#this was fun tho ty!!!!!

[cityandking]

multiples of 5 for bran + ellis, minah + her sis, & vesper + everybody!

chu ily // sibling relationship asks

5. Which one of them said “Don’t tell Mom and Dad!” and which one always did?

BRAN & ELLIS — Bran and Ellis have a 12 year age gap, so they didn't really have a tattletale relationship (especially because their mom died when Ellis was 3 and their dad faded away with her—to be honest, Bran kind of raised him). If anything, Ellis was running to tell on someone else to Bran. Of the two of them, though, he was the tattletale. MINAH & SIS — Minah was usually the one trying to talk her sister out of telling their parents when she broke the rules, but was also the one to complain when her sister did something. She's a few years older (I think I said 4 years? 5 years?) and was very much used to being The Only Child before her little sister was born. VESPER & CO. — Vesper was the one pleading with the twins not to tell their parents (even when it was just minor things) and Roxie and Rosie were always the ones to tattle (no matter how minor the thing). It wasn't only Vesper—everyone got a fair share of the twins being sanctimonious little shits—but she got the worst of it. They were also the ones to tell their parents about Vesper's magic, so. Yeah.

10. How often they fight now and about what?

BRAN & ELLIS — Bran hasn't seen Ellis in nearly a decade, so technically they don't fight about anything. That said, right before the campaign ended, Bran learned that he'd gone sailing looking for her, and there absolutely would have been a fight about him being out on his own—she'd have been furious with him in the sort of way where she was half angry at herself and putting it on him (leaving him behind is the one thing in her life she most regrets, but she couldn't possibly have taken him with her). MINAH & SIS — Minah and her sister don't fight because they haven't seen or spoken to each other in years. VESPER & CO. — Vesper and Kit (eldest brother and current Bann Trevelyan) always got along easiest of everyone when they were kids, and these days when they fight it tends to be because they've forgotten that they're not still those kids—they've missed large chunks of each other's lives and there are some weird and complicated feelings in there that they still need to work through. Vesper and Helene rarely fight, and when they do it's about minor things (Helene took to the noble lady role the best out of all of them, whereas Vesper has limited patience for it, which tends to be the cause of any conflict they may run into). Roxie died at the Conclave so no fights there. Consequently, however, Rosie and Vesper have the worst fights—they have the most bad blood between them, and Roxie dying when Vesper stepped out of the ashes as the Herald of Andraste didn't help. They can't be in the same room without someone to run interference. Vesper and Jonah don't fight, but that's because Jonah doesn't fight with anyone—he's got non-confrontationalism down to a science. On the rare occasion where everyone is getting on Vesper's nerves, Jonah's the one person she can sit with no matter what. When she can get him away from his books enough for it, they have long (oddly productive) conversations about faith and obligation and history and whatnot. When you get them all together, Rosie tends to feel ganged-up on, which leads to Helene going out of her way to take her side/smooth things over, and Kit tries to remain impartial but he's also usually taking Vesper's side, and Jonah stays out of it, so y'know. Typical complicated sibling shit.

15. Which of their parents each is most like?

BRAN & ELLIS — They both take after their mother in their looks and their stubbornness and their tendency to yearn for adventure. Bran actually has a little more of their father's pragmatism, and Ellis is a little moodier. MINAH & SIS — In temperament, Minah takes after their dad—probably less so now, but particularly growing up, when she wanted to be just like him. Her sister definitely takes after their mom. VESPER & CO. — Most of the Trevelyan children take after their mother (Valerie Hirondelle), who was known to be shrewd and savvy and also distant at times. Jonah is most like her, having inherited her tendency to get lost in her own world when it comes to their shared love of history and also her poor constitution. The twins have more of their father's coldness, his devoutness, and his fear of the unknown. Vesper has her father's flashfire temper (same as Rosie—one of the reasons they get along so badly). Looks-wise, the twins, Jonah, and Vesper all inherited their father's red hair and Marcher complexion, whereas Kit and Helene have their mother's dark hair. They all have the same grey Trevelyan eyes.

[teaboot]

Ok Mr talented, now draw a car 🫵 betcha can’t

@identifying-cars-in-posts you want in on this?

