#While Tim is being accused of being loose

[dcxdpdabbles]

The Royal Consort Part 4

Danny smiles awkwardly as Mr. Paresh once again talks about his business. He is still determining why the man keeps repeating the annual profits or benefits for his investors as he carefully sips his sparkling cider.

He tones the man out after he starts again, gazing over the lavished banquet hall. Bruce Wayne really went all out for this gala. There were people in suits and dresses that cost more than his family car, strutting around and ignoring the large spread of deserts and drinks.

Danny has no idea how. He has already gotten a plate of fudge and sparkling cider from a world-renowned chef, never before tasting anything better. He would have gotten more, but he gets stopped whenever he tries to cross the room.

All everyone wants to talk about is his "husband," his "husband's" money, or their company and business. The night has blended into a weird mix of the three topics, and he will be hard-pressed to recite any of the information.

It's not that it isn't interesting, but Danny keeps getting the feeling that he's being talked down to. Or swindled.

But maybe that's just his insecurities talking. Danny isn't sure how he would ever come clean about his lies now. If he ever could.

The world believed that an inter-dimensional war would break out if he so much as had an argument with Phantom. Tucker had sent him the link to the political debates about it.

Imagine people finding out after all of that, that he lied and claimed he was married to himself? No.

That is not going to happen.

Danny would take this secret to his second grave.

"Your cooperation would be greatly beneficial to both parties. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Phantom?" The man finishes, and Danny snaps his attention back to him. What did he call him? Oh no, did Mr. Paresh figure him out? And what was that about cooperation? Was he going to blackmail Danny?

Danny isn't sure what kind of expression he is making, but it must have looked bad for Tim Wayne to make his way over quickly. He's been hovering since the gala started.

In fact, all the Waynes have been hovering ever since they rescued him from the paparazzi. They took him back to the manor, where Alfred had been kind enough to make him some tea to help calm him down.

It was a bit awkward. Mostly because he had been somewhat shaky from the encounter, and they had been hyper-aware of future-him's threat to destroy the world if he was harmed.

Not that Danny would, but the Waynes didn't need to know that.

"Excuse me, Mr. Paresh, I need to speak to Mr. Fenton for a moment," Tim says with an easy smile and a smooth side-step that allows him to steer Danny away.

Mr. Paresh tries to protest, but Tim masterfully ignores him. With sure steps, an easy smile, and a hand on the small of Danny's back, Tim has him out of the crowd into the open air of a balcony, and Danny can feel himself breathing again.

"Thanks for the save," He tells Tim, leaning on the railing overlooking the garden.

The other teenager offers him a crooked smile. "Don't mention it. Mr. Paresh can be a bit pushy when it comes to investors."

"Is that what he wanted?" Danny asks surprised.

"Yes, even he wouldn't be dumb enough to hit on a Royal Consort," Tim tells him jokingly, but something about how he says it makes Danny feel like he is not joking. In fact, it's almost like Tim is trying to appease any foul mood the mislabeled "flirting" would cause.

Strange.

"Too bad. I don't have any money. It all belongs to Phantom." Danny sighs.

"Many spouses here are investors using their partner's funds. It's not a surprise you be approached for King Phantom's vaults." Tim explained with a helpless shrug that seemed far too regal for such a casual action.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Danny sighs. "Phantom would never be interested in human business affairs"

Tim eyes gleam "why?"

"We don't live very long to a being like him. Our businesses would be like a snap of his fingers, and he wouldn't make up any profits that could match whatever he put into it"

The other teen makes a noise in the back of his neck but doesn't say anything after that. Danny slumps more onto the railing, allowing his chin to rest on his crossed arms.

The necklace that got him until this mess swings about accidentally hitting the metal. It's loud clack echoes as the silence between the two stretches.

After a moment, Danny speaks up, eyes trained on the tree line that has provided a screen of privacy.

"Are there still paparazzi at the gates?"

"Yes." Tim scoffs. Even without turning to look at him, Danny knows the other is frowning. "Bruce hired private bodyguards- Bowhunter Security- to keep them out, but they will hound you for the rest of your life likely. I'm sorry."

Danny shrugs even if a part of him shivers up into a ball at the thought of those camera flashes and pushy people hoping to capture something they can exploit. "I figured. They bothered Princess Diana like that too."

Neither speaks for a moment, allowing the gentle cold wind of the night air to brush over them. Danny, for a second, closes his eyes and lets himself sink into the welcoming silence.

He nearly falls asleep there, even going as far as to close his eyes and slow his breathing but just as he's about to drop off into his dreams, Tim lets out a startled gasp.

"King Phantom!"

What.

Ripping open his eyes, Danny can only stare in absolute shock as a green portal ripples before him, much like it had done a few days ago in Wayne's car. It's larger than before, the size of a large door, which makes it easier for Phantom to step out of.

He is dressed to the nines, his kingly attire screaming wealth even if it seems to be from a few centuries back. Its dark blues and whites highlighted his figure, and the black overthrown cape gave him a commanding presence.

White hair pushed back in a stylish tousle mess, it gave his flouting crown that much more alluring sight to behold. Danny's eyes were imminently drawn to another one of Clockwork's medallions resting comfortably around Phantom's neck.

No. Danny thinks faintly as Phantom- his future self, the asshole-winks at him. Please let this be a nightmare.

Alas, it is not, for Phantom takes his hand and brings it up to press a kiss against his knuckles. "Good evening, Darling. I have come to escort you to the gala."

"The hell you are" Danny hisses, yanking his hand away. Tim shifts uncomfortably at his side as Phantom tilts his chin to the nearby windows.

Risking a peak over his shoulder, Danny bites back a groan of frustration as multiple guests press themselves against the glass, gawking at the king of dead.

A few even have their phones out recording.

the portal's glow must have attracted guests' attention. Dammit it all

"Darling, I know I missed our anniversary because of my work, but please let me make it up to you." Phantom all but begs. He steps forward to drag Danny into a tight hug where he proceeds to whisper into his ear, using ghost delict.

"Alien invasion on the way. Batman and Superman die tonight trying to stop it. The world goes to Dan's level of bad. Clockwork wants us to handle it. Play. Along."

Of course, there is. Why not?

Danny wants to scream, wants to punch something very hard, but all he can do is whisper back. "What causes it?"

"Some idiot in this crowd cares for the key that portals the invading fleet. We will blow it up as the invading forces try to get through; we just have to find the person and not let them activate it beforehand." Phantom grips his hand harder, teeth turning just a bit sharper. "They killed Jazz first."

Oh, this is personal.

"Who is our first suspect?"

"Suspects," Phantom corrects, pressing him even closer, and to the onlookers, it seems sweet and devoted to his human. None of them know the chill in the air is due to Phantom's ire and not the cold winter. "The Waynes were conveniently gone when that thing opened."

Danny's eyes, against his will, almost flicker over to Tim, and he is startled by the calculative look in those blue eyes before it is swiftly hidden. Shit, and he liked the Waynes.

"I swear," Phantom says, stepping back now speaking in English and offering a boyish smile, that does nothing to hide the rage in his eyes,. "The Waynes are no threat to my family, Darling."

Everyone hears the words, but they all believe what King Phantom said has a different meaning.

The crowd thinks the Waynes had somehow implied an attack on the royal ghost house, maybe a faux pas for not knowing ghost culture while hosting Danny. Team Phantom thinks Danny is accusing the Waynes of ending the world.

But what do the Waynes hear?

"This is bad B. I think Danny Fenton is accusing the Waynes of trying to steal his husband." The teenager whisper-shouts into his phone, trying to hide from the embraced couple speaking in a strange language on the balcony.

"Tim, what did you do?!" Bruce yells back.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Tell Drake to stop being a homewrecker before the King declares war on us, Father!" Damian is heard over speakers, likely crowding around the phone like his siblings. Tim can see them now, hidden away in a closet, trying to listen to the call between Tim and Bruce the moment Bruce went for his phone.

"I am not a homewrecker!"

"That's right, Tim is not a homewrecker! Phantom has two hands. he can have two loves!" Dick passionately defends.

"He also has an undead army." Duke says, "Which we would like to avoid attacking us. Tim, come on, the man is married, back up."

"No, no, no, Dick is onto something there. I say seduce them both!" Steph shouts like she is commanding him to rush the frontlines of a battlefield.

"You should dance for them. Like birds." Cass adds.

"Yeah, Tim, shake some ass for the good of mankind," Jason snickers.

"None of this is helpful!"

"Tim, just please try to calm the King down." Bruce cuts in, sounding both severe and tired. "We really can't afford this war."

Tim risks glancing toward the royals and has to swallow a gulp at the twin-set stare that bores into his soul. It's unnerving how similar they are- but then again, Phantom changed his form to match Danny's in an odd Ghost tradition of love.

A love that he believed was being threatened with unfaithfulness due to Tim- or the other Waynes!

How was he ever going to calm someone like that down?

"I'll try."

He just hopes it's enough to get it through the evening.

[frownyalfred]

oooh i haven’t stopped thinking about the whole sups accidentally hurting bats thing. but hear me out, i don’t think it would be clark. clark has gone through his entire life deathly afraid of hurting the fragile humans around him, knowing that he was fundamentally different. he probably hugged his mom too hard as a kid and broke her ribs or something, and since then has known he can’t trust himself. and i mean there’s a loneliness and tragedy there, bc he can never fully relax. he can’t hug someone properly, he can’t loose himself during sex, he can’t afford to get angry in public and accidentally crush the chair he’s holding. when he’s rescuing someone, even if he only has split seconds to save them, he can’t grab them too hard and hurt them or everyone will accuse him of being a monster. he’s constantly hyper-vigilant and grows up alone and different.

jon on the other hand doesn’t have any of these hang ups as a kid. like yes he knows his mom is more fragile (physically), but he has his dad, the whole superfam, and a grows up with a whole host of durable superheroes around him who he doesn’t have to watch himself around. and obviously he cares about people and is careful, but he doesn’t have the same fear that echos clark’s every move. and clark tells him to be careful of course, but he doesn’t want to pass his loneliness and trauma down to his son either. and while jon obviously knows that damian is human, he’s such a tough superhero that he subconsciously slots him into the same category as his dad and women woman and kon etc. and if he grips a little too tight, damian won’t let him know bc pain is weakness etc. so jon is just the tiniest bit less careful around his best friend, until one day, with everyone there he, seriously hurts damian. and bruce is yelling at clark, and saying cruel things in his fear and worry bc he can’t express it any other way, jon is crying, and clark is just horrified bc this is all his worst nightmares. someone he cares about is injured, he’s loosing the trust of his friend, his son now has his trauma, and he’s worrying that bruce now fears them and sees them as monsters. much angst.

that was long winded and idk how realistic it is, but i just couldn’t stop thinking about the scenario and how it would play out and i had to share my brain worms lol. and just the juxtaposition of how it would happen/not happen with different characters based on their past is so interesting

I agree, it wouldn’t be Clark. Clark is so hyper-vigilant that the only time it might have happened would be during a quick unexpected save (grabbing Bruce at the last second midair etc). Jon is a much more likely candidate because they’re uncertain about him being half Kryptonian and as you said, Clark doesn’t want to pass along his issues to his son if he doesn’t have to.

