentioned how he would occasionally get brief, sporadic dreams of the future. Every once in a while, he would sleepwalk, and as if possessed, wake up with a new plan, an unknown secret, or an important clue in the morning. After the previous Robin had gotten his star, Nightwing had supposedly gained the same ability on the occasion, and even Robin discovered that ability, which proved his hypothesis.

Robin himself, had odd bouts of good luck, often causing him to end fights or solve cases even faster than Batman could. At other times, the good luck manifested in things like finding an unusual number of heads-facing pennies that were printed in 1943, or finding lost items whenever he lost them. When Robin fell asleep, nightmares were scarce and he would sometimes feel a weight against his side, as if he was resting next to someone with their head on his shoulder.

(When he woke up, he would feel refreshed, but with a slightly melancholy and loneliness. He wondered if it was from his star.)

Robin wanted to be depended on. He wanted to be important and loved and cared for, and his star was everything he wanted.

For her, he wanted to improve.

He trained under several masters, he made enemies and friends, he joined other hero teams, and he even created his own team, the Young Justice. Bruce’s team grew too, with Cass and Stephanie and others joining them in order to help Gotham City.

Every day, he grew older and his star grew alongside him, an eternal beacon.

She spun and whirled like a hurricane, absorbing and eating nebula and growing stronger, almost converging into a sphere as if she was about to begin her transformation into a star.

And then everything changed when Jason's star came back.

————

Both he and Dick had been in the space shuttle when she had reappeared.

The black mass that used to be the quasar still remained, still and quiet, but the other stars seemed to have gain energy from her silent presence. They spun around her happily, as she loomed over them with her inky presence, bending light around her like a lightless black hole.

With her arrival, it meant that Jason had come back.

And with Jason’s return, so did the Batman’s interest in the stars.

“How do they know?” He growled, as they poured over information and audio logs of the interviews of the stars. “How do they know what happens? Did they know that Jason would die and come back?”

Nightwing glared at him, but said tersely, “I don’t know. From what we know, their ability to read the future comes from Clockwork. He visits them and tells them information.”

Robin lifted his eyes up from the paper, which had a picture of his star on it.

“We’ve never seen Clockwork before, have we? We don’t know much about him either.”

“He seems to be an authority figure or warden for the cluster. They speak highly of him, but are purposefully vague,” Nightwing mused, rubbing his chin in thought. “I think I remember my star mentioning once that Clockwork helped him with his past.”

“So… he’s probably also a parental figure,” Robin said, and Nightwing nodded thoughtfully.

Batman looked exhausted, his cowl pulled down off of his head as he bent over the table with an almost inaudible creak of his back and stared intensely at the papers.

Jason’s star had come back, but there were no traces of Jason except an empty grave. They had all been too late when arriving at his grave, only to be met with a coffin that had been broken in from the inside. Whatever had happened, Jason had dug himself out on his own.

Robin knew that it killed Nightwing and Batman inside to imagine the boy they considered as family carving himself out of his own coffin.

The two of them were almost inconsolable at first, but they quickly gathered themselves up again and started investigating.

The cluster was surprisingly unhelpful, not even answering Nightwing when he asked questions about Jason. The only thing his star had said was, “Be patient.”

It was such a hauntingly simple and frustrating answer, exactly like what one would expect coming from an all-powerful and all-knowing being that lived for an unknown amount of years stuck with a child’s mind. Nightwing and Robin did not begrudge them, knowing that they were also protecting the quasar's secrets and bond with the other Robin, but Batman could not say the same.

Of course, they didn’t let that hold them down.

For the first time, Robin had been able to hear the song of the stars.

It was gorgeous. It was still soft, like waking up from a deep sleep, and sometimes it cut off like a bad connection, but Nightwing had looked relieved at the sound of it.

“There’s still another voice missing,” Nightwing had said sadly, “Jason’s quasar— her voice isn’t in the song.”

It already sounded so nice, with the melodic voices of the stars and planets and Dick’s star singing along, so if the loss of one voice was making it incomplete, just how beautiful was the sound when they were all together?

For many reasons, Robin wanted to find Jason.

He was reluctant to continue being Robin for awhile, but Nightwing convinced him to stay.

Once Jason was back, he would give back the suit.

“There’s something we’re missing,” Batman said slowly. “We need to review the facts.”

Nightwing nodded and looked at Robin encouragingly.

Robin began, “Okay. So on XX, XX of this year, we discovered that Jason Todd was revived or in some capacity, alive due to his star returning. He… dug his way out of the coffin himself, but has disappeared for now. The cluster seems to be aware of his movements and location, but is not planning to tell us where or why. The question is, how did Jason come back to life? Where is he, and if he's not in Gotham, did someone take him?”

Nightwing sighed. “We don’t have a lot of information. It’s just a whole bunch of what-ifs and wheres.”

Batman was silent, brooding.

Robin thought some more and then asked, slowly, “Have we reviewed the footage of the cluster before? What if… what if Jason’s star didn’t come back at the time that we thought?”

Nightwing blinked. “What do you mean?”

Batman, however, nodded suddenly. “I think I see what you’re saying. We should review the footage. Nightwing, maybe the time you noticed the star coming back isn’t accurate.”

“What! But I had been coming there every day!” Nightwing said, but then paused. His eyes went wide, and then rushed to the computer.

Batman patted Robin on the shoulder, making warmth ooze in his chest. Batman said with a cold, but vaguely grateful expression, “Good job on the new lead, Robin.”

Robin beamed.

They rewound the camera footage of the cluster which were all kept in the files, since Dick liked rewatching them.

And just as Robin suspected, it was true.

The empty space where the quasar had sat before her demise had not been as empty as Nightwing had thought. For at least a few days before her return as a black star, she had been very small and only noticeable in how light slightly bent around her tiny shape.

She had been shadowed and covered by her siblings until her final reveal and Jason’s ultimate return.

Nightwing covered his face. He seemed to be struggling to find the words on what to say.

Eventually, he said, strangled, “I should’ve looked closer. If I had known, we would’ve found Jason sooner!”

Batman sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up.” Both Robin and Nightwing looked at him with surprise. He sighed again and said, “I am… aware that I‘ve been upset and hostile of the Phantom Cluster. But ultimately, you are still bonded with them and they still offer you some semblance of protection. I am... also grateful that they gave us a chance to know that Jason is back. At least we know now that Jason had dug himself out a few days earlier.”

The three of them looked at each other.

Jason was going to be found and brought back to them. No matter what.

A few months later, almost 6 months after Jason's return, the silent mass that was Jason’s star suddenly bloomed into a protostar, larger than Robin’s. She was a ginormous, funneling top of blue and red nebula, quickly consuming the stellar remnants in the galaxy.

“… what does this mean?” Nightwing muttered as he stared at the footage of her new form. The other stars were cheerfully circling around their sibling again, their song now joined in by their returned sister. “Is he back for real? Was he not back before? Does this mean that he wasn't himself or something?"

Robin was silent, listening to the song. True to Nightwing’s words, the song was beautiful and ethereal.

It was a heaven’s choir, a siren’s song, a mother’s lullaby. It was beautiful in all sorts of ways. The sound was cold and sent shivers down his spine but oddly enough, he welcomed it.

“Do you think he’s… mad?” Robin asked. He felt strangely serene as he listened to the song of the stars.

“… hm?”

“Do you think Jason is mad that I’m Robin and that’s why he’s not coming home?”

Nightwing stared at him with such horror and disbelief that Robin quickly backtracked.

“It’s fine. He’s going to come home,” his tone was firm, hiding his inner insecurities. “The stars foretell it.”

Time passed and Jason’s star remained as a protostar, his own star often twirling around her in happy circles. Both sisters were cute to look at, especially because one was so big and the other was so small. The two of them spun cheerfully around each other, being fed nebula by their family, and Robin watched it all.

Of course, while the stars were in stasis, he was not.

He continued his duties as Robin, made secrets between only Nightwing and the stars, helped others and lived on, even when his mom was killed and his dad was paralyzed and in a coma. He could not prevent it because he had not known.

It was a cruel, cruel fact that the heavens did not care for civilian lives when they were lost.

(The stars did not care much for anyone but the Robins. It was a thought both flattering and terrifying.)

When his dad found out about him being Robin, he was forced to quit. He handed his uniform to Stephanie to keep safe for him, and then he was… normal again.

His protostar seemed unhappy with the decision, but thankfully not with him, because when he climbed onto the roof of the Drake manor to talk to her, she responded back just as eagerly as always. However, she had stopped moving, a sign of either displeasure, discomfort, or something from the future.

“Do I come back to being Robin?” He remembered whispering to her one night, and her answering twinkle made his heart swell.

He liked feeling important, but he also never truly wanted it. The pain and suffering that came from being a hero truthfully scared him. It was only the thought of Batman and Nightwing, as well as his star, that kept him from quitting all together when he first found out that Jason was back.

But he could admit to himself that he liked the feeling of flying through the air, beating bad guys, and saving people. He liked the feeling of recognition and attention.

He didn’t mind not being a hero for a little while. At least he knew that he would come back in the future.

Soon, Stephanie donned the Robin uniform, and at first, Tim could admit that he had been worried. She was reckless and foolhardy, but she was a good person with a keen eye for puzzles and problem-solving. He wanted her to succeed and in order to do so, she needed to meet the cluster.

It had been him who introduced her to her own celestial object and he was also the one who taught her about the Phantom Cluster and their abilities.

The both of them bonded over endearing and anthropomorphic astronomical bodies and Tim was the one who taught her to be Robin too, since Batman seemed insistent on kicking her down. It was difficult to make plans while Tim’s dad was also adamant on driving Stephanie away, but they made it work.

It was a peaceful night, as Tim snuck onto his roof and Stephanie quickly followed with a picnic blanket that was spread over his house shingles. It had been years since the both of them first met and then began working together in the hero scene, boosting each other up with their stars by their side. Now they were good friends after dating for a while and then Tim breaking up with her due to his change in status from a vigilante to civilian.

As they were chatting under the moon, with a tablet holding footage of their respective celestial objects, everything changed.

The song of the stars had cut off slowly, grinding to a halt and making both of them pause in their conversation.

“Uh. They just stopped singing. What does that mean?” Stephanie asked nervously.

Tim stared at the tablet and reached over to bring it closer. “… sometimes it means that there’s something we need to know or something is happening. I wonder what’s going on.”

He knew that Dick was also mostly likely noticing something was up as well.

Both Stephanie and Tim stared at the tablet in silence, tension building as nothing happened yet. The stars and planets slowed down and Tim’s star even stopped spinning, motionless.

Tim’s eyes were drawn to Jason’s quasar-turned-protostar.

There was another beat of silence, and then the camera’s feed turned to white with a sudden screech.

Both of them flinched from the loud scream and then watched a supernova consume the vision of the camera. It took a while before the brightness lowered and the shrieking of metal stopped ringing through their ears.

“Oh my gosh! Look!” Stephanie shook Tim’s shoulder, but it was unnecessary because he couldn’t take his eyes off of the screen.

Jason’s quasar had turned into a frighteningly enormous star. Almost 20 times the size of Dick’s star, Jason’s star had turned into a star that was so blue, it was white. She floated in space for a moment, before she then began a slow cycle around the cluster, carefully avoiding the planets so they would not burn in her luminosity. The rest of the cluster paused, as if taking in the sight of her before following suit and then…

Song burst from the feed again.

“Whoa,” Stephanie said, in a hushed whisper, “it’s beautiful.”

Dick had once described his and his star’s growth into adulthood with new identities. He had said that his star went supernova and transformed from a black hole to a giant star.

He had mentioned how the song had changed, with the addition of a fully mature voice of an adult star.

It happened the same way this time too.

Jason’s star had a light and delicate voice, distinctly feminine and quite high. She provided a soft harmony to the song alongside Dick’s star, with the both of their adult voices enriching the sound of the other stars, who were still children.

Stephanie gave another soft sound of awe.

Tim was more focused on what this meant.

It had been four years since his death. Now that his star had changed, it meant that Jason had also changed his identity, like how Robin became Nightwing. Whatever had happened, Jason had now grown up into an adult. He had come into a new identity in the four years he had been gone, and now he had found himself and alongside with it, his star.

But a question still remained.

Where was he?

————

Tim bopped his head to the music as he bent over his desk. It was another night of peace as he stayed in his room to do his school assignments, while his dad and Danna went on another date.

He was finishing up the last of his homework when he heard the door opening in the faint distance. He took a reflex glimpse outside the window, where he saw a cloudy sky, and then poked his head out of his room.

"Dad! Are you home?"

Silence.

Tim immediately tensed. He patted his pockets for weapons but found nothing. He inched back into his room and picked up the bat that was by his door. When he finally left his room again, he tried to go for nonchalant as he called out, "Dad! Did you bring home the wings I asked for?"

He carefully made his way to the foyer. But before he could turn around the corner and look at who had entered his home, he was knocked back by a fist.

He cried out as pain bloomed on his face. He squinted through the tears, silently wondering how they could hit so hard before he swung the bat. It was stopped with a hand, but Tim maneuvered his body and then lunged forward to kick the assailant back.

He darted backwards to get some distance and stared.

It was a muscular man, all clad in leather and black kevlar with a red helmet on his head.

Tim catalogued his appearance and could not figure out who this person was.

The only person with this kind of memo was the Red Hood, which was an alias that the Joker used, but that couldn’t be possible.

"Who are you?" He snapped. "What are you looking for?"

"What? I'm looking for a who," the man hissed, his voice coming through as electronic. "I'm looking for a Robin."

Tim's stomach dropped.

He said slowly, "I think you're looking in the wrong house. Robin isn't here."

"I heard you quit, Timothy Drake. I heard you quit being Robin and gave it to some other kid. Do you think it's that easy? Do you think it's that easy to leave being Robin behind?"

Oh crap.

Tim scrambled away as the man then lunged at him. He swung the bat again and as the man blocked with a fist, Tim lashed out with another kick. The man grabbed him by the ankle with the other hand and then threw him to the side.

Tim choked on his breath as his back hit the wall, knocking down some picture panes and shattering them on the floor. His back was already starting to ache, but he didn't have time to worry about that when the man struck again, punching him in the stomach.

Tim gagged on the bile rising up his throat before he attacked back with a jab to the throat. He then kicked the man twice in quick succession, making him grunt, and darted up on his feet, dodging a hit from the man's fist again.

"Who are you?!" Tim cried out, his blood freezing in his veins at the thought of Bruce and Dick's secret being known to others.

Would this man reveal their identities? Take Tim as a hostage? Use him to blackmail Bruce?

The man laughed mechanically. He reached behind his head and unlocked the helmet with a faint hiss of air. Then he dropped the helmet onto the floor and brushed his hair back with bright green eyes and a wild smirk full of teeth like he wanted to tear Tim apart.

Tim's eyes widened.

If the familiar face shape didn't key him in, it was the four pointed star on his cheek, unmistakeable and alight with bloody orange and turquoise, that told him just who had came into his house with the intent of attacking him.

"No..." he whispered in disbelief, scrambling backwards again as his breath came out quick and panicked.

Jason had come back?

Jason was back!

If he hadn't just been beaten by him with his fists, he probably would've been happy. Now he was just extremely confused and frightened.

"Oh yes," Jason purred. He was fully grown now, well muscled and clearly trained by someone other than Batman for the last four years. "You're in luck, Robin. You're the first one I saw after being back in this hell hole."

Tim was mentally making a list of the things he needed to do.

Finally, he replied slowly, "But why? Why did you see me first? And where were you?"

"I was dead, obviously," Jason scoffed. “And I came here to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay, cool,” Tim said nervously. “Did you need to punch me to ask me questions?”

Jason didn’t answer, but instead, swung to punch him again. Tim yelped and rolled to dodge. He was barely back on his feet before Jason grabbed his hair and pulled him down, kneeing him in the stomach.

Tim coughed but also took that moment while he was bent over to drop and kick out his legs, knocking Jason off his feet.

Jason fell and Tim jumped over him to get away. He flew down the stairs and barely reached the entryway when he was pounced onto by Jason, who felt like a damn elephant as he pinned him onto the floor with his body weight.

They wrestled but Tim was so out of Jason’s weight class that it wasn’t even funny. Tim could feel the panic within him rising as he struggled and tried to get away from the previous Robin, a once beacon of hope and light for Gotham.

“You have it so easy,” Jason hissed, as he started wrestling him to the ground. “A dad, money, a good home. You never had to dig through trash for scraps. You never had to take care of your dying mom while you were starving yourself. You never had to fight for your life while being tortured!”

Tim kicked Jason in the stomach, allowing just enough space for him to throw back his elbow to his chin. Jason made a faint noise of pain, and punched him once more, but before it could escalate, the most intense feeling of nausea struck Tim.

For a moment, he wondered if he was going to throw up over the previously dead Robin’s hands, but when Jason also paused and moved away from him with a gasp, he realized that both of them were struck with the same condition.

Tim blinked rapidly as the both of them stared at each other in thinly veiled confusion and distrust. Jason suspiciously stared at him, and then looked up out the window that was placed over the door. As Tim blinked away the stars in his eyes, he was beginning to realize that it was not just stars in his vision, but also stars in the sky.

The night was now clear, allowing them both to see a patch of sky with two distinctive lights.

Both Robins, old and new, stared at the rapidly twinkling lights in the distance. There were two flashes, blinking over and over, as if trying to get their attention.

The two sat there in silence. Then Jason looked down at his wrist, which held a watch that was now projecting the image of his star. She was spinning and bursting with solar flares like crazy, enough that Jason gave a disbelieving, almost angry laugh.

"Okay, jeez, I get it, Princess. You want me to keep your sister's fucking host alive."

Tim exhaled in relief, casting his eyes over to the night sky, which held his star in the distance.

Thank the stars that she helped him.

He didn’t want to know what would happen if her and her sister couldn’t get their attention.

He silently mouthed, "Thanks, partner."

The sky twinkled noticeably one last time before it stopped.

Tim jolted when Jason suddenly bent down and started taking off his shirt.

“Excuse me?!” He shrieked, feeling the bruises ache as Jason started undressing him. He struggled weakly, but Jason was still pulling apart his clothes.

“Shut up. Where’s the damn mark?”

Just to spare himself the indignity, Tim pulled his t-shirt to present his side and snapped, “Here.”

Jason stared at the four pointed star, colored with baby blue and butter yellow, for a beat and then stood up in a huff.

Tim glared at him. He loved the Robins and he loved Batman, but that didn’t mean he was just going to forgive him for almost killing him!

"Where are your medical supplies?" Jason asked, looking around his room.

Tim grimaced and said, "The kitchen."

“Where?”

He eyed him with distrust. Jason put his hands on his hips and waited.

“…. In the left cabinet next to the stove.”

Jason went off to look for it, probably, and Tim slowly sat up, rubbing his shoulder that had been knocked against several surfaces this night, while he lifted his eyes to the window again.

His star was still there, faint due to her distance from Earth, but she was still just barely bright enough that he could find her through Gotham’s smog.

Thank the heavens for her and her sister.

Jason came back with a stomp and the emergency medical kit in his hands. He sat down next to Tim and raised a hand, palm up.

"Hand."

Tim gave it to him.

Jason opened the kit and then began to inspect, clean, and wrap up his wounds. Even for his back, Tim was asked to take off his shirt and Jason applied bruise gel all over it. Tim was tense at first, but eventually, he just kind of melted underneath Jason's hands and closed his eyes as he was taken care of by the previous Robin.

Sometimes he would ask Tim questions.

“So what do you call your star?”

“Partner. She calls me partner back too.”

“Ha! You’re like cowboys.”

“You sound like Dick.”

“Like hell I do!”

But Jason didn’t hurt him again. Tim was full-on relaxing by the end of it.

When Jason was finished, Tim was lightly dozing from the warmth of the numbing creams and the fact that it was a late night on a school day. The fact that he hadn’t been hugged or touched in a while certainly aided his sleepy haze too. Jason snorted at the sight of him and said, "Aren't you too trusting? I just beat you up."

Tim grumbled as he opened his eyes and uncurled from his position. "You're an asshole, y'know that? What was all of that even for?"

Jason sighed and said, "I changed. And... I guess… sorry. I wasn't in a right state of mind when I came here."

Tim twisted to look at him. Looking at him closer, Jason's eyes were still green, though noticeably less bright.

The shade of green was so familiar that Tim stared for a long time before he suddenly blurted out, "The league. You were with the League of Assassins!"

Jason narrowed his eyes. "I was."

"Was it Talia? Did she revive you? What happened?"

Jason looked exasperated but he nodded with a deliberately careless shrug. "I died, crawled out of my grave like a zombie, and then she picked me up. I went with her to the League and she threw me into the Lazarus Pits before training me. Now I’m here again to take back what’s mine.”

“Robin?” Tim blurted again. “I’ll give it back to you. I was going to— but someone needed to be Robin and my dad made me quit so I gave it to a friend and she became Robin for a little while, but I don’t think she’ll mind if you get it back.”

“Breathe,” Jason deadpanned, eyeing him with an unidentifiable emotion. “And I don’t care for it anymore.”

“You sure? You definitely cared about it 20 minutes ago,” drawled Tim.

Jason glared at him and Tim narrowed his eyes at him right back.

Eventually, Jason rolled his eyes and looked away. “Well, I stopped caring.” He pointed at Tim demandingly. “I don’t give a fuck what happens next, but if you tell anyone I’m here, I’ll break your damn face!”

“But why?”

Tim could understand that Jason was angry. Whatever had happened in the League had changed him for the worse, but there was still that familiar, charismatic, and caring boy inside, evident by Tim's carefully bandaged wounds (despite being the one to inflict them, but whatever). He could see that Jason was feeling vengeful too, but he didn't want Jason to be estranged from Dick or Bruce.

"I have plans," Jason said with a sneer. "Plans for Gotham that can't have B and Dick interfering."

"... are you trying to get revenge?"

"So what if I am? I died. Better yet, I was murdered. It doesn't matter what you think, I'll do what I need to do and because you're the host of my star's sister, I'll let you go this one time."

Tim thought of Bruce's brooding and endless self-blame at Jason's death. He thought of Dick's almost desperate attempts in training Tim and his neverending grief from the loss of a brother and the loss of a possible future knowing him. He thought of Alfred's silent sorrow, his eyes full of fear when Tim used to suit up in the Batcave. He thought of that period of time where Batman brutalized every criminal he came across, even the petty ones, turning Gotham into a city of rage and pain.

".... They all mourned for you," Tim said, not really knowing what outcome he was looking for by saying this,"B and Dick mourned for you. It was so bad that I had to force them to make me Robin because Batman needed him. Batman needed you."

Jason stared at him, his eyes flickering between greenish hues before he looked away, eyebrows furrowed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason snorted coldly. “They clearly didn't care enough if the Joker is still alive. I’m going to stay here and I’m going to kill the Joker. No one else avenged me, so I’ll just have to do it myself.”

The Joker?

Tim's breath hitched as he froze so badly that even Jason paused and raised an eyebrow at him.

Tim stared at Jason with wide eyes.

He could not help but look down slightly, at the four pointed star that covered Jason’s cheek, a mark of the heavens that bound him to a star.

Jason snarled, “What?!”

Tim said slowly, “The… The Joker’s not alive.”

When Jason’s tense posture and aggressive stance slackened into shock, Tim had to continue and say, “He died a while ago.”

Jason grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as he roared, “Who did it?!”

Tim pursed his lips.

Jason could probably keep a secret, right? He didn’t believe that he would go and tell anyone, especially because….

“Nightwing did. And I helped him hide the body.”

|||||||||||||||||||||||

Check out my CB!Jason art here

Tim and Dani are partners!! Hooray!

I'm sure you can guess who Steph ends up with, hm? She’ll get her own story, dw.

Tbh, I wanted this to be a 3+1 thing with all of the other Robins bc I thought it'd be short, but then it became longer than I expected, so I just... continued writing.... 😶 I think I got too excited again.

I'm trying to write in chronological order, but the history of the Batfam is so ridiculous that idk if I can do that, but if I don't do that, I'll get confused myself, y'know? Someone please help.

The scene where Jason beats the shit out of Tim apparently comes after he reveals his identity to Bruce… so I’m going to switch it for it to make sense. He was also supposed to choke Tim in this fic, but then it got too dark… so I changed that too :9

“How come none of them could figure out that he was with the League?” They knew he was revived in the coffin, so no one thought of the Lazarus pits bc they didn’t think he was basically a zombie (suspend your disbelief, please!). Also, more info on Jazz will be in the fic with Jason’s return.

Tim was originally supposed to go with Tucker, but then I thought about it and I changed it because 1) like Dick and Jason, his star is sort of the opposite of their personality, 2) I don’t see how they’ll encourage each other to grow, 3) a secret third thing

A deeper explanation of reason 2 is on AO3.

[wellcollapse]

as someone who once enjoyed the nuances of eddie’s family and supported the idea of a diaz parent redemption in s5-6, i’m a little bummed at the first explicit confirmation that living with chris and raising him as their own was part of the diaz parents’ motivation in taking him back to texas — i mean, we knew this, but i guess the disappointment in tim re. their regression is just hitting me again today because tim actually came out and said it. however as someone who also hates the diaz parents’ actions in seasons 7 and 8 with the fire of a thousand suns….i’m SO excited to see eddie finally duke it out with them. helena and ramon diaz you are not seeing heaven and i think it’s time you realize that. i Doubt eddie will fully cut them off but i need them to realize how cruel they’ve been towards eddie. that’s my only wish

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Danny after a reveal gone wrong, is dropped into the DC universe by clockwork to "recover and let loose"

He learned that because this universe is swarming with heros it dosent reeeaaallly need protection

So for the first 2 months danny juat relaxes, using his connection with the ghosts and shades of gothem to get himself a pretty good appartment with a fair amount of free time amd cash

What he wasent expecting was for the ghosts of residential obsessed billionaire bruceie wayne's parents, thomas and martha, to ask him to protect bruce

Danny thinks it over and decided, 'fuck it, how much work could it be, besides i need to protect someone anyway'

.

.

.

Danny was contemplating walking up and punching batman in the face

Turns out the obsessed billionaire, is a parinoid creepy emotionally constipated vigilante

It was 3 weeks into protecting thomas and Martha's "little boy" and danny was already sick of it, and of bruce, the comious amounts of time danny spent knocking out goons was ridiculous, let alone and amount of times he needed to help out the robins

And how the fuck did he raise them, the little one is so violent he could rival the way his parents talked about ghosts

It was after mid afternoon, after danny day job and he's waiting for the sun to go down to keep mr.dark and brooding safe

It was then that another shade plopped itself on his lap, this one specifically had been following him for the last few days

It was 10 minutes later that the little shade gave him an idea, an amazing idea of how to make protecting the dumb fuck that was bruce wayne MUCH more fun, danny looked at the sun and he knew he had time

.

.

.

He got black cargo pants, a black tank top, a labcoat that he dyed toxic green, a white gas mask, one of those belts construction people wear to hold tools and stuff, combat boots, white gloves and a crap ton of scrap metal, househole appliances and a tool box

He spent the next 5 hours constructing little gadgets, remaking the fenton-thermos-model human and preparing for a night out.

.

.

.

Danny was set

In his labcoat was the hand held stuff

:extra tools, retractable boe staff, smoke bombs, mini fire works, trackers

In his cargo pants he had the more heave hitters: the guns he designed, more smoke bonbs, lipstick lazers, wire

But his belt was his favourite: the now human souping thermos, a harly quinn inspired mallet and the ectoplasm grenades,

Tonights going to be fun

.

.

.

Batman saw alot of things, lately things have been too easy, he got hit less, goons attacks hurt less and sometimes his rouge took too long to atrack ofter breaking out of arkham

It had set him on edge

Even his kids said things seemed easer, so he's not paranoid

Tonight however gave him many more questions

During the usual fight with riddler, a kid slightly younger than tim, wearing a gas mask, dropped from the roof like the spawn of satan, dropped smoke bombs, then the sounds of violence accured

when bruce could see again, all the goons were strung up on wire upsidedown

The riddler was tied to a chair which was hanging by one leg over a vat of...something with a smile drawn on his face and his eyes blindfolded

When he looked up the labcoat wearing kid was holding a mallet and a grenade of some kind

:awww dont worry, none of them will die, I'm like you in that sence, i dont kill people...howeverrr messing with them is fair game

Batman tried to stare him down but that made the kid laugh

:aww that wont work B, besides if i wanted to hurt you I'd of done it in the last 3 weeks

So this was why things were easer

With one last laugh the kid dropped the bomb and Lazarus filled Bruce's sights

[callme-holly]

Yoo, like the fic you did of tim in readers house, and shes trying to get him out.

could you possibly do maybe a blurb or fic of having two-bit in readers rrom and them getting caught with their clothes still off? But they didnt do anything, they were just changing and readers brothers (curtis's) think they did smth🤨🤔😏😏

In reality they were just cuddling (as a couple not besties) and two-bit gets chases out the house, and reader is super embarrased.

I think this would be a really funny fix, LMAOO

Then at the end reader is SUPER embarrased, and they both get teased by thr gang in the afternoon. (bc this is in the mroning, like the tim sitch)

if you dont wanna do this ask, its alr!! Love ur work btw!!♥♥♥

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐨 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 [𝐭𝐰𝐨-𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which two-bit mathews isn't the most subtle boyfriend

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - it's been a little while but i'm back ya'll. kinda considering going on a long break bc i was unsure if anybody actually read my shit but im in too deep now!! asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.4k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing

A cool breeze swept in through your open window, and the sun was already high in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched from corner to corner of the bedroom. The curtains are open just enough for a ray of light to slip through, warming the sleep-rumpled sheets pooled around you. 

Beside you, with his arm draped lazily around your waist, lies Two-Bit Mathews, his rust-coloured hair sticking up at a variety of odd angles, his lips parted ever so slightly as he sleeps soundly. He looks unusually peaceful, and you take a second to admire him, gently tracing the freckles dusted across his bare shoulders with the pads of your fingers. There’s a small scar just above his brow, barely visible beneath the messy strands covering it, but you know it’s there all the same. It’s just one of the many things that you find yourself loving. 

Carefully, you brush his hair back into place and press your lips to his forehead, hoping to wake him before your brothers get out of bed and inevitably come knocking at your door. A soft groan rumbles through his chest, and you can see his eyes flutter open for a fleeting moment, bleary blue irises meeting yours as he tries to process where exactly he is. Then those eyes fall shut again, and you sigh heavily, leaning over to shake his shoulder lightly.

“Two, c’mon.” You whisper softly, earning another moan of protest as he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

“Five more minutes,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with sleep and his breath tickling your sensitive skin. It's rare to see him so disoriented, so out of it, and you can’t help but feel amused at his behaviour. 

However, your amusement quickly evaporates when you hear the telltale ring of Darry’s alarm, the sound shrill and piercing as it cuts through the silence. You cringe at the sound. Two-Bit grunts in displeasure, burying his face deeper into your shoulder. 

“It's not fair,” he whines, peering up at you. “How can they be awake already? It's Sunday morning. I want to sleep in.” Despite his words, his hold on you loosens slightly, and he pushes himself up onto his elbow, blinking hard until he focuses on your face, his eyes brightening significantly when he meets your gaze. 

The covers pool loosely around your waist as he shifts, and he immediately notices your bare torso, a broad grin spreading across his features.

“Woah, hey, cover up!” A loud laugh escapes him, and you're quick to slap a hand over his mouth, glaring down at him. 

“Shh, you idiot. Darry will hear you.” Two holds his hands up placatingly, his smile still in place as you pull your hand away, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance at his antics. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a silent apology, one you accept easily, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer. It’s sweet and simple, lasting no longer than a couple of seconds before you break apart, a soft smile playing at your lips. 

Two-bit stretches out beside you, propping his head up on his hand as he watches you intently, an unreadable expression in his eyes. You roll off of the mattress, ignoring the quiet whine of protest you get in response, padding across the room in search of your discarded clothes, which lay in a crumpled pile by the door. 

One glance at the clock tells you you've only got a couple minutes to get your very stubborn and very lazy boyfriend dressed and out of your window before Sodapop or Ponyboy come barging in.

With a heavy sigh, you pick up a pair of dark blue jeans, tossing them haphazardly towards Two, who catches them with a broad grin. 

“Put those on.” You mumble, turning back to search for your own clothes, only succeeding in finding your shirt before the door flies open, slamming against the wall and making both of you jump.

“Y/N, Darry wants—” Ponyboy stops short when his gaze lands on Two-Bit, whose jeans are halfway up his thighs, an almost comical look of confusion crossing his features before it's replaced with something akin to horror. “Oh my God,” he breathes out. “You guys...” He trails off, glancing over to you before slapping a hand over his eyes when he realises how very little you're wearing. 

“Get out!” You shriek, your cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red, and Pony doesn’t need to be told twice, turning on his heel and fleeing from the room, no doubt to go tell Darry about his new, and rather horrifying, discovery. 

You turn to look at Two-Bit, who, despite the situation, is still grinning like a madman as he pulls on his shirt, seemingly unfazed by everything that has happened in the last few seconds. That grin quickly fades, however, when a loud crash sounds from the kitchen, accompanied by Darry’s all-too-familiar bellow of your name. 

“Shit…” You curse, tugging on the remainder of your clothes, trying to usher your boyfriend to the window despite his protests. His arms wrap tightly around your midsection, preventing you from even attempting to escape, and though you try to kick and squirm out of his grasp, he simply refuses to release his grip on you, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Keith Mathews, I swear if you don't let me go right now—”

Your threats are interrupted as the door flies open for the second time that morning, and there stands Darry, his hands on his hips, his eyes blazing with a look that could only be described as murderous. You freeze, staring at him helplessly, and Two-Bit offers him a sheepish smile, slowly releasing you and backing away towards the open window. Before he reaches it, however, Darry steps forward, grabbing him by the back of his shirt roughly and dragging him back. 

“Darry!” You exclaim, sounding slightly exasperated as you watch your brother pull Two-Bit out of your room and down the hallway, cursing under his breath as he goes. You trail after them, pausing beside a rather surprised Sodapop and a very guilty-looking Ponyboy as Darry shoves Two out of the front door, crossing his arms and glaring down at him.

“If I find you sneaking in here to see her again, I'll skin you, you hear?” He growls, pointing a threatening finger at the younger greaser, who has the decency to look appropriately terrified, flashing you a pleading look. 

With a sigh, you step forward, placing a gentle hand on your brother’s forearm and forcing out a tight-lipped smile. “Darry, c’mon.” You try, “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.” 

It seems, however, that your pleas fall on deaf ears, and Darry turns sharply to glare at you, his expression stony. You quickly fall silent, listening as your older brother continues to scold Two-Bit, whose eyes are wide with a slight fear. Darry could be really frightening when he wanted to be; you’d learn that the hard way. 

“I mean it,” Darry barks, his attention seemingly back on the redhead still standing on the porch. “From now on, you use the front door, and that bedroom door stays open whenever you’re around. I don’t want any ‘funny business’ going on under this roof. Especially not while I’m sleeping next door.” 

You know exactly what he means by 'funny business', and the implication causes your cheeks to flush crimson. Two-Bit, who looks just as embarrassed as you are, nods hurriedly, and you don't think you've ever seen the greaser look so guilty in all the time that you've known him. 

Darry must notice too, because he relaxes slightly, his tone softer than it had been before, as he speaks once again. “Don't hurt her; you got it?” 

“Got it.” Two nods: “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Darry huffs, clearly not entirely satisfied with the whole situation, but deciding to drop it nonetheless as he glances between the two of you. He runs a hand through his dark hair, which is still slightly mussed from sleep, and lets out a long sigh. “Ya’ll are going to kill me someday.” He mutters, shaking his head, before turning from the door and heading back in the direction of the kitchen.

Once he’s gone, you shoot Two-Bit an apologetic look, but he merely smiles and winks reassuringly at you before turning on his heel to jog down the porch steps. You close the door with a loud sigh and hear Sodapop chuckle behind you, his arms crossed and a smug smile spread across his features.

“So…” He drawls, looking impossibly pleased with himself. “Two-Bit Mathews, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[ghost-bxrd]

kinda combining two of the anon prompts - Red Hood in Selkie form trying to comfort a seriously messed up Dick and the Batfam thinking the albino seal is Jason's ghost.

Dick gets hurt. Hurt pretty badly. Bad enough that they aren't sure he will make it.

Red Hood finds out and immediately rushes to the Cave as a Selkie. (No, he isn't worried, not at all, why should he, he just wants a swim, really)

Bruce and Tim see the Selkie, separately or not. And assumes it is Jason's spirit come to take his brother to the afterlife.

Cue desperate pleading to spare Dick's life, offering themselves in exchange...

oof, that one's... got some awesome potential for hurt/comfort.

Bruce would just be white as a sheet and go “No, no, you can't take him. Please, Jaylad. Please, not yet. Please. I can't lose him too, please-“

And Tim would straight up jump into a whole ass essay on why Dick can't join him in the afterlife yet, citing every reason under the sun (along with some pretty ambiguous ones) why the world still needs Nightwing and “I know you miss him, I know, but you can't have him. Not yet. Not yet. We still need him. Please--“

Meanwhile Jason, who's absolutely fed up with whatever this shit is, just shoulders past them both and kneels down by Dick's side, calmly announcing that if he dies on them, then Jason is going to dunk him in a Lazarus Pit, drown in him in it, and then revive him all over again for however long it takes for Jason to feel better.

[ephemerensis]

Shoreline // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

sorry this took so long lol i’ve developed a stalker and things r getting crazy! face card don’t decline ig. tim and you have different moral values and it makes you feel bad. this is for my ppl with anger issues! not proofread ofc xoxo.

—

For most of your life you couldn’t escape this overwhelming sense of apathy. This is not to say you were heartless, you teared up watching sad movies and felt the lull of your heartstrings when someone had the courage to cry in front of you. Nonetheless, you always felt like you had a seed of anger sown into the pith of your core, instilled in you from birth. So then you were cursed, eternally to feel things too strongly and with a propensity for holding things too tightly. You fought to deny it, because like all creatures— spiteful is your nature but good is your resolve. But the world has a funny way of working the empathy out of a person, or rather people have such a keen sense for selfishness, caring becomes worthless.

And bitterness fills the void; you are justified in this. Which made it so easy to feel the irritation creep under your skin when someone who wronged you was living happily or the impending sense of anger when you were spoken over or whatever other inconvenience you decided to stake your heart out for. None of it mattered, and that’s why you cared so deeply for it.

It got worse when your parents were taken, ripped from you violently, the only people you never had the heart to be spiteful towards. After that, it became incurable. That anger you were born with, that festered in you. There was no escaping it now.

However, the simple truth was that you didn’t need to. You were justified in this. These were the cards you’d been dealt, and if you wanted to move forward you’d have to play a mean game. This is way of the world. Of course, all this changed when you met him.

Kind, benevolent, Tim.

Like all people you’d crossed, when you met him you wanted to look for his flaws, some evil in him you could exploit. Something you could cling to in case he’d gotten close enough to hurt your feelings; an insurance. You turned up empty.

It wasn’t until a month into joining the Batman brigade and getting acquainted with the flow of things that you’d actually spoken. He was always on his own missions you never got the chance. You could never forget the way he smiled at you then, as if all the good in the world were compressed into one person and it were now beaming at you with the shattering force of the gentle sun.

Sitting on the edge of a skyscraper close to sunset, you were peering down at the throng of people moving about their lives like ants in a pile; pouring over each other, melting and blending. In particular you were fixated on a small group of people, shoving each other as they walked and laughing at just about anything anyone said. Everything about them was obnoxious and it made you nauseous. Before you could think anything else, a voice broke you out of your stupor.

“Pretty sure this is my patrol route.” You turned around to see Red Robin walking towards you, fully suited and equipped.

“I’m done with my patrol.” You watched as he approached the edge of the building, kneeling beside you to peek down.

“Then who are we watching?”

You didn’t want to tell him, because they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not lawfully anyway. You were doing it out of spite, out of a grudge you let fester for too long; watching them when they crossed your path hoping they’d choke or something. But you didn’t have to tell him, you were staring hard enough for him to figure it out.

So he pointed at them and you confirmed. And he asked you about it and you denied everything. The only explanation you could offer was that they did something wrong to you, and that was all.

His interest in the matter confused you, more so you were used to people ignoring what didn’t serve them. They’d only listen to give you vague advice and feel good for it, or because they felt an obligation, or something similar. But he’d never met you, and he hadn’t a thing to say to you after. He just sat and watched.

It was only after a couple minutes that he spoke again, “don’t you think it’s a waste of time?”

“What?” His question caught you off guard. Out of all the things you were expecting him to say, this wasn’t among them. It was surprising enough that he lingered this long when there was nothing to observe, he was supposed to be patrolling.

“What are you trying to get out of it?” His voice was so even when he talked to you, without an ounce of judgement or malice or sympathy.

You didn’t know what to say because you weren’t sure. Maybe watching them gave you more reasons to hate them, and that justified everything somehow, made you feel better to reinforce that they were terrible. Or maybe you wanted to catch them in the act of something heinous. Would jailing them sate you? Maybe you just needed something bad to happen. Would you save them? And if you didn’t, what does that make you? “…I don’t know.”

You don’t know why, but something in you begged for his approval right then. Something about him spurred on a desire to be liked, more strongly than anyone else had ever made you feel it. Not out of peer pressure or because he was pretty, just because he seemed like he knew better.

“They’re not going to apologize.” You frowned, gaze glued to the people beneath the building. As if he could sense your mood darkening, he cleared his throat to add on.

“You’re right, if you think they did something wrong to you then you’re right. But they won’t believe that, no matter what you do. Forget about it,” he reached over to pat your shoulder in some consolatory manner and that’s when you looked up at him.

With the way he beamed at you, swallowed by the sun, the anger bubbling up in your throat stilled and you knew immediately you’d never be the same after. And he surprised you again, sundering you to the earth with four simple words.

“I’ll believe you instead.”

And it really wasn’t fair after that. As cautious and pessimistic as you were, it was impossible not to like him. For every grievance you could invent, he could conjure the words to sate them, and never with an ounce of animosity or condescension. Tim treated the world with a grace you’d never known to find, as if anger never had a place. And he never looked at you how you saw yourself, pathetic and miserable; he treated you like you were a person, anger, apathy, and all. So of course you liked him, like Icarus to the sun, you felt him soften your waxen morals.

If he ever had an ulterior motive for putting up with you, you’d never known it— nor would you believe anything ill spoken of him for a moment. When you got to know him, really know him, enough to let down your guard, you decided he was what you wanted to stake your life on.

So you did. It wasn’t as if everything negative you felt disappeared overnight. In fact, it never went away at all. But you wanted it to. The closer you got to him, the more you let Tim drive your moral compass, and the less you let your distaste for the world rule you. And everything became about him.

His eyes, his hobbies, his values, his voice, his thoughts. All consuming until you weren’t sure where he ended and you began.

“What are you listening to?” He’d appeared silently and suddenly into your frame of view that day, catching you in one of the very few moments when you were off guard. Face dangling over your book from where you were strewn across the couch, his abrupt appearance broke you out of your own little world and jolted you back to reality. If it were anyone else, you’d be pissed.

Instead you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, shoving your headphones off and setting your book aside. “It’s this playlist I put together, for reading mostly, since Bruce banned music on patrols.” Before he could ask, you’d already extended the headphones in Tim’s direction and your phone with the playlist open to shortly follow.

“Oh I love this song.” You knew that, of course, and you loved it too. At least you thought you did, but you couldn’t tell the difference. Only that every song you’d included was tailored to his taste, and that you liked them well enough when they played. The surface things that were easy to change or mimic, you did. Because he was perfect.

“Me too,” you whispered. While you were watching him, he glanced at your reading selection with a tender curiosity.

“Is that Kafka? How is it?” With the music blaring over his ears, he spoke just a few decibels too loud for the ambiance the reading room provided. Tim’s voice was warm, echoing off the walls and all encompassing. He must’ve realized it too, sliding them off his ears and setting them down.

“It’s good I think, but I don’t really get it.” Truthfully you were four pages in, but just felt like spontaneously skipping ahead. “I think I should’ve researched Milena first for context.”

As if he were possessed or hit by lightning, Tim suddenly shifted his tone. Quiet and soft like ghosting fingers over skin he said, looking at you suddenly as if you were something delicate, “a living fire, such as I have never seen.”

“…What?” Struck and rooted from the change in his demeanor, you didn’t dare interpret his words. And again he changed, breaking into a grin from where he stood hovered over you.

“It’s pretty right?”He indicated for you to make room, inserting himself next to you. “That’s how Kafka describes Milena. I can give you all the context you need.”

To be clear, it was never one sided, Tim took to you too, even though you didn’t really know why. There were times you thought he saw you as some pity passion philanthropy project, with all his benevolence and understanding. But there were other times when you really thought he liked being around you. It was in the way he watched your face when you talked, prodded you with questions when you thought no one would care about what you had to say, stroked your hair when you were teary eyed. More than liking you, he wanted to know you beyond the mimicry you practiced, and you were equally amazed and terrified about what he saw through the cracks.

In those moments, everything terrible you thought existed about you disappeared. Or at the very least, they weren’t so bad.

Like any other person on the planet you had your terrible days, and especially for emotional hermits like yourself, it was the culmination of all those minor wrongs combined with the tipping point of a negative thought that dragged you under the waves. In those moments you felt like you were drowning, flailing your arms and gasping for air on the way down. Because it was all too much when you finally gave yourself any room to feel, and with your aversion to weakness and vulnerability, you never had anyone to cast you a lifeline. You just had to flail alone; there wasn’t a thing you knew to do about it.

It was no different the day you’d found yourself reeling on the floor of your bedroom, shoulders shaking with your hand clasped firmly over your mouth; being as quiet as you could to reconcile the voice in your head and keep others from hearing as you had a million times before. You don’t know what exactly was so wrong with it, but you could only be honest with yourself like this, when you knew another soul wouldn’t know. But Tim always seemed to have a third sense for these things, and you always seemed to know he’d be coming.

So by the time the worst of it was over, you’d gathered yourself together enough only for your breath to hitch with each heave of your chest. The door knob turned, in he stepped. As usual, he came bustling in with a thought on his lips, already shedding the heavier parts of his suit to your floors and chairs before greeting you.

“Crime fighting on Sundays sucks, it’s like they’re all trying to… Are you crying again?”

“No.” The crack you sounded and the congestion in your voice gave you away before you could defend yourself. Of course, being ever reliable he was by your side in three brisk steps, making the bed dip under his weight beside you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” With your head buried in your arms you could still feel him looking at you.

“No.” Talking, even in the slightest, made it worse. Undoing the progress you’d made in calming yourself, you could feel your heart rate spike again as your feelings came bubbling up. Especially with him around, his clarity and lack of negativity, it was easy to feel filthy next to him.

“Okay.” And you think he knew it too, the way he said nothing and grabbed for your hand while your breath hitched over and over. Only thumbing circles into your palms so you knew he was there, but not too much to overstimulate you. A hug in this state would end you, he feared.

But he eased you into it, reaching to gingerly pat your back when your breathing slowed again. Pulling your head into his shoulder and caressing your skull with his palm if you let him, and you always did. And when you felt bad enough for eating up his time, and needing of resolution, you spoke, “…do you think I’ll ever amount to anything?”

“I think I’m biased. I told you I’d believe in you, didn’t I?” His heartbeat was steady under your cheek, and with your ear pressed to his chest you swore you felt like you were falling into the cavity when he spoke, voice reverberating into your ears. You didn’t know if he was comforting you or dismissing you, but then he always left you a little confused.

“Be nothing for all I care,” he said coolly, “it’ll be the greatest nothing to ever exist. Swallow the sun like an eclipse or tear apart the Earth like a black hole, even in totality you’ll find a way to shine.”

When he spoke to you like that, it was impossible not to entertain it; the idea that you were lovable and worthwhile and good. But you weren’t stupid. If you wanted to believe it, you had to be it. And if you wanted to be it, you had to stay it. Could you? Abandon the only sense of self you’d known?

Tim helped, but he wasn’t a cure, just an excuse. It was woven into your nature after all, that natural born apathy and incessant anger. You felt terrible when you felt it bubble up, the truly mean or spiteful things you’d think of other people. Knowing he wouldn’t do the same and knowing he’d disapprove; in those times you felt like you were the wrong in the world and of course you never acted on these impulses. But you weren’t a deity or a therapist, essence wasn’t so easily changed.

As a result, there were the benign things. The things your selfish heart had normalized so well, you never considered they’d be an object of contest in his eyes. But it wasn’t so much in the way he disapproved of them, more therein that he dismissed them. Arbitrary thoughts and actions that mattered to you, because they were the only parts you thought you had left of yourself, no matter how unserious. And more importantly, they were the bits and pieces that you thought weren’t so bad.

“I had to save that one guy the other day, can you believe that?” The two of you were grabbing ice cream at your favorite local joint. His more so than yours, it didn’t serve cookies and cream and it always melted a little too quick for your liking.

“The one you told me you couldn’t stand?” You nodded, dragging an M&M along the surface of the scoop to watch its color dye the cream. It felt a little bad that you complained enough for Tim to know who you were talking about, but then maybe he was an amazing listener.

“I wanted to drop kick him or something. At the very least I wish I didn’t have to help.” Half truth. More so you wished the man you saved had the courage to thank you after, or at the very least, feel sorry for all the wrong he caused you. But he didn’t know it was you, dressed in your mask and spandex, and even if he did nothing would change. So while the nagging voice in you made you scoop him out of harm’s way, you half wished you dropped him into the pavement mid-swing. Then you wouldn’t feel so bad.

“But you did! That’s something.” He reached over to wipe a bit of cream off your lip with his thumb. It felt dismissive, but this was him approving. This was Tim thinking you were good. And that was worth something.

But of course, the way your brain was wired, you were still bitter. And you still wanted approval for it. Something needed to be said, benign, but enough to sate your anger.

“But it still feels wrong. Hypothetically, if it was raining really bad and he just happened to be in the same building… would it be so bad if I took his umbrella?” A cold. That was the extent of your malice now.

“Well...” Tim shrugged, making it a point to indicate his skepticism.

“But he’s a bad person,” you said eagerly, prodding for him to agree.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “you’re so silly sometimes.”

And with the smile you plastered on your face, no one could tell how little you felt. It was those moments that made you realize your rotten nature was irreversible, every good you’d ever felt was a command given to a dog that listened.

But anger is a feeling that festers, and the less you said, the worse it got. You couldn’t ignore or mask it anymore than you could deny your identity. The rot was there, and it felt terrible, and you were realizing just how disgusting it was. While you always excused yourself as some tragic character, the truth is there are no characters. No plot lines or story arcs you could hide behind. You’re a bitter person because you’re a shitty person, and there’s no cure for that.

So you disrupted your delusions; confronted them for what you were worth. When you came to terms, you understood. You’d never be what he expected. And when he asked you out, officially, one day, you knew what to say.

The sun flooded the room then, despite the drapes being drawn mostly shut. The two of you sprawled over each other on the floor, lounging the comfort of your friendship. For the better half of an hour, you’d been reading shitty poetry you found online together, laughing at the more ridiculous ones as if you could do any better.

When you tired, you laid in silence.

“I like you,” he said. You scoffed, waving your hand dismissively.

“Duh, I like you too.” Tim sat upright, staring down at you with a serious glint in his marine eyes. And your smile faded, staring back in dread and anticipation.

“No, I like you.” It was doomed. Of course you liked him, you weren’t dumb, but not like this. When he continued in your silence, it confirmed it, Tim didn’t know a thing you were thinking. “Would you go out with me?”

His awkward smile and the tilt of his head made it worse. Stupidly angelic as if he couldn’t help it.

“No.”

Something flickered in his eyes and you held your breath, as if he would explode now. If he was confused he was right to be, because everyone knew you liked him. There wasn’t anyone else you got along with.

“What?” His smile faded and you picked yourself off the floor, drawing your knees to you.

“I can’t.”

“But you like me,” he pressed. You couldn’t read his face, it was the same expression he used during training or chess. Blank and defensive, it scared you. If there were a time to crawl back in your shell it’d be now, but you had to be open. He needed to know you were sincere, you needed to be the understanding one.

“But I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t change.” If he were confused that’d be one thing, it would mean you were wrong and he didn’t think as negatively of you as you thought. But he wasn’t confused, whether it be hurt at your misunderstanding or disappointment in your declination, it wasn’t confusion and he knew what you were talking about.

“I’ve never expected that of you.” You knew from the quiver of the corner of his mouth he was upset, hiding it behind his otherwise unfaltering expression.

“But you do. I see it when you look at me,” you responded with a small smile to help indicate you weren’t bitter. Maybe it came out wrong anyway, you’re good at that. “You’re loving and sweet and smart and kind. But I can’t do it, Tim. I can’t be good.”

“I’m not asking you to.” And he looked so puppy like saying it you almost caved.

“I don’t think you’ll like me if I don’t.” The frown he’d been holding back etched itself onto his face. You could tell he wanted to argue. But he was a good person. In Tim’s head you could see the clogs turning, weighing what was worth it; telling you his truth or validating your feelings, considering which would mean the most.

So before he came to conclusion, and said more to change your mind, you interjected. “I’ve thought about it more than you’d know. In some universe we are the perfect match, you are the perfect match for me. Where all your good balances out my incompetence, but not this one. You don’t have the patience and I don’t have the gall. I’m going to make you bitter and you know it. Not this one.”

Tim held your gaze before looking at the floor, and you mourned the loss of drowning in his blue depths, “but if your good balanced out my incompetence?”

You shook your head a little, “I don’t have an ounce you could use. This is all I am and all I’ll ever be.”

“And if I disagreed?”

“You know I’m right, and I’m a little tired of conceding. It’s all I seem to do around you.”

“And if in another universe you said the same thing to me? And the next?” Outside, the weather looked so temperate and effervescent, teasingly steadfast in its resolve. He didn’t sound angry or dejected, just as he normally did. Gentle and even, as he looked at you again with something akin to how the tide felt lapping against your calves. Ebbing and ebbed, and slowly pulling you to its epicenter as you sink into the sand.“In every world you exist, you’ll be afraid. But in this one nothing’s happened. We exist in the same space, in the same time. You have a choice, I want a chance, if you’d accept it. Is it so much to overcome?”

But the tide gets you nothing but wrinkled fingertips and the taste of sand. It was time you pulled yourself out before you couldn’t swim back. Out to chase the shoreline again, in and out, afraid of the water.

“Yes.”

—

@jedidiah1201

[bullet-prooflove]

The Good Book: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fallmoreinloveeveryday @elenavampire21 @floralfloyd @lamaudite

Companion piece to:

Lucky - Tim's assignment doesn't go to plan.

Stars - Tim's not like other men.

You make good on that gift basket. Tim finds it sitting on the welcome mat outside his apartment one day when he arrives home from the gym. There’s a couple of IPAs in there, classy chips and chocolate,  that special brand of coffee he’d become obsessed with when in Indonesia, one he knows costs a fortunate to import to the US. And then there’s the book, the one you were telling him about that night underneath the stars.

It’s a Brandon Sanderson novel, The Way of Kings. He’s not much into fantasy. Magic and shit ain’t really his thing. He much prefers the darker writings of Stephen King and James Herbert, he thinks those fellas get the human condition in a way most people don’t. However he’d promised you he’d give it a go, so he does.

He spends the night devouring it, poring over the pages until the sun comes up and even then he doesn’t stop. He reads it on the treadmill at the gym, in the line at the coffee shop, even on the john because he has to find out what happens next.

After he’s finished that one, he finds himself at Barnes and Noble buying the rest of the series, along with a few others.

“It’s like a gateway drug.” He tells you over on the phone that night as he lies on his couch, book open on his chest. “What have you gotten me into?”

“Something much healthier than killer clowns and men who try to murder their wives in hotel rooms.” You tell him over a crackly line because you’re still deployed out there in buttfuck, nowhere. Tim’s shipping out again in a few days’ time because there’s a shortage of snipers and his services are required.

“Admit it, you were worried about me.” He drawls as he recalls the conversation the two of you had that night. “You think I was starting to fade into the darkness.”

Truthfully you were a little concerned about Tim. His job isn’t like yours, it’s dedicated to killing and it’s something he’s exceptionally good at. His kill count is already well above what it should be for a man of his age and rank. Your country, they’ll just keep using him, utilising him like a tool until he breaks and the thing is Tim will never see it coming, because no one ever does.

That’s what the books are about, a method of escaping the madness, of immersing himself in a world that still has hope because you don’t see much of it out there in Afghanistan, not with a job that deals in death.

“Yea.” You say honestly because Tim is the one person you will never lie to. “You started to get a little quiet there towards the end. I’ve seen it before…”

You trail off then and Tim, he picks up on what you’re not saying. You’ve lost someone, someone in the service. Probably by their own hand. You don’t want to see that happen to him.

“Lucky…” He murmurs into the receiver. “I promise you, you’ll never have to worry about that with me. I’ll get out long before it happens.”

“I hope that’s true.” You say softly and he can tell you don’t believe him. He doesn’t blame you, he’s sure the man before him said the same thing too.

“What are you reading right now?” He asks you changing the subject because he hates the idea of you out there all alone in the desert, feeling sad because of him.

“Cowboy romance.” You reveal and he huffs out a laugh, his palm running over his weary features.

“Is this because I told you I spent summers working on my Uncle’s ranch back in Indiana?” He asks you and he can hear your smile over the phone as he cradles it under his chin.

“Tim, the idea of you walking around in flannel shirts and a tight fitting pair of jeans, it does a little something to a woman.” You tell him and he groans in response to your words because it gets him off knowing that you’re thinking of him when you’re almost half way across the globe.

“I wish you were here right now.” He tells you, his voice turning a little rough as he thinks about that night, his mouth ghosting over your skin, those pretty little sounds you made as he sunk inside of you. It was only once but once was enough to make a man fall in love.

“Me too.” You whisper as you stare up at a starry sky in Afghanistan. “Christ Tim. You have no fucking idea just how much I miss you.”

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[chiefdirector]

Waiting | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

True to his word, Tim held back and stayed in an unmarked vehicle down the street from the house that the cartel were using as a basis of their operation. It was the same one that Tim and (Y/N) had raided only three years prior. Even he could admit that it was almost poetic that it was on this property, three years ago, his and (Y/N)’s fate had been decided by Regina Diaz, and it would be here that their fate would be unsealed. It had come full circle, almost anyway: Tim was in no position for a premature celebration. So he and Chen watched and waited as they had been told to do.

“Tim…?” Lucy said, timid as she was when she had first become his rookie. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, boot.”

She pulled at her collar, trying to pick the right words. She knew that Tim could be prickly and defensive at the best of times, so today his guard would be up tenfold. However, she could also see right through the walls he worked so hard to keep up. “You know, it’s okay to be nervous. Considering how drastically things have changed these last few days.”

“Why would I be nervous? I trust (Y/N), she’s smart, she has survived this long.” 

“Then why haven't you put your wedding band back on?”

Tim didn’t respond, instead he turned away from Lucy’s concerned looks and towards the house. The rest of the team assigned to the raid had not shown up yet, they weren’t scheduled to come until the primary watch team gave the command. The primary team were in a van on the opposite side of the street, parked only a hundred yards away from him and Chen. They were almost directly in front of the house, waiting to see if any form of action began before the police troops arrived. 

If Tim had been in that van like he had wanted to have been, he would have seen a figure in a dark hoodie move around the side of the house and down the patch of grass that leads to the backyard. He would have flagged it up as suspicious, he would have recognised the hoodie as one of his own, the one that (Y/N) always stole from him. He would have noticed her entering the grounds.

“I didn’t-” Tim started, stopping when the words got stuck in his throat. He looked back to Chen who smiled softly, nodding her head to allow him to continue. “I didn’t put the ring back on because if this goes wrong today, I don’t think I would have the strength to take it off again.”

—--

As the sun began to go down, the radio in between Tim and Lucy finally sounded out with Harper’s voice as she gave the order for the operation to begin. Within seconds, police officers from multiple Wilshire divisions appeared, some on foot and others in their shops. Two SWAT teams approached shortly after. Their synchronised movements were something to gawk at as they silently fell into formation to breach the property. From where they had parked their car, Tim could see Lopez, West, and Nolan leading the front of the operation alongside Sargent Grey.

It didn’t take long for the signal to breach the property, when he heard the command go out of the radio, Tim held his breath for a second before closing his eyes. In all of his years on the force, or even before during his time serving in the Marine Corp, he had never felt so nervous, so out of control. 

“Tim, you need to breathe, it’s going to be okay.” Lucy placed her hand on her Training Officer’s shoulder. His eyes snapped open. In that moment, Lucy saw something change in his eyes, the panic that encompassed him only a few moments prior had disappeared.

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes I do. You got the best cops in the city going in there right now. It will be okay, you have to trust that.”

“How can I? Last time we were here, we thought it was okay. Look what happened!”

“Tim, they will call us in when they have secured the place.”

Bradford turned to respond but was interrupted by the sound of bullets being shot. Instinctively, the two patrol officers reached for their weapons in case they needed to pursue anyone. Moments later, the radio rang out again. This time it was Lopez speaking. “I need multiple RA units to my location. We have casualties, three not conscious, not breathing; we also have one identified female, police detective, gunshot to shoulder, not wearing a vest. She is conscious and breathing.”

Before Angela had finished giving the report on the radio, Tim was out of the car, sprinting towards the house, gun still in hand. His mind was going a mile a minute, he knew that everybody who was a part of the bust today would have been wearing a bullet-proof vest. The only police personnel who would have been without one would have been (Y/N). She would not have had the resources to get one beforehand, she would have gone in without one. 

Air got stuck in his throat as he breached the property line and burst through the front doors. He barely noticed Chen running behind him as he began to sweep the property for (Y/N). It did not take long for him to find her. 

She was surrounded by multiple cops, some were searching for something that could aid her until the RA unit arrived, others stood back watching her from where she was crumpled to the ground. Tim barged his way through the crowd, falling to his knees at her side. He barely registered Angela next to him, holding some scrap material into (Y/N)’s shoulder to stop the bleeding.

His eyes darted all over her form, looking for more injuries. He didn’t notice anything major, except from a few scratches on her face. He then focuses on her shoulder, he couldn't see the wound under Angela’s hands but he saw how her blood had spread down her arm and soaked into her jacket and shirt.

He tentatively reached down to move the hair spread across her face, “Hey baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” He tried to reassure her, but as the words spilled from his mouth he knew that his words were for him also, to remind himself that she was here, that she was real. He was not going to leave her side, not now, not ever.

(Y/N) slowly turned her head to face her husband as she heard his voice for the first time in two years. He looked older, the lines in his face had set in. The crease between his eyebrows had grown, but his eyes were the same. She never thought that she would see them again, she never thought that she would see Tim again at all.

“Tim…” (Y/N) tried to speak but her words were cut off by blood rising through her throat. She choked it back down again with a pained expression. Before she tried to speak again, her eyes rolled back into her head as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Part Six | Part Eight

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424

Tags are open :)

[erinwantstowrite]

erinwantstowrite on tumblr dot com how do you get the motivation to plan & outline & write & finish ur fics

well, anon on tumblr dot com, motivation comes in waves, and i've simply learned how to ride it

we're all in different boats of many colors, shapes, designs, and sails, so we all have different ways to ride our waves safely, creatively, and while having fun. my methods might not work for you (i hope they do!) but they could give you an idea. however, there are basic fundamentals that every sailor (writer) should know:

taking care of yourself, body and mind

going outside to enjoy the sun and live and breathe

taking time to learn new things

outside of the box thinking

your motivation will come to you better when you figure out what helps you feel good. create a schedule or set out a certain time of day to write, and don't beat yourself up if you find that your writing isn't coming to you on certain days. it'll come back, it always does

when planning, i like to use notebooks. i have two notebooks (so far) for LoF, notebooks for my original works, etc. I treat them like it's an extension of my brain (or like a journal). it has all my brainstorming, lists and facts, timelines, calendars, etc. i have research notes in here too! the notebook is a conglomeration of everything all together, and some things don't end up looking pretty or end up in the fic at all

outlining is different. outlining is taking your brainstorms, figuring out what is "needed" to drive the plot forward, what is "wanted" to fill in spaces between plots (example: i wanted tim and peter to meet, and i decided it makes the most sense if tim was stalking him, and what was needed for the plot was for tim to figure things out from that conversation). put it in a chronological order and try to make it read like an episode or "mini-book" each chapter, if you can. no pressure on that last part.

your outline will constantly change (think like how the wind and currents in a boat could shift and you have to adjust so you can get where you're going). do not fret about it, just continue forward. make a new outline with your new ideas, reflect and keep the old one around. you might scrap a scene and then find out you can fit it in somewhere else later on

when writing, you want to know what you can handle within a day. on average, i can set aside 80 minutes a day, and write about 2000 words. but it entirely depends on my mood, if i slept right, if i have plans that day, etc. sometimes i write 2000, other times i write 20 or nothing at all. do not push yourself to write every day or write a certain word count, it will come to you naturally. you'll also get better over time and with practice, and when you find and get comfortable with your writing style, you'll be able to make your plans, outlines, and write with no problem at all

and with finishing... i'll admit that i have an issue with that. i find that endings are the most important part of a story, and sometimes i don't want it to end. but alas, it must. endings are never "endings", because there will always be a set up to what comes later, even if you don't write it. you want your characters to finish their arc, but also have room for growth once the reader has stopped following their journey. it's satisfying to get to that end and see your characters off. it's on you to figure out your way over that hill

[robintherobiner]

my Alfred's Apprentice au.... I have fought off the urge to write it for like three months. I have like four wips. i cannot give in.

However i can give yall my ideas for it 😚✌️

So, Jason dies, uh oh spagettio, but instead of trying to be Robin, Tim observes how Bruce tends to listen to Alfred, and when the boy realises the Brit is the only one who cleans that big ass mansion, he goes "well my parents keep telling me to get an internship so it works out!"

Tim doesn't want to be a butler, since that's Alfred's job, so he decides the next best thing is a maid. He's very dedicated to the role and doesn't mind crossdressing, so he orders a maids dress and then shows up at Wayne Manner and Alfred is like "this child is mental... I'm gonna hire him though, i'm bloody tied of cleaning this house on my own-"

Bruce starts notes left everywhere. "remember to take a shower, Master Wayne." "The vase has been replaced, please dont smash it again. Here are some articles about grief and anger management." "Master Wayne, you have a message from Lucious Fox. He says you need to come to a meeting tomorrow." "If you promise to eat actual food for dinner tonight, I won't tell Alfred you have broken ribs."

Bruce is oh so confused because who is writing these notes??? He would assume it was Alfred, but why would the man talk about himself in third person?

Cue Bruce leaving his room before the sun sets for once and seeing this random child just dusting a lamp.

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 2

Loop #16

They didn't stop looping in time, but at least they had eachother. Grian had to admit that it was almost fun with Scar around, definitely felt less lonely with someone else to talk to.

Loop #19

It took 3 loops for Scar to suggest having some fun with this, spice it up. Grian hadn't expected stealing Martyns and Ren bit would be their objective this time but he didn't mind. Getting to be king and screaming "red winter is coming" was actually quite funny and being all shady in Last Life was nice too. As Secret Life comes to an end Scar whispers.

Scar: Alright alright, let me be king next time ok?

Grian laughs at the suggestion just in time for-

Loop #21

Grian had noticed soon that not every loop started the same exact day a while ago but he never expected to wake up already during Limited Life.

Surely things couldn't get weirder then that.

Loop #26

He spoke too soon. This time around he woke up as he was singing a piece of paper, a declaration of indipendence, while wearing a very weird blue american indipendence outfit together wih people he had never met before.

He just went along with it of course and fighting against a weird masked guy for indipendence had been a breath of fresh air but Scar was still missing and Grian was very confused the whole time.

Well until ...

Scar: Thank you Soot, however I think that I could run this country far better!

Grian: Scar? Where were you!? ... What are you doing!?

Scar: That's why I'm going to run myself! Vote for Scar 2020!

To be fair it took some times for things to go badly.

Grian: This is your fault you know that right?

Scar: Hey! Look! At least the country didn't explode or something-

*Boom*

Grian: ...

Scar: ...that wasn't me.

Loop #31

Grian: Damn I didn't bring enough tnt to rig the enchanter. How did I forget??

Scar: Don't worry! I got some!

Grian: Oh thank... where did you get it?

Scar: I kept it in my second inventory from last loop.

Grian: Your what?

Scar: We have a second inventory now! Didn't you notice!

Grian: I see it now ...how?

Scar: It keeps stuff safe from one loop to the other! Cool right!?

Grian: ... Like an enchanting table? But for loops?

Scar: I guess?

Grian: How are you not freaking out about this!?!

Loop #33

This time they woke up early, back in season 6! Grian doesn't understand why Scar doesn't care because he does! Why can't someone explain it to him for ender sake.

Loop #36

Someone explained it. He and Scar woke up somewhere completely different and it was confusing and scary but they finally got answers.

Grian: So our universe is part of a big big big tree?

Anakin: Yes, like every other.

Grian: And the tree is what, under maintenance?

Anakin: Basically.

Grian: And so we are stuck looping?

Anakin: You don't need to pretend to be calm, I can feel your emotions in the force.

Grian: So... we are stuck? Forever?!?

Anakin: Not forever forever, until the tree is fixed-

Grian: So possibly for billions of years!?!

Anakin: Some of the older loops have been going for trillions even.

Grian: ... I'll... I...need to think.

Anakin: I'll write some useful terms down so you can read them once you aren't... You know.

Grian: Guess I have all the time in the world to come to terms with it... Scar is going to hate that he didn't get to meet you.

Loop #37

Scar: ....soooo what you up to?

Grian: Memorising these terms Anakin gave us.

Scar: Ooh sounds...fun!

Grian: Every loop has an anchor, without it the loop can't exist. I tought I was the anchor but it's not possible because I was sent to a different loop last tims.

Scar: So am I the anchor?

Grian: You were missing for the first loops Scar... the only option that makes sense is that both of us are anchors. But even then...

Grian underlines the term "co-anchors" a bunch of times.

Scar: Does that mean I'll get to meet Anakin Skywalker?

Grian: Probably? One day?

Scar: Wooooho!

Loop #38

They were waiting for the moon to crash when Scar posed the question.

Scar: Do you think we can just... stop the moon?

Grian: Hmmm... I guess I never tought about it, why?

Scar: I don't know, just thinking.

Grian: I have an idea...

Loop #43

Scar: Grian what are you doing?

Grian: You remember how last loop started in s7?

Scar: ... Yeah?

Grian: I decided to keep something in my pocket this time around.

Grian took out a golden gauntlet with 6 colored glowing stones.

Scar: ... The button?

Grian: The button.

Grian snapped and the moon disappeared.. He then carefully removed and pocketed it again.

Grian: Well, I'm surprised it actually...worked...

Scar: But what happened to it?

Grian: I just made it really really small.

Loop #51

This was unbearable, Grian tought it was weird when this loops Timmy was acting like an incapable child, then he became worried when he saw that Scott was a pacifist who wouldn't hurt a fly, and then Cleo started burning down literally everything and he started to question his life choices. Everyone was barely themselves, it was like they had been replaced by very cheap imitations.

(Poor Grian had to walk into fanonland)

Loop #67

Scott Smajor liked to think he was often in control of the situation. Not many people liked that about him but if he died it was by his decision.

He didn't feel very in control at the moment, back in the Last Life with Grian and Scar being completely different from what he remembered them being... And he didn't like it one bit.

Scott: Ok ok, stop it!

Grian: What do you mean? We aren't doing anything wrong!

Scott: It isn't right! You are supposed to be in a team with Jimmy and Martyn and you Scar should be alone on a mountain!

Scar: ...

Grian: ...

Scott: ... Sorry that was-

Grian: You remember too?

Scar: New looper! New looper!

Scott: ...uh?

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