#i wonder if this is a remnant from when id try drawing on paper as a child and had to shrink bodies to fit the page

[skunkes]

ANYWAY i am looking thru my vbros art book right now because i love the style and need to look for inspiration for drawing and what im fully realizing is theres a weird disconnect in my brain when drawing full bodies. Like.

Im looking at a full body character drawing in the book. Right. And i see its a Human. And it looks very Normal and Good and Nicely Drawn and Stylized. I want to be able to do this. I tell my brain "ok, now imagine YOU drew this" and immediately my brain is like. Body WAY too long. Legs too long. Head small. i would resize and overwork every single one of these details until it looked horrible if i drew this.

And its literally not True of the drawing, its just how bodies are. This will happen with any drawing of any full body by any artist i enjoy. So its an issue with Me for sure. Idk why my brain is like dis or how to overcome it LOL

[criminally--reid]

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :| 

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader 

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines,  but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development 

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day. 

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance. 

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in. 

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something. 

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation. 

"I take it you remember me?" 

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough. 

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me." 

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you. 

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books. 

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?" 

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?" 

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter. 

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper. 

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-" 

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.  

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding." 

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly. 

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them." 

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?" 

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer." 

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too. 

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years." 

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?" 

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off. 

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?" 

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you." 

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-" 

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too. 

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something." 

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink. 

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker. 

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something." 

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?" 

"Café Negra-" 

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?" 

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?" 

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?" 

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop. 

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away. 

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same. 

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished. 

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways. 

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his. 

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end. 

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact. 

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper. 

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears. 

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.” 

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?” 

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax. 

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction. 

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?” 

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat. 

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?” 

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.  

[radvee92]

What Does It Mean When A Male Cat Sprays Eye-Opening Cool Tips

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Cat Pee Vinegar Laundry

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[my-one-love-is-music]

It Takes Two Ch. 3

Hello my lovelies!!!! I'm back with another chapter and I'm super excited for it so I hope that you are too! More plot happens in this chapter which is exciting in itself and it seems that my chapters just keep getting longer since this one is touching down at just under 3.8k. Oh well. We have lots more to go so I hope you're ready for this update because I sure am! ^.^ 

Also on AO3!

Tim yawned as he pushed the door open to his apartment. He toed off his shoes in the entryway and walked towards his bedroom to strip out of his suit and into something more comfortable. As he’d suspected, it’d been a long day and he was more than ready to relax and not have to worry about school or WE. He’d wanted so badly to look into the new information that he’d gotten the night before and what Jason had texted him at the end of his patrol, but knew that once he got started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

But now, when he’d switched his suit for sweatpants and a loose tee and could sit cross-legged in front of the couch to work on his computer at the coffee table, was when he could turn his entire focus to the case at hand. He unlocked his phone and read over the message that Jason had sent him early in the morning.

Jason: No leads on this Roger Peterson guy and a lot of people are pointing at this thing being settled out of court. Possible bribes. I’m talking lots of dollars here, or threats. Whoever’s behind this was intent on keeping the press to a minimum. I’d say that government involvement is a strong possibility, but no confirmation on it yet.

The knowledge that they could be dealing with something so large drew a heavy sigh from Tim’s lips, but it was to be expected. As soon as he’d started his research he couldn’t deny the possibility.

Instead he turned to his computer and the working case file that he’d started. He doubted that they’d be able to encounter the scientist soon. The likelihood that he would make a move after they’d tracked him down wasn’t high, but he also didn’t entirely know who they were dealing with, especially now that he and Jason were connected.

Tim started with quick a search on the building collapse. He hadn’t seen anything on the news when he’d been able to watch it on T.V. It didn’t worry him that the information was missing from news reports because it probably wasn’t prominent enough to draw airtime attention, but he was certain that it would have to at least be covered in an online article. People would be suspicious of a sudden building collapse even if it was in a rougher part of town. Those things weren’t normal and people still asked questions about such events, even in Gotham.

Ten minutes later and he was really starting to worry. His bottom lip was well on its way to being chapped for all the biting and nibbling he was doing now that he was set on edge. He was finding nothing. No records in the papers as to the collapse. And nothing in the police databases that suggested they were even investigating. He could handle a lack of news coverage, but an absence of police investigation just didn’t make sense. It seemed that they were inevitably going to be facing off against someone in the government or someone who had a lot of government influence.

Tim ran a hand through his hair in frustration and tried to open the link to the one report that he’d found yesterday. Only for it to be gone.

“No,” he breathed. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening.”