I think Kon accidentally hurting Tim could happen too - esp if Lex was involved a lot in his early years and not Clark. Clark’s caution is so useful but only if he passes it along! That’s all Bruce wants.

[brucewaynehater101]

Okay okay, so Tim finds out Bruce is stuck in the timestream and gathers all his siblings + Barbara for a meeting, presenting his evidence, a drafted plan of action to save Bruce . . .

. . . And asks what to do with this information

They all come to an agreement / majority vote

l e t h i m d i e

=========

Once upon a time they thought that Gotham, the world, that they, all needed Batman

Now that isn't the case anymore

Oh he was mourned, by the Justice League, by his allies, by civilians . . .

But the Batfamily has grown into their own, they've found a way to fight for Gotham, Bludhaven, Crime Alley because they've inherited the Fear of Batman

They've found their own ways to instill the fear of them into the criminal world

Their territories are becoming better even despite their Patriarch being dead

And they feel less dead than they were becoming under his thumb

The Dark Knight is Dead; Long Live The Dark Knights

· · ·

People questioned what would happen with the Prince of Gotham dead

Tim tried becoming CEO, but Jason stepped in himself to take the mantle from right under him, citing he was too young and should enjoy his childhood while it still lasted

That started quite a fight between them

Duke Thomas was adopted by Jason and while not technically joining the family's nightlife, Signal could always be found while the sun was up

Gotham's bones broke, organs failed, and flesh was bitten off

Gotham has never been better since Batman or even The Second Robin died

Praise the Batfamily

This is happiness . . .

?

=========

Somebody finds out they let Batman die

Be it the Justice League, other heroes, their rogues, or another hero's rogues, or somebody else entirely

They find out

Do other groups learn by themselves? Does this knowledge come into the hands of people who would spread it?

Either way, the Batclan is going to have to confront that it's known they let Batman die

Is the knowledge it used maliciously, is the accuser wanting answers, or is it a mix of both

Gosh, what will Alfred think if he learns? I imagine that even if he enabled Bruce's abuse they kept him around, stick close enemies and friends after all

(me thinks personally that Joker is throwing a fit with his nemesis dead, and he may not even be able to abuse the fact his own kids killed him cuz it was a child abuser who was killed by his abused)

(but I'd love to see your take on Joker's pov when he only knows Batman is dead and if he learns his kids left him for dead and if he learns they were abused by him and that's why they let him die)

Now I'm wondering what would happen if it got leaked to the public that the Batfamily knew Batman could've been saved but did nothing about it. There could be so many different reactions from different groups

Crime Alley people, criminals, people outside Gotham, Gothamites themselves, and Bludhaven residents would have different takes collectively methinks

Fucking hell, that isn't even accounting for all the fuckery you could do w/ Bruce Wayne = Batman and I'm not talking about an post-mortem identity reveal, I'm talking identity shenanigans

Like say the bats knowing they could have saved Bruce but left him for dead and somebody/some group learns this and leaks it

And then Jason steps in to say "you know the FUCK what? We knew our old man could have been saved and since he was shit we voted/agreed to let him die!!" And all hell breaks loose

And that's just one example!

=========

Inspired by that ask on Jason calling for a family meeting after learning Bruce is stuck in the timestream to figure out what to do from there

+ the one post where Dick tries and fails to get Tim to give up on Bruce so he doesn't embark on BruceQuest and Bruce dies in the Timestream

w/ Cassandra in particular, it'd be fun to explore her psyche in the Vote branch, if she votes to let Bruce die or not considering her "No Kill" stance

Heck, with both branches they alone bring so much fun to the table, even without the flavor of The Reveal

Agreement: You get the explore a world where all the bat kids + Barbara want Bruce dead, by why is it? You get to see all their reasons for it, and how their reasonings may mesh or clash and how they come to make their decisions!

Majority Vote: You get to see the conflicts between those who want him back and want him dead + what they do and think knowing who voted for what then onwards

Bonus if a batsibling or two start of wanting Bruce back but then decide they want him gone, or the reverse, or they flip flop again and again until they make their choice

Either branch I think would overhaul the Batfamily's relationships w/ each other in a major way and not just because someone has to take Bruce's spot as the family head or whatever, but because they chose/voted for said Patriarch to die

That's a big fucking deal

Oh yeah, Duke; is he ever taught about the (technically not) Patricide committed? Or do they keep him ignorant because ignorance is bliss?

Because if he learns through means other than them, yeah it'll be a shit show the Bats won't be prepared for beforehand

Oh yeah what about Gordon? Do you think he'd be in the know or learn via leaks or a leaker cuz he's kind of Barbara's family

Hello!!!!!!!!!!

Tw: abuse, death, murder, child abuse, suicide (let me know if I need to add more)

I love this idea, and I'm totally up for breaking it down.

If it's not an agreement, then it's likely that the ones who disagree will try to save Bruce regardless of what everyone else wants

This will turn into an all-out war as those who want Bruce dead try to prevent the others from succeeding. It would be like a weird version of capture the flag, clue, and escape the room. The save-Bruce team (whether out of love or duty) would need to gather all the evidence that Tim did while fending off attacks and working against the clock (there comes a point in time that it's too late to save Bruce).

Even if they all agree, it's still complicated feelings wise.

Bruce is an abusive piece of shit (especially in this AU), but it's hard to not love your abuser. The cycle of abuse is difficult to break out of. I think Dick and Jason would be at the point they are more apathetic to Bruce's care/love. They are adults who don't rely on him. They might still love Bruce, but it's easier for them to put a defense against the man emotionally to the point of condoning his murder.

Babs and Steph aren't his kids, so, while their feelings aren't black and white, it's easier to distance themselves from Bruce.

Canonically, I think Tim recently got adopted by Bruce. This makes it harder for him to outright reject Bruce. When given evidence (and shown what Bruce did to his other family members), Tim might come to the conclusion that it's better off without Bruce.

Damian is a child who just got to meet his dad. I doubt he'd be on board with this plan nor, with his hero worship, would he be able to find faults in him. He simply hasn't spent enough time with Bruce (and lots of angst to be explored there. Basically, his "siblings" that he's just met are telling him it's better for him if their dad is dead).

Cass loves Bruce. She trusts his mission, what he's supposed to stand for, and that he does love his kids (she can see that he truly does love everyone). At the same time, he hurts her siblings. She doesn't agree with leaving Bruce to die, but her feelings are complicated on the matter.

How the batkids feel about Alfred is similar (although not categorically per a kid) as they feel about Bruce

If they've reached the point where they have acknowledged that Alfred will never be on their side nor protect them, they still love that old man. They want him to be around, they would be sad at his death, but they know Alfred could and has hurt them. They know Alfred would choose Bruce over them.

The JL find out Bruce isn't actually dead with the Black Lantern battle thing.

Theoretically, other heroes can then start trying to save Bruce. Without canon Tim's information, though, they might not be able to. Bonus points to this batfam au if Oracle and others actively sabotage their efforts.

Gordon would be presented with all the evidence that Batman was an abusive piece of shit.

The Commissioner would try to bury any feelings of grief out of guilt for what he's unknowingly allowed his ex friend to get away with. If he knew that Batman was the same boy he threw a jacket over at the scene of that kid's parents' murder, he would sit at his desk with a bottle of scotch and a lit cigarette trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Jim would blame himself, curse Batman, and, as he curses himself for always allowing, do not a damn thing against what the masked vigilantes tell him to do.

Crime Alley and Bludhaven respectively probably would either not give a fuck, say "good riddance," or whistle at the fact the Bat's own kids refused to save him.

Gothamites know their vigilantes. If the batkids had refused to help Batman, than they trust the kids. There's nothing out there that would turn a man's entire family against him besides the man himself. By the end of the week, all Batman related stuff is burnt and replaced by the many symbols of the birds.

Anyone outside of Gotham (besides Bludhaven) will criticize the batkids. Gotham becomes fiercely protective over their birds after that and will fist fight anyone who tries to talk shit about them or their decision.

Fuck Joker, but here's how I think he felt about it.

Man definitely lost his shit in a fit of giggles. It seems (though Joker is slightly disappointed he wasn't part of the final showdown) that Batman was dragged down to the level of madness he swore he'd never go to. If Batman's kids turned against him, oh that must mean that the furry freak truly did horrendous actions against them!

That clown spends several weeks coming up with twisted fantasies and theories to ask out of the Birds to tease out their reactions for when he next sees them. He wants to know exactly how the Dark Knight fell and what was so dastardly to turn children against their father.

After he solves that mystery? Dealer's choice. He doesn't quite get as much joy without Batman around. He can play around with Red Hood and Red Robin specifically (if JJ happened), but nobody is the Dark Knight.

Maybe his melancholy turns into rage where he starts seriously gunning for all the Birds for not returning Batman to him. That, or Joker kills himself cause his nemesis/obsession is gone. Both are likely responses.

Anyways, I also love the positive notes you had that I didn't address. The hopefulness of them doing better for Gotham and Jason adopting Duke is fantastic. I'd love more of that as well as everything else

[dairy-farmer]

There was an arc, where Tim fought to destroy an Evil VR Hivemind Internet type world? And that's got me thinkin~! So brace for another longish one! If the technology is POSSIBLE?

Why not a dumbed down, safeties in place, VR world?

Some tech genius manages to create it, it actually works, takes the world by storm. Is markted as the True Do Anything Game. And obviously, it's an intelligence agency's and superheroes worst nightmare. Crooks are meeting up through the game to make deals. The creator is scrambling to keep up and put safeties in place to stop them.

Obviously, Tim has to catch them, right?

But he can't look like Tim Drake! Luckily you can customize whenever you want. And he chose an intentionally vague username. But... it's? Nice. Being anonymous. Not being stuck under layers of disguise. Playing flashy games and dancing on unrealistic dance floors.

He catches his targets, considers logging out.

But to what? Cold take out and trash TV? This is the closest to a night "out" he's had in a while. His body is even getting rested! Laying still and (mostly) relaxed on his bed. So... fuck it. He's gonna be young and hot for once. Make friends he'll never see again, come tomorrow.

And THATS when? One of his glittery new twink friends? Leans over and tells him, like it's a dirty lil secret, the BEST part of this new "game"! No consequences hook ups. No really bodies, means no disease! No real faces or names? Means go nuts! Cut loose! Destress a bit and go wild!

And... Tim DOES have a lot of stress...

So he searchs around the various party spots, for someone that looks like he can lift Tim one handed, bend him in half, then destroy him. Because you can accuse him of many things, but being interested in the safe and boring option is not one of them.

"Burns_Malone".

A transparent nod to Matches, Bruce's criminal alias. Tim would laugh at the guy if his muscles weren't glorious. Clearly a goon fan boy. But! A HOT goon fan boy. So Tim decides to try his luck.

His luck is fantastic.

One unfairly hot make out session and some holoscreen clicks later, they are in a private "hangout" room. The kind someone so very kindly stuffed a bed into. Nice. And then? It occurs to Tim? "Oh HEY, not my real body... means no incriminating marks or patrol stopping bruises, tomorrow! I really CAN cut loose!"

