#thanks for the ask lmao <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[menkhu]

It's your turn to go off! What's your favorite piece of media right now and why? Do you have a favorite character??

i'm not sure i can live up to the glory of your example but sure i'd love to go off hehehe >:3 i'm interpreting these as two completely distinct questions for maximum rant ability. y'all get to hear about chrisjen avasarala from the expanse and no gods no monsters by cadwell turnbull

i've been obsessing over chrisjen avasarala from the expanse for a hot minute now, and since i'm like halfway through the show and watching one ep each week, i have many months of obsessing left. and the other day i just discovered? when i went to see if my library had the expanse audiobooks? that there's a mini graphic novel series focusing on her? i didn't look into it too much because it's later in the timeline and i didn't want to be spoiled but just by looking at the cover i saw that it also features the character that i ship her with(?) most and i'm soo excited to get far enough in the show to read it.

the question mark next to ship is because she and bobbie draper have suchh a fun dynamic that the exact capacity in which they are together doesn't matter as much to me as them being together. when bobbie was first forced to work with chrisjen, she had just been through a precipitous change, discontent making her kinda petulant and bitchy, did not like her, and then the moment things Got Real and chrisjen's life was on the line, bobbie instantly went from not caring about the old lady to being ready to die for her and it was sooo funny. and the petulance and bitchiness did not leave. and chrisjen herself--she comports herself with such grace and poise but inside, she, too, is petulant and bitchy, and bobbie is one of few people with whom she lets that part of her show. it's beautiful. i'm looking forward to reading the comic and seeing all the gorgeous illustrations of them cussing at each other.

my fav thing about chrisjen is how she's both idealistic and calculating. she's a politician, scheming and playing chess with people, whispering into the right ear at the right time to manipulate people into showing empathy.

as for my favorite piece of media right now, i'm honestly not sure what it would be, but i've been having thoughts and feelings about no gods no monsters by cadwell turnbull. reading it is a different experience from most fantasy novels. ik prevailing advice with writing is to keep the action moving, keep the pace quick, trim out anything unnecessary, but this book takes time to sit with many different characters, to show you their backstories and motivations so that you understand what roles they take and why. like, there's a guy who you get to learn about how his marriage came together and fell apart and how it affected him and it isn't until you get to the part where he turns to online communities to fill the hole in his life that you start to see how he's relevant to the wider plot. and the story is soo much stronger for it bc ultimately, it's a story about otherness and community and the werewolves are just a cool side benefit. it plays with perspective in a fun way, it's deeply queer, and it feels more real than many non-fantasy stories.

anyway people on goodreads weren't especially kind about it so i decided to love the book all the harder for it.

[reckless-rider]

for the OC ask game, 7, 32, 41, and 45 (i have decided it's torturing vallis hours <3)

I'm vibrating with excitement it's always torturing Vallis hours honestly <33

Yes! Usually surrounded by fire and his promise to Death. He will have dreams about his family but he never remembers any of them.

Hm sleeping in a dark basement after the fire. He doesn't understand his "irrational" fear sleeping in a dark and damp basement causes him but it's like he can't go anywhere else otherwise some unknown consequence with happen to him. He's scared and confused and doesn't know why. He has no reason (at least one he remembers) as to why he should be scared but he can't stop panicking but leaving isn't a great option either.

Or meeting his father again but I might actually write a full small story on that >:)

He feels he needs to earn everything. He doesn't believe he deserves the friendship he has with Emmett bc of his history and job. He honestly doesn't think he deserves his tavern either but won't abandon it bc of his feud with Carasen.

He knows what will happen and he's terrified. He's died once before, he's seen the underworld and never wants to return

[stealingpotatoes]

Are going to do any more Organa twins AU? No pressure just curious

i've been saving this ask for whenever i wanted an excuse to draw this au again (so short answer, yes!)

(commission info // tip jar!)

[setmeatopthepyre]

Since you asked:

BT - Having their hair washed by the other 😘

okay so. I didn't actually get to the hair washing but. it is mentioned? oops. set post-8x15 in some nebulous near-future after Buck gets injured (how? who knows. who cares!) so heads up for spoilers and references to events in 8x11 and 8x15.