He hacked into the website quickly, gaining access to the interface to find any remnants of the article, but there was nothing. The report hadn’t just been hidden from the public, all traces of it were simply gone. The realization made Tim’s blood run cold.

“What the fuck did we just get ourselves involved in?”

He added notes to his case file about the developments that he’d just uncovered. He knew that he needed to call Jason, but he needed to look into something else first. He had to figure out who Roger Peterson was. Even if nobody on the streets had heard of him or could remember him, his name was listed in press reports of the hospital. It was possible that the name was made up, but there had to be a record of who was working with kids and if he could track down the last names of the patients…

Tim got to work quickly, hands flying over his keyboard as his mind raced to absorb every piece of information and to try to start putting it together. The only information that he could find on Roger Peterson was the mentions of his name in the newspaper articles. There was no record of such a doctor working at the hospital and no records of him being employed at the new hospital when he did a quick search through online profiles and LinkedIn pages.

So the identity was a fake to cover up the actual people involved which wasn’t surprising. He dug deeper, looking for employment records from the hospital…and immediately coming into contact with a firewall that had been put in a peculiar place. It was true that hospitals didn’t usually keep their employment records public, but to have this strong of a firewall in place? That was unusual. Someone skilled had set this up for the workers, but not skilled enough since it wouldn’t keep Tim out for long.

In a matter of minutes, Tim had hacked his way through, having to disable a second system that was going to report his entrance and try and hack him to get his location and identity. If he was anyone else he probably would’ve missed it, but he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing. He took a minute to breathe now that he wasn’t racing against the clock.

The records weren’t as lengthy as he was expecting, the hospital having a much smaller staff then he would have thought was needed. Unless there was another level of employment that wasn’t documented in this area of the records that is. He flipped through the different files. They had employed a nurse staff of ten and five doctors, three of which also had specific pediatric training. There were also two surgeons on board. It all seemed normal and good enough, but it made Tim wary.

He copied the files and added them to his own store of information. There had only been one surname mentioned in the news article about the scandal, but it would be a start as long as he had a list of patient records and which doctor had been assigned to them. He navigated his way from the employment records and started looking for those kept on the patients. If the hospital was operating as a normal one would, they would have both paper and electronic copies. He wasn’t disappointed.

What he was surprised by, was that he found an identical firewall protecting the patient records that had been guarding the employee records. What was more surprising, was that it had two pieces of software that were trying to get to his information. So the patient records were considered more important. But why?

He skimmed through them quickly, looking for the one name that had come up in the newspaper article: Jones. The woman who’d been quoted had been a parent of one of the children that was supposedly experimented on. It was his one key to finding the name of the doctor. He felt his heartrate start to pick up as his nerves mounted the further into the records he got.

The sudden sound of his ringtone slicing through the air made him jump back against the couch. Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself as he reached for it, answering without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“What the fuck?!” Jason exclaimed.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, incredibly confused.

“What’s going on with you?”

“What are you talking about? I’m literally just in my living room going through medical records from the old hospital. What made you think that something was wrong?”

“I just got this really bad feeling. Well…I don’t know if it was strictly bad, but something felt off. And after doing a quick sweep through my safehouse and finding that there wasn’t anyone around, inside or outside, I figured the only other cause of it could be you.”

“Huh.” Tim’s mind started to race again. Perhaps there was more to this connection than he’d originally thought. He wondered if he should be worried about that.

“That’s it? Just a ‘huh?’” Jason asked, incredulous.

“Sorry, I’m thinking.”

Jason sighed. “Anyway…now that I’ve called you, have you learned anything new about our friend?”

“A bit. And I’m pretty sure that you’re not going to gather any information about Roger Peterson on the streets.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one with that name was employed by the hospital?”

“So are you saying that our guy snuck into the hospital to do his work?” Jason asked, fully alert.

“That’s a possibility. But I’m leaning more towards the workers giving false names to the patients and press instead of those that were listed on their payroll. The hospital was working under a lot of secrecy. Both their employment and patient records had really decent firewalls guarding the information. They’re intent on keeping people out.”

“So how are we going to find our guy?”

“There was a woman quoted in the article that brought up accusations against Peterson. I’m looking for a patient with the same surname, or I was before you called me, and-“

“And you were going to find out which doctor was assigned to that patient.”

“Exactly.”

Jason let out a breath that crackled through the speaker. “This is more complicated than I was expecting.”

Tim chuckled. “Don’t I know it. And you know what this means right?”

“The dread in your voice is making me wince. Government involvement?”

“Yup,” he said, popping the p. “At least a very, very likely chance of it like you’d told me this morning.”

“Wonderful.”