So he demands that Malone REALLY puts his back into it. Bend him in half and make a Gotham man see God. Feels Malone go DANGEROUSLY, delightfully still beneath him, as he purrs his gleefully bratty demands right into his ear. Those strong hands tightening on his hips. He's gonna get put RIGHT were Malone wants him~

And he does.

Held open, pinned down. Dragged into just the right position to rock his world. Feeling gloriously split apart in away he'd never let himself have normally. Because he wouldn't be able to WALK afterwards. Claiming, brutal hands. Hot and perfect against his skin, making him feel so WANTED and desired. Getting dragged down to meet each powerful thrust, feeling that thick rod DRAG against and reshape EVERYTHING.

By the time he logs out, his pants are a sodden mess.

He's definitely hooked.

(And, unbeknownst to him, so is Bruce.)

He goes back, during his down times, to "destress".

Meets an acrobat at a virtual circus. They keep their masks on, seem so familiar. The guy's a fan of the Flying Graysons, Tim gets bent over dressing bench, surround by sequins and silks, beneath the eternal grin of his brother. It shouldn't be as hot as it is. He's lifted and balanced with such EASE. Treated like a sweet little treasure, even as his body is pounded and teased mercilessly.

(Dick is enchanted. In love. HAS to find the man he... "met" at the circus.)

Then there's the man at The Library. It's hailed as the largest of the modern age. Sue Tim, he got curious. They literally run into each other, rounding a corner. They talk books. Talk Gotham. Shit talk the mayor. Tim is seduced by cheesy pickup lines. Totally laughs at him, when his "Hangout" room of default is "Night in The Library". Neeeerd~!

His laughter gets kissed of his face. And yeah, he can admit, it's pretty intimate here. Soothing. Makes every noise he makes seem so LOUD. Which of course immediately becomes a problem when Nerdy Pants decides to reveal his Savant Level oral.

Propped up in an over stuffed chair, legs over Library Guy's shoulders, with nothing but the crackle of the fireplace and the sound Tim's choking on, trying not to make? He's loosing his MIND. Melting. Library Guy's fingers deep inside him, rubbing and fucking against just the right spots. His mouth relentless and hungry on Tim's poor clit. It's over embarrassingly fast.

But it keeps GOING.

He just trails claiming little kisses, with the barest hint of teeth, up and up. Consumes Tim's mouth. Fingers come free. And then he's replaced them with something bigger. Bent Tim in half. Doesn't let up.

Leaving Tim pinned. Barely able to breathe. Getting filled again and again, lazy at first but faster and harder as time passes. Nothing but pressure and pleasure and TAKING IT. Feeling claimed. The center of the world. Of his focus. He hasn't ONCE stopped talking. Praising. Tim is so good, taking it so well. Being so good for him.

(It feels like falling in love. Coming home. Jason goes a little bit insane. HAS to find the guy. You don't understand-!)

And really? Tim's hook up streak has been flawless, he thinks. Decides to check out some gaming areas. Maybe do a little Role Play. And? Most bore him. But one game seems fun. He picks staff fighter, for obvious reasons. Stumbles upon a... frankly absurd Beast Master. Dude has a ZOO.

Isn't even fighting. Well, he IS. But... HE fights. The animals wait. Then he goes back to trying to tame the horned bunny rabits.

Obviously Tim has to meet this guy. That's kinda hilarious.

Together, they hunt down the Rare And Elusive Tricorn(tm). Thing is massive and brutal looking. Beast Master dude clearly adores it. Treats it like a baby. But, in order to catch the next creature on his list? They have to wait for the night cycle. Unfortunately, Tim did not know "camp kits" were a thing. So... no, dude. He DOESN'T have a bed roll to wait out here and heal up.

It's either hike back to town or share yours.

Tim offers to be the little spoon, if that helps. Apparently it does. He gets all of 15 minutes of lite napping before he feels a not so little friend come to say hello. Oh~? Beast blusters. It means nothing! Tim's pants are just very form fitting! Desperate, red faced excuses!

And now? Well now Tim's GOTTA.

A hand on his chest, run teasingly dooooown to his belt. Is that SO, Beast Master? Mmmhm? The man chokes on his words. Watches, wide eyed, as Tim leans down ever so slowly, a licks a strip up his length. Swallows him to the root. He makes the most delightfully desperate, needy, sound. Hands spasming at his side, clearly having no idea what to do with them.

By the time Tim is straddling him, slowly lowering himself down onto that thick cock, he's figured it out. Hands trying to drag his hips down faster. Roving over his skin to touch and claim. Tim let's the man flip them. Looming, panting and wild eyed, over him. Shaking like he's overwhelmed, his hands a vice around Tim's hips, bent over like he's moments from crumbling.

The snap of his hips is DESPERATE. Like if he doesn't fuck as deep as he can RIGHT NOW, he'll die. Folding forward to rest his head on Tim's shoulder, panting against his skin, fucking like he's trying to break him. It's so clumsy. Virginal and inexperienced. Completely missing his best spots half the time, focused on chasing his own pleasure.

Tim is the one who has to tease his body. To play with his clit. But... but the way he's so DESPERATE for him? Whining. Nearly sobbing for air? Hips jerking and stuttering? It's good. So, so good. Beast fills him over and over. Clings to him. He logs out wishing he could take that stuffed feeling with him.

(Damian has become a man. But is equal parts frantic and furious with the realization that he can't Take Responsibility for his actions. Where THE FUCK is his Lover?! He needs to FIND THEM! Aaaaaaa-!)

Things are going great! Tim continues to hook up. Unknowingly, with Capes. Because frankly? He has A Type. It leaves horny, horny chaos in its wake. Until! For, you know, No Reason in Particular *cough* Batman FINALLY manages to break in to the HQ of the VR game's offices, get to their mainframe, and download the FULL user base archive.

For Justice reasons, obviously.

To Catch Criminals, of course.

DEFINITELY not to look up one specific user name and trace it back to its user's location, cross reference street addresses, and start working through apartment numbers searching for a VR device. That would be WRONG and they'd never do that.

....... but I mean..... IF THEY DID? Well~ Tim's in for a suprise :D

-🐼🐼🐼

if there's one thing bats will be: its obsessed!!!! bruce, dick, jason, and damian hopelessly pining over a vr hookup only to find out it was tim all along is soo good!!!

[ourlordapollo]

Donald Gennaro Defense Squad assemble *nothing happens*

Anyway here's a list of all the shit Donald Gennaro has done in Jurassic Park because I hate that the movie did him so dirty

No quotes/page numbers bc I don't have my physical copy of the book handy (I'm listening to a new-to-me version of the audiobook)

Despite his vested interest in making a shit-ton of money off Jurassic Park, expressed MULTIPLE times that he would shut it down if it seemed unsafe in any way

Tried to chastise Hammond for bringing his grandkids to an untested theme park of questionable safety

Same as the first point but I'm bringing it up again because it comes up in the narration more than once. Gennaro WANTS Jurassic Park to succeed so he can make money, but unlike Hammond, he cares about the safety of potential guests

Actively chooses to go back into the park after learning that the power is out and the dinosaurs are loose, because he knows that people are in danger

Chooses to continue the rescue mission after finding Regis' severed leg and learning he was probably attacked by a t. rex

Chooses to help Dr Harding and Dr Sattler tend to Dr Malcolm and shows genuine worry about his condition

Not something he does, but rather something he is: Gennaro, as the only character who isn't an expert in something, serves as an audience surrogate. His utility as a character is in keeping the audience informed and allowing Crichton to present exposition and complicated concepts as interesting dialogue rather than boring narrative infofumps. He's also babygirl, so jot that down.

Chooses to go with Muldoon to try to shoot the t. rex with a tranquilizer

Despite being terrified, chooses to help Muldoon hunt the loose velociraptors

Chooses, without being asked, to investigate the maintenance shed after Arnold fails to get the power back on, knowing that there are velociraptors loose in the park. (Narration emphasizes how out of character all of this has been for him��� he doesn't like to "live dangerously."

FIGHTS A VELOCIRAPTOR. THIS MAN FIGHTS A VELOCIRAPTOR WITH HIS BARE HANDS. AND LIVES.

Is the one manages to bluff the boat captain into turning around before he (unintentionally) unleashes live velociraptors on Costa Rica. Also helps Tim get the main power back on, saving the lives of everyone at the Visitor's Lodge

Note: Grant misses all of this except for the last point, leading him to physically assault Gennaro and accuse him of not taking responsbility for his part in the disaster. ...For not singlehandedly preventing the disaster.

No one. Including Gennaro. Refutes this. Admittedly Gennaro is actively being strangled while Grant accuses him. But Muldoon was right there watching this happen and just let it happen.

It's clear that Grant is taking out his anger at Hammond on Gennaro and nobody challenges that. And Gennaro gets Shitter Deathed by Mr Spielberg. The injustice. The injustice of it all.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

4/5

Sweet to Me: Jenni, desperate to leave behind her good girl persona, takes up contact sports. She befriends a cheerleader who sees Jenni's new image at face value. (losh; JenniZoe; no powers AU/sports AU/college/university AU)

It's Casual... : After staying the night at Steph's apartment to study, one thing leads to another, but Cassie Sandsmark's afraid to ask for more. (yj98/batfam; StephCassie; college/university AU)

I Won't If You Won't: Cissie King-Jones celebrity AU where she has a fling with Cassie Sandsmark, who is desperately avoiding being thrust into the overly public world of the rich and famous. (yj98; CissieCassie; celebrity AU)

Never A Mistake: Tim Drake details his most recent romantic encounter after being accused of not knowing how to cut loose. (yj98; college/university AU)

Electricity Between Us: Virgil runs into Jenni while she's undercover and they find out they're working the same case. (losh; VirgJenni)

My Little Costume Maker: Shvaugn Erin confides in the new costume maker during her fittings. (losh; Shvaugn Erin/Jan Arrah; no powers AU/ballet AU)

Lovebug, Again: After Orion gets bitten by a bug that resembles a lovebug, Lightray assumes it’s the cause of Orion’s newfound affection for him. (fourth world; Lightrion; no powers AU/fantasy AU)

Wicked Dreams: Tim discovers the "Bart" he's fallen for is Thad disguised as his friend in this canon divergent heroes to villains fic. (yj98; TimThad; canon divergent/heroes to villains)

✨ Pinterest Boards Under the Cut ✨

[bonesbuckleup]

If you're still doing the wip tag game: Batfam 'Not quite dead yet' and Merlin 'the I CAN FIX IT world tour'?

I am! I just fell asleep and am now catching up.

Warnings for mentions of character death (in varying degrees of permanence) for both of these, so I'm gonna toss it under a cut.

