#i also REALLY love sun bird for tim

[erinwantstowrite]

ok now is the time where i admit that alighterwood got into my head and now i have a batfam rewrite au plotline sitting in my outline drafts

[hmslusitania]

Ask meme! For TimKon, either 17. “Please stay.” or 34. “When did you know for sure?”

May I offer you: an angst with a happy ending? (who am I kidding; it's you, of course I can)

“When did you know?” Kon asks, staring out well past the horizon. Tim thinks that surely, he must see it, must be able to tell, he’s got fucking super vision of various sorts, but… But he sounds so dejected about it. Like he… like he hadn’t been able to tell. “For sure, I mean, when did you figure it out?”

“Um,” Tim says, and picks up a handful of sand on this very not-at-all real version of Kon’s favourite beach in Hawaii. “Last… night.”

Kon’s face burns bright red and Tim can’t really look at him anymore.

It all feels too real, even though this place isn’t anything of the sort.

And he’s pretty sure that includes Kon.

It had been a smart plan, Tim can tip his hat at the villain du jour for that, at least metaphorically. Trap Tim in a simulated reality, but instead of making it somewhere he knows inside and out, like Gotham, like Happy Harbour, they’d programmed him into a place he only knows in story and rumour. Tim wouldn’t really have any way of determining if there were differences between the real Hawaii the real Kon’s been talking about for as long as Tim’s known him, and this fake, simulation of it. And the programmers had done a pretty perfect job with Kon, too, except for the parts where he can’t tell that this whole place is a simulation, and the part where…

“My Kon, I mean the one who’s not a computer programme, because, like, he’s not mine, mine,” Tim starts. “He’s not… y’know. In love with me.”

Kon is silent for a minute, just staring out at the water and at the small waves lapping steadily higher up the beach while the sun rises. Tim would find this whole conversation a lot less excruciating if computer!Kon was wearing more than boxers with the House of El logo on the crotch, but, well, this simulation was designed to trap and torture him, so he’s not.

“I don’t feel like a computer simulation,” Kon says finally, and buries his toes in the sand like he’s making a point of feeling the sensations. “I remember — I remember meeting you when you were still Robin and I didn’t know who I was beyond Superman’s replacement, and I remember Bart, and Young Justice, and Cassie, and the Teen Titans, and dying and—”

“They probably built you off a brain scan of the real Kon,” Tim says. Tact and gentleness have never been his fortes but, fuck he tries this time.

“Right, and just, like, tweaked my memories so that I can remember being in love with you half that time, and the entire time I was lost in Gemworld, and—”

“Yeah, I guess they must’ve,” Tim says, even though it makes him want to puke. “This place is too… it’s too perfect. You’re too perfect.”

Kon scoffs, and makes a choked off noise that’s all too familiar after last night and Tim flushes with shame that he knows what Kon sounds like now. The thing is, it’s a very, very good simulation, and this isn’t knowledge Tim should have, because out in the real world, Kon doesn’t want to share that information with him.  It’s none of Tim’s business, no matter how desperately he wants it to be.

“Nice to know I’m apparently good enough in bed to convince you it’s all too good to be true,” Kon says, with forced bravado.

Tim swallows, because that assessment isn’t untrue, but it’s only part of the story. “Also I think my biometrics must’ve spiked high enough to temporarily overload the system, because a bird clipped through our room while we were, uh…”

“Oh,” Kon says, blushing even harder. “So, um, now that you know this is fake, does that mean you’re going to escape?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. He swallows. “I just have to crash the programme, make it generate something so insanely huge its processing power can’t keep up.”

“Oh, right, just that,” Kon says. He very gamely swallows, and because he’s built on a very convincing facsimile of Tim’s real Kon, he stands up and nods. “So what do you need me to do?”

**

Tim is not surprised when the explosion they trigger in the simulation tips him out of it’s destabilising pixelated mess into a sketchy futuristic lab. Spaceship? Probably spaceship by the black starfield outside the windows.

He is surprised when his own exit from the gel couch matrix situation is echoed by someone else in another matching chair thing behind him.

He grabs for any kind of weapon available and rounds the central structure, ready to strike, only to find himself face to face with—

“Kon?” he demands. “You’re here too?”

Kon defuses the heat vision that had been starting to build behind his eyes, and then just stares at Tim, blushing a violent red like the heat vision had dispersed through his cheeks.

“Of course he is here too,” an annoyed voice that gives major evil scientist vibes says over the PA. “The simulation traps work best when there are two parties within them to reinforce the shared folie à deux!”

“Sh-shared?” Kon asks.

“Both of us were in the same—” Tim starts, and he understands Kon’s blush better now because he can feel his own viciously taking over his face.

“You thought I was a simulation,” Kon says, floating out of his matrix plug in chair to loom over Tim even taller than he usually is.

“You’re in lo—” Tim starts, but their captor’s voice crackles over the PA system again.

“Yes, yes, teenaged angst. You may continue your argument once my assistants have placed you back in your simulation!”

“We’re twenty-one, actually,” Tim corrects. “And you can—”

He means to tell the disembodied voice exactly where he can expect Tim’s bo staff (as soon as he finds it in one of the cargo pods here in this space station situation they’ve got going on) but Kon cuts him off by pulling Tim’s face into his hands and kissing him.

No birds clip through the walls this time, and the sensation of Kon’s TTK sweeping over him, like it’s not enough to just be touching Tim with his hands, like he has to touch all of him at once, is one that Tim hadn’t been able to fully conjure up out of his imagination. It’s different enough that Tim actually forgets for a second that they’re imprisoned on a space station and have been under for god knows how long, and he seriously considers simply climbing Kon like a tree right then and there to get the actual physical details mapped out.

“I can’t believe you thought my love confession was a simulation,” Kon murmurs against Tim’s lips.

Tim hums and kisses him again. Really, actually kisses Kon. Who really, actually wants to kiss him, too. “I meant it when I said you’re too good to be true.”

“Good thing we’re in a really shitty situation we need to figure our way out of if we want to get back to earth so I can show you the real version of that beach,” Kon says. “Because that part feels pretty on par.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, and sighs. He can hear the distant thuds of whatever sorts of robocop automata their captor has coming towards them now, and this fight’s gonna kinda suck, he thinks. At least there will be one hell of a reward for making it through to the other side. “Ready to fight for our lives?”

“With you?” Kon asks, and can’t help himself but to pull Tim in for one more kiss. “Always.”

[disillusioneddanny]

Tim watched with an amused smile as Danny stomped around their apartment, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He had made an agreement with Bruce and was now spending a week going on patrol with the Bats of Gotham and the halfa was not happy about it. In Tim’s opinion, though, Danny should have known better than to make an agreement with the Batman of all people.

It didn’t make it any less funny watching his boyfriend pout and mope about the fact that he was going to be coming out of retirement for a week.

“Do I absolutely have to do this?” Danny asked with a sigh as he flopped onto the couch that Tim was currently lying on, his head now pillowed in the vigilante’s lap as he stared up at him with the most adorable pout on his lips. It was taking everything in Tim’s power to not kiss those beautiful pink lips. How the hell did he get so lucky to have such a beautiful boyfriend?

“Yes,” Tim murmured, brushing his fingers through Danny’s hair. “You made an agreement and if you don’t, Bruce isn’t going to give you his blessing to marry me and you know, I kinda want that.”

Danny let out a loud groan, rubbing his hands against his face. “Why does his opinion have to matter so much?” he bemoaned, rubbing at his eyes.

Tim let out a hum. “I mean if we really want to get into it, it’s probably because I spent most of my adolescence trying to get the approval of Jack and Janet and then Batman and while I never got it with my biological parents, I eventually got it with my adoptive father. And now I just have an unhealthy desire to constantly have his approval,” he said with a cheeky smile.

Danny let out a huff. “I hate you,” he said. Tim smiled, leaned down and gave him a soft kiss

“You love me and you want to marry me,” Tim sang, combing his fingers through Danny’s hair lightly. “Now, are you going to go out as Phantom or do you want to go out as something else?”

Danny let out a huff of a sigh. “Phantom, I’m not subjecting myself to being a fucking bat or a bird,” he said with a grumble.

Tim just gave him a small grin. “If you say so, Boo,” he said before kissing Danny once more. “Have I mentioned how much I love you and how excited I am to go on patrols with you for a week?”

Danny let out a grunt and buried his face in Tim’s stomach as he continued to comb through the halfa’s hair. Danny had gone to Bruce to ask for his blessing in marrying Tim and Bruce had said he would only agree on the contingent that Danny had to prove that he could handle the life of being married to a vigilante. And not only that but Tim could rely on him if he was ever in trouble. Tim was pretty sure there was a comment or two about the vigilante being a trouble magnet and needing to be bailed out of situations. Tim was also pretty certain that Bruce was worried that Ra’s would find out about Tim getting married and get extremely pissed off. Which was… fair.

Danny would probably have to fight off the Demon’s head for Tim’s hand in marriage and if he spent a week on patrols in Gotham it would likely make Bruce feel a little better about siccing Danny to the wolves.

So far, Ra’s hadn’t done anything about the fact that Tim was in a relationship but he had a feeling that would change as soon as he learned about the marriage.

Eventually, the sun set, and the couple made their way down to the basement of the building where Tim shoved his boyfriend into the Nest.

“Alright, I’m almost ready so you know, change forms whenever,” Tim said as he pulled on one of his boots. Danny let out a huff and a bright ring of light wrapped around the halfa. Once Tim blinked the spots out of his vision, he smiled at the man in front of him.

Danny was beautiful when he was in his Phantom form. His white hair floated around his head in a beautiful halo, and his green eyes seemed to shine like the brightest of stars. He was magnificent and he was all Tim’s.

“I’m so excited,” Tim said, pulling his bot all the way on and tying the laces. Danny just gave him a less-than-impressed look as he crossed his arms. He watched Tim as the vigilante made his way towards his bike before he clicked his tongue.

“Nope, not using that tonight, Timmers,” he said with a small smile. Tim scowled and turned to face the man.

“One, don’t call me that. Two, what do you mean not tonight? I always use my bike on patrols,” Tim said with a sigh, he rested one hand on his hip as he looked over his boyfriend. “You’re not trying to get out of this, are you?”

Danny just gave him a shit-eating grin. “Because we’re not going to drive or grapple to do your patrols, Birdie. We’re going to fly,” he said before waving his hand. Tim felt himself get shoved into Danny’s arms before the halfa turned them both intangible and flew straight out of the nest and building.

“Phantom!” He screeched, holding onto Danny’s middle for dear life as Danny soared through the skies. “You have to at least warn me before you do this! I keep telling you that, you asshole!”

Phantom just let out a soft chuckle and spun them around in the air, his arm wrapped solidly around Tim’s waist. “Sorry, sorry,” he said before he pressed a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Now, where does your patrol route start?” he asked.

Tim just heaved out a sigh before he pointed Danny in the right direction before he patched into the comms.

“Finally! We’ve got the wonder duo with us!” Nightwing cheered. “How’s the night looking for you two?”

“We literally just started,” Red Robin said with a laugh. “Phantom, what do you hear?”

Danny let out a hum. “Mugging three streets away,” he said before he started flying in that direction.

“This is amazing,” Tim swooned as Danny landed in front of the mugger and immediately hopped into action, leaving Tim to simply watch his boyfriend take the guy down with relative ease. “He’s so hot like this, B, I think I owe you one. I mean getting to see Phantom in action? Amazing. He just took down a guy three times his size with his fists. I mean he’s not even using his powers. Oh my Ancients, now he’s comforting the victim. How is he so perfect? I might have to force him out of retirement permanently.”

“What have you done?” Red Hood hissed through the comms. “We’re going to be stuck listening to the Replacement simp over Phantom for the rest of the night and it’s your fault B.”

“I am starting to realize that now,” Batman said with a forlorn sigh. “I highly doubt that they will do this all night.”

Tim just let out a happy sigh as Phantom came over and took his hand before they started to fly together once more. This was actually heaven on earth if Tim was going to be completely honest. He smiled over at his boyfriend and future husband as they soared through the skies, Danny using his powers to keep an ear out for any possible crimes or issues on their patrol route.

“You know, this is so much different from when I was a vigilante in Amity Park,” Danny said as they landed on the top of Wayne Enterprises and looked out over the city that Tim loved so dearly. “In Amity, I was scared constantly, I had ghosts that I thought were trying to destroy me, parents who were trying to catch me and experiment on me, and the people in the town pretty much hated me. Hell, there was a whole ass hero who was dedicated to hunting me down. I felt like a villain more often than a hero,” he said with a soft sigh as he looked out over the city. Tim squeezed his hand lightly as Danny gave him a small, haunted smile.

“It’s different here,” Tim said softly, asking a question but also stating a fact.

The halfa hummed in agreement. “It is,” he said, the green in his eyes shimmered and glistened, glowing in a way that eyes didn’t naturally do. “People have been thanking me when I save them. They aren’t scared of me, they don’t run away. It’s so different.”

“I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for you, Phantom,” Tim said softly. “I’m sorry it was such a bad experience. I don’t fully understand but I do get it in a sense. There’s been times where it just feels like the most thankless job in the world.”

Danny nodded. “It does,” he murmured. “I don’t think I want to patrol every single night like you do. But I don’t think I’d mind helping out if things get bad. Like an Arkham breakout or if there’s a big mission that you all need my expertise,” he said, giving Tim a wry grin. “Maybe we can get an Arkham breakout during my week on patrols and I can really prove to Batman that I can handle myself. Or, maybe Ra’s can come and attack me or something and I can prove to him that way.”

Tim let out a laugh and wrapped his arm around Danny’s waist. “Please don’t jinx us,” he said, pressing a kiss to Danny’s cheek.

“I’ll try my best,” Danny said with a chuckle.

“Red Robin, Phantom, there’s some movement around one of the Joker’s old bases, I need you two to check it out for me. I don’t know if we’re gearing up towards another breakout and they’re preparing for their boss or what. But I’d like to be as ahead of it as possible.”

“On it Oracle!” Phantom said before he gave Tim one more deep, loving kiss before the two took off in the sky to go see what was going on.

————

Bruce Wayne stared down the man that his son, his baby boy had been dating for the last handful of years, his arms crossed tight over his chest.

“I did what you asked, Bruce!” Danny said petulantly as he stood across from him, his arms crossed over his chest in a mirror to Bruce’s. “I fought the Joker and I didn’t even kill him like Jason asked me to. I think I proved that I can hold my own against Tim’s enemies and I’ve been proving the last few years that I can take care of him. So, can I please marry your son?”

The World’s Greatest Detective gave him a steely look. To his right, Dick let out a soft chuckle.

“You do realize that Tim’s his favorite right?” Dick asked, shaking his head. “He’s not going to just let anyone marry his sweet little Timmy.”

“Hn,” Bruce said in response. He was not going to confirm or deny that Tim was in fact his favorite child. It would only start arguments between the rest of his children. Besides, Dick was correct in his assumptions. Tim was, indeed, Bruce’s favorite child. And he needed to be absolutely sure that Danny truly was worthy of his son’s hand in marriage.

Danny simply let out a groan. “What else do I have to do to prove myself!” He whined, stomping his foot in frustration. “Because I’ll fight Batman himself if it means I get to marry Tim.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Bruce said with a smug smirk.

“Bruce!” Tim exclaimed. “Will you please quit being mean to my boyfriend and just give him your blessing?”

Bruce made a face and looked between the two men before he let out a sigh. “I suppose. Danny, I give you my blessing, you can marry Tim.”

Danny’s shoulders drooped in relief. “Thank the ancients, I didn’t think Tim would appreciate me beating up his dad,” he said before he wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulders and kissed the top of Tim’s head softly.

Tim just let out a soft laugh. “He’s right, B, he would eviscerate you,” he said with a snort.

Bruce simply scowled at the couple. “I’m going to the cave,” he grumbled before stomping away. He couldn’t believe this, his precious little boy was getting married. To a boy who could fly.

Because it was always the metas, every damn time.

[theredcuyo]

I might be crazy with this one but hear me out

Batfamily PLATONIC soulmarks

Were it's a black blob that starts to take color that gives away it's form when you met said people, the more people you'll get, the bigger it is

At first, Bruce's parents were slightly worried upon seeing their son's mark, one that covered his whole torso, back and front, with only a little blank space in the place of his heart, where a tangle of lines seemed to met

Nor Thomas, with his years of medical experience, Martha with her wisdom or Alfred, who had seen far more than many, had ever look at something similar, although, they we're soon relieved, "Bruce will deeply love many people, and many people will return said love"

When the boy started to gain cognition, some color finally appeared in between all the black, a collar of pearls, like Martha's favorite, an scalpel, the one Thomas works with, and to Alfred's surprise, a cup of tea, mirroring the one he was drinking when they discocevered it, one that also connects all three to the tangle of lines around the heart

After that night, though, Bruce thinks it's impossible he'll ever get more, he doesn't want to get more, if it means he'll feel the same pain as now if he loses more of the people they represent

Then, many years later, after taking Dick in, a blue bird mid fly colors itself, a faint line joins the tangle.

He sighs whenever he sees it, after his son is not at home anymore, it doesn't faint, but will it really get better?

It happens again, when he finds a boy trying to steal his tires, it's another bird, a red one, it looks as if it were giving you his back, but it still connects to the hearth

It hurts to look at it, it's worse than before, he gets why it doesn't look at him now, he failed Jason-

Then, a few weeks into adjusting to Tim, he sees a new mark, and- it's a lighter tone of red

Another bird. This one is on a branch, it is making a nest

Then, when a girl comes in too, another bird, a purple one, sits on the branch with Tim's, this one also seems to be looking away

Just like Steph, he thinks

Along them, the shape of a smiling bat hangs upside down from the same branch, black but visible by golden edges that give away it's form, Cass

There are few more, here and there, hints of green when he met Barbara and Jim, Babs seem to fake the form of a hand next to Steph's and Cass's

Yellow, red and blue combine into two familiar symbols after he mets Clark and Diana, the only time he ever complains to his mark, why these people, why them, they're idiots

They're his best friends, but still idiots, he will never tell them, but they probably know anyway

Then, a new bird appears, and so does a color, a deep shade of green, this one looks like it's about to attack a prey

But, as Bruce gets time to know Damian, he realizes, it's not attacking, it's protecting the rest of the picture

A yellow figure of the sun gives it light, when he mets Duke

Maybe all the lines in the tangle have color then, maybe not

[justherebecause15]

Pet names Bruce uses for his kids.

I'm having feelings so let's do this crap

Bruce's petnames are all either really old fashioned or strange. very few normal ones.

Dick: Chum, Dickie, kiddo, his little bird, baby. I feel like Bruce calls all his babies baby because. well. that's what they are. Dick won't let Bruce call him anything when he moves out. Bruce still does.

Babs: she's more of like a niece to him, but i can totally see him calling her barbie and kiddo and little girl.

Jason: Jay, lad, Jaylad, Jaybird (he 86'd that one when Roy started), bean. He calls him bean because he was a little bean. a tiny infant. he still does it when Jason's 6'4.

Tim: Sweetheart, buddy, timbit, Tater Tot, and the much longer Tim The Tater Tot.

Cass: Sweetheart, honey, sugarpea or sugarsnap, princess, my moon.

Steph: Steph, and Angel. sometimes, she's very tired and swear that he calls her "stephy". she's right.

Damian: With Damian, I like to think he reuses his mother's nickname of "beloved". I feel like he knows Damian misses his mama, but Bruce is one hell of an emotionally stunted alpaca and doesn't know what to do about it, so that's his little way of acknowledging her presence. Damian loves it. he also calls him dames, and sometimes little pear or cactus, because he's prickly. like a prickly pear cactus

Duke: he calls duke champ. like unironically. as well as kiddo and sport. Duke calls him an old man. Once he finds out about his powers he calls him a bunch of names to do with that. His little firefly(ONLY OUTSIDE OF GOTHAM), his lightbulb, starlight, sunny, my sun. Once he called him lighting mcqueen. Duke dyed his hair red in his sleep for that one.

I don't really know a lot of the other characters, like harper or cullen or luke. but of the ones I've got a grasp on, these what i think they'd be.

[ladytauria]

4, 23, 27 whichever kiss you like better for dicktim

[this was for the different types of kisses meme, and 27 was for Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap. i did also kind of include 23: A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating, but not really.]

i love all of them, & if i could have figured out a way to work in all three i would have! but 27 i hadn’t gotten before so i decided to go with it <3

this turned into smut sdfghjk and then i also ended up with two different endings--one with cuddles and one with more smut (implied). i decided to post the "cuddles" version on tumblr, but the "more smut" version will be on ao3!

>> AO3 <<

Dick has barely put his book down when Tim slips into his lap. It’s surprising—but hardly unwelcome. “Hi,” he says, tipping his head back a little.

“Hi,” Tim replies, a little smile on his mouth. He straddles Dick’s thighs, trailing his fingers over his throat. His touch is cool—Tim has always run a little colder than average. Makes him nice to snuggle with on summer nights… not that Dick ever needs an excuse to pull him close.

“Can I help you?” Dick asks. He skims his hands over Tim’s legs, stopping at Tim’s ass. He can’t resist squeezing. He grins as a flush steals over Tim’s face, his eyes fluttering.

Tim rocks back into Dick’s hands. “Mm. I think so." His voice is a little breathier than before. “There’s this, hm, pesky problem I have.”

Dick tips his head back. “Oh?” he raises his brows and squeezes again, a little more firmly.

Tim exhales softly—not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, but a little of both all the same. “Mhmmm,” he draws out his hum. “See, no one’s kissed me since breakfast.” He throws in a little pout; bottom lip sticking out like the sweetest of temptations. 

Dick laughs. He can’t help it. Tim’s whole face brightens at it, the moon to Dick’s sun.

"That is a problem." Dick says, as Tim leans down, their noses brushing, strands of his hair tickling Dick's cheeks. "Let me fix that for you," he murmurs as he closes the distance between them and slots their mouths together.

Tim sighs into his mouth, melting against Dick’s body. He tastes like artificial grape and sugar. Dick’s mouth twitches.

“Zesti?” he murmurs against Tim’s mouth.

“Mhm. Shut up and kiss me,” Tim demands, tangling his fingers in Dick’s hair and tugging.

Dick laughs, and kisses him again; licking into Tim’s mouth and chasing that taste through every crevice of Tim’s mouth. He drinks in every noise Tim makes, every twitch and shudder of his body.

He could do this all day; kissing Tim, feeling him fall apart in his arms, over and over again.

His body has other ideas. His cock is chubbing up under the heat of Tim’s body on his.

Tim’s next moan is breathier. More of his weight falls against Dick, putting them chest-to-chest. He can feel Tim's length, hot and half-hard, pressing against his belly.

Dick snakes a hand between their bodies, squeezing Tim lightly through his pants. Tim gasps; Dick swallows it, and then pulls back just enough to say,

"Should I kiss you here, too, Timmy?"

He's treated to Tim shuddering; his fingers digging into Dick's shoulders, blunt nails biting into his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The pricks of pain make his belly tighten, the heat in his groin growing hotter.

Tim rocks his hips. "Tempting," he says, a slight husk to his voice that makes Dick want to sink his teeth in him.

So he does, biting Tim's lip and getting another soft gasp. Tim rocks against him again, harder, making both of them moan.

"But not what you want, is it, pretty bird?" Dick hazards, stroking Tim once through his pants before grabbing his ass with both hands and yanking him forward, rolling their hips together. Tim's grip on him turns bruising.

"A-ah— Yes, fuck, Dick, please—"

Dick laughs, kissing Tim again. "You wanna get off just like this, hm? Make a mess out of yourself?"

Now that he's said it, Dick wants to see it. Wants to watch Tim grind on him until he comes, until there's a wet patch on the front of his pants. It would be so obvious, too, in the light blue sweats he's wearing.

And then maybe he can put Tim on his knees, have him suck him off while Dick rubs at his groin with his foot, making Tim get hard again while soaked in his own cum.

Tim shudders again. He rocks his hips.

“C’mon, Timmy,” he whispers. “I wanna see you. You’re so pretty when you fall apart for me.”

“Ah— Dick.” Tim gasping his name is one of the sweetest sounds Dick has ever heard. He pulls him in a little harder, putting more pressure on Tim’s cock. It puts more pressure on him, too—it’s hard to resist the urge to rock up into Tim’s heat, but he manages.

There are some perks to iron clad self-control. He’d thank Bruce, but that might get a little awkward.

Dick presses kisses along the length of Tim’s neck, sucking bruises into the skin there. “Love the way you say my name, pretty bird,” he whispers. “Say it again for me?”

“Dick— Dick, Dick, please, I—”

His shoulders are going to have bruises in the shape of Tim’s hands for days. Dick is looking forward to it.

“Yes, Tim, baby— C’mon, come for me—”

Tim stills in his hands. A shudder rolls down his spine, his breath hitching. Dick’s eyes are trained on his face; he’s breathless with wanting. Tim’s lips part. His face is beautifully pink, lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

Dick can feel the heat of his release even through their clothing; the way it spreads. He lets go of Tim’s hips as Tim collapses against him, panting into Dick’s neck.

Dick holds him, stroking over his spine as he peppers kisses against the side of his head. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Tim shivers—Dick feels him mouth at his neck before his hand creeps between their bodies.

“What about you?” he asks, pressing the heel of his palm against Dick’s crotch. The pressure feels amazing, and Dick moans, letting himself grind up into it.

“You wanna—wanna stroke me off or suck me?” Dick’s voice is distinctly breathless now too, and he can feel Tim’s smirk against his skin.

“Stroke you.” Tim pulls away, so he’s looking down at Dick—a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I want—I want you to come all over my hand so I can lick it clean.”

Dick shudders. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he tells him, before grabbing the back of his neck and bringing him down into another kiss.

It’s not as gentle as the other one—this one is hot, messy, more teeth and tongue than actual kiss. Tim works a hand into Dick’s sweats, getting his hand around Dick’s cock. Trapped as it is, it’s hard for him to get a good rhythm going, but that hardly matters with Tim atop him like this, panting into his mouth and still soaked with his own come.

It doesn’t take him long to come—and he nearly comes twice when Tim raises his hand to lick Dick’s spend off of it.

“Death of me,” he repeats.

Tim just laughs at him before sticking two fingers in his mouth to clean off the rest. He hollows his cheeks, maintaining eye contact with Dick the entire time.

Dick can’t get hard again, but definitely not for lack of trying.

He throws his head back and groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Menace,” he says to the ceiling, and hears Tim laugh again.

“Your favorite menace,” Tim teases, before he shifts, moving so he’s sitting sideways in Dick’s lap, his head tucked against his shoulder. Dick’s arms wrap around him automatically. He rests his cheek atop Tim’s head.

“Yeah,” Dick says. “Definitely my favorite.”

[britcision]

Happy WIP Wednesday again friends! I have some more of chapter 17 for you after last week’s break (it has been a fucking BUSY week too holy shit)

Just a lil snack while the lore churns in the background

—————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee part ii

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought).

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked nonchalantly.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little push.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 5 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence e @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog g @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear r @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook

[green4allseasons]

Hi Green! 9, 12, 15 and 17 for the Fanfic/Author Ask Game but you don't have to answer all of them if you don't want to. Oh! and 8 specifically for "The Bird and The Hood." :)

OOoooo I love these questions! Thank you for asking! 8. What is your favorite line/section from The Bird and The Hood --This is tough! I've never really thought about it! But I admit. that I loved this chapter, and particularly this little argument--

“Where the hell do you get off acting like you’re dispensable? Like no one needs you, too? Did I miss you?!” he shouted, latching on to Jason’s earlier question, not realizing how much it bothered him until now. “What the hell kind of a sick question is that?” As if Jason had simply left for a little while. As if Tim had ever once thought that he might be coming back.

It was like asking a frozen world lost in orbit if it mourned for its Sun.

His hand fell limply to his side. “Replacement?” he echoed bitterly as he pinned Jason with a glare, “When are you going to wake up and realize that You’re. Not. Replaceable. Jason. You never were!”

Not to him. Never to him."

9. How did you get into writing fanfiction? Honestly, it was a eureka moment! One minute I'm sitting and enjoying my show, and the next I'm concocting an entire storyline in my head from beginning to end. Some scribbled outlines on a handful of papers and an official AO3 account later and suddenly I'm posting chapter after chapter of a story that wouldn't get out of my head. 12. What was the first fandom you wrote for? The DC universe is the first and only! I've come up with some thoughts and potential story ideas for other fandoms like (ATLA, Kyoshi, or some BeefLeaf angst) But DCU and particularly the YJTV fandom has been the only one I've ever actually put those thoughts to paper. 15. Does anyone in your real life know you write fanfiction? Two people exactly! My husband and my sibling. My husband is very peripherally supportive and he gets a kick out of it when I ask him questions about particular DCU fandoms that I'm not familiar with. But he's never read fanfiction before, so he's never read my work! My younger sibling, however, they know all the idea spirals I've ever descended and they've read chapters here and there.. but they also know absolutely nothing about DCU! Haha! So quite the opposite. But they are the two people dearest to me so they're the only two people that I invite into this little world I've created, and I like to keep it that way because it feels like something just for me. 17. What is something that you recently felt proud of in your writing? Okay, real talk, but I am quite Ace. And while I know there are plenty of a-spec individuals out there who are masters of the romance realm, that has never been me!! I've written quite a few stories but they've all followed either Aro characters or had no romantic subplot. All of this is to say that I have really been enjoying the fun new challenge of exploring romance in my writing. And what I've found is that I really love exploring sensuality and touch. And I don't know, but I have felt proud of it, and I hope readers are enjoying it as much as I certainly am!

I think those were all the questions! Thank you thank you for asking! They were so much fun to think through - Green 💚

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me - a Magnus Archives AU, Chapter Three

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead.

Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe.

He knew this man, knew this man, as if from that past life, and with that undefined memory came only good feelings, and so, he did not struggle.

AO3

Art by @iiiumihottie

Martin sat atop the highest tower of the Castle of the End and watched the sun set in the sea.

He liked doing that. It meant facing away from London, away from the slowly dying world that trapped them all like fish in a net.

No, he thought, that’s a lousy simile, and he pulled out his notebook. “Like a,” he mumbled, tapping his chin with the pencil. “Like… birds in a net? No, the net thing isn’t dire enough. Come on, you can do this.”

His green-lensed glasses (which Sasha had made so he could see during the day) made his hair seem even more coppery, and brought out the rosy paleness of his cheeks. He was dressed head to toe in black (“A phase,” Sasha called it, and she was correct), and he felt properly dramatic. The outfit was pretty great, honestly. The fitted velvet coat with a subtle pattern of skulls, the double-breasted shaping vest (which Tim said he didn’t need, but he felt better wearing), leather boots up to his knees, and a puff silk tie… definitely appropriate attire for doomed words about a terrible world.

He hoped Mike was watching. 

Martin exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and looked at the sea again. Mike probably was watching, but Martin couldn’t tell. Mike tended to do things at such a distance that even Martin’s abilities couldn’t pick him up. 

Whatever. Mike had weird hobbies.

Sasha and Tim really weren’t sure about him. Mike was weird; Sasha and Tim were right about that. However, they thought Mike just wanted to sleep with him. Which, fair. That was a very pleasant pastime.

Still. “I swear,” Martin muttered, tapping his pencil on the page. “The jealousy is just absurd. It’s not as though we all don’t share a—oh!” A memory surfaced of Jonah putting down one of the insurrections back in the day, and he scribbled quickly. “Tar unlike tar, sucking down and holding, // black around hands that pointlessly pierce // still pointed into fading air.”

Yep. That would do. Martin was proud of this one. Nice and gloomy, and with a historical reference Jonah would like, it also had a lovely rhythm; maybe Tim could put it to one of his little lute pieces, or—

Martin felt the tug. Like a hook in his heart, somehow unmooring his thoughts and physically lifting his head as though turning his face to the sky. That was Jonah, calling him; Jonah, exercising the power he had over all living beings (and especially whatever Martin was), ordering him to make his way to the throne room.

Martin sighed. “I was supposed to have the afternoon off,” he muttered, and tucked his notebook and pencils away. He stood, coat billowing in the wind, curly hair caught as if with fingers. 

The red, red sun really seemed to be swallowed by the vast and bottomless sea, not merely sinking behind it. He’d never had the courage to ask if that impression was true. It was… too much to think about the Vast swallowing the sun.

Tug.

Sigh.

Martin stepped right over the edge.

#

He fell the length of the tower, straight as his pencil. He fell, completely relaxed, other than one hand lightly on his glasses so he didn’t lose them (again) and make Sasha mad. And then he reached out, grabbed a thick, stone window sill, stopped his plummet, and pulled himself back up and through that space as though he’d landed on a spring.

He hurtled into the room, landing before the throne with a flourish and a heavy sound and his coat spread behind him like dark wings. “Ta-da,” he said, grinning.

As hoped, Jonah smiled. “Very nice.” A sucker for theatrics, was Jonah. He was all in purple again today, a color that somehow spoke of old corpses and the bruising of livor mortis. It fit him well, of course: smooth along his lithe limbs, revealing the power in his slender form. Eternally young, eternally dying; what a contradiction.

“I try.” Martin stood and tucked the sun-blocking glasses into his coat. It was nice to be able to see without pain.

The assembled Court were less impressed with his drama. Jared rolled his eyes and stomped off to the corner as though dismissed. (His latest suit was already straining at the seams; constantly changing, shifting, he went through more fabric than Martin thought a small country might need.) Jude shook her head and conjured tiny flames around her fingers, as though threatening to burn him. But she did that with everyone, all the time, so Martin didn’t take it personally.

Jane was here today. She’d been jockeying hard for a position in Court, and it really didn’t matter that they didn’t need another representative of the Corruption here. It wasn’t like Jonah would send her away—he loved infighting. She, at least, looked amused, though she crossed her hole-riddled arms as if disapproving.

Whatever. Martin hadn’t done it for any of them.

“I have a task for you,” said Jonah, rising from his throne, stepping away from the shiny black edifice with its eye-like rubies. The power wafting before and around him always disturbed, always made simple breathing hard. 

Martin would never be used to it. “Oh?” he said.

“Annabelle has had a vision,” said Jonah. “Would you do me the kindness of witnessing it, then acting upon it? I trust your judgment—however you choose to respond,” he added, and that wasn’t praise at all, but a threat.

Martin was deeply startled to find himself in trouble. Do this right, or else, is what that meant. Why? What had happened? Had he done something wrong? He knew better than to ask these things where anyone could hear. “Of course. She’s in the usual spot?”

“Naturally. Good luck.”

Good luck? Oh, boy. It must be really bad.

Martin was an expert at hiding when it was really bad. He smiled, bowed with a flourish, and walked lightly out of the throne room, performing for all the eyes on him. Jude smirked at him, smoke rising from her feet, but she didn’t make a move. None of them did.

They knew better than to try, even if Martin was in trouble for some unknown thing. Martin could defend himself, thanks to what Jonah had done to him. Still, he was annoyed that this threat should come out of fucking nowhere. He’d get to the source of it, even if he had to dig, and then he’d suck it dry.

#

On his way to the augury, Martin considered the facts.

He knew he was favored. He’d damn well earned it. His position as vampire (the only vampire) was an important one; Oliver had brought all the vampires to an end, long ago, and Jonah had created Martin specially as some sort of response. Martin was unique, transformed from mere mortal to serve Jonah and the End forever. 

Of all those who lived in this world, only he, Jonah, and Oliver lived past thirty. It was a wild thing.

Martin had earned that excision of humanity, worked his way up from fucking nobody to Jonah’s right hand. So most likely, this weird threat might not actually have been about him at all. Whenever Annabelle got involved, things were… squirrelly. Uncertain. Which was funny as hell, given that she was the most certain being in all of creation. Everything always felt pretty weird in the between-times, when she’d died and had yet to be reborn.

Martin was good at putting himself in other people’s shoes. If this was some weird, indirect setup to discredit Martin and then remove him, there was jack-all he could do. He couldn’t run; Jonah owned that part of him. He could hardly fight for the same reason; if Jonah really had decided it was the end, then only the lingering drama was keeping him alive. So, believing this was a step toward removing him would do nothing but paralyze him, helpless with fear.

If, on the other hand, he chose to believe that Jonah was scared (which the latter would never admit in a million years), that would activate moderately protective instincts on Martin’s part, and provide a path forward. It was a lot easier to be clever on someone else’s behalf. For pragmatism alone, it made sense to believe the second option. That settled, Martin stepped into Annabelle’s special space.

The augury was not his favorite area. It had no windows. Weird pillars loomed like trees, following no pattern he could understand. Between, around, threaded through them all was so much web that there was always only one path to walk. It was never the same path. It was never expected—but there was always only one.

Martin was a poet. He got the metaphor. He also wasn’t in the mood. “Annabelle, do we have to do this today?” he said, because the only path in front of him curved immediately right into wispy whiteness and went who the hell knew where.

In response, somewhere, she laughed. There was absolutely no way to know where that laugh came from.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Sure. Fire is a thing, you know.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the game, Martin. He’s not here. He can’t hear you. He can’t… judge you for it.”

Martin was silent for just a moment in the wake of that. She never did that—just went right for the heart of things, for the key to his survival, for his position in the Court. For how he’d made his way with Elias, because he’d originally been of the Web. “Right,” Martin said, lighter than he felt. “So am I gonna have to burn the web, or…”

“So inelegant.” Annabelle lowered as though floating from the ceiling, materializing from a space where nothing had been before, her bulbous body graceful in spite of its proportions. “You can do so much better than that, Martin.”

He beamed at her. “Sure,” he said. “But you aren’t in charge of the bloody world, are you?”

“No,” she said, lightly. “And that is why we forgive you.”

Well, what the fuck. Wow.

She landed before him, towering overhead. All eight of her black, almond eyes crinkled, charmingly horrific, and her white fangs gleamed.

Everyone was showing off today. Martin wished he had a walking stick to twirl. “Look, what’s got him spooked? What on earth did you say to him?”

“You see he is afraid.” She sounded so approving.

“I see he’s going to be angry if you don’t show me whatever it is he sent me here to see.”

Annabelle smiled. “You are unique, Martin, among the End’s creations.”

“Uh-huh,” said Martin, who already knew that and was unimpressed with stalling.

“There is now another.”

He blinked. “Another… what, vampire?” he said, and could not decide in that hot second if he was pleased to no longer be alone, or frightened that he might no longer be of use.

“That would make neither of you unique,” Annabelle reasonably pointed out.

“Still stalling,” Martin reasonably pointed back.

“Very well.” She raised all eight hands.

Between her outstretched fingers, web formed from nowhere.

It grew and lengthened, stretched like dreams, and tightened, and spun, and suddenly, Martin could see. As if the holes between each strand led to another place, glimpses elsewhere in reality. Martin’s gaze flicked between the spaces in the web, focusing hard, working to pull the shreds of things Annabelle showed him into a single picture.

It was a run-down house, larger than most, clearly created before the Victorian era, and just as clearly inhabited by the Corruption. He was shown through the door (magically sealed), past a kitchen ruined with mildew and slime, sent left and right down narrow, stifling hallways wallpapered dark, past a living room (sealed, rotting), past a second (not sealed, filthy). Up the stairs, with all those rooms, every single one empty. To the attic, which contained a small collection of clothes and books, a somehow bright spot in this utterly ruined house.

And then the house collapsed.

Martin startled, unprepared. Chaos reigned, insane because it was shown to him in silence. Oliver’s Fingers swarmed the place, and there was fire, and horror, and violent death.

“Shit,” Martin said. “What the hell was that about?” 

“This,” said Annabelle, and the view between the webs pulled back, focused, and now showed him a boy.

It was hard to see the boy. 

Martin squinted, blinked, rubbed his eyes. “What’s that?”

“A child.” 

“Funny. Seriously, what’s that?”

“Can’t see him well, can you?” she said.

No, Martin could not. 

The kid was small and brown and scrawny. He looked maybe thirteen; he wore a weird combination of clothes—there were at least three eras of fashion involved here, which made little sense. His hair was long and wavy, but not in the way of intent; it just looked more like nobody had remembered to cut it in a while.

And he was oddly fuzzy. Martin couldn’t focus on his face. 

“I don’t get it,” said Martin.

“The child is foueteen years old.”

“Okay,” said Martin. “Still don’t get it.”

“He remains Uncertain.”

Martin blinked. The boy seemed to grow blurrier, and Martin had to squint to see him again—with his little green vest and his big wool jacket and his boots that seemed too large. “He can’t be.”

“He is.”

“What… no, he can’t be. The End would have claimed him.”

“It did not. The Fingers were there to take him to Oliver.”

“So… it did claim him.”

“Not for sacrifice.”

There was nothing else. “Okay, hold on. That’s not how this works.”

“Yet there he is. Jonah is frightened.”

At least this explained Jonah’s tension. Jonah hated the unknown; when he knew what was going on, he was all smiles and smooth control. When he didn’t….

Honestly, this was enough to frighten Martin, too. “How? Why? “What is going on?

“You’ll need to hurry if you want to get to him first,” said Annabelle. “Here is the part where you have choice: Oliver has dispatched his Fingers to find this boy and take him.”

“Okay,” said Martin slowly.

“You either let that happen… or, you bring him here, alive.”

“I really don’t understand this,” said Martin. “Does it matter if Oliver gets him first?”

“I don’t know. Does it?”

“Come on, Annabelle.”

“He frightens Jonah. What do you think?” she said with a sweet smile.

Martin sighed. That would definitely put the kid in direct danger—but on the other hand, he was fourteen and Uncertain, and he should already have been taken. None of this made sense. “What will Oliver do with him?”

“What do you think he’ll do with him?”

“Right. So you’re useless.” Martin frowned. “Wait. When did Oliver dispatch his Fingers?”

“Half an hour ago.”

So he had to decide right the fuck now. “Shit. Where?”

She gave him an address.

Damned Fingers. Martin could hold them off on his own for a while, but protecting a kid at the same time would be difficult. If he could at least slow them down… 

No, that wouldn’t be enough. No one in the Court would help him after Jonah’s little show earlier. Martin had no time to reach out to contacts, who could be anywhere this time of day. So few in London could stand up to the Fingers, anyway, and almost no one would. This was all on him. “Fuck!” Martin said, and raced back through the augury, back the way he’d come, in search of a window.

He found one and leaped.

Flight as a vampire was fast. Very fast. But even doing this, it would take him several minutes to reach London, never mind find this particular address.

He hoped Mike was watching.

He hoped Mike picked up on the fact that he was clearly in a rush—and possibly in trouble.

He hoped Mike would choose to do something about it and help. 

Martin had no voice to cry as he flew (his body went away when he did this, somehow, into another form he’d never seen but scared people plenty), but if he could have spoken, he’d just be shouting profanity on repeat.

#

Jon peered from his branch and tried to gauge if that particular bakery would be worth stealing from.

Two Hunt-Aligned people walked beneath his tree, their eyes yellow, their fingers crooked like claws. Both breathed heavily through clenched teeth, and one of them was frothing, but Jon paid them no mind. It wasn’t as though they would see him. Almost no one ever did.

Carriages and dead horses clopped by. People in fine clothes swooped here and there, laughing, talking; music piped out of shops, and the sun shone on the water so brightly that it hurt to look at. The alleyways had so much mud in them, but out here, it was mostly worn-smooth brick-shapes to walk on (cobblestone, he suddenly knew). The smells were fishy—the ocean was right there—but there were good smells, too. Like that bread.

“What do you think?” he whispered to himself, to his past self, to the Answers that sometimes came.

There were no answers today, but that was all right. Jon had it down to a science. He was good at stealing; not that he liked to think of it as stealing. He always helped out; he cleaned things, or reorganized bad shelving. It’s not like he’d ever stuck around long enough for anyone to complain.

Once he'd realized no one could see him, things... simplified.

At first, it had been just horrible? Frightening. Disturbing? And he still had yet to figure out why, but after a while, it was honestly a relief. No one ever chased him down or threw him out. No one yelled at him. He was never caught, or mistreated, or bitten. Fingers marched right past him on the street as though he did not exist. He’d gotten to the point that he wasn’t sure if he’d even be sacrificed at age thirty. Maybe he wouldn’t. What on earth would that be like?

Regardless, Jon liked living on his own, without Amherst or anyone to bother him. He liked sneaking into people’s houses and sleeping on their roofs or in their spare rooms, cleaning their kitchens for them and taking a little food. He liked the glimpses he got of their lives while doing so. Maybe it was creepy, he didn’t know—but he’d never met anyone else doing what he did, so he couldn’t honestly tell.

That bread smelled good. He licked his lips. Puberty (which sucked quite a bit more than books had warned him) had definitely increased his appetite, and he did not like that, but he sort of understood why. The body needed fuel to grow, and all. Logic said to wait until closer to day’s end, when he could slip inside and stand in an out-of-the-way place and go unnoticed while they closed up. To pass the time, he watched the sea. 

Vast. He knew; that water was owned, completely, and to step in it would be swept away. Some days, he was tempted, just because he wanted to know what it felt like.

Some adults of the Lonely spooked by beneath him, bringing cold like a cloud, and he shivered. The sun was low in the sky; he guessed he had an hour or so of daylight left, which meant he needed to figure out where he was sleeping for the night. Possibly the bakery, but he’d learned the hard way that bakeries opened so bloody early, so he wouldn’t get as much sleep as he’d wanted once he finished cleaning their ovens, or whatever, so—

Someone gasped. 

He looked. Ah; more Fingers. They didn’t mean anything. They were always here, marching after someone, dragging someone out of their homes or down the street. Except these ones seemed to be… looking at him? That made no sense. How could they be looking at him?

People moved aside. A couple of carriages stopped dead as the small contingent marched, their heads turned definitely toward him, and for the first time all day, his instinct (his past self, his Answers, his whatever it was) spoke up: Run.

His past self was never wrong. He leaped out of the tree and ran.

Jon wasn’t used to running. He was breathless almost at once, but joyful; it felt like flying to go and go and go without having to stop at the end of a hall or turn around, and he laughed, arms pumping, hoping they wouldn’t catch him just yet. Maybe this was it! Maybe they’d finally take him, and he’d learn what it was to die and be reborn!

But not yet! Not yet!

He dove through traffic. Darted between carriages pulled by dead horses, raced around ladies with enormous skirts and startlement, dodged away from men who nearly tripped over him as he raced by.

The Fingers kept coming, marching, and everyone who saw them got out of the way.

No one saw him, and he was slowed by their presence.

He was also running out of street. This road ended ahead at more ocean, and none of the alleyways would work—a dead end would be the end of his flight. Damn, he hadn’t been thinking; he should have gone south down Warminster. Jon didn’t know what to do, how to hide, where to go—

And a man appeared in front of him as if woven out of air.

The man was large, and handsome; he had a kind face, a face that made Jon want to smile, and red-gold hair that gleamed in the setting sun, and little green spectacles that hid his eyes. He wore what was, Jon already knew, the finest pieces of clothing he had ever seen.

The weird thing was… he was familiar. Weirder yet? He saw Jon. “Shit!” said the man, and grabbed him.

Jon yipped.

The man (who smelled so good, making Jon suddenly aware of his own less than great odor) put Jon down behind him, said, “Sorry about this,” and spun in place to kick at the approaching empty things.

They went down like a row of books pushed over from one end, and from them rose a weird, terrible moaning, a horrible, hollow sound that didn’t seem like it could come from throats.

Jon gawked. “You actually hurt them?” He’d never seen anyone do that before.

“Time to go!” said the man, and picked him up again like he weighed nothing.

“Wait, what—” Jon found himself tossed over the man’s shoulder like a sack of laundry. 

The man took off at a run. This was… far faster than anyone should be able to run. His stomach turned.

(Jon knew him. He knew this man, knew this man, as if from that past life, and with that undefined memory came only good feelings, and so, he did not struggle.)

“Sorry!” said the man, leaping between people Jon had already dodged, jumping over a carriage he’d already avoided, racing full-speed back the way Jon had come.

Jon couldn’t get his breath back. He never knew people could be this strong. “Are you Hunt?” he gasped.

“Nope!” said the man, and slowed just enough to glance behind. 

Lined by rowhouses and hungry sea, by streetlamps and stores, the street had finally emptied in the wake of all this chaos, and now Jon could see just how many Fingers were after him. There were a lot. More than he’d ever seen go after anyone. As he watched, more stepped out of alleys (presumably not dead ends, or maybe called off other missions), adding to the ranks. They came fast, fast as Martin could move, faces impassive, arms pumping hard.

Martin. That was the man’s name.

“Shit!” said Martin again, and ran faster.

This was like one of those crazy books he’d found in the closet, with princesses being carried off by ogres. “You can see me?” he gasped.

“Sort of!” said Martin.

“Am I being sacrificed?” Jon managed. His stomach felt awful, bouncing on this man’s shoulder; it definitely wasn’t great. 

“Don’t know yet!” Martin said.

It had been so long since anybody had spoken to him at all.  “What’s happening?” Jon asked between juddering footsteps, still catching his breath. “Who are you? Why did you attack them? Won’t they kill you? Why did you grab me? How did you actually damage them? Where are we going?”

“Hold on, chap,” said the man, and did not answer.

The smells were amazing, mixing at this speed. Salt and fish from the sea. Oil and perfumes from various shops, signs swinging as they passed. Blood from various bins, sometimes visibly stuffed with bodies. And however Martin smelled, which was really nice, though Jon could tell he was getting his own mustiness all over these nice clothes, and he felt sort of bad for that.

The man stopped running. It was very sudden. 

Before them stood a new guy. Jon knew what this one was without being told: Vast. He was right there, but seemed far away. A scar like lightning crawled up from his indecently unbuttoned shirt, clutching (caressing?) his throat. He had white hair and bright blue eyes, and he grinned at Jon’s rescuer (kidnapper?) as though walking around with smelly teenagers was a normal thing to do.

“Help,” said Martin.

“One date,” said the lightning man.

Jon wasn’t sure he’d heard that right.

“I already owe you a date!” said Martin.

“Right! You’ll owe a second,” said the lightning man.

(Mike. His name was Mike. How did Jon know his name was Mike?)

Jon twisted to look back. The Fingers were coming. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him what was happening. “Why are you doing this?” he asked again.

“Come on, Mike!” said Martin.

“All right, all right,” said Mike. “Backup or rescue?”

“Can’t risk him. Rescue, then backup?”

Mike eyed Jon. Squinted. “I can’t see him very well. That’s weird, mate.”

“Mike!”

“Sure. Rescue, then backup. With your weird invisible kid.”

Jon was thrown.

He gasped. Mike caught him (and he smelled so good, too, like soap and air and ocean and other things Jon couldn’t name, and he felt very self-conscious). “If you die,” said Mike, “I will dig you up and fuck your corpse.”

Jon twisted to gawk up at him.

Mike was smiling at Martin like he knew a secret. No indication he’d just said an absolutely insane thing.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Weirdo.”

So… Mike wasn’t serious? Who would joke about things like that? He wasn’t even Corru-

And suddenly they were high, higher, so very high in the air that Jon could barely see the black and copper spot that was his rescuer, turning toward the things pursuing him.

Jon gasped again.

Then they went even higher, and his rescuer was gone.

chapter four

[aubstacle-of-course]

Thoughts on Canada (mainly Toronto), having finally visited as an adult (bit long so under the cut):

Y’all love your flag almost as much as we do in the US, but you also fly the flags of lots of other countries - what is that about? I couldn’t figure out why what went where - is it like honoring the origins of nearby businesses or something?

Toronto is very hip, queer, and fashionable

There is SO MUCH FOOD in Toronto, I mean SO MUCH, utterly overwhelming, I don’t know how any of them stay in business, I swear at least half of the shops were just food. Bit of a dearth of good vintage despite the fashionable residents, because EVERYTHING IS JUST FUCKING FOOD. I didn’t realize it was such a foodie hotspot!

Canada might have a reputation for politeness overall, but drivers in Toronto are still aggressive and rude as shit, dog bless :’) Saw someone flip the bird in traffic and saw someone straight up flipped off their bike as they were struck by a car right in front of us (they seemed alright in the moment, thankfully, though their bike was smashed and I’m pretty sure that’s gonna come back to haunt them medically - lucky y’all have healthcare!)

On that note, lots of bikes in the city, definitely more bike than scooter centric, but the bike lanes are almost as dismal as in US cities so pretty dangerous for bikers

Better public transportation though, with the trolly system, though the lattice of trolly lines overhead is a bit oppressive, shame it would be absurdly costly to update it and bury them instead

The trolly system complicates things and in general your roads are rather confusing, dog bless - so many major roads in parallel in some areas, trying to get from the beach back across to our apartment was convoluted as hell

The beach was really lovely though, love all the swans on the lake! I imagine it must be very nice in the summer

No free public parking anywhere??? The Green P was pretty reasonable rates though

Niagara was beautiful of course, Canada side is definitely better than NY for the view, but ofc it was an absolute shitshow with everyone gathered to view the eclipse (it was unfortunately cloudy as shit, so everyone cheered every time the sun snuck out which was fun, only got to see totality for a few seconds but we were lucky to see it at all and it was still super cool!)

Tooooooo many people trying to board the train back from Niagara so some people got in a fight lol

Tim Hortons is just Canadian Dunkin’, fight me lol

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

Oh The Things Our Hands Do: a Bird of Prey spinoff

SURPRISE @roxie-roo IT'S ALL ANGST >:) everyone else I hope you enjoy :3

-

"I'm so proud of you, Tim..."

[Grian was slain by SolidarityGaming][GoodTimesWithScar died]

Jimmy was... oh Void he felt like he was going to puke. Bile stung the back of his throat but he swallowed it down.

The grass below him was slowly becoming stained red. A dark pool slowly spreading over the hillside, thick and warm and seeping into Jimmy's jeans at the knees.

At first he felt like crying. Sobbing and clinging onto Grian's body before they had to bury him and Scar. Jimmy wondered if the two would want to be buried together...

But as he reached forward and grabbed Grian's red sweater, he felt a little giggle bubble up. He pulled his friend closer and pulled his sword from his chest, laughing just a bit louder. His hands shook as he put his sword back in his inventory. Oh he was so shaky and his mind was racing and why couldn't he stop laughing?!

Jimmy took one last look at Grian's body. His best friend, someone who he considered a brother. And he.. he...

He let go.

Loud, maniacal laughter. It was hysterical. He felt like his throat was being torn apart by just how loud and deranged he sounded.

It was a sound that could be heard all the way from Pearl's tower. It carried across the ravine and broke the stillness of the meadow. It ripped up whatever electricity had been floating since Grian's death message.

There had been a change that day. Not just in people's perception of Jimmy, or the ranchers, but maybe in the code itself. Something broke. Something just broke.

Jimmy stands up, shaking and all sorts of uncoordinated. He's still laughing as he makes his way home. His knees are soaked and stained with Grian's blood and everything looks blurry.

Fuck, he really just did that. Took someone's life with his own bare hands.

Jimmy giggles as he opens the door to the ranch. Tango isn't home, though that's probably for the best. He doesn't want his rancher seeing him like this, hysterically laughing at absolutely nothing and covered in blood. Shaking like a leaf in a hurricane to boot. Notch only knows what he'd think of Jimmy then.

When Jimmy calms down - stops wobbling around with a wicked grin on his pale face - he finally throws up. Killing someone never gets easy, no matter how red your name gets. At least not for him. He prefers setting traps and waiting to see his victim's name pop up in chat. That was enough adrenaline for him.

Tango comes home as Jimmy is changing his pants. His skin is also stained red from the blood underneath the denim. And it sticks to him too.

"Jimmy that was amazing!" Tango tells him. His eyes fall to Jimmy's bloody knees, and his demeanor changes.

Tango walks past Jimmy, keeping his back to the blond so he can change. "People kept asking if it was an accident. They looked scared." Tango continues, still giddy but keeping his voice down. "I heard their whispers on the way home."

[Etho was obliterated by a sonically-charged shriek][Smallishbeans died]

Jimmy sighs, pulling his belt through the loops of clean jeans.

"Hey, you ok?" Tango asks, coming up behind Jimmy. His hand rubs comfortingly over his shoulder and squeezes his bicep. He's tense.

Jimmy nods first. Maybe trying to convince himself above Tango. "Yeah I-" He swallows, "I'll be fine. I will."

"I don't wanna know if you'll be ok later, I wanna know if you're ok now."

Jimmy nods again. His Adam's Apple bobs and he breathes out. "Just.. a bit shaky. I've never been good with actually taking lives." He explains. He turns to Tango with a hardly convincing smile. "I'm ok. It's the point of the game."

Tango still hugs him. He wraps his arms around Jimmy's ribs and pulls him close, into a nice warm embrace. Jimmy hugs him back with his fingers twisting Tango's jacket in fists.

"I love you." Tango whispers.

"I love you too." Jimmy mumbles back.

They go to bed shortly after. It feels like the sun sets faster in these games, and the moon lingers longer than she's supposed to.

Jimmy lays on his belly. His wings - which need to be dyed first thing tomorrow - rest comfortably on top of him. They act like a weighted blanket for both him and Tango, who makes himself comfortable under one stretched out wing.

"Sleep well, buttercup." Tango wishes quietly.

But they're not the only ones who sleep like shit that night.

[the-masked-society]

I'm gonna copy Tim's layout to make mine since it's looking pretty cool and I like it

•~•~•~

•~•~•~

Hi there, I'm Richard :)

My full name is Richard John Grayson, but I don't go by it. Just call me Richard, or Grey, or whatever nickname you want, I like nicknames. I don't respond to John, like almost at all, just a heads up since it can and will be awkward.

Age, I'm 27 years old mentally, almost 28, but I sometimes regress a little to my early twenties, about age 21 to 22. It's weird not gonna lie, and it happen pretty randomly.

I'm a Cis male guy, and I use He/Him pronouns. don't mind other pronouns like they/them, but I don't like She/Her that much, so not that.

Biromantic and Demisexual. no preference. I'm monogamous.

•~•~•~

I'm single at the moment, but I definitely aren't against dating again down the line, just not right this second, cause that'd be awkward ×-×

I'm part of the same collective as Timmy, also known as "The Batcave collective", which is a group of 8 at the moment. We might be nine though. That depends if we count Bart's brother or not.

Host of the group and most frequent fronter ✌

•~•~•~

•~•~•~

Things I like/enjoy;

• Cats!! I love cats so much.. and dogs too

• I like making jokes and seeing people laugh

• hmm, caffeine. Energy drinks, not coffee, it has a bitter soapy aftertaste I hate

- I tasted monster once, it's not as good as people hype it for, too salty. Give me recommendations, I'll try it if I can find it!

• I like playing with the littles and basically babysitting as a whole, and I'm pretty good with kids all things considered

- The body's baby sister, she's a couple months old and the sweetest little munchkin pumpkin this world has ever seen!

• cucumbers. Just cucumbers. They're really rehydrating, and are really sweet over here. I like putting some salt crust on the outside,, and it makes a nice simple snack when I'm too tired to make some actual food

• Oh- I like making our school sandwiches, and make silly drawings on the nylon. I make some nice notes too, I like being involved :)

Things I dislike/don't enjoy;

• Low moods, boredom, annoyance- whatever you call it. It's unnecessarily aggravating, the world got enough bad, let's keep the mood light and cheery if we can

• I don't like unnecessarily rude people. Why? You don't need to be mean to be heard or acknowledged

• umm, what else on the top of my head.. yeah, I don't like arguments. There's this quote from a book jason read once, about not letting the sun set upon anger I think. If we can fix whatever it was now, let's fix it now. I was mean? I'll apologize and try making it up to you. I don't like it when groups fall apart because of something silly like misunderstandings or small arguments. Settle it like adults

My special interest;

The circus and the different acts there :)

•~•~•~

•~•~•~

My source, along with the source of all of my siblings from the collective, is a DC-based roleplay the host and others have been involved in for a pretty long while. We had a brother there which did not appear in the 'canon', and he's the sweetest fella. I had a pet bird too. I also have different random memories from other dc pieces that involve both my childhood and my run- both as Nightwing and as Robin, but they aren't as bold and definitive as the memories I have from this roleplay, for various reasons.

I don't mind if you're treating me as my source character at all- feel free to go ahead with it ^^ ask questions, inside jokes- I do it all :~)

I identify almost fully with my source of this roleplay, and mildly-lowly with anything else. It's good, but it's not accurate to my memories so it can't be high.

I don't mind any asks about any of my sources & memories, but I won't answer some questions I don't feel like answering. Feel free to ask about the Roleplay- I'd enjoy giving info dumps about some certain pleasant memories i have!

I don't have a strong DNI list for Sourcemates, but there are a few I wouldn't like to meet if I can avoid, two of them being Tarantula and Deathstroke. I know that 'splits' can't be decided and that they aren't really the same ones I met and dealt with, but for my personal mental wellbeing I don't want to interact with any of them, at least until I manage to work through some things.

Please be tactful enough to just accept it if I don't wanna talk to you- I block harrassment. Or release jace on them, I don't care, either way we won't be talking anymore

•~•~•~

•~•~•~

I have three role labels I found that can describe what I do pretty accurately;

Caretaker- I take care of almost everyone in my small group, pretty similar to how I did back then. Keeping an eye when they front, reminding them to not bottle things up, making sure they don't do anything stupid, that's my job

• Sub-role; Ameliorator- I had a talent to comfort people in distress, stop them from doing something irrational, and distract them with some light chitchat and banter, and it seems I retained it even to today.

Comedian- If we’re gonna deal with all this, we might as well laugh about it. I keep things light, throw in a joke, and remind everyone we’re still human—or, you know, close enough.

•~•~•~

•~•~•~

Boundaries.. let's see..

I'm totally fine with platonic flirting, no, let's be honest, I'll probably flirt first subconsciously. I don't assume it's romantic because apparently, and I quote "my brain is more dense than wet cement", so a note to make sure it's both given and received in the same tone will be real nice.

I don't mind nicknames, I really love them in fact. I have a small collection of nicknames and I'm very proud of it.

Frq are weird. If you don't give me bad vibes, I'm going to see you as a friend within 10 minutes of interaction. Why ask to be a friend? We're not shy kids in the playgrounds anymore. But sure, you can ask to be my friend, but it's not really a boundary

Frontcalls,, uhh yeesh. Probably not unless we're like, really close buds, or like idk, we're system friends and a little from yours wanna hang out with me. Or like y'know, it's my partner. Or like, it's smth about Dami or someone else I gotta know about. I'm sort of busy most of the day, and I don't front more then twice a week unprompted cause I can't. So like, yeah sorry, casual friends and just virtually strangers can't. But you can leave me a message or ask someone to pass it to me- that can work, I think?

'M a-ok with venting, but I do need an advance message that you gonna vent. Maybe I'm out in public, maybe I'm myself feeling too down to actually support you in a way that will be of any sort of help to you, or maybe I'm with a little and I don't want them seeing that stuff- both for their innocence and your privacy. Just a general "can I vent?" Is peaches.

I ignore trauma dumping- that's disrespectful both to me and to yourself buddy :/

•~•~•~

•~•~•~

My current faceclaim looks similar to the picture below, even though I'm a bit darker- look a little like duke (I don't claim different race, I'm just darker in appearance 🤷🏾‍♂️). Funnily enough, I have a feather that looks like that. I also have a black jacket I wear on top, cause I need the pockets to store snacks and plasters for everyone.

(Credits to @/lstrikesart here on tumblr)

[youcansaveyourprogresshere]

Dispatches from GDC 2024 Day 1

Oh boy! Baby's first GDC! A short hike through beautiful San Francisco and I'm there, one of the greatest gatherings of designers, developers, engineers, and business experts in the games industry this side of the Pacific Ocean. I'm among my people, the next chapter of my professional life is about to begin.

Wait, no. This is still Yerba Buena Gardens and market center. I go out to the sky bridge and look out to my right, I can see the banners on the posts and people moving but where's ...?

Oh

That's Moscone* Center, in the opposite direction I was looking. It's a huge building, and that's just the South Hall. After collecting my badge (thank you to Valencia, who was working the booth) I am compelled to wander. I arrived too late in the morning to attend the 9:30AM sessions, I'm stuck in conference limbo until I can figure out where I want to be and when I want to be there. This must be why people plan their schedules out ahead of time.

Fast forward to 2:40PM and I'm finally attending my first session of my first GDC, "The Strange Within The Familiar How Once Human Designed Its Supernatural Open World" w/ presenter Peng "Victoria" Sun, here on behalf of Netease Games and Starry Studio. Once Human is an open world shooter, they're planning for a Q3 2024 release. Seems kind of strange to have a presentation on a game that doesn't have a release date yet, but hey: what do I know? Peng Sun's thesis is combining a mundane object with a supernatural quality is a good formula for producing content. Once Human originally had zombies as an entry level critter for players to take shots at, which Peng concedes is underwhelming. But give that zombie a theater spotlight for a head and suddenly we have the watcher. The monsters are really lovely, there's an undead plane that flaps its wings like a bird, there's a haunted bus that walks on big, ghoulish arms. I can't help but feel like this was an extended advertisement for the game, but who can blame them. Everybody's gotta make a buck.

Okay next talk, "Digital Thriving in a Post-Pandemic World: A Pro-Social Blueprint"; moderator Matt Lee, panelists Charly Harbord, PhD; Elizabeth Kilmer, PhD; Tim Nixon, not a PhD but I don't hold that against you Tim; Attila Szantner, who I'm pretty sure has a doctorate; and Kimberly Voll, who is also a Dr.. I wonder if they offer college credit for attending this session. Digital thriving is an important idea, facilitating virtual spaces where people can be their full, authentic selves. Dr. Kilmer points out this perspective on games as virtual habitats is great because instead of a bare minimum (well no one got death threats on our server this week so I call that a win!) it's a most positive outcome approach** to developing social games. What if we designed worlds that could help people be there best selves?

It's a great panel of very smart people, but eventually time is up. After an hour of talking about ways to make your game space a welcoming environment for everyone it's time for the post-talk off site. And what better social space than Tequila Mockingbird, a local bar.

I walk out of South Hall for the last time that day, torn between whether to go get drunk with GDC or head back to the hotel. The sun is going down, it's getting chilly, and I didn't pack a jacket. I do a web search for "flip a coin" and let google tell whether I should "Heads" back to the hotel or listen to more "Tails" at a tequila bar. The website tells me it's heads, so I start making the trek homeward. I don't really want to be out after dark.

Footnotes (feetnotes? anyway)

1 The "e" at the end is phonetic, you say it aloud

2 "Most positive outcome approach" is my phrasing, not Dr. Kilmer's. I think she put it much more eloquently.

[roxie-roo]

Not A Toy

So this is a little thing(read not so fucking little, jesus this took long), I wrote based on @hithisisboo's thing of "Jimmy deciding to just Leave one day without telling anyone". I took it and I ran with it, as I often do :D!

Hope you all enjoy my nonsense and rambling.

Featuring Southern Jimmy once again. Listener Jimmy, Watcher/actually caring friend when no one's looking Grian(they totally play it up when everyone's watching. These two are besties, we all know this), Flower Ranchers, and Scar being A Dumbass. Also Joel genuinely caring about someone other than Hermes and Sausage!

Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The toy jokes weren't funny. They never were funny, not to the one at the butt of them. But Jimmy did his best to not show that it got to him. He just continued to work on his railroad and sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead from the hot mesa sun. Even within the shade of the tunnel, it was still scorching outside. Maybe he was hallucinating when he heard someone near him. Or, maybe he actually had a pesky bird perched on his shulker box, making him unable to open it.

"How much more of this can you take, Timmy?" Grian tilted his head, hands and talons resting against the box. "I mean it. The toy jokes, and everything, how much more can you take?"

Jimmy let out a shriek and jumped, nearly dropping the anvil. He sighed and set it down, taking off his hat and using it to fan his face. "Jesus, Grian, warn a guy next time." He grumbled, decidedly ignoring the question. Grian didn't like that.

"Listen, Tim. I know I rip on you a lot, but you know I care about you. And I know how much you can take."

Jimmy rolled his eyes and sighed. "Listen... If I shoot back at 'em, they do it worse. If I ignore it... maybe they'll finally fuckin' stop." It hurt, it really did. Calling him a toy, a pathetic toy, nothing but a fucking toy.

"Or.." Grian offered. "You could take a break, y'know? Just go on vacation.. not tell anyone. Hey, you could even leave a toy sheriff at your desk and turn off your communicator!"

"Why would I do that?" Jimmy looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ain't that a bit... I dunno, harsh?"

"Isn't what they've been doing to you for months "harsh"..?" Grian raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the walls around Tumble Town. Sure, he'd been part of that whole "Halloween party " debacle, but he'd appropriately apologized afterwards. To his knowledge, he and Scott were the only ones who did so.

The sheriff let out a sigh now that he thought about it. "Fine... Tango gets home soon, I'll talk t'him about it.. see if he wants to come with."

"Good idea. Maybe get Scott to come with too?" Grian gave his friend a knowing grin, snorting when Jimmy swatted at him with his hat. "Take a break, Jim. You deserve it. "

"Right.." Jimmy nodded a little. "Thanks f'that.. pesky watcher."

"Annoying listener." Grian shot back with a smug grin, perfect for Grian. "I'll see ya around." And with that, he launched himself off the box.

Jimmy shook his head and sighed, heading out to find Scar. The somewhat deputy was working on a new project, and hardly noticed the sheriff's approach, until he heard the clear of a throat.

"Oh! Howdy, sheriff! What can I do for you?"

"I need you to look after Tumble Town for me.. Put a sheriff toy at my desk."

That was an odd request, sure. But what the sheriff said, went.

~~~~~~

Tango got home a few minutes before sundown. He stretched, body tense and cramped from working in the cave for so long, when he was suddenly ambushed by a much taller figure. Jimmy, who was almost immediately scooping him into a hug and covering his face in kisses. Tango laughed, holding onto Jimmy and leaning into the affection. "Hello to you too, Rancher." He teased. "What's all this about? You miss me or something?"

"Let's go on vacation." He didn't answer the question. "You, me, and Scott, let's.. let's go somewhere.. Somewhere far away.."

"Jimmy.." Tango cupped his face gently. "Love, are you feeling okay?"

"I will be.." Jimmy answered, vague yet again. "I messaged Scott already."

It seemed there was no changing his mind about this. "Alright.." Tango nodded. "But what about Tumble Town? While you're gone-"

"If they want a toy sheriff, I'll give 'em a toy sheriff." Jimmy shrugged. Tango caught on almost instantly.

"Oh, buttercup that's evil...." He grinned, standing on his tiptoes a little to kiss Jimmy's cheek. "I love it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The vacation day crept up on Jimmy's partners, but that's not to say they all weren't excited for it. Scar promised he wouldn't burn Tumble Town to the ground, and the few who knew of the vacation promised they wouldn't say a word. And with that, the three of them set off. Three horses for three riders, Jimmy taking Bullseye, obviously.

"So,, where are we going?" Tango piped up. Jimmy's grin didn't falter, and to his partners, that was the cutest damn thing.

"Dunno! We'll find out when we get there."

"An adventure and a vacation?" Scott mused to himself with a grin. "I could get used to this.."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for anyone to notice the three of them gone first. It started with Fwhip realizing that Tango hadn't come into work. That little spring of panic was settled by a note on Fwhip's desk, saying he was taking some time off, and that this super smelter took a lot out of him. Fwhip understood that. It took a lot of out him when he built it last time.

Then it was Joel making his way into Tumble Town with a broad, mischievous grin. "Oh toy boy!" He called out. No response. Strange, usually Jimmy would be running out to yell about how he's not a toy. But today there was nothing. Joel tried again, calling out various toy related nicknames, before resorting to "sheriff", and eventually "Jimmy where the hell are you?!". No response. The god of thunder found and cornered Scar, narrowing his eyes at the slightly panicked deputy. "Where's Jimmy?" He didn't know why he was so angry.

It's just that the thought of anything happening to the sheriff, without it being his own hands that did it, felt wrong. Scar gulped and looked up at the eleven-foot tall god, his face a shade paler than it was a moment ago.

He had to act quickly, the hand on Joel's hip and the impatient tap of his foot didn't bode well. If anyone asks, jus' play dumb, he recalled the advice the sheriff gave, and internally thanked the gods(not Joel) that he was very good at playing dumb.

"Who's that?" He had the most innocent of smiles on his face. Joel scoffed.

"Don't play dumb with me." That was quite literally what Jimmy had instructed him to do, he couldn't not obey the order given.

"I'm not. I don't know what you're talking about."

The god left in a huff, and Scar let out a quite audible sigh of relief, leaning against the side of the railcar that he was building. The peace didn't last long, as a voice sent him into a fit of shrieks, whipping around to face the direction it came from.

"He said play dumb, Scar. He didn't mean that dumb."

"I'm doing my best, Grian, leave me alone!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things only got worse when Joel noticed the stuffed sheriff toy, sitting perched in the office chair where Jimmy would be sitting. Wait. Did he...? No, no no no, of course not! That's not possible, right? He took the toy to the first person he could think of that might be able to help even a little bit. Scott wasn't here, he wouldn't be able to tell if this was magic or not, the next best thing was Shelby.

Whom he unceremoniously awoke at close to four in the morning. The swamp witch groaned and rubbed her eyes, blindly feeling around for her glasses when she felt the rumble of the ground outside. The god landing down outside her home. Grabbing her glasses and making sure they didn't fall to the ground, she slipped out of bed and slid them on her face, grumbling under her breath and taking her wand from the night stand. Why couldn't this have waited until morning?

All questions left when she saw how panicked Joel looked. How small the usually 11 foot god seemed to be. Metaphorically, anyways, physically he was just as giant.

"Joel?" She called out hesitantly, casting a simple light spell in place of grabbing the- wait, where was her normal lanterns? Why was there a soul lantern... doesn't matter, back to the task at hand. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Shelby, I think I messed up.." He croaked out. It was rare to ever hear a god, let alone Joel specifically, admit to messing up. Shelby would later recount this in her journal as one of the top weirdest things that's happened to her since living in the Evermoore. "I- I went to visit Jimmy and check up on him but I found this-" he wildly gestured to the toy sheriff he was dangling, "in his office instead- and I don't know if I turned him into this, or- or-"

"Joel- Joel!" Shelby hated yelling, but it at least seemed to get him out of that panicked spiral. "I don't think this is a magic thing." She took the toy gently and adjusted the light in her wand to inspect it further. "Yeah, no... I don't think this is magic at all. If it were Jimmy, I think it'd be more uncanny looking.. Like,, you can tell it's supposed to be human, but something isn't quite right."

"Yeah.. okay..." Joel took the sheriff toy back and stared down at it. This was going to be a long few weeks of trying to figure out just what was going on.

Was Jimmy okay? Hurt? Dead? Who knows? Not Joel. Not Fwhip, nor Shelby, nor anyone else around. All they could do was hope to Saint Pearl he was fine. He had to be, right? He was the sheriff. He was fine.

Right?

[scorpionyx9621]

Trying to work out the astrology of the bat family whilst inebriated has been a trip.

Jason being a Leo sun is probably truest to his character because if Jason is one thing it is self-centered. For good and for bad. He's shockingly theatrical and extremely temperamental. Plus if anyone in the bat family has an inflated sense of ego about his own appearances it's him. Constantly joking about his good looks (mostly for laughs whilst wearing his helmet) but this man enjoys classic literature and knowing how extraverted Jason can be, I wouldn't be surprised if he's into theater as well.

I'm also leaning heavily into the notion he has a Scorpio or Capricorn rising, particularly a Scorpio Rising, because Jason's entire character has just been a series of him overcoming personal challenges and obstacles and this man goes through HELL. He does all of this screaming and crying and beating the shit out of people on the way. Jason definitely has a water moon.

I'm swaying towards the notion of a cancer moon because for as much as he uses dry sarcasm and harassment to hide his emotions and feelings, he still has them and they guide his worldview pretty heavily. Plus while he'll never admit it in front of them except in serious moments, Jason deeply loves and cares for the Bat family. He absolutely would not still be there if he didn't.

Damian also being a Leo sun tracks very heavily. While not as theatric and grandiose as Jason in his expression, Damian sure makes up for it by suffering from a severe case of main protagonist syndrome even if he's brutally killing an opponent. He puts himself on a spot on a hill above everyone else and while he works through it (somewhat) the ego on this boy is unreal.

And while I leaned on a heavy water moon for Jason I'm going full-in on Damian being an earth moon. Particularly a Capricorn Moon. For as much as he loves to project his capabilities over everyone else, Damian holds himself to a VERY high standard and has the spine and ability to work hard and get what he wants. He's more than capable of putting in the work to be the very best and he'll do it out of spite, he'll do it because of the experience, he'll do it because he's bored.

Also Damian absolutely has an Aquarius Moon. This little dude is a weirdo when forced into a social situation. He's an artist, a humanitarian, he loves to draw, loves manga, loves animals, and I don't mean just dogs and cats I mean ALL animals. He's off in his own world while all the kids around him are into Tik Tok and funny dances Damian watching the animal planet whilst drawing a bird he saw on a documentary about minivets.

Tim is the one I least expected to be unpredictable mostly because I didn't understand his character all that well on first glance, and then I realized that this man is literally doing not only mental, physical, and emotional gymnastics just like Dick, but he's doing it with probably the most depressing and dry internal monologue I've seen. Tim's cancer sun doesn't really make too much sense on first glance, then you realize the amount of bottled up emotional turmoil this boy goes through it's scary. Tim also is shockingly kind and nurturing, very good with little kids and can pull a solid pep-talk out of his ass at a moments notice.

I'm giving Tim a Libra moon mostly because of Tim's internal analytical sense. He very much likes to look at all sides of every situation to see how he can get a favorable outcome. It's part of what makes him a good detective is those analytical skills. Also the Libra explains the self-depreciation.

I'm giving Tim a Sagittarius rising because that boy's constant outward state is chaos. Son of multi-millionaires who couldn't deal with life being a trophy son literally follows a pair of vigilantes and begs them to let him join their club. Tim comes across as analytical and detached but seriously this man's brain background music is elevator music and the LEEEEROOOOOYYYYYY JEEENKIINNS scream. Tim dives head first into danger a lot and he's really lucky he has the mental aptitude to get himself out of a lot of things.

Now Dick is controversial because he has 3 birthdays based on existing continuities. Pre-Crisis his sun sign in the golden/silver age was Scorpio, in the Young Justice universe he's a Sagittarius sun, but in most current timelines he's a Pisces/Aries cusp. But his actual birthdate makes him a Pisces. Honestly I see both?

When Dick was a kid and well into his teens he radiated feral goblin energy. Let's also not forget that well into his early twenties dick was still planning on killing Tony Zucco if he ever got his hands on him, plus his more than infrequent outbursts towards Bruce and the Teen Titans. He also has a tendency to reflect a lot of emotions back to whatever is thrown at him on top of a pretty dreamy and caring vibe to him. Adding in the Pisces.

I'm leaning on a Leo rising for Dick because this guy is a performer in all that he does, outwardly very sociable and even flamboyant. This man may not admit it but he likes the attention he gets, it may not be optimal in every situation but Dick canonically weaponizes his attractiveness and I've never seen a more Leo thing ever.

Dick's moon was a bit complicated but ultimately I think I'll have to go with a Scorpio moon for Dick. Dick is a shockingly emotional person, there have been numerous occasions of Dick letting his feelings get the better of him. Dick frequently hits things (walls, car radios) when he's angry and is actively violent when in that state. But he also isn't afraid to cry and let his emotions out when he's overwhelmed (and in privacy)

[itsartlee]

Reincarnations AU idea's

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Here are some ideas for the Reincarnations AU.(none of this is set in stone) If you have any ideas or questions just let me know asks are open.

If Macaque was never immortal then he died of old age (which isn't very fun) but if he was immortal, which is more likely due to him and Sun Wukong being mates, he dies gruesomely after JTTW. Though I'm not quite sure how. It would be really angsty if it was by Sun Wukong's own hands, though idk how likely that is after JTTW. If you have any idea's let me know.

The first time Macaque is reincarnated he doesn't even know who Sun Wukong is or even heard of him, probably from being detached from humankind and demokind, though Wukong does his best to get Macaque to love him and they fall in love again. This is the 100th year after JTTW

Maybe the first reincarnation doesn't die gruesomely but of old age. Which still hurts Sun Wukong as Macaque dies in his arms and could do nothing to stop it.

The second time Macaque is reincarnationed Sun Wukong finds him around the 200th after JTTW. His heart hurts to see Macaque again, but it's yerns for Macaque all the same. This time Macaque knows who Sun Wukong is but doesn't remember, and is a total fanboy. Which makes Sun Wukong laugh. This Macaque is a bit different and more energetic, but that doesn't stop Wukong from loving him.

How the second Reincarnation of Macaque is due to sickness that there is no cure to yet. He begs Sun Wukong to kill him so he doesn't have to suffer and so that he can die by the one he loves and not some stupid sickness. Sun Wukong and Macaque argue before Sun Wukong puts his Liu Er out of his misery.

The third Macaque. Sun Wukong finds him around the 300th year after JTTW. This one is a doozy. Sun Wukong finds him again but his heart is so broken from all the other Macaque's reincarnations that he just watches him from the sidelines making sure he's okay, kinda stalkerish, eventually he does bump into him and Macaque looks at him and something flashes in his eyes but he shakes his head. "Do I know you?" And that makes Sun Wukong sob.

After the third reincarnation of Macaque dates/is mates with Sun Wukong is also when the demon bull king starts causing problems. Sun Wukong fights the demon bull king but during the battle, Macaque gets kidnapped by the demon bull king as he taunts Sun Wukong for loving him. Brutally murdering the mortal Liu Er. After Sun Wukong puts DBK under a mountain he runs to Liu Er's dying body whispering in his ears how he is gonna be okay, how he loves him, how he is here it's okay. But Macaque whispers " We both know I won't live through this. Sun Wukong. I will love you no matter what vessel I take on. I remember every time we have met. You have loved me no matter what form, and I love you." The kiss and his Liu Er as he dies in his arms once again.

After the third Reincarnation of Macaque, Sun Wukong hides on FFM not wanting worse to happen to his loves vessels. He hides their for 500 years. Until MK shows up. He now has his successor. In episode: Macaque, instead of Macaque training and tricking MK. He becomes friends with MK. Showing him a bunch of shadow tricks and being an overall actual good person, Sun Wukong gets worried and goes to check on MK as a bird. He flys around and when he finds MK he perches on a nearby building. Then he sees Macaque and goes into an internal panic.

Eventually, MK takes Macaque to meet Sun Wukong. The whole time Sun Wukong is freaking, out over all flustered and MK had never seen him like that before. Macaque the whole time ends up finding it adorable as he had never expected this of the Monkey king.

That's all I have so far, but for this AU it does pose some questions. Such as does Macaque almost look the same in every reincarnation, along with why doesn't Sun Wukong give one of the reincarnations of Macaque a peach of immortality. My idea for this one is that either one, he doesn't want the thing to happen to Macaque again of what happened last time he was immortal. Two, he doesn't have any peaches, or third of all, the reincarnations of Macaque never want to be immortal.

Now I have one last question. Should this story have a happy ending or should Macaque die again? I would ask a friend in the fandom but I kinda don't have any. So let me know what you guys think!