“You didn’t hear anything else about more abductions did you? Or a pick-up point for the people who’ve already been taken?”

“Nah,” Jason sighed. “Nothing came up last night, but I’ll keep asking around. I’m hoping that someone will now something tonight.”

“And if not?”

“And if not…we keep working. Keep looking into this hospital and hopefully stay off any government radar as unlikely as that’s going to be.”

“Speaking of working…” Tim said, eyeing his computer.

“Yeah, you need to do more detective stuff. You’re done with having to deal with me for the day. I get it.”

Tim chuckled. “Yes I have to go and do more detective stuff, but trust me when I say that it’s got nothing to do with not wanting to talk to you.”

“Aw, I’m touched. I guess that this makes up for last night when you said that you don’t think I have a great sense of humor.”

“Ass,” Tim said, laughing. “I told you that’s not what I was saying.”

“I know, I know, but you make it too easy to tease you.”

“Whatever,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “I seriously gotta go. Remember, no calls tonight unless it’s something serious.”

“Yeah, yeah. Later, Timbo.”

Tim hung up and set his phone to the side. He leaned forward and started looking through the records again, thankfully far more calm than he’d been before. As weird as the call with Jason had started, he was a little relieved that it had actually come. It’d calmed him down at least and stopped his brain from imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios.

Finally, after what seemed like thousands of pages and patient names, he found the one he was looking for. He was ready to rejoice and celebrate in what he’d found. He was so close to some form of concrete information that could lead to the next clue, the next step. It would bring him closer to getting the bond that he now had with Jason removed and they could go back to business as usual: taking down criminals and putting them behind bars. And six feet under which still happened when Jason got a bit too angry.

And then Tim’s heart nearly broke in two.

Next to the patient’s name: Max, was the unmistakable word that each parent dreaded hearing when their child was taken into the hospital with a serious illness: Deceased.

The discovery left Tim reeling a little more than it probably should have. He had to deal with crime and death on a daily basis. He knew that people died every day. Innocent people, too. Men, women, and children alike. Yet this death that he hadn’t even witnessed, only found the record for, was giving him the urge to vomit because for some reason he couldn’t handle the information.

He took steady breaths to try and calm himself down. He didn’t want to believe that he was having so much trouble because this boy possibly died from the same thing that was happening to him. He didn’t want to believe that he was so selfish as to make this about himself when it was so much bigger. He didn’t want to undermine an entire family’s pain just because of what he happened to be going through.

Tim swallowed, trying to force back the phantom taste of bile that wanted to rise up his throat and pushed on. He only needed to know who the doctor was. He didn’t need to know anything else.

Patient Notes:

March 8: The previous success that the experiment had been having has failed. Max has taken a turn for the worse, finding it difficult to bear even the smallest sensations. The change in his health has also made it difficult for him to eat. We worry that if this continues he’ll lose strength and his health will decline further.

March 11: Patient’s health has gotten much worse. He is no longer able to sleep unless he’s been given heavy sedatives, and even then it’s difficult for him to make it through the night without drawing the attention of the nurses with his whimpers of pain. His sensations are shared by half of the patients, while a different change has occurred in the other half. The doctors on staff are working to reverse the process or correct the malfunction that is occurring.

March 15: Max had held steady for several days, not getting any worse, but not getting any better.

Tim’s hand clenched where it was resting on the coffee table next to his computer.

Today was the largest decline we’ve seen yet. I was called in during the early hours of the morning by one of the nurses who reported that he was wailing in complete and utter agony. I had thought it to be an exaggeration, but confirmed her description upon arrival. It almost sounded like Max was being tortured, it sounded like half the group was being tortured. Our first attempt to sedate him almost completely failed, only reducing his pain mildly.

By the time that we were able to give him a stronger dosage to calm him, Max had bitten so harshly into his lower lip that he’d managed to split it open and blood was running down his chin. The bite was so severe that we had to administer stitches while he was sedated.

The nurses attempted to feed him once he’d been stabilized, but he refused after only a few bites. They shared with me that he’d been eating only very little or nothing at all over the past few days much to my own displeasure.

March 18: My hopes that we’d be able to find a cure or keep Max and the other patients adequately sedated were crushed when I walked into the hospital this morning. The patient had been in such unbearable pain that he’d taken to scratching at his arms and legs out of both frustration and a desire for it all to stop. The gouges were so deep and harsh that we were forced to restrain his bloody hands just so that we could stop him from harming himself further.

Pictures were taken of the state that he was in and have been attached for future reference.

Tim nearly choked and tripped over his own feet as he raced to the bathroom. He slammed the toilet seat up and painfully dry-heaved a handful of times before he was sure that he wasn’t about to get sick. His breathing was still labored when the moment passed and he leaned his head against the edge of the bathtub and closed his eyes to give himself time to calm down and focus on the cool sensation against his cheek.

He’d been stitched up more times than he could count, had scars littering his body, had seen people take bullets, had taken bullets himself, had broken bones, and gotten bones broken, but he’d never thought that someone could be in so much pain as to do that to themself. It left him shuddering as the image flashed through his mind again.

He was distantly aware of his phone ringing from the living room, but couldn’t bring himself to get up and go answer it. He needed time to collect his thoughts and just be alone without having to worry about anyone else. He needed time to accept that the reports and the pictures that he’d just been reading through had a high chance of being in his future. He just hoped that he’d be lucky enough that the not-so-good doctor/scientist had been competent enough to adequately improve whatever technology that he’d used on him and Jason.

The reminder that this could happen to Jason too made him painfully aware that Jason’s mark was still sitting on his hip. He was branded with it, just as Jason was branded with his. The fact that he wasn’t alone in this whole fucked-up situation should’ve made him feel better about it all, but it just left him curling tighter into a ball against the bathtub, hoping for once that he could block out the rest of the world.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the bathroom when he heard the window in his living room get pushed open. He tensed, trying to determine who it was, but a familiar voice had him relaxing back against the cool surface of the tub when it rang out.

“Tim! Tim, what the fuck happened? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Fuck, where are you?!” he called.

“I’m in here,” he called, voice sounding stronger than he thought it would.

Jason was standing in the doorway to the bathroom in a matter of seconds and Tim lifted his head from where it was resting to look up at him. His chest was moving rapidly as he worked to catch his breath. He’d managed to put on his leather jacket, but his hair was mussed and Tim was pretty sure that his shirt was on backwards.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” he asked, walking over to him and kneeling down.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t find the energy to get back up. I needed a minute and it was all the way over in the living room.”

Jason looked between where he was sitting and the toilet. “Did you get sick?”

“Thankfully, no. But I seriously thought that I was going to be.”

“Did you eat something bad or what? I don’t think I’ve ever known you to be the type of person to blow chunks.”

“And I haven’t really, but this…got to me.”

Jason cocked his head and moved to sit down so that his back was leaning against the cabinets underneath the sink and he could watch Tim. “What do you mean?”

“Well I was looking through the patient records and found the one that I’d been looking for. I knew that I just needed the name of the doctor, but next to his name it said that the patient was deceased.”

Jason sucked in a breath.

“I thought that it would be no big deal from there, but then I started reading the patient notes…” Tim propped his elbow on the edge of the bathtub and tangled his fingers into his hair so that he could grip the strands. He stared at whatever was in front of him, not really seeing what was there as he recounted the new information. “He was connected to other patients like we are, but his pain only got worse as his condition deteriorated. He eventually had to be sedated pretty much 24/7 and what I found that set me off was that one morning when the meds wore off, the pain was so excruciating that he scratched gouges in his arms and his legs.”

“I’ll admit that does sound pretty bad, but aren’t you pretty good at handling gore? We’re both vigilantes, it’s not like we haven’t seen our fair share of it.”

“Yeah, I am. But I guess it was just the thought that the technology used on him is what’s connecting the two of us and if it were to get that bad…”

“Don’t worry.”

Tim glanced over at Jason who was watching him, expression determined.

“I’m sure that he developed whatever he’s been using further and that what’s been used to link us isn’t the same as back then. And with your brain and my brawn, we’ll find him in no time and get this shitty thing taken care of.”

“You mean your ability to threaten people at gunpoint and then shoot them if they don’t answer your questions?” Tim asked, lips quirking up into a smile which Jason returned.

“Exactly.” Jason’s smile fell from his lips. “Do you think we should go to everyone else with this now that you’ve found those records?”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re just records, but…”

“We’re strong and you’re smart. We’ll have this figured out in no time.”

“Thanks, Jay.”

Jason waved away the comment and pushed himself to his feet before offering a hand to Tim who took it gladly and got pulled to his feet.

“I’ll see you around then, Tim,” Jason gave him a two-finger salute and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

“What?” he asked, looking over his shoulder, obviously confused.

“Just one thing. Your shirt’s on backwards,” Tim said, snickering.

Jason’s eyes went wide and he looked down at his shirt before groaning. “Jesus fuck.”

“You can fix it before you leave if you want.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled, shoving Tim out of the bathroom so that he could shut the door.

Tim smiled and shook his head, amused. Maybe they really could get through this on their own.