Not quite dead yet: The fic classic of 'character gets hit with a Thing and is trapped in their own head while physically being unable to move/not breathing/no heartbeat and has to listen to their loved ones grieve them' but starring Tim, who really didn't anticipate this level of backlash from his alleged demise. Snip, just after Tim gets whammied, and Jason having been the only one there when Tim "died" and with Dick arriving soon after:

“I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me, I didn’t–I tried to–it wasn’t me,” Jason’s saying, over and over, sounding like a kid who can’t find their parents in a crowd as he rocks Tim back and forth, back and forth, a full body sway, clutching Tim to his chest so tight that it should hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt? “I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, please, you have to believe me, I tried to help him. Please, please, you have to believe me, I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me, please, Dickie. Dickie, please, I didn’t–”

Jason keeps going, over and over, getting more and more frantic. It’s one of the worst things that Tim has ever heard. At the mouth of the alley, Dick isn’t moving. Tim can’t see his face, only his boots, his legs, the blue V on his chest. He’s stone-still, hands loose at his sides, silent and unmoving as Jason begs, and begs, and begs.

THEN THE BIG ONE. The I CAN FIX IT World Tour:

This one is technically two fics: Take Me Up, which was a complete rewrite of series 4, and Cast Me Away, which was a complete rewrite of series 5.

Aka, Becca got extremely mad at BBC's Merlin (again) and plotted out a 200k+ word fic series to try and unbreak it. Because, like, the basic premise of Merlin is that it's the start of the legend, which means that

The basic beginning premise is that the dorocha stuff more or less happens as is, but then, in the fallout, Gaius and Merlin end up suspected of sorcery. Gaius is killed. Merlin freaks out, the magic is revealed, and Merlin has to flee Camelot. He then spends the rest of the "series" trying to run from his destiny as Emrys (before eventually accepting it at the end of Take Me Up) while Arthur tries to hold power in Camelot, which is hard due to Agravaine (recasted as Uther's scheming younger brother vs. Ygraine's scheming older brother, no longer working with/for Morgana) making plays for the throne and also having his best friend revealed to be magic before disappearing.

Ultimately, in the Take Me Up "finale", Agravaine was going to kill Uther, and Arthur was going to be blamed for it, and he was also going to have to go on the run and prove himself 100% independent of his throne and name. A few highlights:

Gwaine fucking off post-Lamia to run around with Merlin

Merlin setting up a safe haven for magic users in an abandoned dragonlord keep

Aithusa, yes, but also a red dragon, Rhyfel, to signify the coming war

Lancelot comes back, but full Winter Soldier style. Gwen has to break the spell.

Arthur pulling Excalibur while fleeing from his own men, accused of his father's murder

Clash of ideologies between Merlin and Morgana, Morgana as fighting to take what she sees as hers and Merlin as he's basically setting up a magical separatist movement.

Accidental Merlin and Gwaine soul bond because those fuckers should never be left unsupervised for that amount of time

Magical army liberating magic users

Lots of twists and takes and blatant stealing from the actual episodes, but, like, presented and rolling out in a noT SHITTY WAY

Anyway. I don't have a snip, because I wrote what I have 5-6 years ago and....don't really like any of it anymore lol.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Mrs. Doubtfire (1993, Chris Columbus)

13/12/2023

Mrs. Doubtfire is a 1993 comedy-drama film directed by Chris Columbus, loosely based on the 1987 novel Madame Doubtfire by Anne Fine.

The film, starring Robin Williams, Sally Field and Pierce Brosnan, follows a recently divorced actor who disguises himself as a housekeeper so he can interact with his children.

The film won the Academy Award for Best Makeup and two Golden Globes, including Best Motion Picture Musical or Comedy.

Although the film received mixed reviews upon release, its reception and popularity improved considerably, placing 67th on the American Film Institute's AFI's 100 Years... 100 Laughs list.

Daniel Hillard is a voice actor with an extraordinary talent for changing voices who works and lives in San Francisco, but who quit after an argument with his boss. Miranda, Daniel's wife, who returned home early thanks to a phone call from her neighbor who was exasperated with the situation that had arisen, argues furiously with her husband, accusing him of being immature and unreliable and ending up asking him for her divorce.

One Saturday evening, coming to Daniel's house to pick up her children, Miranda informs her ex-husband of her intention to hire a housekeeper.

During Miranda's birthday dinner, blinded by jealousy and alcohol, Daniel sneaks into the kitchen and fills Stu's plate with chili pepper, who is allergic to the ingredient. Daniel, dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire, realizing the trouble he has caused, rushes to the aid of his rival, but when he practices the Heimlich maneuver to make the morsel come out, the mask comes off revealing his true face.

Blake Lively did not pass the audition for the role of Natalie Hillard, which later went to Mara Wilson. Robin Williams was chosen by Anne Fine herself for the role of Mrs Doubtfire, while Tim Allen was proposed for both the role of the housekeeper and that of Stu, but he rejected both parts.

The producers wanted the parents to eventually get back together and remarry, but Robin Williams, Sally Field and Chris Columbus thought this ending would be too unrealistic and would give false hope to children of divorced parents.

The film was shot in San Francisco, Oakland, Redwood City and San Ramon between March 22 and July 1, 1993.

The film was released in cinemas in the United States on November 24, 1993, and in Italy on February 11, 1994.

Mrs. Doubtfire earned $219,195,243 in the United States and Canada and $222,090,952 in other countries, for a worldwide total of $441,286,195, making it 20th Century Fox's highest-grossing film internationally at era and the second highest-grossing film of 1993, behind only Jurassic Park.

[froldgapp]

This is the silliest thing I have ever written. It wasn’t a true dive bar, which was a shame, Jay thought, ‘cos it would have been fun to see Tim in one. As it was, he, Tim and Dick had ended up in a kitschy-cum-run down joint on the edge of Burnside. They’d grabbed some dinner together with the rest of the clan, Damian and Steph sniping at Tim the whole time from different parapets: one accusing him of being a “hapless clown” the other calling him the “Larry David of the family.” Tim let it run off his namesake's proverbial back but in the end they got through and it wasn't pretty. Tim had this sort of scorpion tail reflex when it came to conflict; one minute he’d sit there still as death just absorbing the blows and then the next–kablam!–he'd nail his assailants with the most vicious shit ever heard in your life. The arguments spilled over and everyone’s mood soured. Everyone's apart from Jason’s; he had a ball.

Bundled away together with Duke, they’d sent Damian off in a private car to lick his wounds, while Steph and Cass peeled off together to go watch a movie. That left the Robins one, two, and thee at a loose end. Tim tried to slip away but Dick captured him from behind in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet and swinging him one way and then the other like a disgruntled family cat. For Jason's part, he felt oddly loathe to pass up the opportunity to hang out with the eldest of them. To talk shit about Bruce though. Obviously.

So, they agreed to go out. Out. Just three regular guys. Three totally normal, not emotionally dilapidated, certainly not un-dead guys. Fun. They would have fun.

So that’s how they found themselves in Andy’s War Hole, a bar as stupid as it was filthy but Dick made the call because of its cabaret set-up of small, badly lit tables. They could talk some shop, so long as they were oblique about it.

It took a while to convince the door staff that Tim was, in fact, 21 even though he was, in fact, only 19, but Dick worked his magic and the guys folded. Or at least that’s what Jay let Dick think. It was more likely to be the two 50s Jay palmed from Dickhead’s pocket and paid them off with while he was busy making histrionics about Drake’s infamous babyface.

Now, together at the table–Dick and Jay with some tap beer and Tim with some tap water (he didn’t drink, thank you)–they could finally relax. The man laboriously setting up the karaoke night had other things to say about that quiet drink though. Tim tried to escape again hearing the man one-two test the mic, but Dick’s viper speed was too much for him and he was dragged back to sitting.

"All right," Dick said happily now that everyone was settled. "Look at us!"

“So, Timbo,” Jay began, his face enquiring. “Why are you such a damp dildo?”

Dick dropped his head back with a sigh. “Can we not start? Please.”

"Who's starting?" Jay said innocently. "Just want to know why the kid don't laugh."

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t know you were a fan of clowns, Jay.”

“Tim, will you–” Dick scratched at his forehead. “We just sat down.”

“Oh, ho, ho! Look at this spicy margarita!”

“Yeah, yeah..." Tim sneered. "I knew I’d be a punching bag if I came.” "Look." Dick put one large hand on top of Jay’s. “Jay, be nice.” Then the other on top of Tim’s. “Tim...” Dick put his tightrope walking experience to the test. “Be... not... whatever you’re being right now.”

Jay and Tim held each other's gaze for a beat too long then both backed down. Dick took a grounding breath. “Okay, let’s see...” He looked around for inspiration. “What’s eh...”

Christ, Jay thought. Were they really as bad as this at shooting the shit together?

“Jay, what’s your favourite... Which... Oh! How about... Eh... Oh, oh! What way do you put the toilet paper on? Flap in or flap... oh my God...” Jay had that look on his face. The smirk.

“I just want to know why the kid doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Dick scrunched his eyes shut. He actually looked a bit like he might cry.

“I know how to have fun,” Tim said.

“He knows how to have fun,” Dick insisted. “He knows how to have fun. Sure he does... He had... There was that one time... Remember, with the trains?” He put his arms out like he was balancing on top of a speeding carriage.

Tim sat back and pouted. “Dick, that was like five years ago.”

Jay put his hands up. “I rest my case.”

Tim’s forehead pulled together, his eyebrows like a goose formation in a kamikaze dive. “I know how to have fun.”

Jay grinned and leaned forward, meeting Tim’s resolute stare. He pointed at the karaoke machine. “Prove it.”

ooo

It started with short, sharp shoulder shakes as the first explosive snare hits of Dancer in the Dark rang out across the bar.

“What is happening?” Dick whispered.

“I get up in the evening and I ain’t got nothing to say.”

The crowd whooped as Tim tore into the opening lines of Springsteen like a greyhound out of the starting gate.

“Fucking Bruce.”

Dick looked at Jay. “What’s he got to do with it?”

“Not him.” Jay scowled. “The other one.”

“I ain't nothing but tired. Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself.”

One woman jumped up and yelled back down at her table of friends, “Oh my God, that little boy is so good!”

Jay stared open mouthed as Tim tilted the mic stand to the left, dragging out a screeching vowel like he smoked 80 a day since he was nine years old. Someone a the bar shouted, "Fuck yeah!” Jay looked dazedly at him then back at Tim.

“This gun's for hire even if we're just dancing in the dark.”

"I didn't know he could sing," Dick observed, his drink hovering in front of his gobsmacked face.

"I didn't know he could..." Jay gestured with numbed hands. "I... This... This ain't right."

"Is this what he's been doing in his 'alone time?'”

Jay frowned. "I preferred it when we thought he was interfering with himself in there.”

“I check my look in the mirror, I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face.”

If they thought he was in full flow before, when the bridge came, he really hit his stride, crooning into the mic while he shrank back in theatric anguish:

“You sit around getting older. There's a joke here somewhere, and it's on me. I'll shake this world off my shoulders. Come on, baby, the laugh's on me.”

Dick shook his head, his eyes still fixed on Tim. “It’s... I don’t know if I’m amazed or unnerved.”

Jay mirrored him. “Low key hoping for a TBI tonight to forget, to be honest.”

"I mean he's good,” Dick supplied.

