#like no! it’s not! and tim knows that! and he’s too high strung to be pissed or scared about it!

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 32

MASTAPOST

Samson S. Skulker. Wealthy real estate owner, noted trophy hunter.  Been on safaris in Botswana, Indonesia, India, and other countries taking big game. Guy hunted just about everything. Elephants, rhinos, tigers, elk, only to come to Elmerton Bay, just an hour away by boat from Amity Island.

It didn’t take two brain cells to figure out why. The better question was why Phantom tried to point webbed fingers at him as to the whereabouts of Danny Fenton, a move that was transparently (goddammit Dick and your puns) a lie, according to Bruce. Tim Drake slipped into the man’s more private records without even trying.

Of course, getting the data out and parsing what it meant were two very different things. But he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing. Skulker did make cursory attempts at hiding his electronic paper trail, but cursory was absolutely not enough to keep 13-year-old Tim out, let alone his current self.

Firstly, the man absolutely hunted more exotic, more illegal creatures. That much was clear. Borrowing some of Barbara’s programmes, Tim found the man travelling to much more remote countries. His little vacations coincided with missing persons reports around the same time.

Missing metas, to be exact. Each person with a power set dangerous to themselves and others. Each person having disappeared without a trace and then never to be found again. The picture Tim was building was getting grimmer.

Secondly, the man was buying parts. Robotics parts, to be exact. Engines, weapons systems, hydraulics. Many of them sourced from Vladco, the company founded by Vlad Masters, an old college friend of Jack and Maddie Fenton, who were the parents to the missing teenager of Tim’s current case.

But Danny Fenton did not have the meta-gene, a fact Tim confirmed after yet another concerning breach of privacy. He filed that detail away for later investigating.

Tim pressed a key, letting his programmes run while he got a coffee. Oh sweet delicious coffee. He had once distilled almost pure caffeine into a syrup. It was the most horrible thing he’d tasted in his life, but the buzz kept him up all night, that was until his heart started giving out. That was less enjoyable.

What was also less enjoyable was the revving motorcycle heading into the Batcave. Two motorcycles, in fact. Just as Tim’s afternoon was looking to be peaceful and quiet.

“Don’t fucking give me that, Dickwing!” Jason called out.

“I’m fine, Jay, maybe you need to stop hovering over me like some mama bear.” Dick put down his helmet with maybe a little too much force.

Jason hopped off his own bike. “That’s bullshit and even Timbit knows it.”

Tim shrunk into the Batcomputer’s chair. He so did not want to be a part of this. He just waited for his older brothers to carry their argument out of earshot, like they had been doing regularly now. The men traded strong words with every footstep across the cave.

“Maybe I’m just a little high strung. It’s honestly nothing.”

“You literally cannot fucking say that when I saw you going full-ass Punisher five minutes ago. Like the traffickers yesterday were one thing. Those guys suck. This dude was literally just a mugger. Are you going out of your fucking mind?”

“Jason, I thought you were supposed to be the one who’s all for going full Punisher style?”

Jason groaned loudly, and then transitioned into a frustrated scream. “Do you even hear yourself?!”

The changing room door slammed shut.

That was the second argument in the last two days. If you told Tim that Mr Heads-in-a-Duffle would be lecturing the Golden Child over excessive force, he’d start working on a machine to send you back to the topsy-turvy alternate dimension you’d come from, but apparently his dimension was the topsy-turvy one the whole time. And he hated it.

Turns out Dick inherited more from Bruce than he liked to admit, including his awful coping mechanisms. And to be honest, he was way too tired to even begin to breach this subject.

He should be happy that his literal attempted murderer was going to be out of his hair for a good while, maybe even forever. But even entertaining the thought made him sick enough to avoid the topic in his head for hours, only to think about it again, and get himself sick again.

So back to Skulker it was. Joy.

It turned out his new friend Skulker had made himself a fucking Iron Man rip-off suit, capable of flight, diving, and packed to the gills with fuck-you bazookas, machine guns, and hydroplasm weapons. Hydroplasm guns that he’d sourced from the Fentons themselves, through a long and complicated chain of buyoffs.

And happy day, the man was kind enough to install cameras and microphones, and kept logs from both.

In a surprising twist, it was fiendishly difficult to hack into those logs. Tim was honestly beginning to sweat. He suspected Skulker’s friends at Vladco (namely Vlad Masters, the sleezeball. Tim never liked him at galas and this only cemented his low opinion) had some secrets that they didn’t want out.

No matter, it was only a matter of time. Tim continued typing.

And typing.

And typing.

What the hell was this firewall?! Tim pinched his arm just to make sure this wasn’t a sleep-deprivation hallucination. He could’ve sworn he’d gotten through that layer of security. It was like it was shifting itself to cover up his progress and force him to start over. Almost like it was alive.

Against the thunderous backdrop of his brothers’ clashing voices, Tim set himself on overdrive. If he could just act faster than it could correct itself, then maybe, maybe.

A plain error message informed him of the results long after he’d already seen them. Tim kicked the table for good measure. The only thing he could extract was two frames of video footage. They showed, respectively, a T-shirt and pair of sneakers that matched what one of the missing metas was wearing when they were last seen.

Was it damning evidence? Absolutely. But it also proved to him absolutely nothing that he wasn’t already suspecting, nothing that could point him in a new direction. Still, it made his stomach churn. He hoped those people would get a better second chance beyond the grave.

Maybe the fact that the data was this well-hidden at all proved something.

The locker room door swung open, his brothers in civvies and glaring at each other, trying to appear civil in front of (right behind) Tim, even though they’d literally just been shouting at each other ten minutes ago.

“Timmy!” Dick called out. “How long have you been awake?”

Tim gestured offhanded to his pile of only two used mugs. “Not long enough. I’m still working. Can you take it upstairs please?”

Jason huffed, and stalked off upstairs without a word, probably too disgusted to be in his and Dick’s presence much longer.

Dick clasped his hands. “It’s fine, Tim. Honestly. Jason and I are just having a little, err, disagreement, is all.”

“Hm.” Tim inputted another set of commands. He was starting to see why Bruce liked to say that now. Avoiding painful emotions felt so good. Dick made a pained noise.

“Well, ok. I’m just gonna head back to Bludhaven now. Say hi to Alfred for me! And contact me if you need anything!” And then he sped off.

Tim shook off the awkwardness like old clothes. Thank goodness for some peace and quiet again. Maybe that was why he was working so hard to help Bruce get the demon child back, so he could return to the status quo, and not this. This hell reality where Dick was as emotionally constipated as Bruce and Jason was the one acting as the voice of reason.

The first night when Bruce called home, the entire family was in an uproar. Dick got a pale look on his face, and was halfway about to take the Batplane and go searching for Damian himself, only for Bruce to remind him that they were all still needed in Gotham and Bludhaven, and whatever few leads there were, Bruce would pursue. It was effortlessly logical, but it was clear Dick hated it. He stormed off in a rage that Tim had only seen when Ethiopia was fresh, when he and Bruce were at their lowest.

And Jason? He got this look on his face that he’d never, ever seen before. Tim had laid awake one night just contemplating it for ages.

Actually, no. He had seen it once before. It was Tim caught Jason looking into what Bruce was doing in the months after Ethiopia. Tim had subtly hacked the phone camera, and the look Jason had then was the same as how he looked when Damian was declared missing.

Tim shook his head. It was a gruesome image, what Bruce had sent them. Damian’s clothes ripped to shreds. The ground stained with his blood. No body in sight.

A little brother who may or may not be dead, something he may or may not be glad or sick to his stomach about. Brothers who were acting like completely different people, and a monster of a man who had to be connected somehow.

A ping appeared in the corner of the screen. The government siren hunting branch appearing in Panama?

Sam Manson sat up in her bed, her body finding some way to release the dread and tension. She looked on at her phone in horror and macabre fascination in equal parts.

This had Danny written all over it. She didn’t even need to hear the anchor confirming it to know.

On the one hand, she really wanted to applaud him for fucking them up this bad. The comment section was ripping into the GiW for their actions in Panama, treating the country like it was some vassal state they could romp around in. She personally screenshotted the fucking beautiful mass car crash the GiW had gotten into trying to catch him, and saved it into her favourites folder.

On the other hand, she really wanted to slap him for fucking up this bad. This could’ve easily gone wrong. Danny what were you thinking?! They could’ve got him that time!

And finally, she wanted to yell in frustration, because they had a radio communicator there. Goddammit! If only Tucker had known, they he could’ve hacked in and they could’ve talked to their best friend and actually got an update on what the fuck was going on.

And finally, finally for real, she was so glad, because the GiW would’ve announced it on every news channel if they’d actually managed to catch him. Thank fucking goodness.

Ugh, this headache. She really needed to lie down again.

Knock, knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

Dread pooled in her stomach. “Come in,” she said, resigned to her fate.

Grandma Ida, the person she least wanted to see right now, opened the door. She was the kind of woman who never carried herself very seriously, except for in matters of sorcery, and especially when warning Sam on the dangers of her craft. Dangers that Sam had ignored in order to go all out. Now she marched into Sam’s bedroom like an executioner.

Grandma stood at the foot of Sam’s bed, scanning her closely. “I knew I smelled tinged blood.” She went up to the side, and palmed Sam’s forehead. Her hand was freezing cold to the touch. “You should’ve called me immediately.”

Sam averted her eyes. She should’ve, but she didn’t.

Her parents never failed to get a rise out of her; she rejected their notions of female beauty and social etiquette in every way, their attempts to hook her up with Tim Drake-Wayne, then Damian Wayne, and she hadn’t cowed to them or submitted since she was ten. But with Grandma’s withering disapproval, she couldn’t feel more like a child if she tried.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“I warned you many times of the risks, Sammy. You’re lucky to be here, and not in the hospital or worse.”

“I know.”

Sam moved to lie on her side, facing away from Granny. Granny had questioned her decision to fight alongside Danny, but allowed it under the condition that she did so safely, and turning your body into a popping water balloon, but with blood, was so not the definition of safe.

And Danny’s fate was still in question regardless. He wasn’t able to cross Panama, and who knows what Damian was doing. What if it was all for naught?

A hand was put on her shoulder. “Did you accomplish what you were set out to do?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“And was it worth it?” Yes. Absolutely yes. Danny bled every day for this god-forsaken town of ingrates. He’d bled for her mistake six months ago.

Granny seemed to understand her feelings. She nodded, and ruffled Sam’s hair, and the tension in Sam’s body drained away.

“Then I trust your judgement. Can you sit up? I’ve brought some more medicine for you.”

Sam pushed herself against the bunched-up pillows at the headboard. Her head spun from the motion, but she was never one to let her body’s limits confine her. “Thank you, Bubbe. I love you.”

Granny passed her a brew of herbal medicine, dozens of dried spices and mushrooms brewed together into a blackened sludge that felt like knives into your tongue, but which never failed to get her feeling better. It was a leg up from what big pharma tried to pedal for ten-fold the price.

Sam lifted up the mug to her face. And, oh yeah. Nothing like bitter liquid pain to help with a migraine. She let the hot tea flow over her taste buds, pathing them in cinnamon, star anise and a million other things.

She finished her tea in one satisfying gulp, running her tongue over her teeth and scratching out the lingering aftertaste. As she put the mug down, it revealed Grandma’s face hovering right in front of her. Sam yelped in shock. “Bubbe! You gave me a heart attack!”

Bubbe smiled devilishly. “So what did you do?”

Sam’s mouth gaped open. Leave it to her Grandma to almost kill her from emotional whiplash.

“Now come on, this is a monumental moment for a budding young sorceress like yourself. Why, when I was twenty-two, I used to run with some heroic types myself. We had all sorts of hijinks together.” Bubbe cackled and clasped her hands, eyes going wispy. “My friends got a heart attack when I pulled off my own hare-brained scheme to topple the evil overlord of the week’s central command. Hah!”

“What?!” Then Sam coughed, and lowered her volume. “What do you mean ‘heroic types.’ You just told me you went to some stuffy academy and eloped.”

Bubbe shrugged. “I did do that. Must have forgotten the extra stuff.”

Sam blinked.

She moved to sit beside Sam on the bed. “We got up to a lot of fun back in the day, and a lot of pain too. I did what I did to protect those I cared for. Did you, bubbeleh?”

She held Sam’s hand with a look that reminded her just how many years Grandma had lived, and how many adventures or stories she had yet to tell, how much heartache she’d had to endure to become the woman she was now. “I projected an illusion all the way off the coast of Panama. It hurt like nothing else in my entire life, but…” She paused. “We got Phantom out. He’s safe now, I think.”

Grandma Ida nodded solemnly, the kind of understanding that Sam craved from her parents every waking moment of her teenage career.

“I don’t want this to be a regular occurrence, ok?”

“Yes, I promise. This was an extreme circumstance.”

“Good. Now, are you well enough for some meditation? It would do well to keep your soul energy flowing.”

Ok, but you have to tell me what you got up to back in the day.”

Granny chuckled, and agreed to it. Sam kicked off her covers, letting her legs get some fresh air. She was probably pushing it, but she needed to recover as quickly as possible. Who knew when she would be needed again?

Maddie Fenton kneeled in the sand. Her hands clamped down on her gun. Her knees shook. Tears prickled in her goggles.

Her baby was right there. He was so close. So fucking close. She could almost touch him, even now.

And he ran away from her. And at first her heart shattered into a million pieces, just like it had when he’d come home after his first disappearance and flinched when she hugged him.

