#management writing help

[sjdigitalmarketer]

Boost your grades with our Management Assignment Help guide! Get expert support, ace every assignment, and unlock academic success. Your path to excellence starts here!

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[helixcraft]

the fish that keeps appearing all over my recommended only that he's out of jail and happy

[perceptivehands]

|| Miss Scarlet and The Duke » 4.04 "The Diamond Feather" ||

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #108

When you meet your soulmate you both feel it, you know down to your bones that this person was meant to be with you for life, if you’re unable to find them before you pass on, your ghosts will be unable to locate each other in the afterlife. The Fentons tried to make a way to locate your soulmate using ectoplasm, unfortunately for Danny he’s the only one in the family yet to find his. Jazz actually found hers when she started school in Gotham, some guy named Jason, if Danny remembered correctly. They try some experiments with Danny and something works just not as intended as with every piece of Fenton tech. Danny wakes up in an unfamiliar room and in an unfamiliar body. Looking around, it appears his soulmate is rich, he’s got to call his soulmate and explain the situation. He’s not looking forward to explaining his powers to them but if they’re going to be in his body best to let them know what to expect from Danny’s weird biology.

Damian woke up to an unfamiliar ringtone in an unfamiliar room. Assessing the situation he noticed the number from the phone was actually his own. Might as well answer it to see if he could get some answers.

[deoidesign]

Btw just want to be clear that Time and Time Again is set to, and will if I don't pause, conclude in May 2025!

Webtoon didn't want to renew or give me any extra episodes so I'm trying to work with what I have. I'm sorry it's ending sooner than I'd like, it's been difficult to come to terms with and challenging to condense my plans.

You deserve a solid conclusion, and I've spent months writing to try and reach that. If there's anything you'd really like to see before it ends, do let me know in case I can (and want to) fit it in.

I'd rather not work with them again, and I hope I won't have to! But coming off of years being overworked and underpaid does not make that easy, to say the least...

I'm doing my best, and I hope you like what I have coming up.

[sufferu]

Admittedly one of the reasons Subaru is trapped in his jar in my fic is because, if he wasn’t, the entire fic would very quickly devolve into hyper-indulgent “Subaru gets repeatedly smothered by cuddles” fluffy nonsense.

[caker-baker]

Due Diligence

The lights were sickeningly bright, even from behind the curtains.

The hero’s PR manager snapped her fingers in front of their face. “Hey. Hey. Pull it together.”

“I don’t do these.” They felt their heart in their ears, beating rapidly. “I don’t do meetings, the questions, I can’t, please don’t make me–”

“Hero.” Their manager’s voice left very little room for sympathy. “I know. But this is what happens when you get popular, they look to you for information.”

“Popular?” The hero repeated, the sweat on the back of their neck turning cold. “I’m not a celebrity! If I do this, I’m going to screw it up, and it’s like you said, I need to maintain a reputation.”

“Yeah, well, strong and silent isn’t working for the general public anymore.” She looked down at her tablet. “You have ten minutes to get whatever this is together. I’ll get you some water or something, just–” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “fix this.”

The hero had thought they wanted to be alone. They thought so terribly wrong.

They could feel themself begin to struggle for breath, and reached desperately behind for the wall, arms shaking as they slid down.

Press conferences, they asked for no press conferences, and there was an agreement. They would save the day, they would leave the scene. Strong and silent type, sturdy and dependable.

But the minute they opened their mouth out there, they would stutter, they would say something they’re not supposed to, they would mess it up, they knew they would.

Reputation could make or break, and with the hero’s public speaking ability, it would break.

People would stop looking to them for help, would start thinking of them as awful and horrible when all they wanted to do help. Quickly, quietly, just help.

“What a mess.” A voice spoke from the dark.

Though their arms still lacked a sense of firmness, they managed to pull themselves back up.

“Good, very good.” The voice said. “You were compressing yourself, making it harder to get air.”

“You.” The hero managed.

“Me.” The villain grinned, approaching them slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re still tensing your muscles.” Their arms shot out, placing their hands on the hero’s shoulders. “Relax these.”

“Why?” The hero shoved them off. “So you can fight me while I’m vulnerable?”

“No, so you can go out there and speak without losing your head. Do you want that?”

The hero’s jaw tensed, a sign that they didn’t want to hear anything the villain had to say, but they nodded nonetheless.