“Good, yeah, yeah,” Jay said, watching Tim throw his head back and roar at the ceiling. “But this is very bad. Me no likey.”

“Uncomfy.”

“It’s like he’s singing at me.” Jay said, shuddering.

Dick was mesmerised as Tim executed a sort of Elvis hip move. “It’s like he’s singing about me.”

The crowd was incensed by the time Tim was singing out the refrain. One burly man had made his way to the little stage and was slapping his hands passionately at Tim’s feet. Tim cracked his first smile of the whole night and finally locked eyes with his brothers. He was laughing at them.

“The little bastard,” Jay said.

“We should have known,” Dick answered. “There’s no gauntlet in the world this kid’s too scared pick up.”

An explosion of applause as Tim finished. He waved off the cheers and left the stage with a humble bow. Jostled lovingly with copious drinks offered and refused, he moved back through the crowd and toward their table. He plopped back down and picked up his water. Dick and Jay, speechless, watched him as though he were a strange and dangerous new species.

“Cheers,” Tim said, and downed his tap water in one.

[cuttoothed]

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

*

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

[thegracelessfaceless]

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊ��ꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

[scribble-blog]

So, as a prompt for your Birthday Bash, these lines: “You didn’t have to do that.” “I know, but you looked like you needed an out.” And I admit I had Timari on the brain when I thought of this but I think any ship would work. <3

I hope you have a good day and have fun writing!

Did I build an entire story in my head so I could write a 600 word resolution to it? Yes. Welcome to (the END of) the secret dating AU. Thank you @newdog14!!! And for those interested- I’m SURE I won’t get kidnapped this time. Let’s do this prompt thing again, shall we? If you’re interested- send me a prompt!

*****

“You didn’t have to do that,” Marinette leaned over the balcony railing, eyes trailing over the slow roll of people, the undulations of the crowd far below their feet.

“I know,” Tim said, holding out a flute of the champagne she’d been telling herself not to have all evening, and her annoyance melted away at the grin he gave her. “But you looked like you needed an out.”

She frowned, trying to deny that, but her feet were sore from being stepped on, and her back hurt from the boning in the bodice of her dress- and if another person asked her for her personal number instead of her professional contact, she was going to scream. She took the glass, tipping it in agreement. “Maybe so.” The first sip was sweet, crisp flavor bursting across her tongue.

It’s Tim who breaks first, leaning in and kissing her. It’s short, chaste, and she glares as he pulls away. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re the one who wanted to keep me a secret,” He reminded her, teasing a carefully curl loose from her hair so he can wind it around his finger. “I get that you didn’t want anyone to accuse you of getting where you are through me, I do. But it’s been two years.”

She grinned back, only slightly abashed. It was fun to have a secret life that was her choice to keep secret, now that she only rarely needed to be a hero. And Tim had agreed, and he’d had as much fun as her sneaking around. And after a while, it was simply more fun to see how long it could go than to let the press know, and it’s not like they’d lied to anyone in their families about seeing each other, so they’d just let the game of it keep going.

But he was also right, and that there wasn’t a point to it anymore. So she pulls him back by the lapel of his jacket. “You’re right. I think we’ve been keeping ourselves to ourselves for long enough.”

He kissed her again, pulling her flush against him and almost holding her up, the way people got held in old movies and romance novel covers. Laughing into the kiss, she let him, one hand slipping around his neck to anchor herself, the other holding the champagne higher so as not to spill it. Down below, someone’s camera flashed toward them, and she ignored it, letting him dip her lower, as if making for a better photo. She broke away, still trying to stop giggling. “Trying to make the front page?”

“It would happen regardless. I’d rather this and a publicity statement than an interview where we have to explain ourselves in person.” He was right, but she also knew there would be some sort of bet between his brothers that he has stakes in that this is posturing for, so she keeps looking at him. Tim folds as expected. “We’ve got a challenge for how many of Bruce’s old paparazzi photos we can recreate. It seemed fitting.”

“I wish I could say I was surprised, but this is very on brand.” She kissed him again, pulling him forward as she maneuvered them both back away from the view of the public below. “At least the photos will be stunning. You want to run away and not deal with people again until we have to tomorrow?”

Tomorrow they’d have to tell the public they’d been together for two years, and they’d have to tell their families that they were no longer just dating, they’d been married for four months and hiding it, but tonight they’d escape out of an employee door and hide out at Marinette’s apartment she still hadn’t actually moved the rest of her stuff out of, and they’d ignore all of the texts from Dick and Adrien and the calls from Jason and Chloe and Bruce- though Marinette did answer the text she received on the way there from Alfred- and they’d enjoy it.

*****

Taglist! I'm sure there are a few that I've missed adding or forgotten to add but if you let me know I'll put you on my "always wants to see the new stuff" taglist! I still have to go through and fix my lists :(

@ash-amg @athena452 @lady-bee-fechin @dramatic-squirrel @dreamykitty25 @iloveitwhen @pr-y-sha @novaloptr @redscarlet95 @vixen-uchiha

[awhitehead17]

100 ways to say I love you - TimKon edition:

Number 51: “Are you sure?” 

Enjoy! :D 

With his hands perched on both sides of the sink, Kon leans heavily over the porcelain bowl and lets out a long tired sigh. He stares at the water underneath him, watching as droplets from his face fall down and cause ripple effects when they hit the water.

He could feel exhaustion seeping into every muscle and bone in his body and at this point he doesn’t know how he’s still standing. It’s been a long week of constant missions with very little breaks between each one. While they haven’t been big explosive missions, due to how frequent they’ve been and how little rest he’s had between them it’s all finally caught up with his body and has left him feeling shattered.

Kon hopes that that day was the last mission for a while. Once the mission debrief was over he and Tim immediately separated from their team to make their way to Tim’s apartment in the city. They could have gone back to the Tower but because they’ve had very little time for themselves and for each other, they decided they wanted the privacy which the apartment could give them where the Tower couldn’t.

His first priority is to get some sleep, then once he’s had a full twelve hours his second priority is to eat the equivalent to his body weight in food. With those two things in mind he straightens up and drains away the water he had used to wash his face from the sink. Grabbing the hand towel off the railing he dries his face and puts it back before leaving the bathroom.

As he steps out into the hallway an audible hiss could be heard. Knowing it could have come from the only other person in the apartment Kon quickly makes his way to the bedroom where he knows Tim is. When he gets there Kon freezes in the doorway staring at the scene in front of him.

Tim is perched on the edge of the bed with his face screwed up in an expression of pain, his eyes were clenched shut and his teeth were gritted together. His right arm is positioned across his body where his hand rests against his left shoulder, his left arm hangs limp at his side with his hand resting on the mattress. Kon observes how his boyfriend isn’t even out of his suit yet, his tunic remains in place while his accessories lay scattered around and his legs are covered in light grey sweats.

From the doorway Kon could see how Tim is taking deep breaths, clearly trying to control himself and bare through the obvious pain he’s in. Letting out a woeful sigh he leans against the doorframe and watches for a moment, Tim had told him he’s fine, that he wasn’t injured and clearly that’s not the case. Why did Tim lie to him? Yet another question, why didn’t Kon realize before now? He could blame it on his own exhaustion however he knows that’s a weak excuse, he still should have noticed how much in pain his boyfriend is in even though Tim is one helluva actor when he needs to be.

When Tim let’s out another pained hiss after shifting slightly on the bed, Kon finally pushes away from the doorway and enters the room. He approaches Tim and crouches down on the floor in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

Tim jumps at the touch; his eyes snap open and suddenly blue eyes were staring into his own. When Tim doesn’t push him away Kon gives his knee a comforting squeeze. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured Tim? Why tell me you were fine when you’re clearly not?”

Kon keeps his tone soft and asks the questions gently, he doesn’t want to come across sounding like he’s accusing Tim, he’s just purely curious on why Tim didn’t say anything. He thought they were past this by now. Maybe they need to have another conversation about it…

Tim turns his head away and looks off somewhere else. “I thought I could handle it myself,” he mumbles, “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Changing his position, Kon moves from crouching to kneeling so he could get closer to Tim. He reaches up and cups Tim’s cheek, turning his face so they could look at one another. “I’m always going to worry about you Tim, I care too much about you not too. I worry more when you don’t tell me these things. You don’t have to deal with it alone, it doesn’t make you weak asking for help or admitting you’re in pain.”

Not saying anything, Tim blinks and reaches up to place his right hand over Kon’s on his cheek. They stare at one another for a long silent moment during which Kon tries to convey all of the love, concern, and reassurance he could through his expression. Tim stares back looking as vulnerable as Kon has ever seen him.

Giving his hand a squeeze, Tim takes a deep breath. “I’ve dislocated my shoulder. Normally I can pop it back in myself but I seem to be struggling today, probably the tiredness on top of the pain. Can you pop it in for me please?”

Kon had a feeling that’s what was coming. He sends Tim a concerned look, feeling hesitant at the request. “Are you sure?”

“I trust you Kon.”

While Tim may trust him, Kon doesn’t know if he trusts himself.

“I don’t want to screw it up Tim. Shouldn’t you get a professional to do it?”

Tim shakes his head and lets out a sharp breath when he shifts his shoulder. “No need. If it helps, I’ll get it looked at tomorrow. You’ve done it before Kon, just use your vision and put it in place.”

At the reminder of his x-ray vision, Kon uses it to examine Tim’s injury and see what needs doing. He’s right, Kon has done it before but that doesn’t make it any easier this time around though, he’s worried he may screw it up or hurt Tim even more in the process.

“Tim…”

“Please Kon.”

Kon sighs in defeat and shifts away from Tim. “Okay, fine, though you have to tell me if something is wrong, and it doesn’t feel right. Understand?”

After some maneuvering they place themselves in the best position to deal with the injury. Kon counts down from three and pops Tim’s shoulder back into place. Despite being the one to do the action, Kon still flinches and grimaces at it. Tim simply tenses and hisses as his shoulder is put back into place. It’s not the first time he’s dislocated the joint so he knew what to expect.

A few moments later Kon steps back and studies Tim, looking for any signs of discomfort that shouldn’t be there. “All good? Does it feel right?”

He watches as Tim gingerly feels and tests the joint as much as he could, his boyfriend then sends him an impish grin. “All good. Thank you Kon.”

Kon closes his eyes and takes a breather feeling just done with the day. Despite wanting nothing more than to go to bed he knows there’s a couple more things he needs to sort out first before calling it a night.

Firstly he helps Tim out of his tunic before helping him into a loose t-shirt. Once dressed Tim heads for the bathroom while Kon makes a trip to the kitchen to grab medicine and an ice pack for his boyfriend. They come together again in the bedroom and settle down for the night underneath the covers of the bed. They lay side by side, unable to spoon because of Tim’s shoulder, and relax into the mattress. Having Tim next to him, breathing evenly and is a warm weight against his side, allows him to rest contently and he falls into a much-needed peaceful deep sleep.  