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[midoristeashop]

Long car trips mean hunch over my ipad and film dumb stupid videos in restaurants at 11pm 😍 (future me screw u idk if it’s shaky also do not perceive me)

(That one vine)

Also have the things

[demonic0angel]

An anger management idea

Danny wanted to strangle Ghostwriter. Being subjected to participate in a yearly Christmas story was one thing, but this was over the line. In no universe would he be okay with Jazz staring as the main love interest in the Christmas hallmark story Ghostwriter orchestrated.

(Sorry it took me so long, my tryhard self decided to make a rhyme 💀 read the dialogue to the tune of ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’. Every ‘;’ is a new line of the poem, but the full poem is below.)

Jazz hummed and danced around cheerfully. She was trying on skirts and outfits, with Danny miserably tapping away on a phone without any notifications. As she twirled in front of her mirror, she said, “It’s the day before Christmas, there’s so much holiday cheer; I’m meeting up with a boy today, I haven’t had a date in years!”

Danny scowled fiercely and looked up from his phone. “He better be perfect, and treat you with care; Or I’ll sic Dan and Dani on him, see if he dares!”

Jazz giggled. “You don’t need to worry, I’ll be careful, little bro; He’s the most charming boy I’ve ever met, I can’t wait to go!”

Danny rubbed at his forehead, seething. A few days ago, he had accidentally pissed off the Ghostwriter again, who had cursed him again to teach him some holiday cheer. Now everyone was forced to rhyme and even worse, because Danny had been handling the Ghost Zone, he had been unable to prevent Jazz from being asked out by some asshole with a motorbike named Jason.

It was infuriating! Hadn’t she learned her lesson about bad boys on bikes?!

“This damn, stupid curse, I’ll kill the Ghostwriter…” Danny grumbled. “If I didn’t have to rhyme, I would’ve been beside her; To stop her from meeting that boy just a few days ago; And now she’s off to a date, a date on Christmas Eve, she goes!; Away from my family, leaving me all alone; He’s the worst! The absolute worst! He had better atone!”

Jazz turned, a small and sad smile on her face as she caught the last words of his rhyme. “Oh, Danny, I promise it’ll be okay.” She perked up with a new idea. “You can come with me! It’ll be a fun day!”

Danny stared at her in horror. Come with her? To her date?!

“No thanks! I don’t care! This is the worst month ever!; I don’t care if you go, I’d rather be lonely forever!”

Jazz sat on her bed beside him, smiling softly. “Danny, I understand. But it’ll be Christmas soon and you shouldn’t be by yourself; Come with me and Jason, we’ll buy you every toy on the shelves!; We’ll drink chocolate and eat cake; Watch movies and go ice skate!; Jason wouldn’t care, he’s kind like that; You won’t be a third wheel, we can all chitchat!; I promise you, he’s nice and just a great guy; You’ll have a great time, and I don’t speak lies!”

Danny struggled to think, trying to imagine it. He wanted to go with her. Everyone else was busy with their own things, so all he had this week was his sister with him. And everything she said sounded really appealing.

Eventually, he conceded. “… fine, but you can’t leave me behind; You said you’d buy me toys and you promised he’d be kind.”

Jazz cheered. “I promise, I promise! Oh, I can’t wait!; For later today, for me and my date!; With a boy that I like and my favorite brother too; This will be the best Christmas ever, I promise you!”

Danny huffed but couldn’t help but smile. He swore to himself softly, “Fine. I hope that you’re happy; If he makes you sad, he better run quickly; Because even if I hate Christmas, you’re still my sister; So Jason better be nice, or he’ll know why they call me a trickster!”

(Full poem below)

“It’s the day before Christmas, there’s so much holiday cheer

I’m meeting up with a boy today, I haven’t had a date in years!”

“He better be perfect, and treat you with care,

Or I’ll sic Dan and Dani on him, see if he dares!”

“You don’t need to worry, I’ll be careful, little bro.

He’s the most charming boy I’ve ever met, I can’t wait to go!”

“This damn, stupid curse, I’ll kill the Ghostwriter…

If I didn’t have to rhyme, I would’ve been beside her…

To stop her from meeting that boy just a few days ago

And now she’s off to a date, a date on Christmas Eve, she goes!