Then she realised. He was protecting her. Some metal menace was shooting at her defenseless son like it was some kind of sick game. The monster of a man had laid fucking landmines on a public beach.

It should’ve been her protecting him.

Bruce Wayne returned to her side, empty handed. They’d scoured this entire beach. Danny couldn’t have gone far, she had thought, only for their search to turn up with nothing.

That left only one option. That her enemy doubled back after fleeing, and snatched Danny up without either her or Bruce noticing. Maddie’s heart sank. She should’ve aimed for the head.

A name pinged in her mind. Phantom had whispered it to her. Skulker.

With nary but nod, she and Bruce mounted their jet skis again.

[radioactive-earthshine]

Wait.

Conner was homeless and Cassie didn't help him?

Weren't they dating at the time?

Where was Clark?

Tim?

Bart?

I have so many questions.

I avoided reading all of Superboy because of the unforgivable sexism but now I'm figuring that might have been a mistake.

1.) Conner was homeless and Cassie didn't help him?

Nope. Dan Didio did her extremely dirty.

Superboy #94 I don't even want to show the whole page of this because it is severely gross, but Cassie basically tells Kon to leave, despite Young Justice's HQs being more than large enough to accommodate him, and for some reason he was sharing a room with Slo-bo.... when it was more than large enough to house him.... idk.

"Stop depending on others" when you are BOTH sixteen and are in a TEAM where you HAVE to depend on each other to me sounds out of character for her, or at least in poor taste as it strips the compassion from her.

Didio decided this was the route to go with her, I'm not sure if he forgot these were sixteen year olds, or if he just didn't care, because either way it's not fair of a move to pull. You can argue that it's definitely something a teenager would pull but I think Cassie would at least have compassion here for Kon, even if she is a little high strung at this time and also dealing with PTSD (likely).

Cassie did recognize later in the issue that she was "rough" on him and it ends on a hopeful note that a new start for Kon would be good, but it doesn't bode to be a positive experience. His move was done on a sinking raft.

In a hypothetical situation where things go better and Cassie recognizes that it is unfair to demand that Kon leave when she herself has a home, a mother, and a large support system to protect her, I feel like she would allow Kon to stay at Young Justice like she allowed Slo-bo to stay.

2.) Weren't they dating at the time?

Nope. They didn't get together until later, they were flirting at this time in varying intensity. They both clearly liked each other but neither really made the push to make it anything more than being friends and annoying the hell out each other.

3. ) Where was Clark?

When Kon was actually homeless and looking for a place to live he was not present. A relator thought Superman was logically Kon's father but Kon quickly corrected that assumption and it cost him a place to live.

In issue #100 Clark reveals that sometime during the time Kon took up residency in Metropolis in the apartment complex he was working/living at, he had Jimmy filling him in on the chaotic events going on, but other than that he was not involved.

Clark did here what he should have done a long, long time ago. You can write a lot of meta, analysis and critiques for why it took Clark so long to act in this moment, and it would all be fair, but in the end he did finally help Kon.

Clark does eventually involve himself and save Kon from exploitation and a second homeless situation, thus ending Kon's comic series. He was too late, but he did solve the issue.

4.) Tim?

He had taken a leave of absence from Young Justice directly after the Our World at War story arc that preceded Kon's homelessness, so it's likely he didn't even KNOW this was going on.

Kon and Tim got into a huge fight as well, and it contributed to Tim's motivation for quitting because he didn't want to stay where he wasn't trusted (PTSD thanks to Granny Goodness as well).

Kon also did not know Tim's identity at this time, and he doesn't find it out until after The World Without Young Justice arc that takes place around Superboy #99. They're not really on speaking terms here from issues #94-#98, and in the majority of Young Justice they have more of a peer-based relationship than a friendly one. They do CARE about each other, but it's not this deep wholesome best friend relationship that Geoff John's made it into in TTv3 right out of the gate. They're not there, yet.

Tim comes back on the team AFTER the World Without Young Justice arc when his identity is revealed via Matt Stewart's meddling with events, by this time Kon is in Kansas with Ma and Pa Kent and the situation is over, his series is over.

In the hypothetical situation where Tim did know that Kon was homeless, I'd think he'd probably reach out to Dick over Bruce at this time and ask what they should do. Tim more often sought Dick out for these sorts of things than he did Bruce, and I feel like it would remind Dick of when Donna was homeless during his time as a Titan.

It would go from there I think, and Kon might have actually had a swifter response from Clark or maybe Kara or someone else with Dick sounding the alarm, but that's just one angle and all a "what if" and we cannot hold this as fact because... it's hypothetical.

It would make a GREAT premise for a fix-it fanfic.

TLDR: He just likely didn't know and they weren't close enough for Tim to know, but if he did he'd most likely ask Dick "WHAT DO?"

5.) Bart?

Bart left Young Justice at the same time as Tim did due to PTSD, however Kon knew exactly who Bart was at this time and they were very close friends. Out of everyone on Young Justice, they were the closest. Even so, Bart (likely) would not have known that this was going on with Kon as he had distanced himself from his teammates.

There was a point during one of the Impulse comics that Bart needed help for one of his cases, and he briefly considered reaching out to Young Justice but STOPPED because he had quit, he felt it was not a viable option, therefore it is logical to assume he was not communicating with anyone from his team.

Also to note, during this period of time of 2002, cellphones were not readily available (yet) and email, instant messaging and direct (expensive!) phone calls would have been the primary way to keep in touch over long distance, for them they of course could just meet up and chat but the comics don't show this happening when Bart left the team.

Kon likely never reached out for help, because Cassie told him to "stop depending on others" and it pushed a button for Kon to be stubborn and try to fix his own situation so he probably didn't even think to say "Oh hey btw I'm homeless!" (in fact the word 'homeless' doesn't even come up).

Had Bart known Kon was homeless and needed help, he might have asked Max for advice on what to do like Tim might with Dick, and Max has shown that when children are in peril (like with Cissie being abused by her mother) he will act.

I feel like Max would probably pull what Bruce did with Clark in YJA and tell him that he NEEDS to be there for him, NOW. It would likely be a push to get a more prompt reaction. Again though, this did not happen and is speculative.

Also, Max's 'death' almost overlaps Kon's homeless situation so another factor that can contribute to Bart not being able to help, or knowing, was that Bart himself was in crisis and in a full new transition from one household to another.

TLDR: Bart and Kon were extremely close at this time, but due to personal circumstances they likely just did not communicate well enough to convey the situation.

6.) I have so many questions.

Me too, why was Didio allowed to write anything, why couldn't he just remain a producer? He produced the Orion solo and that was amazing.

7.) I avoided reading all of Superboy because of the unforgivable sexism but now I'm figuring that might have been a mistake.

No, not a mistake. Not wanting to come across a lot of the more gross and unsavory themes that are depicted all throughout Kon's comics are a valid reason to skip it, however it is unfortunate that in order to really grasp him it would be extremely advisable to read it. If you are really deeply triggered by those gross themes, then don't hurt yourself, but if it is something you can consume to glean the rest of the events that are formative to Kon, I would suggest it.

[beloveddawn-blog]

Teleri sat up suddenly, and Nathanial groaned next to her. "Wha tim iz ih?" He slurred, turning himself back into the pillow.

She smiled at him, charmed by his very human mannerisms. "Early." She replied. "Probably too early." She ruffled his hair softly. "Or we were up too late last night. Either way."

He curled around her waist somewhat, still half asleep. "Worth it." He muttered, kissing her spine. She laughed and slid out of bed. He pouted into the sheets. "Come back here." He tried to cajole, but she simply laughed again.

"Not happening." She replied, pulling her dress over her head and looking for her boots. "I think Roza might actually murder me if you're late for another morning inspection. It's apparently 'a bad example' when the Captain shows up halfway through and with his surcoat on backwards."

"That was one time." He protested, shooting into a sitting position himself in outrage.

Teleri smirked at him. "Only for the surcoat." She finished pulling on her gloves and gave her husband a quick kiss before reaching for her headphones. "I'm off. I've got things to do, and I wanna drop by Nel'Vari and give Sera that warming baby blanket I made. I'm gonna have to make more of an effort to go there, since she's getting a bit too far along in the pregnancy to be watching my animals for me." Her eyes grew slightly distant. "Maybe I'll ask Iris to check in on them for me. She's at the pastures all the time anyway, and I can offer the farm for her to work with her experiments on. Wesley's been a bit high strung from all of this and it's showing in his discomfort with her work. This should help both of them."

"It's too early for plotting." Her husband insisted, getting up to find his pants. "You need to wait until I'm at least fed if you want sensible feedback."

She laughed again, gave him another quick kiss, and headed for the door, headphones sliding into place as she went. Nathanial quickly finished dressing himself (making sure his surcoat was the right direction this time) and grabbed both a cup of coffee and a meal out of the fridge on his way to lean in the doorway and watch his wife work (fried fish is absolutely the breakfast of champions and no, he is not taking criticism).

There he watched a sight he would never tire of: his wife, the most powerful mage he's ever seen (don't tell Lucia. She'd skin him, all while crying about 'traitors' not appreciating all she does) call upon the forces of heaven and earth... To water the seedlings and till the soil. For all she hadn't been able to access it before Elios awoke her latent ability, Teleri used magic like she breathed. It was a part of everything she did in a day.

And that was all by design.

She saw him watching her and pulled her headphones down, a slightly quizzical look on her face. Finally, on this unspecial day that was just like any other, he decided to ask.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" She replied, tilting her head in confusion. Cute was all his brain supplied for a moment, but soon enough he regained enough of his original train of thought to continue.

"Use magic for everything." He replied. "I know you used every trick in the book to gain the power you have, but everything you do with it could be done by hand almost as well. You're somehow both the laziest person I know, as well as the most productive."

She threw her head back and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He felt his one eyebrow raise as she slowly got herself under control, even wiping away a tear. "Really, Beloved? All those years getting to know me and you still don't understand the nature of water?" She had been walking towards him before, and now she was close enough to slide one arm around his waist (and how he wished he wasn't in his armour...) and boop his nose with the other one. "Water always takes the easiest path. Always. And if there isn't one? It will cut through anything to make one." Her smile was back to sly and knowing, and he couldn't help dropping a soft kiss on it. "But it's also never still. Even contained, stagnant water has movement within it. It's not in my nature to stay in one place."

"But you will for me." He answered back, knowing the truth of this. It was what he held to while everyone around him fell for his beloved, and he knew it was true.

"I will for you." She replied, honesty shining through her eyes. She would outlive him, they both knew, and eventually move on. But for now she was his to love and cherish, and it was the greatest accomplishment of his life. Then she smirked again and drew out a whistle. "But not now. For now," She blew a short tune, then swung herself up on the owlbear that manifested and held a hand out to him, "You're going to be late if we don't get a move on. Come on, I will drop you off at the barracks."

Nathanial grabbed her hand and let himself be hauled onto the beast, the one greatest truth of his life ringing in his mind: I'm so in love with this woman.

[hopetorun]

future considerations by daisysusan -- any!

okay as a title "future considerations" screams pwp (with feelings) to me. a swapping favors kind of thing, or maybe like ... encouragement? trading something, obviously. sexual favors, probably.

anyway i'm thinking brady and tim, and it starts with our poor little boy timmy getting into a bit of a scoring slump, and in his head about it. and obviously brady wants to help him get back into it, because he wants his team to succeed but mostly because he wants his boy timmy to be thriving! but he tries all the regular stuff and timmy's still just a little high-strung stress ball about it, so finally brady is like, here's the deal. i'm gonna blow you and then tomorrow night you're gonna score me a goal. that's the deal, yeah?

and it works. brady blows him, timmy scores a goal. perfect. except they have another game in two days and like, if it ain't broke don't fix it, right? so brady blows him again. timmy scores another goal. next game, brady blows him and timmy only gets an assist, so they mix it up. throw in a handjob.

timmy starts to think he should be offering something. you know. get him back. he could see that brady was hard after the last time he blew him, and brady on his knees, standing up with his mouth red and wet, tenting his basketball shorts? timmy's into it. but when he offers brady just shrugs and says that the setup they have going on seems to be working.

timmy doesn't get him to change his mind until he goes on a pointless streak, five games without so much as a secondary assist and it's definitely weighing on brady. timmy makes his most compelling argument (it involves licking his lips a lot) for why trading blowjobs is going to be better than brady just sucking tim off. and that works for a bit, too -- brady scores two in the next game, and tim assists on them both, and that's how it should be, right?

anyway, suffice to say, this fairly quickly develops into a "i get you off/i get to ask you for a favor" situation. mostly hockey stuff at first, but straying pretty far from the original score a goal parameters. brady jerks timmy off on the couch and asks him to set claude up for a goal, it's been a while since he lit the lamp. tim lets brady fuck his face a bit before he asks brady to go do some touristy shit with him in new york.

obviously, the sex is good. sometimes they just want to have sex, and the excuses wear a little thin. tim asks to use brady's shower because it's nicer. brady asks tim to buy him dinner the next time they go out, because he wants to get his hands on tim and now he needs to come up with a reason. (it does feel like a date, and tim does look so pleased with himself when he pulls his card out for both of them)

and then there's this time where they end up just snuggled together on the couch, kind of watching a movie but mostly nuzzling at each other and touching and eventually they both get off. all sleepy and warm and cozy in the afterglow, brady says, "so what do you want?" and timmy just freezes. he can't come with anything except that he'd kind of like brady to kiss him right now. kiss him and then take him to bed, not even for more sex, just to sleep there.

timmy, obviously, has never handled anything with grace so he just -- flees. leaves brady on the couch with his shorts shoved down under his ass and a bit of jizz on his hand and his sweatshirt rucked up but not actually taken off. there's something very vulnerable about being bare-assed on your own couch, you know? and now brady has this problem to solve. it would be easier to solve if tim would make eye contact.

the process takes some time, and some pathetic pleas, and a lot of stubbornness as he chases tim down, but eventually brady gets what he wants, which is to say he gets tim alone in a room so he can say what he wanted to say on the couch, which was that he would really like it if tim kissed him, and also maybe moved in.

and then they go to brady's and have a lot of sex and when they're done timmy says, "so what do you want from me?" and brady just kisses him and says, "nothing. you know, future considerations."