[brucewaynehater101]

So there's a fic that I think you will like. It's called The Definition of Valor by Nerdpoe. Really short, spoiler free summery. Instead of loosing his Spleen, Tim looses his eyes. He makes special gadgets to help him with this, such as a device in is cowl that scans the room he is in and tells him what is where via coded sounds, like say, two low A notes followed by a chirp means there is a wooden desk to the north east of him. He also makes a special computer program for his grapple so when he points it somewhere, it will adjust his aim so he never misses and always attaches to a good spot.

This fic is giving me *so many* thoughts about the potential fall out of this being found out not as soon as Tim gets back to Gothem because he never tells anyone. Specifically it's making me think about Tim who is Bruce's dad not telling Bruce because he doesn't want to worry his son. He doesn't want to worry his grandchildren/siblings either so he puts in colored contacts and wears glasses when his cowl isn't on. The glasses and an ear piece have the same tech as his cowl to tell him where everything is.

How long would it take them to find out? Tim would never tell them, so do they find out on accident because Tim forgot the contacts that are his normal eye color, or because Ras is mad at Tim and tells them what Ras did to Tim? Maybe he got to mad and while ranting at a Rouge (either Harley or Two Face would be especially funny if he's just been hanging upside down and ranting and raving fo 30 minuets already) over one of their traps, he accidentally lets slip that he's blind, or maybe he yells at Riddler, "Nygma, this isn't fair! I've been completely blind since last July and my usual tech that tells me what's around me is getting fucked by your signal jammer! So either read the riddle to me out loud or let me go!" and then later Riddler scolds one of the other Bats for letting the blind one do the visual puzzles much to their confusion.

Hi!!! I love that fic so much! Have you seen the sequel for it as well? It's short, but a great read. I would die for more of this concept.

In that fic, Bruce turns out to be a good dad. While I may hate Bruce, the way that guy handles the situation in that fic is fantastic.

However, I would like a fic where this concept gets a delayed reveal. In the AU, Tim figures out how to function without his eyes.

He engineers technology to read people's facial expression/body language to help him out. It reads words for him, etc.

I wonder what excuse he'd give for wearing the earpiece and glasses all the time. Maybe he says it's another aspect to separate Timothy Drake from Red Robin?

Just Tim gaslighting and girlbossing his way into pretending he can still see. I kind of want him to keep up the ruse for a long while.

When he does get found it, it'd be hilarious if the others forget he's blind. Tim has engineered technology to assist him, but he still can't see. So they'll try to take him to activities they did together when he could see (like star gazing) or they'll ask him what he thinks of the color of their outfit. He also ruthlessly uses his blindness as an excuse to mess with people. If Timothy Drake-Wayne is known to be blind, he'll use it to accuse Luthor of being ableist at every chance he'll get. He also bullies the shit out of governmental agents and companies that don't provide accommodations.

I'm also a fan of Riddler finding out about it, but him just changing his puzzles to be accommodating. I'm biased towards Riddler (I love him so much) so it'd be cool to see the silent show of support like that.

Another AU idea: When Tim blows up Ra's bases, the explosions cause him to become deaf or hard-of-hearing.

Dealer's choice on how much hearing he loses, but I feel like this could be great to explore deafness and misconceptions commonly held in our society.

Tim would probably already know how to sign and lip read (might even know multiple different sign languages), but he would face a few difficulties.

He chooses not to disclose his hearing loss

People often cover their mouths or face away from someone when speaking (which makes lip reading arduous)

Ableist people suck

The world is set up for hearing people, so a lot of issues stem from a lack of accommodations rather than Tim's ability to hear

Tim chose not to tell anyone about the change in hearing for a few reasons: he doesn't trust anyone (especially during his adjustment period) and he doesn't want to be underestimated (wants to prove himself in the field before they try to pull him from it).

As far as technology to help him, the comms were easier to program than other auditory inputs. Since they were designed to transmit clear voices, he merely has to train a program to automatically close caption whatever is spoken (the automatic ones used today are useful, but still make too many errors for Tim's preference. Some also only do words automatically and leave out helpful information like laughing, choking, screaming, computer dings, etc.). Each Bat member has their own designated color. For those he doesn't interact with often, it says their name before every time they speak up.

Tim incorporates the visual overlay into his goggles and glasses. He can read what people contribute to the conversation based on that. It also leaves his hands free so he doesn't need to look down. His wrist computer stores records of what has been said so Tim can go back over it if he misses it. He also has the ability to change where the words appear on his field of vision.

I also hc Alfred is the first to notice that Tim is staring intently at his lips when he talks and has difficulties with the conversation when Alfred changes the way he pronounces words or isn't facing Tim (this is before Tim's tech gets perfected). From then on, Alfred makes a point of facing Tim whenever the teen is in the room. They both don't talk about it until the rest of the family finds out (however long that takes).

Feel free to add more to either AU!

[bluejayblueskies]

For the kiss prompt thing, could you do 34 and/or 66 with Jontim, please?

kiss prompt list!

34 - Returned from the dead kiss | 66 - Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In 

i did both! set in an au where tim survives the unknowing. additionally, in this au jon and tim were together in research and season one but then broke it off in season two for canon-typical reasons

cw for mentions of injury and grief, mentions of death, suicidal ideation (mild), mentions of hospitalization, mentions of paranoia and stalking, and swearing

Ao3 link in source!

.

Jon’s been awake for two weeks and three days when Tim finally works up the nerve to see him.

 (He’s not nervous, he tells himself. It’s not nerves twisting his stomach and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and making his hands shake ever so slightly where they grasp the doorknob on Jon’s office door. It might be guilt, but he dislikes the thought and discards it immediately. Hatred? That doesn’t feel right either. He’d shed that anger a few months prior, body still aching from being crushed underneath a building’s worth of brick and mortar and holding Martin while he cried at Jon’s bedside, hiccupping into the fabric of Tim’s shirt, He’s not waking up, Tim. He's never waking up.)

 He opens the door and sees Jon sitting at his desk, hair pinned up in a haphazard topknot and a jumper that’s much too large swallowing his body whole. Jon looks up at him, his eyes widening a bit, and oh.

 It’s relief.

 Tim lets the door swing shut behind him and leans against the wall next to the doorframe, hands coming up to grip his elbows as he hugs his arms close to his chest. One arm is still mottled with angry red scars, spiraling patterns of shrapnel laced along his skin. He rubs a thumb over one of the larger scars near the crook of his elbow absently as he says, “Hey. I… I heard you’d woken up.”

 Jon just stares at him for a moment, like he’s not quite sure what he’s looking at. Just as it’s bordering on the edge of annoying, Jon finally says, “Yes, I… I have. A- a few weeks ago.”

 “Right.”

 There’s another long moment of silence between them, this one tenser than the first. Jon’s avoiding Tim’s eyes, his face pinched and unhappy. His hands are fiddling with the cuffs of his jumper nervously, and something within Tim knocks loose at the sight. “I’m not here to yell at you, okay?”

 Jon startles, his eyes finding Tim’s for a moment before darting away again. He’s never liked direct eye contact, Tim remembers, but this is something else. Tim gets the distinct feeling that it’s at least partially his fault. Maybe a bit more than partially. Then, quietly, Jon says, “Why not?”

 Great. With a weary sigh, Tim steps away from the wall and drops himself into the ratty armchair that faces Jon’s desk. “Because it’s been six months, Jon. A lot has changed.” He makes a humorless noise. “I mean, it’s all the same shit—spooky monsters and fucked-up situations and a job I can’t get rid of. But, you know.” He rubs his thumb over the scar, shrugs his shoulders. “The Circus is gone. Thought I’d be gone with it, but I’m not. And you were gone, which made things easier for a while. Less complicated, because I didn’t have to look at you and feel—”

 Tim makes a sharp, irritated noise. He doesn’t know how he felt. “But you were just… there. Dead or- or asleep or whatever, it didn’t really matter. You were there, and I was here, and we both know it was meant to be the other way around.”

 “Tim—” Jon starts, the pity in his voice palpable.

 “No,” Tim says, giving Jon a firm look. “I don’t want an apology or- or pity or whatever. That’s not the point of this.” He sits back in the chair, takes a deep breath, and says, “I don’t remember when I stopped feeling angry. I didn’t visit you at first, in the hospital, but when I did, I… I don’t know.” Tim shrugs and looks at the floor. “I guess I just decided that you wouldn’t have chosen that. To- to be half-dead and dreaming while the rest of us lived.”

 Jon’s quiet for a long moment. Then, he makes a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so bitter. “No,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “I didn’t. But I did choose to wake up. I made a choice, and I- I think it was the wrong one.”

 “What,” Tim says, “because you chose to live rather than to die?”

 Jon shakes his head, just once. “Because I chose to be this.” He gestures at the desk, at the room around him. “The… the Archivist.”

 Tim takes a moment to consider. Then, he says bluntly, “Fine. Let’s say you did. You chose to go full monster, give up the mantle of humanity entirely, and then—what?”

 Jon blinks at him. “What?”

 “What are you going to do now?”

 Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally saying, “I- I suppose I’ll just… work?”

 Tim can’t help letting out a short, clipped laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

 Jon makes an indignant noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Nothing. I just—” Tim pauses, looks at his hands. There’s a worm scar between his middle and ring finger on his left hand that never healed quite right, that’s now a twisted knot of scar tissue. He focuses on it as he says, “You’re still you, you know? Even before, with all the shit you pulled—the stalking and the murder accusations and the questions—it was… it was still just you. And whether or not you’re still human, you’re still Jon.”

 “Oh,” Jon says, the word empty and hollow. “Is… is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

 Tim doesn’t know yet, not really. The relationship between them is still flayed open and raw, ripped apart by months of poor choices and hurtful words. But he meets Jon’s eyes, sees that familiar brown that he used to wake up to in the mornings, takes note of the small cluster of circular scars just beneath Jon’s temple, and decides that if it’s not good, it’s certainly on the way there. The thought leaves him feeling a bit weightless, and he realizes with an aching in his chest that he’s missed Jon. Not in the physical sense, because Jon’s always been here, conscious or not, and his presence has been burned into the back of Tim’s mind like a brand, an itch he can’t quite scratch. But still, there had been an empty space within him that he hadn’t been able to cover or fill, shaped like warm sunlit mornings and shared bottles of wine and kisses on foreheads and noses and lips. And it had ached, as much as Tim wished it hadn’t. That that Jon was gone and this Jon had taken his place. The resentment Tim felt at the fact was bitter and heavy and painful.

 It’s still not the same Jon, sitting in front of him now and worrying his ring between his fingers in a familiar nervous tic. But he’s not the same Tim either. Affection doesn’t come easy for him anymore and everything hurts and there are so, so many things he can’t forgive Jon for. That he doesn’t know how to. But at some point, the blanket of revenge-fueled anger had melted away and he’d just been tired.

 “I don’t know,” Tim says, because it’s true. But it’s also true when he continues, “But I want it to be good. It might take some time, and I- I can’t just forget about what’s happened between us, but…” Tim’s chest tightens, and his next words come out choked and a bit forced. “I missed you. And I’m glad you’re not dead, okay? I don’t know if you’ve convinced yourself that I wouldn’t be, but I am.” Quieter: “God knows I’ve already lost enough.”