Away from my family, leaving me all alone

He’s the worst! The absolute worst! He had better atone!”

“Oh, Danny, I promise it’ll be okay.

You can come with me! It’ll be a fun day!”

“No thanks! I don’t care! This is the worst month ever!

I don’t care if you go, I’d rather be lonely forever!”

“Danny, I understand. But it’ll be Christmas soon and you shouldn’t be by yourself

Come with me and Jason, we’ll buy you every toy on the shelves!

We’ll drink chocolate and eat cake

Watch movies and go ice skate!

Jason wouldn’t care, he’s kind like that.

You won’t be a third wheel, we can all chitchat!

I promise you, he’s nice and just a great guy

You’ll have a great time, and I don’t speak lies!”

“… fine, but you can’t leave me behind

You said you’d buy me toys and you promised he’d be kind”

“I promise, I promise! Oh, I can’t wait!

For later today, for me and my date!

With a boy that I like and my favorite brother too,

This will be the best Christmas ever, I promise you!”

“Fine. I hope that you’re happy.

If he makes you sad, he better run quickly

Because even if I hate Christmas, you’re still my sister

So Jason better be nice, or he’ll know why they call me a trickster!”

[hickeygender]

reblog for a bigger sample size of former angry, creative, and/or highly dramatic children

[daily-smallishbeans]

Joel should fish someone even if his theme isn't water related. Just an excuse to see watercolor water rendition ngl

167- youre laughing

jimmys getting fished and youre laughing

thank you for the challenge i hadnt painted water in so long (never)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Quicky little question *clears my throat* Magneto in some Fire Emblem inspired armor? (Askin' because your Zephiel art is beautiful & I'd love to see Mags with a Rudolf-esque/Edelgard-Esque design)

i keep coming back to this ask with genuine intent to do it but i just devolve into joker laughter when i open my refs cause like.. what else do i do here... Corporate Wants You To Find The Difference theyre the same pic...

w/e i tried anyway please enjoy !!

bearded ver under the cut

[omegalerc]

watch sharl's 23 winter training video again when he was doing rock climbing indoor the camera just focus on his hip and secret place for seconds 😗really enjoy the video hope u 2

okkkk and when i come back and start posting about how pregnant and breedable he looks in it u have nobody to blame but urself!!

[nebuladreamz]

Entry for the All Eyes on Chime contest!! Fucking. Fought for my life with his sleeve patterns good GOD

@jack-o-phantom i bestow upon ye. your boy >:)

Alt Ver without text under the cut!

[bepoucorp]

(Me running on 2 hours of sleep asking this lol) Could you draw Batman and joker as WOMEN CMON MAN WOMEN 🪭🪭🪭🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💥💥💥 (I love women)

little comic + some bonus stuff nothing would really change about them if im being real LOL

[necrotic-nephilim]

"I think you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to." - JayTim

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

god this one is so good. this idea just. sat in my brain goo for days until i had the time to write it. this takes place like. right around Search For A Hero and before Battle for the Cowl, i would say, with dead Bruce and all, but before Red Robin. very fucked up one-sided feelings bc Jason is Jason and i love him. it's like 3.6k words and my partner edited it for me so. enjoy <3

It took Tim longer than it should’ve to notice the change.

With Bruce gone, Gotham was in upheaval.

No matter how much Tim did, there was always more. A new villain to fight, a new gang to take down, a new murder to solve. Gotham knew that the Batman was gone, for good this time.

Which meant they knew someone, something, could kill Batman.

That made Tim the fresh meat to go after. If the Batman could be killed, it shouldn’t be any harder to take down his Robin. Tim knew that every villain would want a piece of him and he had to prove himself. And for a while, he did. Tim was personally targeted by rogues, ready to be the Joker to his Robin.

Then it changed.

No one was pulling their punches, necessarily. But there was a change. Gangs that once had no problem facing Tim down were running in the opposite direction. Rogues gave up too easily, with an amount of fear in their eyes that didn’t quite match Tim’s reputation.

He should’ve noticed it sooner.

Tim knew something was wrong, at least. But he’d been so slow to notice it; now he was scrambling for answers. He’d interrogated half a dozen thugs and none of them gave him anything. Tim used every trick Bruce had taught him and still. He had nothing. It was just confirmation that they were hiding something. He was missing something, and he had nothing to show for it.

It reminded Tim of how the tide receded right before a tsunami- a quiet, deadly calm rolled over Gotham.

Someone was pulling strings. Someone was going right over Tim’s head, probably planning a big attack to sweep Tim undertow to drown in the chaos. And Tim didn’t have a single lead.

Waiting was always the worst part.

And still, the fires in Gotham burned. Whatever was going on kept getting pushed to the back burner so Tim could stop everything from human trafficking rings to street muggings. He knew he was stretched too thin, too exhausted to hold himself up.

It was a matter of time before Tim got pulled into a merciless riptide.

He just didn’t expect it to be in some grimy alley, losing a fight to a second-rate mob that jumped him.

Tim should’ve gone back to the Batcave when his shoulder got dislocated an hour ago by Harley Quinn instead of just setting it and carrying on.

He should’ve called for backup an hour before that, when he had to face all the Gotham Sirens on his own, leading to the chase with Harley in the first place.

And he definitely should’ve stayed home from patrol altogether, with ribs that were still cracked from a run-in with Solomon Grundy less than a week ago.

But Tim didn’t do any of that. Because if he was going to carry on any part of Bruce’s legacy, it was this: fighting until his body gave out under him.

Tim just hoped if this mob killed him, they wouldn’t dump his body somewhere embarrassing.

Though it was starting to look less like if, and more like when. Tim didn’t like to be pessimistic in a fight. There was always something more to do, one final trick to pull out of his arsenal. Just like Bruce taught him.

This time, though. Tim wasn’t so sure about that.

There was blood in his mouth. Blood in his eyes. He could barely stand, let alone hold his bo staff. It took every ounce of worn-out effort to block the endless blows raining down on his battered body, let alone try to punch back.

Tim always figured he’d meet a violent end.

He wasn’t sure where his comm link had skittered off to. It got knocked out of his ear under a particularly vicious blow to the head, cutting Tim off from any hope of backup. He was in this one alone.

Someone kneed Tim in his already brutalized ribs. He doubled over and groaned, falling to the ground.

He needed to get back up.

Tim’s arms were too shaky to support his weight. He just collapsed again. A steel-toed boot was raised above his head, ready to come down. Tim just closed his eyes and covered his head as best he could with his hands. Better broken fingers than a broken skull.

The boot never connected.

Instead, Tim heard gunfire.

He knew some of the men had guns, but this was a different kind of gunfire. The automatic kind, coming from a different direction. All Tim could do was watch with wide eyes as his attackers started to drop like flies tinged with red.

The ones who managed to survive the first volley of bullets were scrambling around, yelling at each other in a foreign language. Russian, maybe? It was hard for Tim to tell with his head swimming from blood loss, eardrums pulsing to the infernal beat.

From the darkness, a figure jumped down, landing in front of Tim, holding an automatic rifle over their shoulder. Tim blinked hard, trying to make out who it was.

“I only gave you miserable fucks one rule,” a cold voice growled. “Who wants to remind me what it was?”

Damnit. Tim knew that voice.

He was beyond screwed.

All the men froze. Stuttered apologies and pleas came out of half of them, messy and incoherent. They all sounded positively terrified, cowering in front of the figure.

“We didn’t know it was-”

“-just wanted to scare him-”

“He came to our territory first-”

“-but we weren’t going to kill him-”

Jason Todd fired a few shots into the sky, silencing all of them. Tim swallowed a mouthful of blood, his own heart reverberating against copper-stained teeth.

“I asked what the rule was,” Jason repeated slowly. He cracked his neck and pulled a knife off his belt, flipping it around for show.

One of the men was brave enough to step forward. “No one’s allowed to touch Robin. Sir.”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat.

What the hell?

Jason nodded slowly. “And last I checked-” he made a show of turning back to look at Tim. Under the helmet, Tim couldn’t begin to guess Jason’s intentions. “-there’s only one kid with a big R on his chest fighting with a bo staff. I was being pretty generous with all of you. Protection from the cops, from other gangs. All for one fucking rule.”

“Why are you protecting him, anyway? Vigilante freaks cause us nothing but problems-”

The man’s yelling was abruptly cut off by the bang of Jason’s gun and his brains splattering across the alleyway. A smear of pink landed on his bo staff; there was no coming back from that one.

“I guess I should’ve had two rules. No touching Robin and no asking questions,” Jason hummed lazily, as if he hadn’t just taken a man’s life. He shrugged. “I’ll add it to the tab.” He reloaded the gun.

Tim grabbed Jason’s ankle. “Don’t…” he coughed up a mouthful of blood, “don’t kill them.” It was pathetic. He could hold his own in a fight against Jason. He had before. But now, Tim couldn’t even stand and was left with barely enough strength to even grab Jason.

Like shooing away an insolent child, Jason pulled his leg free and clicked his tongue at Tim. “I’ll get to you in a second. Wait your turn.”

Then, he let loose. And there was nothing Tim could do but watch in horror.

Jason tore through every single one of the men like paper. their bodies dropped one by one because instead of the gun, Jason jumped in with his knife. For the fun of the fight, Tim guessed. Because it definitely sounded like Jason was enjoying himself, flipping through the crowd and throwing out a vile quip now and then.

In seconds, it was over. A pile of bodies with Jason as the indisputable victor, wiping his bloody knife off on his jacket. He walked over to Tim, perfectly casual.

Maybe he was saving Tim for the finale, to be killed by Jason’s own hand around his neck. That was the only reason Tim could think of for Jason being the reason rogues had pulled back so much over the past few weeks. Jason wanted Tim’s blood for himself, so he could make some kind of statement out of killing Robin. Or something like that, anyway.

“Up we go,” Jason said with a grunt, leaning over to Tim up like a sack of potatoes. Tim was hauled up with Jason’s hands under his armpits, then tossed over Jason’s shoulder, with an arm supporting him around his thighs.

At least the dead bodies couldn’t judge Tim for how utterly embarrassing he must’ve looked.

“Put me down,” Tim tried to say, but the words were so slurred they sounded like one long syllable. His head was spinning. Tim had heard of double vision, but never triple. Was that a bad sign??

“It’s pronounced thank you, actually,” Jason said, walking off with Tim in tow. Each step made all of Tim’s injuries feel far worse and he hissed, uselessly trying to claw at Jason’s back, the material of his gloves squeaking pathetically. “As in, thank you for saving my sorry ass, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Tim sputtered. He was getting blood all over Jason’s jacket and it was the only thing he could see, as his vision got more tunneled by the second. “Where are you…” everything hurt and consciousness was slipping away from Tim.

Jason said something. Tim didn’t hear it. His hands went slack, followed by the rest of Tim’s body.

His last coherent thought was a long string of expletives cursing Jason Todd out.

It took over a liter of blood to stabilize Tim. Stitches on his arm, stomach, and forehead littered his battered body. He was still unconscious on Jason’s coffee table, with a makeshift IV drip giving him fluids, stripped down to his boxers.

Jason was torn between being supremely pissed off at Tim getting jumped and being sickly fascinated by the sight of Tim being bruised and bloody. Perfectly laid out for Jason.

Maybe he should’ve thanked that Russian mob before killing them.

Jason knew it was just a matter of time before that mob caused him issues. They were no real loss to his empire. He was lucky he caught them in the act before it was too late.

One simple rule and some idiots went out of their way to ignore it.

Tim was Jason’s meat and no one else’s. Jason hadn’t been ready to mark his territory yet. This sped up his plan. There were so many steps Jason had to skip to save Tim. He had been waiting for Gotham’s trust in Robin to grow secure and rooted down, putting Tim on top of the world. Then a new Batman would step up, probably Dick. It’d leave Tim aimless and vulnerable, quickly forgotten by his city the moment they had someone in a Batsuit to worship instead.

And that was supposed to be the moment Jason swooped in and claimed Tim. Protecting him from all the big mean supervillains who were salivating for Tim’s blood that Jason had been holding back for so long.

He would be Tim’s fucking savior.

But a no-name Russian mob had to go and screw it up. Leaving Jason sitting on his couch, feet propped up on the same coffee table Tim was sprawled out on. Every now and then Jason nudged Tim with his boot, just to check how out cold he really was.