[devilwearsgreen]

DP x DC AU: Extra Notes

More concept pieces that I didn't want to put in the main post:

[Concept] [Age Chart]

~~~~~

When Danny got to Gotham he chose to go by the last name Gale. When Jason decided he wasn't going back to Bruce, he started going by Jay Gale, and dyed his hair the same colour as the twins. I'm thinking the red hair of his earlier character design.

After taking the three newly resurrected back to his apartment, they spent the first night on his couch (the only comfortable furniture he had) and soaked up the calming ectoplasm Danny was emitting. When he was able to, Danny went out to steal two single mattresses; but continued to sleep on the couch. When Jason was coherent enough he felt guilty about it and insisted Danny take the bed. They argue for a bit before deciding to just share. One for them and one for the twins. This is a habit they don't bother breaking even when they get better apartments. 

Danny chose Gotham because the amount of curses in such a relatively small area hid his presence in plain sight. And the Lazarus Pit under the city provided him with the exoplasm he needed to survive. But some of those curses are really nasty… and surely not all of those curses are necessary right? He can't just leave them there when he can do something about it right?? So Danny also becomes the local supernatural expert, making the city a better place one curse at a time. 

Danny doesn't have much time to think about schooling for the first few years in Gotham, But when Jason  gets well enough and established enough to really contribute to their income, maybe he gets his GED and gives college a try. 

I don't know what happened to Danny’s friends and family in this au, but maybe he does a psychology major as an honour to Jazz.  (Being the older sibling is hard! No wonder she was so high strung!) Danny as the Arkham Psychologist anyone? It's one of my favourite concepts!

Danny and Tim Frequent the same coffee shop. Tim hears the things the baristas say about this regular that's been coming in for a few years before him, and becomes immensely curious about the one guy in Gotham that orders more espresso shots than him. Whenever they are in the store at the same time, they get to talking. 

The twins are only a year younger than Damian, and are a lot more carefree and adventurous. At first Damian takes this as a personal affront; what's so special about these immature brats?? But they grow on him and actually get him to loosen up and act his age sometimes. The three of them add Jon to make a quartet and cause nightmares for the faint of heart.

Although the twins do receive training, they never pick up the vigilante lifestyle. Reasons being 1) They have already died once and don't feel like inviting it, and 2) they have seen how worried Danny can get about Jason and how Worked up Jason can get about Danny, and they don't want to worry either of their big brothers. Although I do like the idea of them apprenticing under Dr Leslie in the future.

In place of getting training from the League of Ass (sorry,  Assassins), Danny teaches Jay the sword fighting he learned from Pandora, the hand to hand from Frostbite, the weapons training from his parents, and everything he can think of from his own years of desperate fighting. This changes Jason's fighting style just enough that no one that knew him before would recognize it. (Remember that the LoA trained Bruce too)

Danny could have sold Ice Sculptures for a few years, and it was a good source of money; but once certain villains start taking interest and its unmelting nature starts piquing curiosity, he stops. This, however, introduces scarcity, and his few sculptures become some of the most valuable things in the city. When he eventually starts making them again, he's not expecting the ferver, to hilarious effect.

Danny doesn't kill the Joker. He doesn't even hurt the Joker. That's not his place and not his thing. But there is no way in hell he wants that man to be roaming the streets while he has little brothers to protect. So he takes measures to prevent the Joker, specifically, from escaping Arkham. Very successfully. The Joker goes even more insane seeing others escape when he Can't. But he never manages to hurt anyone. Danny makes sure of it. 

Because Danny is now watching over the Batfamily, he prevents Damian's death entirely. And If/ When Dick goes undercover at spyral, Danny makes sure he can keep in touch with the family.

I also believe that the reason Bruce doesn't notice that Jason's grave becomes empty in cannon, is because the League of Assassins goes back to fill it in. Danny doesn't  even think about doing that. So Bruce knows that someone Robbed his son's Grave. Crime drops a bit while Bruce is on that warpath. But of course he doesn't find anything, all of the footage is blurry or nonexistent. I think it would be funny if he thought the LoA was responsible for it, even though he's in the exact wrong dimension to be correct. 

[incorrectbatfam]

What vibe does the batfam give off?

Dick: Eldest Daughter Syndrome™

Jason: #"they killed someone" like what are you protestant

Tim: if he’s your favorite character you’re not straight

Damian: "Let me see what you have" "A knife!" "NO!"

Duke: the kid whose name is always floating around but you never really know who they are

Cullen: too young for Full House, too old for Charli D'Amelio, just the right age to remember Salad Fingers

Stephanie: this specific 2000s chick-flick end credits

Cassandra: look behind you

Barbara: the adopted daughter of a chill lesbian librarian and her high-strung substitute teacher wife

Harper: takes driving tips from the Fast & Furious franchise

Carrie: who let a literal child in here

Kate: "I'm having relationship problems" "Dump them"

Alfred: the only valid old white British man

Selina: probably responsible for the Isabella Gardner Museum Heist

Bruce: I know I'm getting old when I understand how fucking exhausted he is

[whaleofatjme1920]

Masky/Tim with a S.O sfw and nsfw headcanons?👀

Masky with an SO

I already did something immensely similar to this a while ago with Tim, this is for Masky as I write them as entirely different people. Here's Tim. If you are a minor, DNI

SFW

Masky is a bit of a bastard? Like, he's not mean or anything, but he's high strung because he's a proxy group leader. He knows he's good, just needs to get reminded about it.

He's a really, really protective partner.

Doesn't want you knowing about his work.

I'm serious, he will hide this shit from you as best as he can.

He's rough around the edges and a little prickly?

Masky is a bit cocky ngl.

That's gonna show in how he treats you. He wants to show you off when it's safe to do so.

You're his and no one else's.

Masky is a bit controlling?? It's only natural because he's a proxy group leader. It's a tad overbearing in how he treats you tbh.

However, devotion from Masky is devotion unlike any other.

Masky smokes a lot.

He also is kinda crude? He doesn't have that soft energy Tim does. With Masky, it's just a storm that lightens every so slightly because it's you that he's dealing with.

He loves you and shows it primarily through action.

Dating him is kinda shady in itself.

The two of you never do anything normal.

NSFW

Masky is rough and unforgiving when it comes to sex.

He's literally never gentle, it's just hard and fast.

He will mark you, bruise you and make you his and make you know that you're his.

Masky might burn cigarettes on your thighs of your back from time to time if you really, really act up.

He likes brats, people who give him a bit of a fight.

Masky is a dom and you can't tell me otherwise.

He probably spits on you at least once.

Makes you look in his eye as he fucks you in front of other people.

Forces your head down when you're sucking his cock.

Will edge you until you're crying out of frustration.

Masky is big on hair pulling.

Don't be afraid to be mean to him as well. He likes it that way <3

Masky is a bit into weaponplay. Just a bit.

Likes to play is risky.

He always creampies that's how it goes.

If he cums in your mouth, he will make you swallow every single drop.

Honestly he fucks you so hard and fast you can't even speak or think right while it's happening.

Degradation is BIG here. Condescending praise too.

He loves you, but you don't feel like, love during sex with Masky.

It's literally just rough fucking like he hates you.

Masky is kinda eh with aftercare?

That's more of TIm's thing tbh.

[f4nd0m-fun]

SQUEEEEEEE

Oh gods, she DOES. And, although they don't know it, the Batfam are technically supernatural and she's been slipping some of that care into her regimen for them. ESPECIALLY for Jason, hangry 'baby' needs help.

Yes it's toddler fighting but then it ends up with Sam trying to tie him up in vines and then crying when he burns them and now they're both upset.

Pariah gets summoned, isn't even held by the binding circle, ignores pretty much everyone but the Batfam members in the league, hands the kids over, and tells them they better not be late for dinner. Then proceeds to slightly eviscerate JLD verbally before letting them ask questions (he's not asking everything).

Oh lawdy the pearls. But I can see that. She strung it herself and, every so often, she seems to pluck a new pearl from midair and adds it to the string. They're black pearls though, instead of her original white, but they shine almost red in the right light. And Thomas definitely has that 'gay single earring' (half joking but also not) and probably gets teased about it from his partners. And ooo that's interesting. Which, adding to my theory about how the King/Queen/High Royal HAS to be a Halfa for various 'without your human half the relics would overpower you', what if the relics have to have some tie to your human side? The ring is the wedding with Martha, and the earring was something Alfred got him since they couldn't get married (maybe he gave the other half to Martha). They're still not sure when it merged with the Royal crown but at this point it doesn't really matter.

Imagine being a Batkid or even Bruce and Alfred takes it that ancient pocket watch he never lets anyone touch. He clicks it and it turns into a staff like nothing you've ever seen before, and as the bottom strikes the floor time seems to slow around you all (meanwhile Tim, upon finding out Alfred is the time ancient, wonders why he didn't help with Bruce being stuck in time).

Oh my gods Bruce is gonna be the best big brother. And I'm going to stick to your Ancient of Family (after he dies) idea. Which, what's funny is Pariah is Protection(?) Ancient Shadow Core Family Obsession but Bruce is Family Ancient Shadow Core Protection Obsession (truly his father's son). And yeah he definitely gives more hugs, they all do.

I just had an interesting thought of Alfred not being able to mimic some of the finer points of being human. Sure he been around a while, but changing biology on a whim or even over time isn't easy for someone who isn't naturally a shapeshifter. So, while he almost seems to have a normal heart, if someone listens too hard for too long they can hear the tiks and toks and the clinking of gears.

@wisecloudnightmare even more ramble

Prompt 153

 Pariah Dark, Ghost King, warrior, tyrant, world-breaker, Ancient of Darkness, is utterly gobsmacked. The sarcophagus had been opened- something he wasn’t honestly expecting seeing as it was supposed to be for eternity- and he had honestly just been blinking awake. It took a minute or few to properly wake up, but who could blame him? It wasn’t like there was anyone before him who could have opened his prison. 

 Though that wasn’t what had him utterly befuddled. He was rather certain that he had not gotten locked into the Sarcophagus of Sleep with several literal ghost infants. 

Well mostly infants, one is more like the equivalent of a three or four year old but still. And he has a rather panicked sort of feeling breaking through his usual bloodlust, because they all look really similar to his not-exactly ex. Same white hair, same wispy ghost-tail, same tiny fangs and claws currently being bared at him and each other. But they also kind of look like him, what with two having hair aflame- one even had black hair like he once did before his insanity- and even having red eyes. Most even had his own corpse-pale skin, though he could see a more blue tint on a couple and one more similar to his brother’s. 

So yes, Pariah Dark is very much panicking and trying to do the math in his head. A visit to Clockwork might be in his best interest…

[greenlikethesea]

actually i’m gonna start rotisserie chickening my thoughts about this here ( i have too many wips but i’m thinking about this right now)

a bit about the teens! i’ve detailed some of this to the lovely @dallae but i am gathering it here.

hawkins i think has two different avenues for popularity. if you’re a guy, you play basketball or you’re on the swim team. if you’re a girl, you’re on the swim team or you are a cheerleader. when steph hit her growth spurt in 8th grade, she knew that cheer was not an option for her -- at 13, she already weight more in muscle than the seniors did. she wanted to play basketball with the boys, went to sleepaway camp during the summers to play tennis and swim, so she figured she’d swim.

but steph is, while not booksmart, incredibly socially intelligent. (steph has both math and language dyslexia, and needs new glasses but she’s a bit scared to go to the doctor by herself.) her extremely petite mother regularly laments that “oh stephanie, when i was your age, i could fit into a size double zero!” nevermind that diane married a college linebacker who is 6′5″ and she was never going to get a daughter who was 95 lbs. but whatever, she’s observant and can play her mother’s games and high school? it’s just like tennis. it’s just like all the sports she can’t play because of what’s between her legs. it’s a fucking game.

and dating guys? that’s also a game. it’s fun. you always have a boyfriend, play the field, but date a guy just long enough so no one thinks you’re easy. and sex is whatever -- it’s great exercise. she likes how into it guys get. no guy has ever told her no before nathan. but no one has ever asked her what she’s thinking about either, or what she wants to do, or has ever seemed interested in what she had to say before. and so losing him, and his huge blue eyes and that lithe body and that sweet smile, to joan fucking byers, who’s scrappy and tiny and fights dirty and steph knows she doesn’t wear a bra because she looks for her nipples every time she sees her. just to check, another point against her. she wonders if she doesn’t wear underwear either.

there’s robin at scoops, and he’s a douche, but he’s so fucking smart, and fun, and caring and silly and maybe she could love a guy like him. maybe he could be her boyfriend. but they’re strung out on russian drugs and he’s rambling about how much he used to hate her because tim travers was fucking obsessed with her (god, the guy who thinks he’s george michael? as if!) and oh, he’s gay. he likes boys. that’s...that’s fine. he’s got shit taste in guys, but like. whatever. they’re friends. they’re friends.

and this whole time, this whole fucking time, emmy munson has been in her periphery, on her radar. she’s like a wild animal, with the biggest, brownest eyes she’s ever fucking seen, and she’s so tiny, five foot nothing, freewheeling and jumping on tables in her reeboks and raglan every fucking friday. but debbie thinks she’s amazing, wants to be just like her, and that...that sucks. because the way emmy speaks, she’s smarter than steph will ever be. and debbie of course is smarter than steph, and steph works at a video store and couldn’t get into college. her social smarts have failed her.

and then emmy munson emerges from the tarp and tackles her in the boat house. and when she’s straddling steph’s hips, broken bottle pointed down and her throat, steph’s hands squeeze her hips possessively and oh. maybe it hasn’t been boys all along.

[voiceless-terror]

a little ficlet for @jonsimsandcats day! set in season one.

“Once again, there’s really no need to buy me tea-”

“And once again, it’s the least I can do,” Martin replies, happy to just be out of the archives. His living situation is not ideal and the dust in Document Storage is not helping his allergies. Still, it’s better than being worm food, so he’s trying to be grateful. And it is, after all, the least he can do, after sneezing and spilling a mug of tea all over Jon’s latest report. “Besides, the fresh air will do us both some good.”

“I suppose,” Jon grumbles, eyes trained ahead as he keeps a surprisingly brisk pace for someone of his stature. “But only for a moment.”

“Of course.” Martin’s shocked he actually agreed to it, considering how high-strung he’s been lately with all the worms, and the deadlines, and the general mess. But Jon had just stared at the slowly-soaking papers and sighed, getting to his feet when Martin offered. And he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s a nice day, anyway, and the blessed moments outside are worth Jon’s grumbles. Jon’s been...nicer, lately. Well, maybe not nice, but softer -  he’ll occasionally let out a sarcastic remark and glance towards Martin, as if to check if he smiled, and will tell him goodnight when he deigns to leave the archives. Martin logically knows this is the bare minimum for polite interaction, but he’ll take what he can get. Tim once told him Jon needs time to warm up to people, and that he can actually be quite fun. Martin’s warming up period seems to have lasted half a year, and he’s still running a bit cool.

“Stop!” Martin lets out a grunt as Jon throws an arm out, hitting him directly in the stomach. He’s looking from left to right with a sudden intensity, his eyes wild. Martin’s mind immediately pivots to worst-case scenarios- worms, Prentiss-

But there are no worms, and certainly no Jane. There’s just Martin and Jon, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk like idiots. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears a tiny, mewling sound coming from somewhere to his right.

Jon’s head perks up, a rare smile gracing his features. It makes him look impossibly young. “Martin, did you hear that?”

Martin blinks. “Uh, the-”

He’s once again interrupted by the tiniest of meows and watches as Jon immediately crouches where he stands, tiptoeing over to a tiny alleyway. It’s almost comical, and Martin would laugh if he weren’t so dumbfounded by this turn of events. Jon starts to make a strange little whispery noise, holding out his hand, and that’s when Martin starts to worry for his mental state.

“Jon, are you-”

“Shh!”

And suddenly the source of the tiny meow- an equally tiny cat - bounds out from behind a trash can, stopping hesitantly in front of Jon’s hand. It’s a dirty little tabby, almost pitiful looking, but that doesn’t deter Jon in the slightest, his entire face lighting up at its appearance. He smiles encouragingly, going still, and the cat creeps forward, moving to sniff at his fingers and then butt its head against his hand.

“Oh, look at this little man-” It’s not quite baby-talk, too serious and too Jonathan Sims to ever be described that way, but it’s a strange enough tone and it sort of does something to Martin in the vein of indigestion and heart palpitations. Here’s his stuffy boss, crouching in a dirty alleyway, petting a dirty cat, and whispering sweet nothings as if it were his own.

“I-I thought you didn’t like animals?” is all he manages to get out.

Jon’s smile doesn’t waver as he leans closer to give the cat a particularly good scritch as it rubs enthusiastically against his hand. “I don’t like them when they’re defecating in my archive.” Ah. Touche. “But you wouldn’t do that, would you? Would you?” The cat, unsurprisingly, responds only by purring as Jon scratches at it’s chin. “Of course. That’s what I thought.”

Martin crouches down beside him, the cat leaping back at the sudden movement, but Jon pays it no mind. “Oh, that’s just Martin,” he says to the cat, reaching towards it again. “He won’t hurt you. He’s very nice. Aren’t you, Martin?”

Martin nods seriously, as if he’s not being talked about like a well-behaved dog by his boss who barely tolerates him. He reaches his hand out, like Jon had, and watches as the cat butts up against it after a few sniffs. And Jon’s looking at it so fondly, that Martin almost forgets how to breathe. 

When the cat finally scurries off about ten minutes later (a car backfired, much to Jon’s chagrin), Martin’s joints are aching and Jon’s staring forlornly down the alleyway, like a wife watching her husband go off to war. He lets out a sigh before turning to Martin, suddenly all business. They say absolutely nothing as Martin gets their tea, and it’s as if the whole thing happened in some sort of fever dream.

That’s what he’d think, at least, if he didn’t have a few clandestine snapshots of Jon saved on his phone, to show to Tim and Sasha when he gets back. And if he didn’t have that funny, sinking feeling in his chest that meant yes, it did happen, and yes, he might just have a crush on his boss now.

Goddamnit.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30983480

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Reverse batfam headcanons please centred on dickiee

i think about this entirely too often but yes yes of course.

languages were simultaneously the most simple and most complex thing dick had ever encountered in his long nine years of living. everyone in circ d’caleé spoke multiple different languages, and they'd lived in each other's shoes for so long that the travelling troupe developed their own little language, a mixture of everything and anything that could be understood. in addition to that, everywhere they went, dick picked up local dialects and accents with a tip of a hat and flip of his feet. of course, that made it a bit difficult to properly communicate when he had to live with the waynes. while bruce, tim, and jason could speak a smattering of other languages, english was what they defaulted to first and foremost. damian was fluent in both arabic and nepali first and formost, those just happened to be two languages that dick didn't speak very fluently. cassandra was just now getting the hang of spoken language with a bit of sign language thrown in. so the first few months of dick's shiny new home in wayne manor, everyone fumbled around words and phrases and vague gestures until they settled into hesitantly speaking french and attempting to convince dick to learn fluent english.

jason didn't like having a younger brother, he didn't. especially since that little brother was dick grayson. after all of the heartbreak and loss and weight of malediction bruce had lived with his entire life, jason could almost proudly say that he was one of the few people in the world to drive bruce out of his head, to get him to smile while taking jason out for ice cream, to sit him down and watch football with him, to make him laugh. and then here comes this upstart little brat who couldn't keep both feet on the ground for the life of him and thought football was actually soccer and who could make bruce laugh like it was fuckin' easy. who could so easily clamber up bruce's shoulders for a hug and beam as bruce ruffled his hair and sob into bruce's chest in the middle of the night when everyone was supposed to be asleep. jason had spent years coaxing bruce out of his shell, step by painful step, and dick made it happen with two backflips and a cheeky pun. it made jason's blood boil, the way dick never appreciated what he had, what he could do. the brat had taken to following him around, both in the cave, staring with awe as jason went through training routines, and in the manor, hopping into an armchair and asking jason to read a book aloud for him. it was irritating, just like it was irritating when dick popped jason's latest baking experiment into his mouth and loudly exclaimed how utterly delicious it was, just like it was irritating when dick dragged him to the aerial set bruce had installed in the batcave and asked him to watch his new routine. no matter what the rest of jason's stupid family said, dick was definitely not growing on jason. they could take their smiles and coos over the two "babies of the family" and shove them up their asses.

dick didn't understand why exactly bruce was so overprotective over the smallest things. he never let dick travel anywhere alone, regardless if it was as far away as france or as close as the one gelato place left in gotham. it was so unfair, because dick heard that bruce let jason run off to ethiopia of all places, and only went after him because cass had told bruce about it the minute jason left. he never let dick hang out with his friends, no matter how much dick asked to have a sleepover at wally's or go hang out with donna. on the rare occasions he said yes, they were only allowed to come to the manor. it was unreasonable, because bruce let tim run wild with young justice, despite the stories of tim going crazy after everyone in his team had died. tim wasn't crazy, as far as dick could tell, just a little paranoid and high-strung. also everyone on his team was alive, so dick didn't know what roy was talking about. cass didn't really want to go out anywhere, preferring to stick in gotham with her and tim's friend stephanie, but she had free reign over the city! and dick wasn't allowed to fight any major threats by himself at all. damian had battled deathstroke at his age, and dick was pretty sure damian was still in contact with the league of assassins, but dick couldn't even fight penguin with bruce insisting he be there for backup. he was so overprotective it made dick's blood boil.

being around dick physically hurt tim sometimes. not the crass (yet still somehow funny?) jokes jason made about dick jumping into body-slamming hugs and crash landing into laps so fiercely that even tim could feel it. but it hurt,,,,emotionally, so to speak. dick was just,,,,,dick was so much like stephanie, it ached. to be more specific, stephanie before. steph before she'd desperately bid for bruce's attention and landed herself at black mask's feet for her troubles. steph before the power tools dug her life away bit by bit until she was just gone. steph before she'd come back with green eyes and rage splitting at the seams of her scarred skin. steph before she realized that black mask had killed her and put tim in a wheelchair for the rest of his life for trying to avenge his best friend, and bruce had done next to nothing. tim would sit in his clocktower and force a smile onto his face as dick rambled on and on about the most meaningful of meaningless things, as dick shoved new foods he'd never tried before into his face, as dick laughed loud and bright and clear, trying to forget a time when steph would do the same. she smiles now, grabs lunch with him and cass, wakes up on days when there isn't any green in her vision, but she'll never be who she used to. and tim prays that there never comes a day when dick ends up like her.

dick feels,,,,,isolated sometimes, compared to the rest of his new family. or no, maybe isolated isn't the right word. set apart, maybe, or differentiated. both damian and cass had spent their lives being beat and broken and put back together supposedly stronger than before until they were almost wiped away entirely. steph and jason had both grown up poor and hungry and flinching back from their fathers, bending under gotham's merciless weight. (then steph had died, and come back worse than ever imagined.) tim had grown up lonely, had learned to fend for himself, had turned his name into a half-revered, half-feared whisper even when his legs were taken from him. maybe dick could have related a bit to bruce, but bruce had put himself through so much hardship and so much suffering in an attempt to keep himself from ever being hurt again. in contrast, dick hadn't gone through nearly as much. he'd been happy before the circus came to gotham, happy and cared for and loved. but that didn't mean he couldn't still help. he could sit and listen as they raged, because their anger couldn't touch him; he had no part in it. he could coax out smiles from their stone walls and laugh enough for all of them put together. he could take a name that had previously only been associated with death and heartache and turn it into the light and joy of gotham. he could dust the stillness from the curtains and breathe life back into wayne manor. and that, for him, was enough.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @comics-observer

[radioactive-earthshine]

I have many thoughts about Tim and Slobo talking when they're older. Like, Slobo gets freed from the statue and manages to control his cell death (because as much as I love death angst I also love meeting after years apart angst). But like, he hasn't seen Tim in years. And then they meet up and it's sad and amazing. And then Slobo expresses his surprise at Tim still being a Robin. Tim is confused. Slobo says: "I mean, I'm a clone 'a Lobo, but I ain't been a bounty hunter since I came back. I work on ships n stuff. I'm my own person. Yer one, too."

Tim thinks about that conversation the rest of the week.

I really like this concept.

Slo-Bo becoming a mechanic, and a damn good one, is a headcanon I very strongly favor and in a what-if scenario I imagine that one of his public nick-names would be "Titan Mechanic" and is one of the few people that actually understands how New Genesian tech even works.

As for their conversation I feel Slo-Bo would be a little surprised at him still wearing the mantle (considering Tim only said it would be for a short time, and now he's 19-20 and still Robin). But I think he would be glad that Tim is more sure of who he is now, and is less high-strung and NOT Batman 2.

Tim also talks to him about how he forgot about him and how guilty he feels about it, but ultimately knows it's not his fault.

Tim reflects back on the conversation and it brings up all sorts of thoughts about who he is and what he wants to do really; is it time to hang up Robin and be someone else or is him being Robin as himself enough? He was the Robin that BEGGED for the job and campaigned for it, he wanted to be Robin and felt like it was his personal obligation to take up that role to serve a very distinct purpose.

Is that purpose fulfilled now? What does HE want?

There's a lot that could be done just with Tim now, adding his teammate that threw everything he had in a few short months is something that could be very interesting.

I just desperately want Slo-Bo addressed in the comics. I'm hoping Meghan will go that route but we just have to wait and see what she does.

They didn't even mourn him in the comics, and no one found out what happened to him. We didn't even get Anita's reaction which honestly she probably mourned him the most.

Just have to see what happens and until then play around with what ifs.

[butwhyduh]

Since you wrote Christmas with tha Bois are you planning on writing a New Years Eve fics too 🎇🎉?

*insert surprised pikachu meme*

now I am (!!!)

They are all required to go to a Wayne gala that Bruce has thrown since before he took Dick in as a ward. It’s important. So of course, I wanna show what kind of suits they would wear too. (Indulge me lmao) [none of these images are sensitive. Tumblr is an idiot]

Tim

Okay I get that you wouldn’t think high strung proper Tim Drake Wayne , Mr CEO, would were a pretty casual suit. But he wears a suit everyday and by golly, he isn’t wearing a tie for New Years freakin Eve. It’s something different and he can relax. And he’s so tired of black. Plus the blue brings brings out the color in his eyes.

—————

He adjusted the collar of his suit. He always wore a nice suit to work. But this was for a gala. The tie just wouldn’t lay flat. You walked up behind him and pulled the offensive fabric off and tossed it on the bed. He moved to protest but you started unbuttoning his collar.

“Okay,” he said with a slow smirk. “But it’ll have to be quick.”

“I’m just fixing your shirt,” you said rolling your eyes. “I’m not messing my makeup up before a gala. That looks nicer. I never see you relaxed,” you said leaving your hands on his chest longer than necessary.

“I relax sometimes. I’m relaxing tonight. With you,” he said turning to give you a quick kiss. You smiled and he took a look at your outfit. “I’ll have to keep my eye peeled though. You’re going to attract a lot of attention in that.”

“Too bad I’m already dating a man they couldn’t possibly compete with. Come on, lover boy,” you said and he took your hand before going downstairs.

It was always stressful to first go to a gala. Tim was moderately famous as Bruce Wayne’s heir, heir to the Drake family fortune, and the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Luckily this was very boring to most young people and his pictures were in a small section of the business page of the papers rather than like Dick Grayson being splashed all over the lifestyle section like a celebrity. But cameras flashing as you walked down stairs in heels was terrifying. Tim was the only one to notice as you gripped his arm like a vice each time.

You could usually smile and drink champagne as Tim talked shop with the old men he worked with or young men who were trying to climb the business ladder. Tim’s fingers made idle circles in your hand or on your back as he talked. He was also taking glances at you in you outfit all evening.

Only when he was desperate for a break would he ask you to dance. Tim was a good dancer. He had been taught at an early age. But he was not a natural and he didn’t want you bothered with more photos. You insisted after a full hour of talking about some sort of quarterly investment opportunity that he take you to the dance floor.

“Dance with me, Timmy,” you asked quietly in a lull in the conversation. It was almost midnight anyways. He smiled at you before looking back at the men.

“Excuse us,” Tim said before letting you lead him to the floor. He gently held your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. The song was fairly slow so you barely danced more than a sway. That was fine. You were more interested in staring in to his ocean eyes than cutting a rug.

“Sorry if it’s been incredibly boring,” Tim said. “You’d probably rather be doing anything else.”

“Dancing is nice. Seeing you more than 5 minutes is nice,” you said.

“Speaking of 5 minutes, it’s 5 minutes until midnight.”

“No more work talk tonight. Just be with me,” you pleaded softly. Tim frowned for a second before pulling you closer.

“I can do that. All yours tonight. I’ll just punch anyone who tries to talk business to me,” he said.

“Good enthusiasm. Terrible plan. Sweet though,” you said kissing his cheek. He smiled.

“Or we could just leave right after New Years,” Tim said with a wiggle of his brows. You giggled.

“Better plan.”

Bruce had gotten on the stage and the music stopped. You didn’t let Tim go. As they counted down to midnight, you and Tim gazed at each other.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

You leaned your face up and kissed him. Tim held your waist tighter and your wrapped your fingers up in his soft black hair. After just a few seconds you pulled back and smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, sunshine,” he said.

“Happy New Years, Duckie.”

“Let’s get out of here before they see us leave,” he suggested. The rest of the night was spent in his room and you were so glad for the loud fireworks to cover any noise you might have made.

Dick

Dick has been to 714 galas. He’s an expert. He’s expected to play the handsome charming eldest son. Wearing a beautiful suit is half the battle. Not to mention, he kinda likes showing off a little. It’s New Years. And the blue and grey bring out the color in his eyes so well.

———————————

Dick barely got in the door before flopping on the bed with his detective uniform still on. You sat on the edge of your bed, already in hair, dress, and makeup, and reached over to rub his shoulders. He groaned softly.

Barely off of work and already having to change into a suit for a family event. Dick needed a day off. Badly. He had the next 3 days off of work and he just had to deal with this night. No, he needed to be positive. You hadn’t done anything and he didn’t want to ruin New Years Eve.

You pushed your palm into a knot on his shoulder. He all but moaned. “Thank you, baby,” he said. “It’s these stupid cases. They have been driving me- baby,” Dick said turning to look and taking you in. “You look good.”

You smiled and giggled. “You think?”

“Always, but this? Wowza,” he said laughing. “Im going be showing off the prettiest girl at the ball,” Dick said sing song. You rolled your eyes with a grin. His compliments were usually over the top.

“Yeah, yeah. Not likely. You need to get dressed or I’m going to be very fancy for no reason,” you said and he hopped up. Dick was overworked but he always was. In record time he was dressed.

“Do you want to drive,” he asked hopefully. A quick 30 minute nap would be awesome.

“I can’t drive the Porsche since it’s stick,” you admitted.

“Well in that case, I’m teaching you soon. But not tonight. You gotta learn how to drive my car,” Dick said and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You added that to the list of skills he thought completely necessary that hardly anyone could do anymore. Could you even buy a new standard transmission car?

“Sure, hun. Let’s get going before we’re late,” you said kissing his cheek. You straightened his pocket square and you were both out the door.

“-and then you push the clutch. Right here,” he pointed at the floorboard as he drove.

“Not tonight. We can do this some other time. And if we don’t get there, it’s fine,” you said evasively.

“Ever? It’s important to be able to drive any kind of car and if it’s just you and the Porsche,” Dick said with a frown. You could see a contingency plan forming in his head.

“I very much doubt there will be a situation where I have to drive your car,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d rather plan for it,” Dick said and you dropped it. It was like a security blanket for him to plan for anything.

Walking into a gala was exciting and nerve racking. Dick was extremely popular back in Gotham and it was honestly weird as he was normal back in Bludhaven. Dick was the perfect gentleman and made sure you felt comfortable and safe when the cameras flashed. You smiled and ignored whatever anyone said about you. It could be mean with jealousy. You were with him for his money, you were just arm candy, and you weren’t that pretty. The first time had hurt pretty badly. Now you had a new ring on your hand and you felt almost as nervous as your first gala. One through the door to the ballroom, you relaxed.

“Are you okay? You looked really nervous,” Dick said and you grimaced. That sounds like nice pictures.

“Just a little,” you said subconsciously playing with your ring. Dick, of course, noticed right away.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want the ring? Or the engagement,” he asked quietly and it broke your heart that he was even worried about it. His big blue eyes were wide with worry.

“Not at all,” you said grabbing his shoulder. “I just don’t like how they talk. I’m very happy. And I love the ring. It’s beautiful.”

Dick’s frown turned to a pleased smile. “Good. Because that was my mom’s ring.”

“Dick! You gave me a family heirloom without mentioning it? That makes it twice as special,” you said shocked. “Thats so sweet of you.”

You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it. But if you give me something that important again without telling me, I’ll beat you,” you whispered in his ear and he laughed.

“Let’s dance,” Dick said. He pulled you to the dance floor. He was the best dancer out of all of the Wayne children and possibly better than Bruce. He had been dancing since he could walk. His parents were performers and taught him many dance styles. Bruce also insisted that all the children knowing all the common dances they would need to know at a gala.

Keeping up with Dick was the biggest issues with dancing. He could dance quick dances for hours and you had to remind him that not everyone spent hours a day training and fighting. At the moment you had insisted on stopping to get a drink. You practically pounded a water bottle while he sipped on some punch.

“Kinda floral. Not bad. Little sweet,” he said.

“It’s not alcoholic, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just one glass,” Dick said. “I’ll be fine to drive later.”

“No. It’s just that Damian and his girlfriend have a cup each,” you said motioning over to them.

“It’s fine. They wouldn’t give them alcohol,” Dick said and you relaxed. Of course not. That would be crazy to give kids alcohol.

“Let’s sit down. My feet are getting a little tired,” you said with a wince. He nodded and you sat at a table by the dance floor. As if Dick had put out a sign, a bunch of people flocked over to talk to him.

Somehow a plate of small snacks ended up in front of you, probably Alfred. You ate a little while he played the philanthropist son of Bruce Wayne. It was actually really nice to be ignored.

Until it wasn’t.

An older Wayne investor brought a woman over as his ‘date.’ She instantly latched on to Dick and started flirting with him. Her hand kept touching his arms and shoulders. You were getting mad but this wasn’t a surprise. People acted like he was someone they could grope and touch without consequences.

Finally it was too much and you cleared your throat. She looked at you in disgust before going back to flirting with Dick.

“Can you give my fiancé some space,” you asked politely as you could. Her eyes raked over your body.

“He could do so much better than some poor trash like you in a second rate dress. Not even that ugly little ring could change that,” she said nastily. You gasped.

“Okay we’re leaving,” Dick said standing up. The woman had to back away from him. His jaw was clenched in controlled anger. He had a temper and this wasn’t the time to lose it.

You stood up and hissed as your shoes cut into your feet worse than when you had been wearing them all night. Great, you couldn’t even wear heels in front of her. She laughed. Dick simply picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the ballroom and upstairs to his old bedroom. He sat you on the bed gently.

You knew that she was just a vapid socialite but it did hurt. She had pretty accurately attacked your insecurities and you blinked to prevent yourself from crying.

“Baby,” Dick said bending to a crouch in front of you. “Don’t think anything about what she said. She’s just jealous. Not worth your time.”

“She’s not wrong though. I’m just a poor kid trying to fit in in Wayne freaking Manor,” you said wiping your face. Stupid tears.

“And I’m just a circus kid. Don’t forget that,” Dick said sitting beside you. He pulled you into a hug. “Not a single damn bit of that matters. It’s almost midnight in a minute. Do you want to go back downstairs?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a dry smile.

“I figure. We have a better view anyways,” he said opening the curtains. You could vaguely hear the noise downstairs.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

“Happy New Years, baby,” Dick said giving you a kiss. He wiped the tears from your cheek.

“Happy New Years. Sorry I’m all teary,” you said.

“Nope. Don’t be sorry. My new New Years resolution is to make you smile,” he said with a devious look. His fingers suddenly attacked your sides and pulled laughter from you. He pushed you to the bed in his attack.

“Dick! Okay! Quit!” You shrieked with laughter. He stopped his hands and leaned over you.

“Alright. I quit. But since we’re alone. Wanna ring in the New Years the right way,” he asked with a smirk. You grinned back.

“Got any ideas on how to do that?” You asked back.

“So many. Baby, so many,” before kissing you. Fireworks sounded in the background.

Damian

(Older 16 yr old) Damian is literally the son of Batman. He’s going to dress like it. Nice and formal and expensive. It was like a form of armor. Homeboy looks like a million bucks. His watch might be. And if a burgundy turtleneck A accents his well defined pecs, B shows the gold in his tan skin, and C the gorgeous green in his eyes, he ain’t complaining.

“Beloved,” Damian said pulling on his jacket. “Come out,” he said in a sing song voice that would have been completely foreign to hear to anyone else but you.

You flushed as you came out. His jaw dropped before he quickly straightened his face. He’d taken the risk of buying you a dress for the party. He’d seen Bruce do it for women all the time. It was practically his calling card. Even Dick had done it a few times. But this was a first for Damian.

“You look very nice. Beautiful,” he said quietly looking away at his cuff links. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”

“Just my shoes,” you said, trying to slip them on and almost falling over. Damian quickly grabbed your waist.

“I got you. I can put them on,” he said kneeling to the ground. He hadn’t meant anything besides efficiency with his offer. But as he slid your foot into a heel and strapped it across your ankle, it felt far more intimate. His hand held your calf a little longer than necessary before switching to the other foot. This side had a slit up to your thigh and he could see your bare leg up close. Damian gulped before attaching the shoe. He quickly stood up and cleared his throat.

“Are you ready now?”

You nodded. He offered his arm and you went downstairs. Cameras flashed for just a few minutes before Damian skillfully steered you away from them. His father would kill any pictures of you before they got to the papers but Damian knew how much you hated them.

“Dance with me?” You asked and he happily complied. He had been trained in several dance styles and was good at it. He also enjoyed the way you would smile when he would spin you. If it made his beloved happy, he was happy. It attracted a little attention. Bruce Wayne’s teenage son and his date could dance with skill. This too was only viewable in person.

“Let’s get a drink,” Damian said pulling you to the refreshments. You were out of breath but happy and followed him. There was suppose to be people handling the drinks but there were so many people. Damian pushed through and grabbed two drinks and handed one to you.

“Let’s find a table,” you said. As always, Damian pulled you along to a secluded corner close to the door to the garden. Cold air and little whiffs of cigarette smoke swirled around but at least you weren’t in the overheated body filled floor anymore.

You sat and drank at your punch. It was heavily sweetened and floral. It was refreshing and... warm. You waved at yourself.

“Is it hot in here to you?” You asked Damian.

“Want to go for a walk outside? It’s cooler out there,” he suggested. Damian took your arm again and you walked out the door into the garden. A stone path lined little beds of delicate plants. Topiaries lined the path. Small solar lights and the full moon lit the garden. There were a few people walking but not many.

Damian looked so handsome. Long dark lashes frames his bright green eyes. His skin almost glistened with silver light of the moon. He bent and plucked a flower from a bush. Damian tucked it behind you ear with a little smile.

“The prettiest rose in all the garden,” he said and you smiled shyly.

“I don’t think that’s actually a rose though,” you said and he laughed. A rare occurrence.

“It’s not. But I was talking about you. May I kiss you,” he said lightly touching the side of your neck with his hand. You nodded and he leaned down. You closed your eyes and his lips brushed against yours. You pressed a hand against his chest.

Damian’s hand slid to the back of your neck to hold you as he pressed harder against your mouth. His tongue slipped in your mouth and you made the softest whimpering sound. Damian’s eyes flew open and he almost froze. That was new and he could get used to the pretty sound.

You kissed like this for a little while. Damian’s hand slid down to hold your waist when he noticed you shivered. He pulled back.

“Beloved, are you cold,” he asked, cursing himself. Of course, you were cold wearing a thin dress while he was in a full suit. He quickly pulled off his jacket and put it around your shoulders.

“Just a little. It’s fine,” you protested. He insisted on sliding your arms in the sleeves and button the jacket.

“Let’s go in. It’s close to midnight anyways,” Damian said giving you one last kiss.

3-2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years beloved,” he said with a kiss. Damian had grabbed another two glasses of punch and you two touched them in cheers.

“No sir,” Alfred said sternly, taking the glasses from your hands. “No alcohol for either of you. There is juice on the other side of the table.”

You waited until Alfred walked away before laughing. “They should have labeled that better.”

“That explains why it felt overly warm in here earlier,” Damian said thoughtfully.

The music had changed to overly sappy and people were kissing and dancing far too close. They were feeling the effects of the alcohol they had been drinking all night. Damian looked at them in disgust.

“Want to go upstairs,” he asked. You quickly looked at him. “Not like that. We can watch a movie or something, anything away from this.”

“Sounds great,” you said and you both left.

Jason

I’m fairly certain I’ve seen him in a suit like this in the comics. I considered him saying FU to Bruce and showing up in boots and black leather jacket. But Jason knows he looks good in red. And he’d probably get a kick out of wearing one of his suits he wore as Red Hood to a fucking gala. Bruce would know.

—————————

“Princess, if you make me wait any longer I’ll kick down the door and physically carry you to the damn party,” Jason said with no malice in his voice. You opened the bathroom door.

“Not all of us look good without a little work,” you said playfully tapping his chest. You yanked his tie straight with a little more force than needed.

“I’d have to disagree, doll. I’d honestly prefer you in nothing,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“How does it look?” You said with a twirl.

“Like a million bucks. That ass. Let’s skip the party and-“

“No no no. Let’s get going. You can be handsy later,” you said grabbing your purse.

“Promise,” he asked as you both left. The roads weren’t too bad with ice and in fact, it was going to be a rare dry night in Gotham.

Jason didn’t do pictures. He hated them and so you both parked in the servant entrance and walked in a side door. It didn’t matter. The Manor was beautiful no matter how you looked at it. And being a poor kid from Gotham, you couldn’t believe you were actually at a party in Wayne freaking Manor.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just a bunch of shitty rich people in pretty walls. They aren’t any better than us. Hell, worth half of you, sweetheart. Let’s get a drink,” he said pulling you to the drink table. It was pretty packed but he muscled through to the front. He got your preferred drink. “And a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Don’t get drunk,” you whispered to him. “I won’t sleep with you drunk.”

“With a finger of water,” Jason added to the bartender who nodded.

“Good save,” you said turning to look at the floor. You sipped your drink and people watched.

Dick and his date were dancing some quick steps in the middle of the floor. No surprise there. Tim was talking to boring business men and his poor date looked absolutely bored on her feet. Alfred was watching Damian and his date from the corner of his eyes whereas Damian seemed completely oblivious with his eyes on her all night. And Bruce was currently heavily flirting with a woman who literally meowed at him. You resisted the urge to gag and turned back to Jason.

“Wanna dance,” Jason asked casually watching the floor. But you knew he wanted to dance because he asked.

“Yeah,” you said grabbing his hand. He pulled to to the floor. Jason was also trained to dance as all the Wayne boys had been. But he was probably the worst dancer out of all of them. His parents had never taught him anything as nice as dancing and he’d only lived with Bruce for a few years before the whole Joker thing. But Jason was a natural athlete and his dancing was still pretty darn good.

The dance was a bit slower than the one Dick and his date had been dancing to earlier. Jason held one hand on your waist and the other stayed in your hand. His dancing was visibly polite and innocent. The words he whispered in your ear were far from.

“Is it hard being the hottest woman here? This dress on your ass is fucking delicious,” he whispered and you flushed at his words. “I can’t wait to fuck you in it later.”

He really enjoyed saying things that were completely naughty in public where you could do nothing about it. But you knew that if he kept it up, you’d be finding a spare room before New Years even came. And you didn’t want to miss the fireworks again this year.

As the song ended, and you thoroughly turned on and scandalized, you asked him to walk in the garden with you. Lover boy needed something to cool him down.

“Sure, Princess,” he said snagging 2 glasses of punch on the way out. You both walked between the flower beds and he told you stories of things that had happened there. “And that’s when Dick accidentally cut the top foot off of this bush. Alfred had him scrubbing floors for a month,” Jason said with a laugh. “It was so bad that there is still a rule of no swords in the garden. Damian hates it.”

“I bet he does. But he could probably destroy the entire garden with a pocket knife,” you said with a laugh. Jason suddenly pulled you to the side with a hush. He motioned over a ways.

“Speaking of the kid, look over there,” Jason whispered. You looked over to see Damian making out with a girl his age. It was so weird to see him being so sweet. “I didn’t know he felt human emotion, much less find someone his age to makeout with.”

“They could have said that about you a few years ago,” you said slyly.

“Yeah, point taken. Want the best view of the fireworks?” Jason said.

“Where?”

“Top of the roof.”

You blanched at the idea. “No thanks. I choose life.”

“It’s safe. There’s a ladder and everything,” Jason said hugging you from behind. “Best view in the house. And if not, dinners on me.”

“Jay, you get the check every time,” you reminded him. He chuckled.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get a pretty girl alone to give her a kiss,” Jason said pulling you to the roof. You flushed. “Unlike demon boy making out in the garden. I have class.”

“You’re a classy lady. Show me the way before I change my mind,” you said. He took you to a ladder over the library. You pulled off your heels and started climbing.

“Don’t worry I’ll catch you you if you fall Princess. I’m right behind you. Did I mention your ass in this dress? I kinda have the perfect view,” he said. You rolled your eyes before throwing your leg over the side of the roof. Jason quickly followed you.

“Here, wear my jacket,” Jason said throwing the red blazer over your shoulder.

“Oo my knife now,” you said feeling in his pocket and pulling out a sizable switchblade.

“I forgot to take it out of there. I wouldn’t touch it too much,” Jason said taking it out of your hands with a grimace. You gave him a look.

“That’s incredibly gross. Seriously. Do I even want to know?”

“Not really. Look at the stars. You can see them through the shitty Gotham sky,” Jason said sitting on a box. He pulled you into his lap and you were grateful as it was really quite cold. You could see some stars and you leaned your back against his chest and looked up at the heavens for a few minutes.

The music stopped downstairs. It must be almost midnight. You couldn’t understand but you heard Bruce talk over a mic. Then everyone started counting.

3–2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years, Jaybird,” you said turning your head and holding Jason’s jaw. You leaned your head up and gave him a kiss. He held you close and you made out until the sound of a firework had you jumping. You laughed before turning to look. The roof really did have the best view.

After a few minutes of watching the fireworks you heard some lewd noises. Jason looked over at a window near your spot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said with a disgusted look. “That’s fucking Tim’s room and the sound of him getting laid is literally the last thing I want. What I do want is to take a bite out of that ass I’ve been looking at all night.”

[sazc94]

The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts.

Part 2 Here

Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+

Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 5659 its Suburban AU.

Winter 2018

You sat on the window seat, head resting on the cool glass a mug of hot chocolate between your hands. Winter in New York was something else, the way everything sparkled in the blanket of snow. This wasn’t your first December in the “Big Apple” but it was your first after moving here. Like the walking cliché you were you had moved here for a Fresh Start, after being offered a once in a lifetime opportunity of working for Tony Stark. You hadn’t planned on taking the job working as head of advertising for Stark Industries. The idea of moving from your small town in Michigan away from your family, everyone you knew and loved, and most importantly away from your best friend and your on-again-off-again boyfriend Bucky seemed ludicrous. You knew James or Bucky as he was to those who knew and loved him would never leave Michigan not if it meant leaving her.

James and you had been friends since, well as since long as you could remember. You had lived on the same street, gone to the same schools, played in the streets on your bikes when you were 8, played in the local park between the ages of 10 and 12. When you both hit 13 everyone assumed you would both either stop being friends or would fall romantically in love. Neither of those happened at least not right away. You two carried on hanging around each-others houses, playing video games and watching movies. Bucky had always been fiercely protective over you, his blue eyes narrowing at anyone who dared to pick on you when you were younger. His eyes would light up when you walked into the room, he loved Friday nights saved just for the pair of you to watch cheesy horror films, lounge around his sofa and stuff your faces with popcorn.

2008

Everything changed when you were 15, you and Bucky had always been inseparable, when no one asked you to combined Prom in your Freshman year, Bucky had surprised you. Showing up at your house dressed in a suit and tie with a white rose corsage, his long brown hair slicked back. You walked downstairs in your ballet slipper pink chiffon dress, your locks twisted into an intricate bun, this was the first time you’d worn heels and you nearly missed the bottom step when you saw Bucky in his Grey Suit stood in your living room. Bucky had tried out for the football team and obviously to no ones’ surprise had become the Star QB. As a result of that Bucky’s grey suit stretched across his muscular frame. Once you’d saved yourself from falling face-first down the last stair you walked over to Bucky grinning like a fool. “Bucky, what, what are you doing here? I thought you were going with Sam and Pietro and the rest of the football team” you said. “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl flying solo at our first prom now, could I?” Bucky grinned down to you. “Besides the rest of the guys were meeting dates at the dance, so I told them I’d meet them there with you” you felt yourself blush at Bucky’s term of endearment. You and Bucky posed for photos for your Mum and Dad, your Dad trusted Bucky like his own son so there was no awkward father stare down there, you even had your curfew extended to 2 am.

The prom itself was magical, Bucky introduced you to his teammates and their dates. Sam was there with a cheerleader, Jane Foster she was friends with the cool alternative girl Wanda Maximoff who was Pietro’s twin sister they were Sophomores but made you feel welcome at their table. Complimenting your hair and shoes. Pulling you onto the dancefloor to dance with them and the rest of the cheerleaders and co to the pumped-up pop songs that blasted out. The way the gym had been transformed was nothing short of breath-taking, led fairy lights strung up in waves from the ceiling, silver stars hanging against the velvet blue backdrops made you believe you were spending the night under the stars. When the music changed to a slow song -Tim McGraw by an up-and-coming artist Taylor Swift. The Group of girls surrounding you soon dissipated to slow dance with their respective others. You started to make your way back to the table you’d been sat at, happy to finally take a breather when you felt someone tug on your wrist. You turned around fully prepared to slap whatever creep had felt it suitable to touch someone they didn’t know but your face softened to find the familiar blue-eyed, muscular brunette smirking at you. “Miss Y/N” may I have this dance?”, he asked. “Why certainly, MR James Buchanan Barnes” you replied chuckling to yourself. Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the use of his full name before pulling you tight towards him. He wrapped your arms around his neck before wrapping his around your waist. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, you and Bucky had never been this intimate, sure still hugged and had kissed each other on the cheek when you were like 5, but this felt different. The way Bucky enveloped you, the scent of his aftershave mixed with his mum’s washing powder he smelt like cherry blossom mixed with sandalwood. You rested your head on Bucky’s chest, closing your eyes deciding to take this all in. A small smile tugged on your lips as you felt Bucky stroke your hips. You didn’t know it, but he looked at you with such love and adoration and his heart squeezed watching you rest your head on his chest the smile on your pale pink lips. Bucky moved his right hand from your waist and brought it to your cheek, slightly stroking it before lifting your face to look him in the eyes. His eyes shone with affection; his eyes so blue like the ocean you felt like you were drowning in them. Then his lips were on yours crashing against your slightly chapped lips, you cursed yourself for not wearing Chapstick like the cheerleaders and Wanda did. However, as the kiss deepened, and you felt Bucky’s left-hand grip on you together and you melted into the kiss everything else faded away. Bucky drew back and looked at you. Your smile dazzling him as your eyes shone back at him. Neither of you said a word as he pulled you back to his chest whilst the DJ played another slow song.

2009 - 2010

Bucky and you dated from the end of your Freshman year right up until the summer before your senior year. Bucky and you had been inseparable for most of your High School life, he even convinced you to try out for the cheerleading squad in your Junior year, usually you sat on the Side-lines with Wanda and Carol Danvers, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a cheerleader it's just you were comfortable being “Bucky’s Girl” the one everyone knew without being in the spotlight, however after Wanda and Carol egged you on saying that you had the moves you went for it. You surprisingly made the squad. You couldn’t wait to tell Bucky, warmth spreading through your cheeks at the thought of how he’d be so proud. You decided to keep it quiet until you had your uniform. Jane and the girls had also promised to keep their mouths shut until you’d had the chance to surprise him. So, when homecoming rolled around, and you got your uniform for the first time you went along to the locker rooms where the football team would be heading off to change before the big pep rally. You stood against the wall one foot pressed against it, your knee bent whilst you waited. You heard Sam and Pietro before you saw them. They turned the corner roughhousing one another playfully. “Looking good Y/N” Sam shouted as he clocked you in your brand-new uniform. “looks like Bucky’s personal cheerleader now cheers for us all,” he said walking over to you and enveloping you in a hug. You giggled and at that moment Bucky Turned the corner with Peter Parker a freshman. He couldn’t see your uniform from the way that Sam’s body was covering yours, but he saw your face and started running down the hallway to you. As Sam and Pietro headed inside, he finally got to see the big reveal, he stopped in his tracks for a second. His eyes taking in every inch of your body, the skirt shorter than anything you owned, the top hugging your curves. He ran over to you picking you up and spinning you in the air as you squealed. “I knew you could do it Doll,” he said as he peppered kisses over your head, cheek, and lips. You blushed at his praise. Your Junior year with Bucky was a blur, between the football games, classes, parties’ dates with Bucky you felt like time was rushing past. You Even won Prom King and Queen at your Junior Prom. To no one’s surprise. However, that summer everything changed.

Summer 2010

You were on holiday with your family, visiting your grandparents in Miami. Every year you for as long as you could remember you and your family would spend the last 3 weeks of summer break at your grandparents. You had begged Bucky to come with you as he had in the past, however, due to football camp, he had been unable to swing it. “Hey, I’m sorry doll, it’s just coach said if I didn’t go he wouldn’t consider me for team captain,” he said hugging you from behind as you sat on your porch steps, his chin resting on your head. He had sworn to you that you would text every day and would skype at least once a week for the three weeks you were there. However, after the first week, Bucky’s texts had become less and less frequent. He’d only Skyped you once and you’d get texts from Various friends asking where you were as you weren’t at the latest party. On the final night of your holiday, as you walked along the beach by yourself taking in the last of the holiday feel your phone rang, you looked down it, confused when the caller Id said, Jane. “Hey, babe. Look I’m not sure how to say this” but uh we’re at a small party at Wanda and Pietro’s there’s about 15 of us, including this friend of mine Nat and uhm well, Bucky’s pretty wasted and well after I noticed I hadn’t seen him for a while I went looking for him”. Jane’s voice sounded stressed. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears tried to escape, not liking where this was going. “And uh, oh god I’m really sorry girl, but I, I kind of walked in on them fucking” Jane blurted it out, going for the band-aid approach as if saying it quicker would make it the cut sting any less. You didn’t say anything, you just stood there staring out the black ocean, the warm sand between your toes, feeling your heartbreak. You couldn’t believe it. Your sweet protective Bucky who had beaten up Miles Morales in 8th Grade for standing you up for an arcade date and breaking your heart. “I, I, I got to go my flights early tomorrow. My, my family will be wondering where I am” you stumbled over your words trying to get off the phone as quick as possible not wanting anyone to hear you cry.

Senior year was one of the most painful years, Bucky had met you at your house the day you got back, sitting on the wooden steps to your porch. He looked like he had barely slept, much like you. You were an only child, but your older cousin who was transferring to Michigan State University for his second year had come home with you. He took a look at Bucky and then back at you, you nodded telling him it was fine and that you had this. He walked inside but not before muttering punk under his breath. Bucky winced, he looked at you his blue eyes that once shone with nothing but love and adoration for you, now looked blank, empty, and almost unrecognisable. His brown hair which he had cut in his Sophomore year looked a mess. He started towards you, but you held your arm out.

“Don’t,” you said. He looked crestfallen and his heart shattered as you struggled to hold yourself together. “Doll, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, please, look at me, ill make it up to you, it will never happen again” he pleaded with you, his ocean blue eyes stared at your red brimmed eyes, cheeks puffy and streaked from all the crying over the last 16 hours. “Just don’t” You warned him. “Look, baby, it was a mistake, it meant nothing to me” he continued to plead despite your warning reaching out for your hand. His words hit you like a knife, you two hadn’t slept together yet and here he was claiming this meant nothing. You wrenched your hand free from him his touch burning you with his betrayal. “It meant nothing. It meant nothing!?! If it meant nothing you wouldn’t have slept with this Natasha James” you whispered. Bucky flinched at the use of his real name. Oh, how you wanted to shout, thrash scream at him and tell him you would forgive him, but you couldn’t. You had looked up the girls Instagram that night when you laid in bed crying and you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her the gorgeous read head with curves in all the right places. You started to walk towards your house. Unable to keep the tears back and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, Bucky called out for you, pleading with you. “I thought you loved me James, but it clearly meant something to you, or else you wouldn’t have thrown away two years of dating and 12 years of dating for sex with someone that wasn’t me, we were meant to be each other’s firsts, but you decided you couldn’t wait to get your dick wet so you went and fucked this chick you’ve known for what 5 minutes?” you cried out in anger, Bucky flinched again as if you’d slapped him. “Actually, I met her last year at one of our away game parties” he mumbled, his feet kicking the dirt around his feet. “I think you should leave” you whispered, choking back a sob before you ran into your house slamming the door behind you.

You and Bucky barely spoke that entire final year of school, you had been voted cheer Captain at the end of the summer semester, much to Jane’s approval, and you loved being a cheerleader, so you threw yourself into that as well as the school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. You cheered at the games putting on your show face and hyping up the crowds. You wowed in the role of Audrey in the show, avoided parties with the football team and buckled down focusing on your exams and audition for the performing arts programme at the University of Michigan. After Bucky had realised, he was never going to get you to forgive him he had ended up dating Natasha. The news hit you like a sucker punch to begin with but after meeting up with Wanda, Carol, and Jane during the spring break you made your peace with it. You even smiled at Bucky in the hallways when you saw each other. By the time Graduation rolled around you had healed.

November 2011

You ended up getting into the University of Michigan on a partial scholarship thanks to your cheerleading and you were enjoying the performing arts programme, the performing arts programme at the Uni had really blown up after the whole viral “A Very Potter Musical” back in 2009 and you were thrilled to be there. You had settled right in making friends with a young lad from your course Loki Laufeyson right away. He was attractive in an unconventional way, with long black hair, a tall skinny frame but he still had muscles. You two had been cast opposite each other in Romeo and Juliet during your first year and had become good friends. You even ran into Pietro frequently he had gotten a football scholarship and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you on the sidelines one November game. Pietro didn’t really “do” social media and hadn’t paid any attention to Wanda as you had told her, after Bucky’s betrayal you hadn’t spoken much with Sam or Pietro, after all, they were his friends and were now Uni students. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you after the game, ruffling your hair like you were 5 again. You couldn’t help but wince at the old pet name, everyone in the group had called you it, Sam, Wanda, Carol even Jane but you hadn’t been Bucky’s girl for a year, well longer if you take into consideration the fact he’d been chatting with Natasha on and off for the entire year before they slept together. “It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled. “How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro had always been a cocky confident guy, his silver-blonde hair covering his ice blue eyes, he had always been a hit with the ladies, but he seemed that bit more attractive, slightly leaner, still confident but not arrogant. You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled. “I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room.

True to his charm and word, Pietro called you the next day offering to be your personal guide and show you all the hidden beauty spots of the campus. You accepted; even though you had been here for two months already. You walked around the campus and had a great time, you felt yourself really relaxing and laughing at his corny jokes and the way he wiggled his silver eyebrows at you whenever he made a bad joke. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed, and you meant really laughed, the kind of clutched over struggling to get air into your lung’s laughter that the Silver-haired, blue-eyed cutie gave you. By the time Pietro had finished his tour the sun was beginning to dip, he walked you back to your dorm ever the gentleman. However, this time when your hands brushed against each other he grabbed your hand and spun you around. His hand was cool and smooth, a stark difference to Bucky’s warm calloused hands. The pair of you walked back hand in hand in comfortable silence. When you got to your dorm you leant against your door, your eyes meeting Pietro’s ice blue eyes, the almost sparkled. Pietro positioned himself so that he had one hand above your head, the other to your side trapping you between the door and himself. He leant down and kissed you. It was soft and delicate, his cool lips sucking the air out of your lungs. He pulled away winking at you before he sauntered off to join his teammates at some frat party.

That was the beginning of a three-year relationship with Pietro, you two had been on multiple dates, some official, some were just bumping into each other at the same party and then spending the rest of the evening together all through November and early December of your first year. He even came to support you at your Cheerleading competitions. Neither of you had put a label on it, but he had changed his home screen to a picture of the pair of you, it was one captured by Peter Parker, funnily enough, he was visiting the Uni with his photography club and captured the moment Pietro had picked you up after the Wolverines won their 6th game. He spun you around before dropping you down and kissing your forehead. Pietro didn’t know that you had seen his home screen. However as you were both travelling home for the Holidays you had agreed to travel together, Pietro had offered to drive but you had refused. Telling him that it would be easier for you to drive as you would be running lines late and therefore you could swing by his apartment on the way out of town. It was only a short drive to Dearborn but with the extra holiday traffic, you estimated it would take at least an hour to get to your parents. You connected your iPod to the car via AUX and pulled up your playlist you had made for the drive. You avoided all Christmas songs, and you were sick of them they played everywhere you went. Instead, you opted for Taylor Swift, damn she had blown up since 2008.

After about 30 minutes of driving as you hit the peak of the holiday traffic, you leant over to turn down the volume of your music. Comfortable with the pace of the traffic, you turned your head to Pietro. “So,” you began. “What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone. “Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re obviously going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said, you could feel yourself blush, there was something about Pietro, he made you feel like a high school sophomore all over again. “So you were wondering what we are?” the amusement in Pietro’s voice didn’t escape your notice, you could feel yourself getting embarrassed. Of course, he was a college Sophomore, you two had never had the exclusive talk, how could you be so silly. You stared straight ahead focusing on the slow-moving traffic. Oh god, you wanted to die. Pietro noticed the change in your demeanour and instantly felt bad, he grabbed your right hand from the steering wheel. “Hey Bunny, look at me,” he said softly, you turned your head to face him. “We are exclusive, we are a couple, I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself.

Almost everyone had made it back for the Holidays, excluding a few people, Bucky, Carol, and Jane, they all had their reasons, but you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that Carol and Jane had been unable to make it back. Wanda was elated for you and Pietro, to your surprise she threatened Pietro and not you. Christmas break came and went all too quickly. Pietro even brought you a small gift even though he didn’t celebrate Christmas, what with being Jewish. He was also very touched at your gift a small, framed copy of the photo of his lock screen, only in black and white except for the ribbon in your hair, the number on his Jersey matching his number painted on your cheek. The next year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top of your studies, your rehearsals for the play, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe.

2012

The summer between your 1st year and 2nd year was a small respite, Pietro had decided to stay in his apartment for the summer, he had a summer job and you decided to stick around after trying out for a local theatres summer production of Grease, unsurprisingly you had been cast as Patty Simcox a cheerleader. “How ironic, my little cheerleader playing a cheerleader” Pietro joked. You just rolled your eyes at him, that night Pietro stayed in your dorm, you were going to have to move out for the summer, your roommate for the year had decided she was going to move into her Sorority House next year and was going home for the summer. You and Pietro were cuddled up on the sofa watching Grease, you had your legs over Pietro and the arm of the sofa. To your surprise, Pietro had confessed he’d never seen it and had asked you to watch it with him so he could see who you would be playing. You let out a sigh. “What’s up bunny?” he asked not taking his eyes of the movie, he was rubbing small circles on your legs. “Student housing emailed me today, they said since Sophie is moving out and going home for the summer. I can’t stay in my dorm this summer. I’m trying to figure out where to go as the apartment I want to rent isn’t available until August” you said, blowing your hair out of your face. “Move in with me for the summer,” Pietro said without skipping a beat. “We’re not going to be around much in the daytime, you’ve spent a lot of nights at mine recently and it’s just for the summer, theirs a spare bedroom where you can store your stuff, and Wanda will be visiting in 3 weeks, it’s no big deal,” he said as he continued rubbing circles on your legs. You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. “Okay,” you said nervously biting your lip. “Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said again this time sounding surer of yourself. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD. You and Pietro had been dating for most of the school year, and he had been nothing but a gentleman never pressuring you for more than you were comfortable with, he knew Bucky had hurt you and you still hadn’t had sex yet as a result of it. You stood up a peeled of your jumper, Pietro cocked his head with his cute, puzzled expression. You didn’t say anything, instead, you removed your athletic shorts leaving you in nothing but one of Pietro’s football jerseys and your panties. You walked to your bedroom. Pietro didn’t move. After a few moments of waiting for him to follow you walked to your door frame and coughed, Pietro looked at you. “Well, are you coming or not handsome?” you asked leaning against your frame, so his jersey rid up slightly exposing the skin of your stomach. Pietro chucked his phone on the sofa before throwing you over his shoulder. That night you and Pietro had sex for the first time.

December 2012

Summer came and went in a blur of a heatwave, and lots of sex. You moved into your apartment off-campus, you spent a lot of time hanging out with Loki between classes, throwing ideas back and forth for an original piece you had to work on for the spring showcase. Pietro and you would always ride to games together, with Pietro being in his third year, the team bus rides were no longer compulsory and as the college couldn’t afford for the squad to have a bus you had to make your own way to the away games anyway. You and Pietro had driven home for Winter break, your family had decided to head to Boston this year, that way your cousin could see his family, however as you and Pietro had a game two days after New Years it didn’t make sense for you to fly out for such a short period off time. This was your first Christmas in years where you wouldn’t be seeing your family, or even celebrating really. However, Wanda and her Mum had insisted Pietro bring you home with him for the winter break. So that was how you found yourself sat in Pietro and Wanda’s basement drinking beer and hanging out with the old gang along with some new faces. Carol had brought home her girlfriend Valkyrie, Jane and Sam were there, even Peter Parker who was now a senior was there he’d even brought his girlfriend Gwen with him. Wanda had brought home her Boyfriend James or Vision as he was affectionately known. Wanda was studying Fashion in NYC; Vision was studying IT and was a whiz with technology. You were cuddled up in the corner of the sofa with Pietro, he was playing some game with Sam and Peter and you were scrolling through your IG feed. Taylor Swift’s latest Album Red playing through the speakers. Pietro had groaned but with Sam being a secret Swifty he was quickly outvoted. You kissed Pietro’s cheek getting up to grab another bottle of beer each. You were technically underage for another few months, but Wanda’s mum had said if you were going to drink whilst you were here, she’d rather you did it under her roof in a safe controlled manner.

You heard him before you saw him. Being the gracious guest you are, you had noticed the beer was low in the fridge, so you were restocking it when you heard Bucky’s familiar laugh. You may have made peace with what Bucky had done but other than a quick congratulations and farewell at Graduation you hadn’t spoken since that summer back in 2010.

Bucky walked over to the fridge, you had changed your hair colour since you’d last seen him at Graduation in 2011, your usual hair was now a chocolate brown, you had your head in the fridge still when he coughed. “Hi I’m Bucky,” he said. You took a deep breath, grabbed three bottles of beer and pulled your head out of the fridge, turning around to face him. “I’m well aware who you are, Bucky,” you said handing him a beer. Bucky’s eyes widened as his ocean blue eyes reached yours. “Hey Buck,” you said softly. “Y/N. I didn’t recognise you” he grinned, moving to hug you. You let it happen, standing stiffly in his arms. “Yeah it's been a minute, how’s school, and Natasha, I heard you got into UDM?” you asked shooting him a smile before twisting the lid of your bottle. “Yeah, I did. Schools great kicking my ass a bit and Natasha and I broke up actually” he said avoiding eye contact with you. You and Bucky made polite conversation for a few minutes Pietro finished up his game with Sam and Peter, noticed you hadn’t returned so made his way over to you and Bucky. “Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you. “Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed. “Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro. “Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa.

December 2012 – August 2014

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. By the time, your third year rolled around you and Pietro settled into a routine between school, studying, games and rehearsals you would steal kisses in the hallways, meet one another at classes with hot drinks, coffee for Pietro not that he needed a boost of energy and usually a hot chocolate for you. After football games, Pietro would drive you back to his apartment. If it were a rare free evening, you’d curl up with a movie at yours. Hanging onto the small moments of peace. You both knew Pietro was going to be moving to New York after he graduated. He’d been studying business and was going to start a fashion company with Wanda. You also both knew that long-distance wasn’t going to work, you’d been majoring in performing arts, but you had also been taking extra courses to help with a career in advertising as a backup. Saying your goodbyes to one another sucked ass. You and Pietro had left your annual Miami holiday a week early to spend a week in Florida visiting the Theme Parks, Wanda and Vision were also going to meet you there. Neither of you had grown up exceptionally wealthy, but Wanda and Pietro’s dad Max Eisenhardt had reached out to them a few years back and had insisted on paying for the four of you to have a group vacation. He had tried to convince Wanda and Pietro to book a holiday in Germany where he was living but they had refused. Pietro had already packed up his apartment and moved most of it back to his family home whilst you finished up school for the year. He had been staying with you for the summer before joining you on your vacation so when you headed to the airport it was time to say your goodbyes. “Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried.

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave because I have promised to write a sad Steve one as a way to punnish myself

Part 2

[jonnyvangelis]

lyfrassir edda needs hobbies and enrichment

2051 words, fluff, artistic nudity and some implied nsfw. In which Lyf paints nude portraits of the crew of the Starship Aurora. Jonny takes a nap. Lyf gets cuddled. It's a good time.

MARIUS

Marius von Raum is laying nude on the couch in front of them. Their brush stills, and they squint a touch, gauging the distance between his relaxed metallic hand where he holds his wine and his knee where the bottom of the glass rests in a way that should be precarious but looks altogether… Bacchic.

And that’s all they can think to describe him, really, the short man so lovely draped before them with the comfortable, crooked smile on their lips.

Indulgent. Exciting, dangerous, beautiful.

Beautiful… the painter’s hand moves again, detached now from their thoughts, laying thin washes of tempura to be elaborated on in a while in oils.

He lays sideways, one leg crooked as to give their wine-hand a perch and to show thick, dark curls between his strong, soft thighs while the leg closest to Lyfrassir dangles off the couch. The hand that is flesh rests on their stomach, curled loosely around the rise of a plush belly, and the artist’s eyes trace up- following the dark, thin stretch marks that rise from his hips and lower belly- and mull over the surprisingly soft slope of their shoulders and the steady rise and fall of his chest, down to the two lighter scars just under each pectoral and back up to the curling hair between and over their pecs. His head leans back comfortably against the cushions, their beard recently trimmed to show the light indent of a double chin and the corners of his eyes slightly crinkled with their easy smile.

The light Aurora provides from two angled overhead lamps casts soft shadows on his golden skin. They are divine.

Lyfrassir presses their thighs together.

Marius takes another drink.

(Later, they lay next to each other in their bed and Marius braids Lyf’s hair and he doesn’t have the energy to talk, but they laugh at one of Lyf’s jokes and hum happily when their fingers make their way into his hair and he murmurs, in the morning, how much they love Lyfrassir and the latter kisses them and whispers back the reply in the breaths after and they are wordlessly happy.)

IVY

Ivy Alexandria sits on the same couch a week later, book in hand, and Lyf nearly forgets how to breathe.

But they paint her nonetheless.

Roving eyes wander over round pink cheeks, the slightest knit in her brow as she focuses on the story in her hand, the way her free hand rests on her chest and fidgets with the necklace there, resting between small breasts. She sits cross-legged and leans back into the couch, giving them a view from the front, and they note the resting downturn of her lips. Her sides roll with the way she’s curled up, and with the positioning of her surprisingly strong legs, nothing much else can be seen. The same lamps are dimmed for her pale complexion, and she nearly seems to glow against the wine-dark fabric she lies on.

Her portrait is more… closed, than Marius’. The moment is for Ivy alone, and where the previous pirate beckoned in every inch of their canvas, Ivy sits for Lyfrassir alone.

Ivy turns the page.

Lyfrassir smiles and rinses their brush.

JONNY

They were not expecting Jonny to be third. They’re more surprised by his request at lunch that morning, though— the mate asks if he can sleep. Lyfrassir nods, a touch puzzled, and when they sit at their easel and wet the canvas, there Jonny is, asleep on the couch and stripped bare.

Jonny d’Ville is… calm. His hands folded over his chest— his right thumb occasionally rubbing back and forth over the skin over his heart, arms too loose and surprisingly un-calloused hands too alive to show any real resemblance to the bodies in caskets he mimics. His pink lips hang parted, small sighing breaths slipping past that bring with them the rise and fall of what Lyfrassir would lovingly be inclined to call a bear belly, blonde hair in a line from the thicket between his thighs to the one on his chest that isn't quite thick enough to mask the white scarring around his nipples. His hair— longer now than when they first joined the crew, to his shoulders maybe— is splayed on the pillow under his head, framing round cheeks and what was a goatee, now a short beard. The most rowdy thing about him is his makeup, smeared from two days’ wear, and even that seems faded some in the quiet of the moment.

Aurora provides no extra light for Jonny’s portrait— Lyfrassir works by the light of the aged sun she passes, casting a dull red on his skin.

Jonny looks almost peaceful. Almost, if not for the weariness etched into every line of his face.

Lyf thinks about the nineteen year old who died on New Texas and chokes up, and Jonny— for all his usual bluster— just gestures for them to come lay down next to him and pets a hand through their long hair, letting them weep into his firm, ticking chest without a word.

ASHES

Ashes O’Reilly is next, a cigarette on their lips.

Ashes’ gaze is caught on Lyfrassir, and though they seem genuinely interested in their working hands, the artist still feels their face grow hot.

Ashes is less stoic than they had expected. The quartermaster is comfortable, a flickering curiosity in their dark eyes and the quirk of their pierced lips. Lyfrassir can’t help but wish they could stand and walk over and cup those round cheeks, brush their fingers over the curling peach fuzz at the sides of their face; they stop themself, though. They’re painting wet on wet, the break would show. And so they paint, and let their gaze wander, and fight with the flicker of the candlelight they’re working by, glad at least that Ashes looks positively dreamy in their element, the tips of their coiled hair diffusing the warm light nicely on their round face and thick neck.

The way their legs part, the way they slump comfortably back into the couch, and the hand not holding the cigarette behind their head all scream power; the hang of their belly, their plush breasts, the shine in their sharp eyes and the thoughtful furrow of their brow… that’s all just Ashes, laid naked without any great scheme or alias.

It isn’t their expression the painter finds themself lost in, though. It’s the lightning-strike stretch marks on their thick inner thighs and on their strong arms and the stretch of their fat belly, sharp lines on plump flesh that catch their attention like a cat watching a laser pointer. Ashes huffs a pleased laugh, drawing attention to their glossy lips and the shimmer of firelight on their dark skin, in their eyes.

The portrait, in the end, is as stunning as the quartermaster, and they kiss the painter gently in thanks. Lyfrassir feels their heart melt a little.

(Later, Lyf makes a point of having dinner with just Ashes; lights some candles, makes their favorite dish, and they talk for hours, giggling from good company and whiskey.)

TIM & BRIAN

Gunpowder Tim, like Marius, doesn’t sit still long enough normally. So he is laid against Brian’s side with a large metal hand in his hair and another splayed across his flat tummy, nimble fingers occasionally tracing light circles into his skin.

That keeps him still enough.

Tim is dozing off as time goes on, idly chatting with Brian whose hands appear to do wonders on his scalp and general tension. In the same way, his whole countenance loses some of its… high-strung nature— his jaw unclenched, limbs loose, metal eyes slipping closed. Metal eyes surrounded by lines of metal like veins where they couldn’t fit under the skin, still doe-eyed and gorgeous. His hair tumbles loosely around him on the pillow, auburn curls like rolling gunsmoke, trailing over his thin cheeks and well-kept beard and muttering lips. The gunner’s own hands rest on his small breasts. The smooth V of his hips leads to a bit of pudge just under his navel, the bulge of it sitting pretty on his otherwise lithe frame. His long legs are crossed, hairy, all smooth muscle and usually ready to break off in a dead sprint at a moment’s notice— for now, though, they’re almost limp. He is small in Brian’s arms, no matter how tall the painter knows him to be.

Brian, wrapped around Tim as he is, is partially hidden by the smaller man (everyone’s smaller than him, he’s got to be over seven feet tall). And for all the hardness the brass and copper of his body should hold, he’s inarguably… the man is shaped like a friend. Round face; kind, drooping eyes; a neat mane of waving copper wire. Whoever sculpted him did so with love and skill— every curve and contour Lyf finds is natural. He peers out over the top of Tim’s head, presses a soft kiss to the gunner’s head, and cuddles him just the slightest bit closer once he’s confident that Lyf has solidified their poses. They look longingly over his barrel chest, the way his sides still somehow form a roll above the hip.

Lyf has to blink to pull their attention back to the canvas.

Brian and Tim have their few quiet hours together, until Tim gets antsy again and the portrait is done and Brian lets him go, sitting for Lyf to sketch him one last time. He kisses them as he goes, and they hum happily into it.

RAPHAELLA

Raphaella la Cognizi proves the painter’s theory that the crew of the Aurora just never sits still, and that Ashes and Brian are anomalies. (Lyfrassir has reached the point of accepting that they can’t get a portrait of the Toy Soldier for a different reason; without its animated movements, it just looks wrong and lonely. They settle for giving it a few dozen sketches of itself in action with its companions, and it delights.)

Raphaella wakes late in the morning cycle to find Lyfrassir sat beside her in the bed— they had been cuddled up together, her wings around them, and she nearly whimpers for them to lay back down before she sees the canvas in their lap and the tray of paints on their knee. She hums, remembering their conversation about this from the night prior, and rolls over onto her back with a wing pulled up around her side and a hand on her stomach, her head turned to face Lyf on the pillow.

They smile fondly down at her and brush a hand through her curls, letting out a coo when she presses her head into their hand. They ask if she’s comfortable, she nods, and they pull away to start their work.

They’ve heard vague descriptions of angels in their travels, heard Raphaella compared to them over and over again, but they don’t think any comparison is right. Raph is Raph, with her slightly crooked lips and wide face and dark brows that they want to pepper in little kisses. She radiates a sleepy sort of contentment, and everything about the scientist is so soft and lovely (at this point in any of the other portraits they would have stopped themself— but she said they could fawn over her, so they fawn). Her breasts are uneven, as their own are, and the smooth curves of her body lead into wide hips, thick thighs, and a pillowy tummy that they’d do anything to rest their head on. Her legs are thick, sturdy, and her arms soft and Lyf is forced to think of the stolen paintings of sprenaissance women that Marius keeps in his quarters. Her pose is simple, and they’ve drawn her so many times before, the painting goes quickly.

Raphaella waits for her painter to set their canvas and paints and brush on the nightstand before tugging them down into the bed with her, pulling a yelp out of them.

Lyfrassir dobs a dot of paint on her nose and she gasps, mockingly affronted, before rubbing up against Lyf’s face like a cat and smearing a bit of yellow paint across their cheek. They grumble lovingly and pull her a little closer, tugging the sheets over their heads.