 “Oh,” Jon says again, barely more than a whisper. Then, hesitantly: “I… thank you, Tim. I’m also glad that you… that you’re still here. For what it’s worth.”

 “You don’t have to…” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, lets out a long breath. “Never mind.”

 “I know,” Jon says, something terribly vulnerable in his voice. When Tim opens his eyes, Jon’s looking at him, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips. Tim can’t stop looking at it. “But I want to. I… I still care about you, Tim. I always have, even if I- I didn’t always show it.”

 The Tim of six months ago would probably have laughed at that. Would have said that it didn’t matter if he cared or not, or that if he really cared he wouldn’t have spent half a year tracking his every move and thinking that Tim was even remotely capable of killing him. (That bit had hit particularly hard. Tim had gone home afterward and scrubbed every reminder of Jon from his house, every picture and favorite mug and lingering jumper and that one souvenir from his trip to Spain that Jon had once rambled about for two hours. It had hurt, and when he was done, he’d felt hollowed out and empty. Enough room for the anger to begin to creep in, he supposes.)

 Instead, Tim sighs and says, “You know, that was the worst part. The fact that after everything, even when I hated you, I still couldn’t stop myself from caring.” He digs his fingernails into the soft skin of the inside of his wrist. “It hurt to care, so I pretended like I didn’t. But all the shit that happened to you—Christ, Jon, I’m not so much of an asshole to think that you deserved to be tortured and kidnapped every other week. I don’t know if anyone ever told you that you didn’t deserve it, so there it is.”

 Jon’s looking at him with wide eyes and lips slightly parted, and Tim feels something in his chest ache at the sight. “Don’t look at me like that.”

 “Like- like what?”

 “Like I’ve—” Like I’ve hung the fucking moon. “Look, that’s just basic human decency, okay?”

 “Okay,” Jon echoes quietly. He’s still looking at Tim and his lips are still slightly parted and the ache in Tim’s chest amplifies until he can barely stand it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s reminded of the first time he asked Jon, standing halfway inside the doorframe of his house after their third date, if he could kiss him. How Jon had looked startled, all wide eyes and parted lips, and after a moment had nodded wordlessly. How Jon’s hair had been soft beneath his fingers as he’d cupped Jon’s cheek and how Jon’s lips had been warm against his and how Jon had inhaled slightly at the contact, like even though Tim had asked, he was still surprised that he’d followed through.

 Tim looks at Jon, at the still-familiar shape of his lips save for a small circular scar near the left corner, and tries to convince himself, just for a moment, that he doesn’t want to kiss him.

 He’s never been very good at self-control.

 So he stands, braces one hand on Jon’s desk, and reaches forward with the other, stopping just shy of Jon’s face. When Jon doesn’t move away, he rests his palm lightly against Jon’s cheek, his thumb coming to rest just underneath Jon’s eye. “This doesn’t fix things,” Tim says quietly. “But I’d still like to kiss you. If you’re okay with that.”

 Jon hesitates. Then, barely more than a whisper, he says, “Okay.”

 “Okay.” Tim pauses a moment more before tilting Jon’s head slightly up, leaning forward, and kissing him.

 It’s still as easy as breathing.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Two: Rarepair

Jason knew jokes about how pale Tim was, about how he was either a vampire or the perfect blue blood, about how he needed to get out and absorb some sun for God’s sake. They were met with glares, scathing retorts, smacks with a bo staff, and on one memorable occasion, a horrified Bruce as Tim barged into the house with visible sunburn all along his arms, shoulder and face. (Bruce hadn’t taken Tim’s accusation of But Jason told me to go get some sun! very well.)

Jason wasn’t joking now. Loosely covered in a hospital gown, Tim’s still body seemed to be more devoid of colour than any of the sheets, machines, and tubes surrounding him and attached to his body, keeping him alive in the most impersonal of ways. 

It was quiet, the sort of quiet that muffled any attempted noise with a soft hush, an invisible reprimand at showing signs of life in a place where there should be none. The beeping of the various machines didn’t register, the hum of the fluorescent lights was ignorable. Even the rhythmic tapping of Jason’s foot on the linoleum, a nervous habit he’d never been able to break, was utterly silent. 

It was quiet. At least until Conner Kent barged into the room, his heavy combat boots thudding on the ground and his breath coming out in pants, the terrified look on his face telling Jason that he thought he hadn’t gotten here fast enough.

“He’s fine,” Jason managed not to cough while speaking, the roughness of his throat a physical ache that was just now flaring up. “Full recovery, they said.”

“Good, good, that’s...” Conner dropped into the remaining hospital chair, right next to Jason. “That’s good.”

Silence blanketed them once again. Jason hadn’t ever been in a regular hospital room. He had supposedly spent a while as a patient in one when he’d risen from the dead and trembled around Gotham like a 21st century zombie, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t think Tim’s best friend had ever been in one either, given a good majority of Tim’s team was invulnerable or had advanced healing in some way. 

Jason was sure Bruce was itching to take Tim to the cave’s medbay, and honestly, Jason found himself on Bruce’s side in this. As much as he liked to distrust the entire Bat clan, he knew they’d give everything they had to make sure Tim was okay, while the hospital was only giving Tim their best care because of the “Wayne” tacked onto the end of his name. Jason had been about to demand Bruce bring him back to the cave no matter what, but Oracle butted in, telling him that Tim been shot as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne in broad daylight. Bruce couldn’t take Tim home, not without raising some very complicated questions.

So that led them here. Jason being slammed full-force in the face with how much he’d let himself care about the tiny little toothpick, unable to make himself move for fear that Tim would slip away in the one moment he was gone. (Once he’d come back to life and seen how chummy Dick was with Bruce all of a sudden, he’d always expected Dick to drag him back kicking and screaming. He never thought Tim’s unobtrusive yet steady presence, doing his tech work in exchange for food, would lead to the word brother coming to his lips as easy as a breath.)

Next to him, Conner shuffled, and snapped Jason out of his thoughts. “I thought Nightwing would be here.” A statement, subtly posed as a question.

But, still one Jason had an answer to. “Deep cover. A mission he’d been planning for weeks. He doesn’t know.” And he would probably throw a fit about it too, when he came back. Even Jason had to wince a bit at the horrible sense of déjà vu Dick would end up feeling.

“So they sent you instead,” Conner said, and his tone was simple, but Jason found himself getting heated anyway.

“What, you thought the fill-in for Big Bird would be a little better?”

Jason was just burning for a fight, the helplessness he felt at being able to do nothing but sit in a low-quality plastic chair skating up his body and down his arms, forcing his fingers to curl in a fist. He expected the other boy to rise to the bait, having heard Tim’s complaints on how hot-headed Superboy was. 

But something about their current situation caused Conner to just turn and glare at him flatly instead. “You once put him a hospital bed, too. Don’t act like you care about him now when you would’ve celebrated this a couple years ago.” His tone was dismissive, and that dug under Jason’s skin much more than he expected. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing time travel’s reserved for the speedsters, huh? ‘Cause lucky for you, I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago,” Jason replied scathingly. The next words were ripped from Jason’s throat, and he could almost see the blood splattered on them. “That’s my brother in the shitty hospital bed right there.”

“Yeah? And how long have you even cared about that ‘brother’ of yours?” There it was. Jason could see red trickling into Conner’s cheeks as he let Jason’s words get to him, and found himself oddly curious about that flush.

Still. Argument to win. “Long enough to know him,” Jason shot back. “Long enough to help piece him together after he almost broke. Where were you during that time? Fucking around with your friends or dead?”

“Trying to hold together the team that Tim helped build,” Conner shifted a bit to face Jason more directly head on. “All you’ve done is tear people apart. News flash: having a sort-of truce with Tim doesn’t automatically mean your family loves you again.”

That one hurt. Years of training to keep his emotions hidden was the only thing that kept him from flinching back visibly, but Jason still felt like he’d been slapped. Because the boy was right; just because Tim liked dropping by one of his safehouses every other week doesn’t mean the rest of the family was anywhere near comfortable with him, not after all the pain he’d caused them. And he couldn’t even fault Conner on it, because it wasn’t like he was wrong and it wasn’t like it wasn’t Jason’s own damn fault.

Still. He couldn’t just let that slide. “At least my family loved me to begin with. What do you have? Megalomaniac scientists who built you from an evil billionaire who thinks of you as an experiment at best and supposedly one of the best men on Earth who still thinks you’re not worth his time.”

Too late, Jason realized his insult came out a little too scathing. Conner’s eyes widened, and Jason saw him blink back pinpricks of tears...fuck. He didn’t know when mutual antagonizing had turned into a caustic competition, but he was pretty sure Tim wouldn’t be very happy with the two of them biting each other’s heads off. And Jason was the one that goaded Conner into this to begin with, to let some of his own helpless anger loose. Conner just wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

So, slightly reluctantly, Jason said, “Sorry. That was a bit too far.”

Conner shot him a grimace. “S’okay. You’re keyed up ‘cause of Tim. I get it. You’re still a jackass, though.” After saying his bit, the other boy turned away, taking up another vigil by Tim’s bedside.

...What the hell. It wasn’t like Jason had lied, anyway. If there was one person that had worse daddy issues than Jason did, it was this poor son of a bitch. Back when he was first catching glimpses of updates on what happened in the larger superhero world while he was letting green overtake his mind, he’d marveled a bit at Superboy, and the way the Justice League seemed to speak about it. How bad do you have to be to be Superman’s own son, (sorta), and still have him hold you at arms length. But after Tim’s stories, and after meeting him now, Jason was pretty sure Superman was in the wrong.

You really couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

“Nah. You’re right,” Jason said. “God knows none of the Bats want anything to do with me, so this stupid sort-of truce with this stupid brother’s all I got.”

Conner glanced over at him, surprised. Jason couldn’t blame him, he was a little taken aback at how easily the confession had spilled out of him too. They both knew how closed off people in their line of work were, but Conner seemed to take Jason’s words as an olive branch.

“You were right too. Found out the fun way that parents aren’t worth shit. So the team’s all I got, and Tim’s a big part of that.”

“The kid fucking hates you,” Jason said, putting some good-natured humor into his words to let Conner know he wasn’t entirely serious. “Loves you to death, but complains about you to me all the time.”

Conner snorted. “Look who’s talking. Every week at Titans Tower, it’s all ‘Jason won’t stop scaring off all my informants’ and ‘Jason spit on my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.’”

“You can’t blame me for that last one, aight?” 

“No, I agree with you,” Conner said. “That movie was terrible. I don’t know why Tim likes it.”

“Because he’s a goddamn loser,” Jason said. He couldn’t say he was expecting Conner to know who he was, much less from stories Tim had told him. But it felt...good, in a way. Nice to be recognized by his media tastes instead of his bone-chilling reputation. Nice to know that the guy Tim wouldn’t shut up about to him knew who he was.

Silence fell in between them again, but it was comfortable, mutually acknowledged and let rest. Jason didn’t break it when Conner stood up, brushed a kiss to Tim’s hair, and left the hospital much quieter than he came. Jason didn’t break it when he made to leave either, squeezing Tim’s hand and mentally willing him to heal faster. Jason didn’t break it all the way home. 