“Then listen. Unclench your jaw, take a deep breath in, now hold it, very good.” The villain once again placed their hands on the hero’s shoulders. “Breathe out, keep the pattern. You need to relax the shoulders, your back will do the same subsequently. Hey, the breathing pattern, keep it. Yeah? There we are.”

With one final steady breath out, the hero’s arms firm again and their stance solid, they wrapped their hands around the villain’s wrists, and removed their hold on their shoulders.

“I need to return you to the authorities.”

“Mm, no, you need to focus on what you’ll be saying to the swarms of reporters. Believe me, they’ll be asking bait pieces. Just remember that there’s no shame in taking your time to answer the question. They’ll think of you as thoughtful, and that’ll help with the strong and silent thing you have going on right now.”

Stepping back, the hero did a once over.

“Oddly sound advice. Why?”

The villain also took a step back, glancing to the hallway where the manager had disappeared to.

“I did want to shake things up a bit. Scare you, scare the public, but it looks like she,” The villain nodded towards the hallway. “got the scaring you part down. Expertly done, if I may add.”

“But the public?” The hero crossed their arms, eyes blazing. “Still want to try something?”

“Oh, relax. Don’t get yourself worked up. Seriously.”

The hero said nothing, continuing to scrutinize the villain, waiting for them to strike.

A strike never came.

“I appreciate your due diligence.” The villain admitted quietly. “And the people in this city like to tear people like you and I apart-”

“We aren’t the same-”

“But they don’t always think so. I appreciate your due diligence. I…appreciate that it’s tough work. I don’t want to see them turn that, or you, into something perverse.”

The hero raised a brow, then snapped to attention, as did villain.

Quick clicking heels, their expectant manager coming back.

“Breathing pattern, if you need it again, lean back and keep away from the mics. Time to consider an answer is good, and if you can throw in a thoughtful pose during that time, you might end up on the cover of a glam magazine, or get yourselves some very loyal fans who’ll fawn over your looks.”

“My look-?”

“I’ll be watching from the comfort of my home. Break a leg, Hero. Due diligence.”

The villain melted back into the small slips of darkness the studio allowed, very good at that trick apparently, something the hero would have to take note of in the future.

“Okay.” Their manager’s voice cut across the hero’s thoughts. “This is good, this is better.”

Handing them a bottle of water and a rag, she made a motion across her forehead.

“Dab off the sweat. You ready?”

“Strong, silent, and sturdy doesn’t work for the public anymore?” Looking back to where the villain was, the hero nodded. “Then let’s see what does.”

Due diligence.

[fireflysugarpie]

need to write a fic where Shang Qinghua gets so fed up with his xianxa hair that he accidentally gives himself a fuckass bob lmao

[scificrows]

i like to make fun of murderbot for being all "i hate everyone, i don't care about anything or anyone, fuck off" while simultaneously caring very much about the people around it and the situations it finds itself in. i love how it "accidentally" ends up caring quite a lot about the friends it makes along the way. but i think something that i tend to forget is that murderbot actively decides to care - at least at some point in its story.

idk, as a person that struggles with depression, this paragraph from artificial condition really resonates with me. prior to all systems red, murderbot had contracts. it had routine and it had protocols. it knew what it had to do to just get by, how to perform so no one would notice it had disabled its governor module. it was deeply depressed, yes, but it was functioning (for lack of a better word). in artificial condition, murderbot's routine is gone. it cannot go on in that state of numbly going-from-contract-to-contract, putting in as little effort as possible, consuming media to cope. that option is gone because it escaped (and note that escaping the company was not an active choice, it kinda happened to it). murderbot has two options now: it can either gather all its energy; actively do something new and difficult and distressing; change something in its life and try. or it can let the numbness and the emptiness take over and stop trying. if murderbot wants to survive as a rogue secunit, it has to try. no matter how difficult that is. the wording in that paragraph really hits home for me. the way the non-caring sees an opportunity to slip in and to take over. does murderbot even care? does anything really matter? is anything really worth the hassle? wouldn't it be so much easier to just let your mind slip away a little, to go numb, to be passive, to watch media and wait for things to happen to you? wouldn't it be nice to stop thinking and struggling and feeling complicated things? to stop making an effort? you've been dealing with a lot lately and maybe it's time to just shut down. maybe you'll just take a little break. just slip deeper into this chair and start the show. time flies when you're not paying attention. trying is exhausting. who cares if you don't do the things you wanted to do, you were supposed to do. it'll be fine. let's just ignore those things for now. just let the non-caring take over. just stop thinking. you can deal with the aftermath later. just watch your shows. who cares. but murderbot cares. it decides to care. it decides to fight with all it has and i think that is so brave. and i think in the later books caring is less of an active decision for murderbot. once you start caring, it's easier to keep going than to stop; and murderbot, for all its "i'm a grumpy rogue secunit, leave me alone" behavior, knows just how important caring is. so it's not that it doesn't know what's happening; rather, it lets itself care. tl;dr: caring is not the default for murderbot, it's just the more difficult of two options. and it decides not to take the soft option. it decides to struggle. it decides to care. and so it does.

[touchlikethesun]

i’m trying to break out of it but, when it comes to their relationship dynamics, so far no fic has managed to top the one skiing au where bokuto and akaashi try and convince kuroo and tsukki to be in a poly relationship that i followed religiously back in 2015, like. (almost) no other fic has managed to tap into what i find so appealing about that group’s whole dynamic, their humour their earnestness their chaos as four, the way akaashi and tsukki balance kuroo and bokuto’s energy (except everyone knows the real trouble is tsukki and bokuto), and like the individual dynamics are incredible too, every pairing just worked so well, even ones i wouldn’t have considered before like kuroo and akaashi. like how in 100k words did this author manage to develop every relationship just so damn well??? there should be way too many moving parts, at least one of the dynamics should have fell flat or fell to the background but none of them did ughhhhh oh my god it’s so good i just need like. a dozen more fics exactly like it rippppp like i’m watching s2 (again yes ik) and all i can think about when i see the four of them interact is “wow that author really nailed their dynamics, what they wrote is exactly how those four would be in 10 years time” god fanfiction is incredible

[willestears]

Happy 20th birthday to the bravest boy, I wish you the most normal and peaceful life, you deserve it 🎈🧡

[bluerosefox]

Head Over Heels

-Slides into DPxDC fandom and slaps down another AU sticky note on everyone's forehead-

Kinda single mom (maybe Queen Regent? if we got Ghost King route) Jazz! to triplets (deaged) Danny, Dan, and Dani! and they all get sent to the DCverse to start new lives.

The three were ditching school, secretly of course mostly to help get money for Jazz and themselves, when they get taken by the Joker because he decides the Wayne bait looking kids would make the most interesting hostages for the game he wanted to play.

Jazz is NOT happy when she senses them in danger. (and it happened during her job hours too so she had to book it out citing a 'family emergency'. She knows she's no doubt going to be fired for leaving the way she did but fine, she hated the job anyways and her boss was a creep.)

Jason falls head over heels when he see's this amazonian tall/powerful woman knock out a good number of Joker's teeth and basically destroys him when he got info of where the Joker was hiding out after the clown kidnapped some kids from his turf.

Speaking of the kids, they are busy cheering their big sister on and hoping she wouldn't be too upset that they ditched school. And...

Was Red Hood a Reverent?! Cool!

[themaevethcometh]

okay i've had this scene from an au stuck in my head recently so here's 3k of timkon identity shenanigans where kon has been recently taken in by luthor for nefarious reasons and is forced to attend a gala where tim and bruce show up. robin hasn't revealed his identity to the team yet even though they've been friends for years. canon/timeline has been put in a blender and liquified.

Kon takes a deep breath in through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out of his mouth.  It’s a technique that Robin taught the team when he was trying desperately to get them on a more bat-approved training regime, including meditation and an acrobatics routine that Nightwing allegedly used on the Teen Titans years ago.  Kon is fully aware that he’s got weird stuff going on with his body’s organs and systems compared to humans, but the slow, rhythmic breathing still brings comfort and helps center him, slowing everything down enough so he no longer feels like he’s going to accidentally fry someone with his heat vision.

He tugs at the collar of his dress shirt, gulping and taking a deep breath again.  The shirt and tie feels so much more restrictive than his Superboy uniform, tightening like a noose around his neck, and the inflexibility of the suit coat makes him feel like a stiff, awkward mannequin.

“Stop that,” Luthor says, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder.  Kon immediately stills, straightening and trying to relax at the same time.

“These people are vultures,” Lex says, voice low.  Kon tries to focus his super hearing on him, rather than the woman with the loud laugh across the ballroom or the clink of glasses down the hall where the staff is continuously loading and unloading equipment.  He can hear the steady beat of Lex’s heart, the rhythmic whoosh of air traveling in his lungs, the slight gurgle of his stomach (gross!).  Kon decides he doesn’t like listening to Lex Luthor very much.

“Remember what I told you,” Lex is still saying.  “Be on your best behavior.  Today is about getting your name and your face out there.  Be polite, but not a pushover.  Never let them see weakness.”

Kon forcibly bites back the retort that his only weakness is kryptonite and makes himself nod instead.

Luthor leads him over to a group of people with his hand still clamped on Connor’s shoulder like a shackle.  From there, it’s an exhausting parade of schmoozing with millionaires and billionaires, shaking hands firmly (but not too firmly!), laughing at unfunny jokes, and pretending that he loves dear old Dad instead of wanting to punt him through the nearest wall.

Kon is charming.  He knows this.  It’s something that he’s known since he freshly came out of a test tube, and it’s something that he’s perfected with smiles and body language and a well-placed word or phrase.  Kon can get most people eating out of his hand with barely any effort, but it’s usually normal people a little closer to his age, not rich, egotistical, out-of-touch old people who want to pinch his cheeks but absolutely cannot be allowed to due to his invulnerable skin.  Kon forgets everyone’s name almost as soon as he hears it, clutching his flute of sparkling cider like a lifeline (but not hard enough to shatter).

Kon doesn’t know how long he gets paraded around as Luthor’s newest pet, but it feels like forever.  Everyone talks around where he’s been for the past 17 years of his life (nonexistent and then in a lab and then gallivanting around with superheroes and then, finally, as of two month ago a little farm in Kansas until Lex Luthor uprooted everything with a few well-placed threats), and Kon lets Lex tell the cover story about how he didn’t find out about Connor until recently, but he’s happy to be reunited with his son now.

Son.  Connor isn’t anyone’s son.  He was maybe getting to be a family member to the Kents finally, but Luthor threw a wrench into all of that.

Connor had a room at the farm.  He had a chore list to do and homemade meals to eat, and Clark has finally stopped flinching when he sees him.  Clark grinned at him the other day, not his public smile or a small, polite thing, but an actual, honest to goodness grin.  Connor bets he can kiss that goodbye now, just like he can kiss goodbye ever knowing Robin’s real identity, because there’s no way that Batman will let him tell Kon now that Kon is semi-legally under the guardianship of a supervillain, and just like there’s no way that Kon can have anything remotely resembling a normal teenage experience as the ward of a billionaire and forced showpony, and just like–

“I’ll be damned,” Lex breathes next to him, interrupting Kon’s spiral.  Kon follows his gaze to the entrance of the ballroom, ears picking up the loud, boisterous laugh of Bruce Wayne clapping someone on the back a little too forcefully.  Kon has never seen Bruce Wayne in person, but he’s difficult to miss in the papers, especially with how often he finds himself in trouble.  Robin has told him of a few instances when he or one of the other Gotham vigilantes has had to rescue him, and Kon knows that Lois interviewed him once and Clark has informally run into him at a gala such as this.

Clark says he tried really hard to be the journalist from the Planet here tonight once Lex demanded that Connor be there, but it was too late notice.  Neither Clark nor Lois are among the reporters clustered in the corner.  Kon is alone.

“He didn’t RSVP,” Lex says, miffed.  Kon immediately likes Bruce Wayne significantly more because of it.  “Oh, and he brought a friend.”

Kon peers around the crowd that has quickly amassed around Gotham’s favorite billionaire and finally spots the person Bruce Wayne has a hand on the shoulder of.  It’s a teenage boy, dressed in a dark suit with dark hair parted in the middle to keep it out of his eyes.  He’s slight, but not skinny, and he’s not overly tall, probably closer to Robin or Bart’s height than Connor’s.  He doesn’t show any signs of discomfort at the press of adults around him, offering polite handshakes and letting the women kiss his cheeks the way some of them have tried with Kon.  Bruce doesn’t stray far, taking the boy with him when they finally finish with the crowd near the door and head to the bar.  The boy doesn’t seem to mind the attention.  Kon, however, does not appreciate the tone of voice that Lex used when he said friend.  He’s ready to do some superheroing if he needs to.

“Let’s go,” Lex says, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder again to steer him through the crowd.  “Let me handle Bruce Wayne.  The kid is Timothy Drake.  He recently became the head of his parent’s company when his father died.  This is the first time he’s been seen at an event since the death.  Bruce is almost certainly going to adopt him.  Timothy stayed with him when Jack Drake was in a coma, plus he has the dark hair and light eyes and Brucie favors in his kids.  He’s your focus for the rest of the night.  Forget about everyone else.”

“Lex!  I didn’t know you’d be here, you old dog!” Bruce calls before Connor has time to process all of that, slinging an arm around Luthor’s shoulders and seemingly crushing all of the air out of him in less than a second.

“It’s my party,” Lex wheezes.

“Good thing I’m here to liven it up, eh?” Bruce asks, elbowing Luthor in the ribs.

Kon really hopes that Bruce Wayne’s obsession with dark haired, light eyed boys is an innocent coincidence, because he doesn’t want to apprehend him for being a pedophile when he’s pissing Lex off so easily.

“Hello, Timothy,” Luthor greets, holding out his hand.  Bruce pouts at being ignored while Timothy shakes politely.  “May I just say, it’s refreshing to see you out and about.  I’m sure running your parent’s company is stressful all by yourself.”

Timothy tilts his head, reminding Connor vaguely of a bird.

“I’m happy to do it,” he says, polite but firm.  “It’s what my parents would have wanted, and they left things well organized for me.”

“And I suppose Bruce here has been giving you advice?”

“Now Lex,” Bruce says, wagging his finger at him, “you know that’d be a conflict of interest.  Besides, Tim could run circles around me.  I should be asking him for advice!”

Connor feels his eyes start to glaze over as Luthor and Bruce volley back and forth, seemingly forgetting that he’s even there.  Having Lex’s attention off of him and on someone else is a much needed break, so he’s not about to complain, but it’s also really fucking rude.  Connor hasn’t even been introduced to these two.

Timothy catches his eye, sweeping his gaze over to Luthor and Bruce and rolling his eyes.  Connor smirks.  Timothy raises an eyebrow and Connor mirrors him, just a slight quirk.

Timothy looks pretty nice, up close.  His eyes are the promised light blue, but his dark eyelashes are long and thick, framing them beautifully.  He’s pale, almost reflective in the glittering chandelier light, and he carries himself with a self-assuredness that Connor envies in this environment.  The suit fits him really nicely, hugging his shoulders and accenting his trim waist and long legs.  When he raises his flute to take a sip of the drink inside, Kon finds himself tracking the liquid as it disappears past his pale pink lips, his throat flexing as he swallows.

He’s not bad to look at.  He could easily turn out to be dull as a brick or a total douchebag, but so far first impressions are good.

“And who is this young man?” Bruce asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.  Luthor puts a hand on his back to push him forward a step, and Kon doesn’t have to move, but Lex is going to be mad if he doesn’t and the situation is delicate.

“This is my son, Connor,” Luthor introduces.  Kon offers his hand with his most charming smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking first Bruce’s hand (better grip than he expected) and then Timothy’s (rougher than he thought it’d be, skin warm).

“Son, eh?  He must take after his mother!” Bruce laughs.  Lex’s face pinches, but Connor doesn’t have a chance to relish in it before Bruce is sweeping Luthor away with another arm around his shoulder, talking loudly about secret children and parenting hacks.  Luthor tries to protest, but it’s quickly drowned out by Bruce, and he doesn’t have a chance to so much as glance back at Connor before they’re swallowed by the crowd.

Kon blinks.

“Bruce will keep him busy for a while, sorry,” Timothy says, not sounding very sorry.  He takes another sip from his glass, then leans in.  Cologne tickles Connor’s nose.

“Hold your drink by the stem, not the glass,” he says quietly.  “It’s supposed to keep your drink from getting warm, an old etiquette thing.  It’s small, but it’ll help you blend in a little more.”

Kon looks around the room, taking in the people with flutes like him and where they’re holding it.  The majority are holding the stem, and the ones that aren’t are people that Luthor hasn’t bothered to introduce him to yet.  Kon adjusts his grip accordingly, off-balance and embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he says.  Timothy tilts his head.

“You want to get some air?  There’s a balcony over there.  Your father will be able to find you easily once Bruce releases him.”

“Yes,” Kon agrees immediately.  He’s used to not fitting in, but having the eyes of so many judgy rich people on him when he’s pretending to be Lex Luthor’s human son has been exhausting.  No one has been too rude so far, but the weight of Lex’s hand on his shoulder is heavy, and this complicated set of social rules that he still doesn’t understand puts him on edge.

Normally he’d say fuck the rules and do what he wants, but the situation is too delicate for that.  Clarke and Robin both told him that he needs to be careful and think twice about every move he makes, and for once neither of them sounded condescending about it.  He could tell that they don’t like the situation, either, worry and sympathy clear in their faces.

“Come on,” Timothy says, heading towards a set of double doors.  He doesn’t glance back, trusting Connor to follow him, and Connor does, stepping in his footsteps as he expertly weaves through the crowd, deflecting anyone trying to stop to speak to them with smooth excuses and a well-placed smile.  In no time at all he’s pushing open the large french doors, releasing them from the ballroom and into the cool night air.

Kon tilts his head up, blinking at the night sky above him.  It’s cloudy, obscuring what few stars manage to make their way through the light pollution to reach Metropolis.  Connor wishes he could fly up there, feel the dampness of early rain on his face, burst into the dark and escape everything.  For now, he keeps his feet on the ground, instead joining Timothy by the railing.

“So, how often do you come to these things, Timothy?” Connor asks, leaning back on his elbows.  The other boy perches with a hip pressed against the railing, arms crossed over his chest.

“Tim, please,” he says.  “Timothy makes me feel like I’m in trouble or you’re trying to swindle me out of a business deal.”

“Okay.  How often do you come to these things, Tim?” Connor corrects, testing the feel of it in his mouth.  Tim relaxes at the sound.

“Decently often, but I usually stick to Gotham,” he says.  “I’ll have to start coming to more now that I’m in charge of Drake Industries, but I grew up going to galas.  Is this your first one since Luthor found you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Connor asks.  Tim smirks, but shakes his head.

“I think I’d remember if I’d seen you at one of these before.”

Connor flashes him a charming smile.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”  Tim’s cheeks turn pink, his blush noticeable against his pale skin even with the limited light out here.  Kon takes a sip of his sparkling cider, satisfaction making it taste sweeter on his tongue.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re probably the only people under thirty in the whole building besides some of the catering staff,” Tim says. 

“You missed the toddler earlier,” Connor hums.  “She was throwing a tantrum.  I very much sympathized.”

“Did I really?” Tim asks dryly.  “What a pity.  Oh no.  How unfortunate that Bruce likes being fashionably late to everything.”

Connor snorts.

“Bruce Wayne, huh?” he says.  “How’d you two meet?”

Tim shifts so he’s leaning back against the railing like Kon.  Kon takes a moment to drink in his profile, tracing the sharp jut of his nose, the hair shielding his eyes from him at this angle.

“He’s my neighbor,” Tim says.  “I’ve kind of always known him, but our families weren’t really close until a few years ago.  When my dad was in a coma, Bruce took me in.  My uncle was supposed to get custody of me now, but…”

Tim trails off, searching for words.  Eventually, he shrugs.

“He’s fostering me right now.  We’ll see where it goes from there.”

“Do you want to stay with him?” Kon asks.  Tim considers his words carefully.  Connor’s mouth is always running away with him, but Tim seems to have the opposite approach.  Everything is measured and careful, cold and tactical.  It reminds Kon of Robin in the middle of missions, keeping his reactions even and methodical to counteract the impulsiveness of the rest of the team.  Kon wonders if Tim is the type of person to let himself be stupid and emotional around friends like Robin is, or if he always keeps everything bottled up.

“Yeah, I do,” Tim breathes eventually.  “But it’s complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

Another pause.  Kon does Robin’s breathing exercise, staying patient.  Some people need time to talk, and Kon can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

“I guess I don’t want him to adopt me because he feels obligated,” Tim says.  “He has a family.  There’s–It’s a long story, too long to explain now.  Sorry, this is a weird first impression, huh? But enough about me!  What about you?  Where were you before Luthor found you?”

“Uh,” Connor says, still recovering from the whiplash of topics and searching for Luthor’s cover story.  “Kansas.”

“Kansas?” Tim prompts.

“Yeah, Kansas. I was in the foster system for a while, then I got adopted by this nice old couple who live on a farm in Smallville, which is just as small as it sounds.  I didn’t know anything about my birth parents until Lex showed up.”

“Wow,” Tim says.  “This has to be a big adjustment, then.”

Connor scratches the back of his neck.

“Yeah, kinda.”

Kon’s whole life feels like a big adjustment, from adjusting to existing and Clark’s negative feelings towards him, to adjusting to working for Camdus and living in Hawaii, to adjusting to Young Justice and Teen Titans, to finally trying to adjust to Smallville, only to be ripped away from that and forced into Metropolis high society.

“Do you miss them?” Tim asks.  “The old couple who adopted you?”

Kon swallows against the unexpected pang that rolls through him.  He can almost taste Martha’s pancakes on his tongue and hear the crinkle of the newspaper as Jonathan hands him the cartoons.

“I wasn’t with them very long.  Only a few months.”

Tim tilts his head.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Connor shrugs.  He doesn’t know what the right answer is here.  Martha and Jonathan are the closest thing he’s ever had to parents, but part of him never expected to stay with them.  When Luthor ripped him away from them, there was a part of Kon that wasn’t surprised at all, even if a bigger part was in agony.

Martha kissed his forehead when he left the farm and gave him a sad smile.

“You can always come back here, okay?  This is your home, no matter what Lex Luthor has to say about it.”

“If they formally adopted you, Lex Luthor’s claim as your biological father isn’t enough to force cut contact,” Tim says, pushing off the railing and taking a few steps closer.  “Trust me.  I researched this stuff when my dad came out of his coma.”

Kon frowns.

“He didn’t like Bruce?”

Tim wavers.

“It’s complicated,” he offers.  Kon snorts.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Tim’s mouth quirks up, giving Connor the shadow of a smile again.

“It’s not really a first meeting story.”

“Guess we need a second meeting, then,” Connor says.

“Yeah?” Tim asks.  “My weird family dynamic really captivated you, huh?”

“It was your eyes first, actually,” Connor says.  Tim opens his mouth, then closes it again, eyes wide.  Kon holds his breath.  He says flirty things all the time, both to his friends and to people he rescues who seem like they need a pick-me-up, but it’s been a while since he sincerely flirted with someone he plans to see again.  He almost never does it with someone who only knows him as Connor rather than Superboy, much less a boy.

If this goes badly and Tim tells the entire Metropolis elite that Lex’s son is a homosexual, maybe the scandal will be enough for Luthor to send him back to Smallville.  If it goes well…

“You have… very nice eyes, too,” Tim says eventually.  Connor beams, then beams even more at the sharp inhale Tim draws in response.  Tim shifts.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asks.  “There’s a decent ice cream place open late a few blocks away.  We can be there and back before anyone misses us.”

Connor glances towards Luthor in the ballroom.  He’s still talking to Bruce Wayne, and they’ve amassed a small crowd around them.

“Bruce will keep Lex busy for a while.  He likes to talk.  Besides, you can always tell him that you were networking,” Tim offers.

Luthor said that Tim should be his focus for the rest of the night.  He never said that they had to stay at the gala.

“Lead the way,” he says, gesturing grandly towards the French doors.  Tim blinks once, then again, then smiles.  His eyes light up with it, and Kon suddenly understands why Tim had to inhale before.

“Come on,” Tim says, leading the way.  Kon follows just as closely as he did before, trailing him until they spill out into the Metropolis night and he can stand next to him, almost close enough for their arms to brush.

Maybe living with Lex Luthor won’t be so bad if comes with seeing Tim Drake, too.

[nnnn99999]

I want to share my interpretation of FadelStyle's sex scenes in the storage room, but before I get to the actual scene I need to establish FadelStyle's relationship arc so far. I won't go into detail about their attitude towards each other in episode 1 and 2 because @airenyah did such a great job of explaining Style's journey in this post and I wholeheartedly agree with everything she said.

To summarize, by the end of episode 2 Style is starting to sense something is off about Fadel and he is starting to want to connect to him, whereas Style manages to make past Fadel's defenses and enter his mind, albeit as a sexual fantasy. At this point neither of the two actively dislike each other as they used to before. Fadel still finds Style very annoying, but he is already starting to get used to it. Style still thinks Fadel is grumpy and rude, but he is intrigued by what lays under Fadel's mask. They don't really like each other, but they don't exactly hate each other either.

This dynamics continue in episode 3. As they meet each other more and more, Fadel softens up to Style as sees more of him. It's hard for Fadel to completely ignore the genuine care, concern and sincerity Style throws at him again and again. Style also starts to become even more intrigued by Fadel as he realizes just how deep the man is hiding himself. Not to mention the physical attraction between the two that very much exists and makes its presence known in the form of sexual fantasies.

When they actually hook up for the first time, there is only physical attraction that is driving their actions. As I mentioned before, they don't dislike each other, but they don't really like each other either. There is an emotional disconnect between the two. And I believe this is the reason this experience was not very fulfilling for either of them. Both of them seem to be the type to believe in having proper relationships instead of casual hookups, so sex without any sort of meaningful connection might be pleasant because of the physical attraction, but it's far from being able to make either of them feel content.

Comparing FadelStyle's first time to KantBison's first time makes this more evident. KantBison didn't even know each other's names when they jumped into bed together. But that didn't stop them from having a great time. They have no problems in finding sexual satisfaction without any emotional attachment. FadelStyle on the other hand seem to be unable to do that. It's a matter of preference, neither is right or wrong. The lighting choices in the two scenes also reflect the mood of the couples. For KantBison, it's a bright red-glaring, intense and passionate. The lighting is not warm, it's burning hot actually. Whereas for FadelStyle, the lighting is a cold blue, with no hint of warmth to be found.

In Fadel's fantasy, Fadel thinks about Style's interest in himself (his name and his tattoo). In Style's fantasy, Style imagines Fadel serving him with direct eye contact maintained at all times. Both of these fantasies further indicate to me that both of them crave a deeper connection with the other. And it's only when they find that connection that they can truly find sexual contentment.

I don't think Fadel meant to be that tender and worshipful with Style. I think he just couldn't help himself. Now that Style has had a taste of what it could feel like being with Fadel, he is not going to give up trying to make Fadel his. And Fadel has no way to defend against that kind of Style.

[kissporsche]

prompt: legacy

Vegas twists the ring on his finger and replays the scene in his mind again. Porsche, wounded and vulnerable, and Kinn knelt by his side. At Vegas’s feet. He wonders what would have happened if he’d had time to pull the trigger– first on Porsche, then Kinn.  Chances are he would have been killed. They were still outnumbered on enemy grounds, he probably wouldn’t have even made it out of the garage.  His father would still be dead. And whatever future he had envisioned for his son had died with him. Still– he can’t help but think about it. If he’d succeeded, how would the main family ring have felt on his finger, instead?  “We’re back!” Macau’s shout jolts Vegas back to the present, where his curry has reached a gentle simmer.  Pete shuffles into the kitchen just behind Macau, smile widening when his eyes meet Vegas’s.  “This smells great,” he says appreciatively. “I think we got everything you wanted.” He places a full bag on the countertop next to where Vegas is working.  “You’re everything I want,” Vegas responds without thinking, and grins at both Pete’s automatic blush and Macau’s overexaggerated gagging.  “Stop it,” Pete mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on Vegas’s cheek before starting to put the groceries away.  “Phi, can you help me? I don’t get this homework.” Macau has managed to splay what looks like the entire contents of his backpack on the kitchen table in the seconds Vegas was looking away.  “In a minute, this is nearly done.”  “Do you want these washed?” Pete asks, gesturing to some fresh herbs.  “I’ll do it, you sit down.” He removes his ring and rolls his sleeves up, running some water to rinse the herbs. “Maybe you can help Macau.” “With English?” Both Pete and Macau say incredulously. Vegas laughs at the offended look on Pete’s face as they begin to bicker good naturedly, leaving Vegas to return to his cooking.  It’s not until much later, when dinner has been eaten and the dishes are being collected up, that Vegas realises he never put the ring back on. 

ending at the ending <3 this has been such a fun little anniversary project, it felt right to once again leave off with my favourite boys living their best post-canon life