[bucktommy | 1043 words | spoilers for 8x11 and 8x15]

-

“My hair feels gross,” Evan groans, wincing as he runs the fingers of his left hand through his - definitely greasy - curls.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tommy deadpans, turning back to-- whatever he’d been doing when Evan had walked in, sleep-rumpled and scowling and fidgeting with his sling, his shirt, his hair.

Fruit. Right. He’d been cutting up fruit. He takes a deep, steadying breath, trying not to think of the last time they’d been here, in this kitchen, with Tommy making breakfast. Right after they’d hooked up. Right before Evan had told him he didn’t have feelings for him.

Evan is silent for a while. Tommy can’t help but glance up. Their eyes meet, and something open and vulnerable and complicated looks back at him. His voice is soft, still a little gravelly with sleep when he finally speaks. “Thank you.”

“Hm?”

Evan steps closer, hesitant. “For being here,” he clarifies. “For me.”

It isn’t a question, and there is no pretending he’s doing this it for someone else, for Howie, this time. Not like back in the helicopter, before he’d admitted to it anyway, before Bobby--

Tommy clears his throat. Nods. “Of course.” He puts down the knife, rinses and dries his hands. Immediately regrets not having something to do with his hands anymore.

“I could help,” he offers, and Evan blinks at him. “With your hair. I could--” he glances around the kitchen, “-- could move a chair in here, have you sit by the sink, wash your hair like that? Since, you know, your arm--”

Shit, was he overstepping? Had Evan mentioned it because he wanted help, or was he just making an observation? Maybe Evan was perfectly fine in the shower using just his left arm, maybe he wasn’t as full-body sore as he thought he would be, maybe--

“You’ve seen me naked before,” Evan says, head tipped to the side a little.

“That was different,” he replies.

“Was it?” The look in his eyes is a little daring, a little dangerous.

“Wasn’t it?” Tommy retorts, arms crossing across his chest.

“You’re here,” Evan says, like that should be answer enough.

“To help you.”

“You always do.”

Yes, Tommy wants to say, because I’m crazy about you, but that’s my problem, not yours. He doesn’t. Instead, he says, “I could leave, if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” Evan says, and Tommy is distantly surprised to find his heart is still capable of cracking a little more. Evan’s eyes widen. “Uh--” he says. “Leave,” he adds.

Tommy uncrosses his arms, flexes his hands, pats his pockets for his keys-wallet-phone. “I don’t-- I don’t want you to leave.” Evan stumbles over his words, steps closer with sure steps, winces at the movement. “Tommy.”

He’s close now, big blue eyes searching, and Tommy feels his resolve crumble again. Jesus, he really is gone for this kid. It's going to be the death of him, one of these days. He's sure of it.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, tries to locate his spine somewhere in the meantime. When his eyes open again, Evan is still looking at him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Please,” Evan says.

“Ok,” Tommy’s mouth replies before his brain can catch up. “Ok, but, Evan--” he reaches out on auto-pilot, catches himself in time, drops his hand again, Evan’s eyes tracking his every movement. “I want to help you. But if this doesn’t mean anything to you--” he forces himself to say, “-- then I don’t think I-- I can’t--” his mouth is too dry all of a sudden, his eyes too wet.

He doesn’t realize he’s looked away until Evan lets out a pained hiss and plants one big, warm hand on Tommy’s elbow at the same time. “What-- What do you mean?” he asks.

Tommy feels like an idiot, feels like he’s ripping open his chest and painting a big red bullseye on his heart, but he’s started this and so he has to see it through. He thinks of Bobby. Thinks of Evan in that hallway. He breathes in, meets Evan’s gaze. Tries to feel brave. Doesn’t. Decides to act like it anyway.

“I love you,” he says, feeling like someone’s gripping his vocal chords and squeezing tight. “I know you don’t, uh, have feelings for everyone you sleep with, but I do. Have feelings for you. I love you, Evan. I want--” He forces air into his lungs and out again. “I want to help you, I want to be there for you, but if you don’t-- if you--”

Evan is staring at him, his mouth open just a little bit. It should look dumb. It does, kind of. But it’s Evan.

Tommy’s not sure what words he’s said and hasn’t said, feels like they’re all sticking to the roof of his mouth, desperately wants a glass of water but can’t look away. He tries for another breath instead. “You know I can’t say no to you,” he says, voice cracking a little pathetically. “So please don’t ask me to.”

Evan is still staring. His eyes sparkle like a galaxy has just blinked into existence inside of them. Tommy’s hands itch. Evan’s hand has fallen away from his elbow.

He should probably leave.

“You’re not running,” Evan says faintly.

Tommy doesn’t know what to say to that, feels caught.

“You’re still here,” Evan says, the corners of his mouth curling up. God, he’s beautiful. “Y-You said all that, and you’re still here.”

“I… am?” He’s not sure he means it as a question, can’t really think about it with how Evan is looking at him. Beaming at him. Something hopeful carefully unfurls in his chest. It should hurt more than it does.

“You’re here. A-and you love me. Me.”

Tommy searches Evan’s face, tries to find anything, any little hint that he’s about to get his heart dashed against the rocks again. He doesn’t find it. He nods. “I am.” His throat feels rough. “I do.”

Evan reaches out, suddenly, winces again but that wide, wide grin is right back on his face in a heartbeat as he takes Tommy’s hand in his uninjured one. “Tommy,” he says. “Help me wash my hair?”

Tommy swallows.

“Of course,” he says.

-

[now on ao3]

[cheekinpermission]

hello! I hope I'm not bothering, but I wanted to ask you the question number 13 of Twisted Wonderland OC Question list.

Your art is so beautiful btw 😆❤️

Q. 13 - If your OC could physically fight another character, who would it be and would they win?

He's an octopus he'll be fine

It would be Azul FOR SURE

Erin has had beef with him since the events of Book 3. She hasn't exactly gotten over him tricking her friends into servitude and then kicking her out of the closest thing she could consider a home... He made it personal.

It's the same reason why she has a general disliking of Octavinelle, btw

In a physical fight, I think Erin could take him EASY. Azul has shown himself to be easily fatigued and rather uncoordinated on land. Erin's got a lot of fight in her so I'm pretty confident she would whoop him if it really came down to it.

On land, anyway.

If we were talking about an aquatic fight where he was in his octopus form, she's cooked. No question. The tweels have already confirmed he's much stronger in the water AND he's got eight extra appendages to work with.

[aimer-arts]

What is Violet and Sage’s dynamic like?

I haven't figured out what their exact dynamic is like yet, but I know that Violet would be very protective of Sage (and vice versa)!

Violet was not happy with him after he risked his life to protect her from Kyurem, but he would absolutely do it again LOL

[pinguwuuuu]

“Beer is supposed to be shared between friends~”

.

.

.

.

A quickie inspired by a fanfic I couldn’t get out of my head :P

@whitefoxfiction sent this fic to me (THANK YOU FOR BLESSING MY EYES) and it’s by @electronicwitchcollection (Bleachbabe23 on Ao3). It’s a NSFW oneshot and it’s SO GOOD. I’ll try and link it in the comments CAUSE Y’ALL NEED TO READ IT.

All these amazing fics are killing me, so many ideas from them to draw, so little time :’)

[tangledinink]

vote for the gemini!!! B)

[dekariosclan]

I have a simple thought

Tav making or trying to make Gale fail No Nut November

Woof-

18+ under the cut!

Dearest Anon, I am giving you the most enthusiastic high-five right now. 🙌💯💯💯

Not only because this ask is magnificent, and not only because I squealed when I read it, but because you sent it to me at 10:28pm on November 1st.

Anon, the fact that you couldn’t even last 24 hours into No Nut November before sending in an ask about No Nut November is absolutely perfect. And do you know why?

Because being unable to last 24 hours into No Nut November is exactly what would happen to Gale.

Truthfully, the hardest part of this ask was coming up with why in the hells Gale would ever agree to participate in NNN in the first place. In fact, I think he would be positively incensed at the very idea: “…an entire MONTH of abstaining from pleasures of the flesh?! Simply to prove that it can be done?! Well! I could chop off an arm and cast spells one-handed to prove that it could be done, but it’s hardly something I’d willingly partake in!”

However! For the sake of this fantastic ask, we’ll say that he was convinced and agreed to try.