The next day found Jason in a similar position. The positive side of being a mob boss: he didn’t have much in the way of a day job. He didn’t know why cramming himself into an uncomfortable position to stare, with a tight throat, at a kid in a medically induced coma was what he decided to do with his day.

Maybe because the kid had grown on him, latched onto his heart like a leech and didn’t let go until Jason could ruffle his hair and think of him as a little brother without physically throwing up. 

And maybe because he wanted to see Conner again. He didn’t know why, but their brief talk yesterday had loosened something inside his chest. He was used mulling over his regrets, used to Bruce condemning him and giving up on him as a lost cause, used to Dick trying to brush everything aside and form a bond with him again. He wasn’t used to someone staring his sins in the face, then shrugging and forgiving him. 

Forgiveness was much lighter and much less guilt-ridden than Jason expected, and he wanted more of it. From the way Conner had sunk into the same line of thinking as Jason, he wanted more of it too.

Conner didn’t disappoint him, but Jason wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hopes up high enough to be disappointed in the first place. Calmer, now that he knew Tim was doing better, Conner leaned against the doorframe of hospital room, staring at their resident comatose with a little frown on his lips.

Jason took the time to study him. A black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a little more showy than the practical brown one draped across the back of the chair Jason was sitting on. He supposed it fitted in with Superboy’s theme, because anyone who wore that pinwheel-bright costume with the fucking thigh holster Jason saw pictures of online was more than a little showy. There wasn’t much proof of in his simple t-shirt and jeans, though, and Jason almost would’ve been disappointed if it weren’t for the earring hanging from his left earlobe and the tall black boots with glinting metal lace hooks that stretched up their length. Jason bet he owned the exact pair of fingerless gloves that were wrapped around Conner’s wrists right now.

In all of Tim’s vivid descriptions of the guy, Jason never realized how much he had in common with the guy, at least cosmetically.

“How’s he doing?” Conner asked, and jolted Jason out of his reverie. He didn’t make any indication he caught Jason looking, but Jason eyed him in slight embarrassment just in case.

Realizing that Conner was actually waiting for an answer, Jason cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit from his relaxed sprawl. “They say they’ll bring him out of it tomorrow, then a week here before he can go home. That is, if he doesn’t wake up on his own. The doctors say they’re astounded at how fast he’s recovering.”

Conner snorted, then stepped fully into the room. “Can you build up an immunity to injury? Or, like, have your body develop a mini healing factor or something? Just based on the kind of shit we’ve gone through over the years?”

Jason didn’t miss the way Conner put feather’s touch more emphasis on “we,” or the way his eyes flicked over to Jason. “At this point, I’m sure it’s the only way we’ve stayed alive so long.”

“No you didn’t,” Conner chuckled.

Jason’s head whipped up, staring at the other boy with disbelief threading through his mind. It had taken months for Dick to start making death jokes, and even then, he hesitated a bit, as if making sure Jason was okay with it. But after one meeting, Conner just steamrolled ahead, every bit as confident as he appeared to be. Jason found himself laughing too, with genuine amusement albeit a little punched out.

Crossing the room to seat himself in the remaining plastic chair, Conner sunk down with a sigh. “I just want him to wake up already.”

“Yeah, well. Who doesn’t?” Jason said, feeling unreasonably a little disappointed. Of course Conner wanted to talk about Tim, that was the whole reason he’d come to the hospital in the first place. He’d only known Jason for an hour, and a large part of that was spent trading insults back and forth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about how Jason was doing.

“So,” Conner said, turning away from the hospital bed. “How are you doing?”

Or maybe he did. Jason didn’t know what to call the little bubble of satisfaction that flew up his throat and popped in his mouth. “Not bad. Life as a mob boss is kinda boring, whaddya know. You?”

“Playing den mother for a bunch of hypercompetent yet cluelessly stupid baby superheroes is not how I imagined my life going.”

“Playing den mother?”

Conner wrinkled his nose, in a motion that was in no way cute, honestly kind of gross and flat. Jason found himself staring nonetheless. “Bart used to call me Team Mom back when we founded the team, and it caught on. Now, Cassie leads, but since even she says it, everyone fucking says it. They ask me for granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“And?”

Conner sighed. “I give them granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“There you go,” Jason  said, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“I swear I’m not usually this lame,” Conner pleaded, and his half-smile was aimed straight towards Jason.

“No, no, I believe you. Tim’s told me stories,” Jason said. “Didn’t you once throw some guy into a police car so hard, the car dented and they had to call in a helicopter so the guy didn’t die on the way to the hospital?”

Conner flushed, and Jason found it just as entrancing as last time. “He tried to touch Cassie,” he explained. “And she can take care of herself more than well, I know. I just got a bit...overprotective.”

Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was badass.”

“Really?” Conner’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “Because the League thought it was proof of my, fuck, what was it? Violent, destructive tendencies mirrored on a smaller scale of the schemes of Lex Luthor. Something along those lines.”

Shaking his head with desideration, Jason scoffed. “Sounds about accurate. Besides, you don’t wanna know what the League thinks of me.”

“What?”

“Aside from, like, Joker and Two-Face and Mad Hatter and shit, Red Hood is one one of Batman’s most powerful and dangerous rogues, and must be stopped at all costs.”

Conner was laughing before Jason even finished talking. “I love that for you,” he said. “You’re just so powerful and dangerous. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Jason shoved him lightly, and felt Conner give way on purpose, ignoring how natural and easy the motion felt. “Whatever you say, Luthor Lite.”

“Well, guess I found my new superhero name,” Conner said, finger held up to his chin in mock-thought as if musing something extremely important.

“It’s perfect,” Jason said. “And here we have Conner Kent, ordinary punk-rock farmer. But he’s hiding a secret! When his ‘violent and destructive tendencies’ come out, he turns into...Luthor Lite!”

The two of them collapsed into muffled laughter, Jason stifling his noise by biting his lip and Conner putting his head in the crook of his arm to hide his red face. Pity, Jason liked that flush.

Straightening up with a sigh, Conner offered Jason a little grin. Crimson was still creeping along his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, and Jason was suddenly struck by the urge to trace it.

“Kon,” Conner said.

“What?”

“Call me Kon,” Conner said. “Everyone does.”

“Kon, huh? With a K, right?” Jason asked, then nodded thoughtfully when Conner made a noise of affirmation. “Is it Kryptonian or something?”

A rueful expression stole it’s way onto Conner’s face, mischievous lips and daring eyes staring at Jason as if challenging him. “Yeah. Kon-el. Kryptonian for ‘abomination’. It’s what they thought of clones.”

A pause. Then, “Wow.” Jason bust out laughing for the second time. “That’s metal as fuck. Good for you, Kon.”

“Says the guy who took the name of the person who killed him, then twisted it into something so horrifying that now, no one else associates it with anything other than you.”

“Is that judgement I hear?”

“Respect,” Kon said, and his smile was oddly shy, the first time he’d shown that emotion since he’d met Jason. Jason liked the way it looked on him; it suited him oddly well.

They were quiet for a minute, grinning at each other like buffoons, but Jason couldn’t find the heart to stop. Eventually, Kon stood up and rolled out his shoulders to stretch. “I gotta get going. I’m meeting Bart and Cassie, updating them about Tim.”

“They’re waking Tim up in the afternoon,” Jason said. “Bruce is gonna be here, plus Steph. So I’d stay clear.”

“Gotcha, thanks. I’ll come in the morning.”

A proposition, if Jason ever saw one, and there was no way he could have refused. “I’ll be here,” he said, and kept his eyes on Kon until he rounded a corner, away from sight.

Kon was already there when Jason came to visit Tim the next day, and he gave him a friendly, if a tad flirtatious, smile. Jason responded, accidentally putting too much emotion into the greeting than he would have liked, but it made Kon brighten, so Jason didn’t feel too bad. 

Dropping heavily into what had become “his” chair, Jason shrugged off his jacket. He gave himself a mental high-five when he noticed Kon staring at his shoulders, but made no motion to address it.

“If all goes to plan, he’ll be the same annoying little prep boy that’s always annoying the hell out of me by tonight,” Jason said.

“He’ll be fine,” Kon said, and his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of confidence curling around his words. He sounded like he had utter faith in Tim. Jason wished some of that would bleed over.

“He’s a tough little shit,” Jason said, then repeated Kon’s words. “He’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Hm?” Jason raised an inquiring brow. “Oh, I’m all good It’s not me that’s hurt.”

“Jason,” Kon snorted. “If I have learned anything over the past two days, it is the fact that you are most definitely not ‘all good.’”

“Yeah well,” Jason said. “You’re one to talk.”

Kon made a noncommittal noise, and shrugged as if to say what can you do? “We’ve all got issues. But I get the feeling that you’re not as closed off and angry as you let people believe. Or maybe you are, but you don’t want to.”

Jason bit back the first response that came into his mind, telling Kon that no, he was closed off and angry, just not with him. But that wasn’t the truth, and he definitely didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. So instead, he said, “Maybe. Not gonna lie, from the way Tim and everyone talks about you, I was expecting more...”

“Cocky little frat boy?” Kon asked, smirking.

“More or less.”

Kon sighed, then looked down to where his hands were fiddling with each other. “Superman doesn’t act like a cocky little frat boy. Neither does Lex Luthor.”

“You’re not either of them,” Jason said, realization pouring into his mind like spilled oil. “You’re not either of them, but no one else seems to get that, so you make it as obvious as possible.”

“A couple people got that eventually,” Conner said, looking up at Tim with a soft smile. “Not many, though. And none as quickly as you.”

Kon leaned back, level with Jason now, turned to face him, something on his face that Jason couldn’t read. The chairs seemed much closer than Jason could remember, but he wasn’t very much banking on his memory right now. 

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, feeling a little lame. “What can I say. Misery likes company, and companies read each other through water.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“I came up with it,” Jason said. 

“I like it,” Kon smiled, then leaned forward with an ease Jason had been determined to build up first.

A little peeved at Kon beating him to it, Jason closed the distance first, the kiss probably a little too rough. But given the way they’d met, Jason felt like the bite he gave Kon was justified, even if the other boy was invulnerable.

Jason had made plenty of bad decisions in his life, and he knew exactly what they felt like. This wasn’t one of them. There was no chance that the way Kon’s hands coming up to cup Jason’s face, dragging his nail down Jason’s jaw, was anything other than good. No chance the way Kon’s soft hair suddenly threaded through his fingers was anything other than soft, no chance the soft noise Kon made in the back of his throat was anything other than delightful.

Yeah, Jason knew bad decisions. And despite the avalanche of bad decisions that seemed to make up every inch of Jason, from his scarred hands to his chipped nails, despite the pile-up of thoughtless ideas that led to this boy being made, despite how intimately familiar Jason was with regrets, he was certain Conner Kent wasn’t one of them.

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

this was almost 4k what the fuck

also. please imagine tim waking up to see his best friend and older brother aggressively making out in the plastic hospital chairs next to him. 

anway, suddenly i have a new ship.

imma post this on ao3 later, it got a bit long

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump