#the b plot is cassie attempting to drown bart in the ocean for reasons yet to be revealed <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mamawasatesttube]

have an excerpt from a current wip of core four at the beach <3

Luckily, Kon doesn’t seem to think anything of it; he just snorts. “Yeah, ‘course, man. And since we’re playing in the water, you’ll need to reapply in two hours. Don’t forget. I mean, you won’t, ‘cuz I’ll remind you, so this is just a heads-up that I will be reminding you in two hours. Got it?”

“I gotta admit,” Tim says, balling his shirt in his hands to cope with how close behind him Kon is standing, “Bart’s kinda got a point. You’re serious about everyone’s sunscreen regimen.”

“You guys are all susceptible to damage from ultraviolet radiation!” Kon huffs. Tim can hear him rubbing his hands together to warm up the sunscreen. “I’m not, ‘cuz Kryptonians have that whole aggressive CRISPR complex thing going on to deal with radiation damage, but you guys don’t have that! Acquired mutations just sit there in your cells and pile up. So excuse me for wanting to make sure you get some protection from that!”

Man.

It’s always hot when Kon starts talking about genetics. He doesn’t even know that he knows way more than the average person, and he’s always so passionate about it, and… man. Tim should say something intelligent about this.

Here goes—

“Yeah, I know you have the CRISPR stuff going on.” Not a bad start, especially given that Kon’s hands have just settled on his shoulders, and they’re warm. His skin is so smooth, so different from Tim’s own calluses. Oh, shit, wait, he’s supposed to be thinking about genetics. “Remember? Hundred failed cloning attempts and all?”  

“Yeah, Rob, kinda hard to forget,” Kon says wryly. His thumbs start rubbing along the sides of Tim’s spine. “Dude, you are so goddamn tense! I need to sit you down for an actual massage at some point. I know you haven’t unclenched since you were, like, twelve, but are you aware that your shoulders are made of, like, literal fucking rocks?”

Tim shrugs, playing it cool to pretend the idea of Kon sitting on his legs and giving him a proper, thorough massage isn’t fucking heavenly. “Well, I haven’t unclenched since age twelve. What did you expect?”

Kon just groans.