But the real crux of the matter, and your actual question, is what Tav would do about this situation. And the truth is, I really don’t think Tav would even have to try hard (or uh…at all) to make Gale fail at NNN.

Picture this series of events with me, anon:

Gale waking up with Tav in his arms (or he in theirs)

Drinking in the sight of his beloved as he does every morning

Noticing that Tav’s nightshirt is unlaced, their shoulder and chest uncovered and in full view

Their leg draped over his, thigh fully exposed

Gale already uncomfortably hard due to it being the morning

Tav innocently shifting and repositioning themselves to snuggle closer, their leg brushing over his bulge

Gale doing everything in his power not to audibly moan, thoughts flooding his mind of how they’d made love in the morning just a few days past. Remembering Tav pulling him from sleep by riding him as though their life depended on it. Thinking of Tav’s thighs clamping around his midsection, and then around his head, the taste of Tav on his tongue as he—

Gale not rolling out of bed so much as falling out of it.

Apologizing profusely, frantically getting dressed in his teaching robes, giving Tav a chaste kiss on the forehead, and all but running out the door

Tav joining Gale for lunch at the Academy as usual

The faculty lounge being so crowded that Tav has to sit on Gale’s lap

Beads of sweat forming on Gale’s forehead as Tav blithely chats with the other Professors

Gale trying not to think about Tav’s perfectly shaped ass

Gale trying not to think about how good it feels pressed against him

Gale trying not to think, period

Fumbling or dropping his fork every time Tav shifts slightly

Apologizing for his clumsiness to the point of babbling, even as Tav reassures him it’s fine. Tav finally just putting their finger over Gale’s lips to get him to stop

It taking every ounce of willpower for Gale to not take Tav’s finger in his mouth

Lunch ending with Gale looking as flushed and sweaty as if he’d just ran a marathon rather than sat for 45 minutes

Tav asking him if he’s okay and Gale reassuring them that he’s fine

Grateful that they cannot see his orb scar through his thick teaching robes, certain it is glowing blindingly bright purple

Kissing Tav goodbye, this time on the lips. Instantly realizing his mistake as the thought occurs to him that he could just dimension door them both into his private office, and—

Hastily breaking the kiss and telling Tav he hopes they have a good afternoon, he’ll see them this evening, he loves them

Spending the rest of the afternoon steeling his resolve

Barely able to pay attention to his class

Muttering to himself that it’s just 30 days! Surely that is surmountable! His bond with Tav is incomparable, they are tethered at the soul, their love goes beyond just the physical, even if that aspect is magnificent and life-giving and—

Ending class early when he realizes he’s mistakenly conjured Tav’s likeness when he was supposed to be channeling the Weave

Arriving home, escaping to the kitchen to start dinner, praying that Tav is busy elsewhere in the tower

Relieved to find a note that they will be home a bit later

Focusing on dinner preparation to the point that he doesn’t realize how much time has passed

Looking up to see Tav has arrived home. The air suddenly thick with their sweet musk

Gale, realizing from their glistening muscles, flushed cheeks and battle gear that they have been off doing their weekly practice at the local armory

Gale, completely mesmerized as a single bead of sweat rolls down their neck and over their heaving chest

OhGodsNo.jpg

Tav, greeting Gale with a quick kiss, suddenly finding themselves caught in his embrace

A purple hue rapidly covering Gale’s chest

His eyes dark, face flushed

His mouth hovering over Tav’s, his voice sounding parched. “Forgive me, my love. I seem to have made a mistake.”

Performing a quick spell with a single hand motion, changing the date on every calendar in the Tower. “I thought it was November 1st when we awoke this morning. My most humble apologies. It appears to actually be December 1st.”

Tav, their lips brushing Gale’s, laughing. “Oh? My goodness, November seemed to absolutely fly by.”

Gale, pulling Tav even closer, his lips brushing theirs as he whispers, “With any luck, December will feel like it lasts a lifetime,” before claiming their mouth with his own.

[m3lth3ph4nt0m]

this one goes out to the lesbians <3 come get y'all's juice <3

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day thirty one

prompt: halloween pairing: lando/oscar word count: 1200w

“Lando,” Oscar says, when he makes his way into the living room to drop his work bag next to the couch. “Why is my baby dressed as a pumpkin?”

Becca is in her little baby playpen banging a few blocks together, dressed in a felt pumpkin suit. There’s even a little hat with a stalk on top perched on her little blond curls. “Da,” she says, when she spots Oscar.

“Hi love,” Oscar says, picking her up and snuggling her closing, earning him another, more decisive “Da!”

“Oscar!” Lando says, appearing from the kitchen. “I can explain.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, putting his daughter back down. “Can you?”

Lando bites at his lip. He has a spatula in hand, which means he’s attempting to cook dinner again, which means Oscar needs to make this as short as possible so he can make his way into the kitchen and salvage whatever is going on there.

“It’s Halloween?” Lando eventually settles on. “And like. I don’t. I’m not overstepping, or like, I don’t want to overstep, but I just thought. It’s her first you know. I think she should go out trick or treating.”

“She’s fourteen months,” Oscar states, but he’s mostly amused.

“Yeah? So? It’s Halloween, Oscar,” Lando says. Something in the kitchen beeps, and Lando quietly curses under his breath, making his way in there. Oscar throws one last look to Becca, who’s gone back to banging blocks together, and follows Lando into the kitchen.

“Maybe it’s time to revoke your babysitting privileges,” Oscar says, leaning against the doorway and watching Lando flit through the kitchen. There’s a pasta sauce bubbling away in a pot, next to one filled with pasta. It doesn’t seem disastrous yet, so Oscar’s happy to lean back and watch.

“Oh, please,” Lando says. “You would die without you convenient next door neighbor who works from home and loves your kid and is therefor willing to watch her whenever you need someone.”

Unfortunately, this is true. For reasons other than just the convenience, too. Like the way Lando smiles at him sometimes. Or the way Lando’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Embarrassing stuff like that.

“You really want to go trick or treating with her?” Oscar asks.

“We are going trick or treating with her,” Lando says, grinning at Oscar, clearly feeling like he’s won something here. “I have matching outfits.”

The matching outfits, thankfully, are just headbands with little pumpkins on bouncy springs. Oscar is pretty sure he looks ridiculous, especially next to Lando, who somehow makes the damned things look cute.

There really is no going back now, so after they finish their pasta, they put Becca’s coat on under her little pumpkin suit, don their stupid little headbands, and head to their first house.

Which is when things get kind of. Weird.

“Oh, your family is so cute,” The first lady says, as she deposits a few pieces of candy in the little bag Lando is holding. “Reminds me of my own daughter and her husband. Precious. Have a good night.”

“Uh,” Lando says, but she’s already closing the door.

Oscar adjusts Becca on his hip, mostly so he kind hide the blush on his face. “On to the next one?” He says quickly, mostly hoping that means Lando won’t bring it up.

“Yeah,” Lando says, still staring at the now closed door. “Yeah, next one.”

But at the next one, roughly the same thing happens. And the Next one. And the next one.

Oscar is coping with this wonderfully, mostly by pretending none of this is happening and no one is actually confusing them for some kind of cute young family rather than for what they are, which is two totally platonic neighbors who are friends who are trick or treating with one of the neighbors kids.

It’s going swimmingly, if he says so himself, even though is heart aches at the thought. Becca, entire unaware, babbles happily in his arms and tries to grab at the pumpkins on his headband.

Lando is quiet, too, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t correct anyone and that’s. Something, right? Nothing, for sure. But.

But.

Except then he does say something, when an young mom smiles at them and says, “Oh, what an adorable little family you have. My kid is her age, too. It’s the best, isn’t it?”

“We aren’t-“ Lando blurts, a little too loud, making Becca startle a little as she looks at him with wide eyes. “A family. I’m just. We’re not. Together. That’s his kid. She’s not. She’s not mine.”

Oscar doubts that. Becca thinks the sun shines out of Lando’s ass on most days. She’s just as much Lando’s as she is Oscar’s, but that’s. That’s dangerous territory, he thinks.

“Oh,” the woman says, a little taken aback. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lando says, smiles tiredly. It must’ve been bothering him more than Oscar thought. Oscar tries not to be too hurt about that. “Have a good night,” he says, and stalks off the porch.

“You too?” The lady says, but Lando’s already gone. Oscar smiles awkwardly at her, and then follows Lando as quickly as he can with Becca in his arms.

“Hey,” he says, when he catches up.

“Hey,” Lando says, not looking at him, setting a pretty brutal pace. “Let’s go back to the apartments, yeah?”

“Okay,” Oscar says, noting how he says apartments, plural. Nothing how he doesn’t say home.

They walk in silence, for a bit, Becca dozing off on Oscar’s shoulder, before Lanod finally speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what,” Oscar says, confused. He doesn’t think Lando has anything to apologize for. If he’s uncomfortable being linked to Oscar as a husband, that’s. I mean. He’s allowed to feel those feelings, even if they hurt.

“I just. I’ve been inserting myself in Becca’s life, in your life, and this should have been a cute little milestone, her first Halloween, and instead you spend the whole time listening to people thinking we’re like, what. Together?” Lando is still not looking at him, aggressively biting at his lip.

Oscar takes a moment, unpacks everything Lando’s just said, tries to think of the right thing to say. Eventually he settles on. “We wouldn’t have had Becca’s first Halloween if not for you.”

When Lando finally turns to look at him, if only to send him a confused look, Oscar continues. “You got her the outfit. You got the headbands. I was just going to spend the night inside giving candy away to kids, but you made it special. So you’re not inserting yourself. If anything, I think you’re making her life much, much better.” And then, because he feels like it’s important Lando knows, even though it will probably not lead anywhere, “Also I don’t mind. When people think we’re together.”

“Oh,” Lando says. “You don’t? I mean. I don’t, either.” They’ve stopped, in the middle of the walkway, staring at each other over Becca’s head.

“Good? That’s. That’s good,” Oscar says, a little unsure all of a sudden. If this means what he thinks it means…

“Oh fudge it,” Lando says, and leans forward, softly presses his lips to Oscar’s. It’s a little awkward, with Becca still snoozing happily between them, but it’s the most perfect kiss Oscar’s ever gotten. When Lando pulls away, he’s smiling, a smile Oscar is sure is mirrored on his own face. “Let’s go home, yeah?” He says.

“Home,” Lando says, nods. Shakes his head like he can’t quite believe it.

They can’t hold hands, because Oscar’s are still occupied, but Lando’s hand finds a place at the small of his back, and that’s just as magical, Oscar thinks, as they slowly start making their way home.

[stealingpotatoes]

Happy birthday!

As a gift, here's a Legends fact: Ben Skywalker, the son of Mara Jade and Luke Skywalker, looks exactly like Cal Kestis, except he only wears black.

[intotheelliwoods]

I cast “Become a Tot” on Poptart

Well- if you insist-

[triglycercule]

happy birthday killer sans 😒‼️

"looks like it hurts. seems like a pretty painful way to come back from death's doorstep."

"of course you'd know. but i'd say... this type of hurt probably doesn't feel that bad."

"and how's that, dust? his soul is corrupting, he's choking on his own blood, and he cant even see!"

"doesn't matter. determination gives killer control over death that we never had."

"and control suddenly makes it better?"

1 | 2 | 3

[flwrkid14]

Hiii, so I read your “Tim and Jason: Caught Between Healing and Fear” and was wondering if you could potentially make a part 2 where perhaps lady shiva or ra’s or literally anyone decide to step up and parent this boy. Maybe even wonder woman so it’s like Jason’s favourite hero stepping up to parent his replacement. Anyways take your time, and I love your writing!

hi anon!! thank you so much for the ask! your idea was so beautiful and honestly sent me into a full spiral while writing! I should probably mention though—it ended up going in a slightly different direction than what you originally had in mind. I still included Diana! but it’s not exactly centered around her parenting Tim.

if you'd still like me to write that specific take, I totally can!! but for now, here’s what came out of this particular burst of inspiration. I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

There are things that shatter you quickly—like glass against pavement. And then there are the things that wear you down slowly. Quietly. Like water eroding stone.

Tim Drake was never shattered. He was worn down.

Chipped away piece by piece, until all that was left was someone efficient. Polished. Sharp-edged and palatable. A boy shaped by silence and long patrols, by missions without backup and rooms that went still the moment he entered.

A ghost in a house of the living.

He doesn’t complain. (That would make him the problem.) He doesn’t ask for more. (That would make him ungrateful.) He just… endures.

He’s good at enduring. Has been since he was thirteen and taught himself not to cry when the manor door locked behind him. He became something useful. Something necessary. Something that could be left in the dark and would still come back intact.

But even tools wear down.

—

The others don’t notice. Or they pretend not to.

Bruce talks to him like a mission report. Dick squeezes his shoulder and calls him “kiddo,” like that’s supposed to mean love. Damian sneers and snaps, but that’s always been his way.

Jason is the one who watches. Not when Tim’s looking—but when he thinks he’s alone.

Jason, the prodigal son. The miracle. The boy who returned from the dead and was finally, finally embraced.

Tim had held the family together after Jason died. But he wasn’t the one they were willing to fall apart for.

—

Diana finds him at the Watchtower. He’s staying late. He always stays late. It’s easier to sleep here, where the walls don’t whisper with memories.

She sits beside him quietly. Says nothing for a long time.

And then:

“I have seen many kinds of loneliness, Tim. Yours feels like a punishment.”

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s all it’s ever been. A slow, self-inflicted sentence. A punishment for not being enough—for not being Jason. For not being the dead boy they mourned and celebrated and welcomed home with open arms, while Tim was asked to quietly step aside.

“I’m not the one who died,” he says, and it sounds more like an apology than anything else.

Diana flinches. She hadn’t realized how much pain was buried in his silence.

“I know,” she murmurs. “That’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?”

She stays. Offers tea. A moment. A kindness not wrapped in expectation. She doesn’t tell him to rest. She doesn’t ask him to open up. She simply sees him, and chooses to remain.

The next time Diana comes, she doesn’t come alone.

Jason follows a few steps behind her. Shoulders tense. Hands stuffed in the pockets of a worn jacket. He looks like he doesn’t want to be here—and like he wouldn’t be anywhere else.

Tim’s already halfway out of his chair.

“Diana—”

“She thought maybe we should talk,” Jason says before she can. His voice is rough. Not angry. Just… uncertain. “Or… sit in the same room. I don’t know. She’s good at talking. I’m just here.”

Diana doesn’t say anything. She gives them both a look, then leaves the room with the kind of grace only someone raised among goddesses could manage.

The door clicks shut.

And for a long time, Jason says nothing. Does nothing. Just leans against the wall like he’s been there forever, like part of him has been—watching from the corners, always at a distance.

Tim hates how exposed he feels. How vulnerable. Like Jason can see it—that hollow place inside him, the one that used to burn and now just… echoes.

Jason finally speaks. Quietly. Gritty.

“I used to think no one could be lonelier than a dead kid in his own house.”

He doesn’t look at Tim. Doesn’t need to.

“But then I saw you.”

Tim doesn’t respond. His throat feels thick. Heavy.

Jason goes on, voice low. Honest in a way that hurts.

“You were always there. Every time. Back straight. Hands steady. Doing everything right. Holding shit together when no one even thought to ask.”

He pushes a breath through his teeth.

“And I kept waiting for someone to see it. For someone to see you. But they didn’t. Not really. They still don’t.”

His voice breaks a little around the next words.

“They love me now. Even after everything. They found a way to hold space for me. They reached back and pulled me in.”

He finally looks at Tim. And his expression is something close to haunted.

“But you were already standing there, weren’t you? You never left. You just... got good at being invisible.”

Tim turns his face away. But it’s too late. Jason’s already seen the way his jaw clenches, the way his shoulders fold inward like a closing book.

“You’re not the one who died,” Jason says softly. “But you were the one they let fade.”

Tim doesn’t mean to speak. Doesn’t even know the words are coming until they’re out:

“I tried so hard to be what they needed. And it was never enough.”

Jason swallows. His voice drops even lower.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s the part that broke me too.”

Silence stretches between them. But it isn’t cold. It’s not empty either.

Jason pushes off the wall, and before he goes, he adds—gentle, like something sacred:

“They made room for me. But you… you’re still making yourself smaller.”

Then he leaves. Quietly. Like he was never really supposed to be there at all.

And Tim stays in the silence. Not alone. Just seen.

For once.

[labrayic]

John Marston garfield?