The latest boot nudge to Tim’s hip actually got him to stir.

Tim groaned, trying to move. His attempt to sit up failed pretty spectacularly. His arm gave out and he slipped, head loudly bonking on the coffee table. With the concussion he definitely had, that had to hurt like hell. Jason smirked, lighting a cigarette. Another pretty groan out of Tim’s mouth before he managed to open his eyes, blinking hard to adjust to his surroundings.

Jason didn’t rush him. He just watched as Tim looked around the safehouse, craning his neck. He ran his hands over his body, feeling the neat bandage work. Finally, his eyes settled on Jason, widening slightly. Jason could see the wheels turning in Tim’s bright mind, remembering what had happened.

Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times, presumably trying to decide where to start. Jason took a long drag and blew the smoke in the direction of Tim’s face, making him cough.

“Why?” Tim finally said. His voice sounded a little raw.

Jason arched an eyebrow, playing innocent. “Why what?”

“You know what,” Tim snapped. He gestured to himself. “Why are you… doing this? Telling everyone I’m off limits and…”

“And saving you?” Jason finished, earning him a lethal glare. About as lethal as a kicked puppy could be, anyway. Jason snorted and shrugged. “Because I can.” No point in sharing a plan that was all fucked up.

“I don’t need your help,” Tim said through gritted teeth. He tried to sit up, slower this time. He still didn’t manage it.

Jason stared at him. “I’m sorry, would you have preferred Nightwing scrap what was left of you off the pavement after those asshats were through with you?”

“I can fight my own battles.”

“And lose them too. Clearly.”

An angry noise came out of Tim’s throat. “Did you just want to save me for yourself, or something?” Tim prodded, fist clenched at his side.

“Probably not in the way you’re thinking,” Jason said. He flicked ashes off of his cigarette onto Tim’s skin, pulling a hiss out of him.

Tim frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Figure it out yourself. Isn’t detective work your whole thing?” Jason made a show of adjusting how he was sitting on the couch as if he was getting comfortable. He moved to prop his feet up on Tim’s leg, one of the few places on his body that wasn’t covered in injuries. Using him like a little footstool.

Oh, that really pissed Tim off. Jason grinned wickedly, watching Tim try and fail to pull himself free. There wasn’t much weight on his leg, but he was still too weak to get his body to cooperate, leaving him to sluggishly struggle.

Tim’s face twisted. “If you think you could convince me to be your sidekick, you’re out of your mind.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a lap dog, actually,” Jason tilted his head back. “Much more submissive and obedient, that way.” He didn’t hide the obvious innuendo in his voice.

Tim recoiled. “Very funny.”

“I’m dead serious,” Jason shot back. “I don’t kill for just anyone.” Contrary to popular belief, murder was purposeful, with Jason. If he killed a lot of people, it was for a specific reason. It was a careful image of the unstable madman to make people fear him. But in reality, it was all planned. Every single body in the grave was carefully counted.

“You’re psychotic if you think I’d ever… submit to you.” Tim’s mouth twisted just having to say the words, utterly disgusted by them.

Jason scoffed. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here, Drake.” He pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket, flipping it open. “You already belong to me. Every criminal in Gotham knows you’re mine. You’re alive because I’ve allowed it. You’re protected because I called for it. It’s a done fucking deal.” He took his feet off of Tim’s leg and brought them to the floor so he could lean up close to Tim’s pale face. “Understood?”

Like a perfectly rational person, Tim tried to headbutt Jason.

Jason pulled back, more for Tim’s sake than his own. He caught Tim’s head with his hand, forcing it back down on the table.

“I didn’t ask for your protection,” Tim hissed, breathing hard. “You can go to hell, Jason. I can handle this city just fine on my own.”

“I don’t really care if you can or not.” Jason pressed the knife to Tim’s throat, a dangerous warning against any more stupid attempts to fight Jason. “You can be Robin all you want. You can crawl back home to that disgusting cave and play house with all the other bats. I don’t give a shit how you live your life, Drake. So long as you know you’re mine at the end of the day-” he shrugged- “we can take all this slow. I was planning to anyway.”

“You were planning to…” Tim echoed, turning the words over as it sank in for him. “You were planning… what? To make me fall in love with you or something?”

Jason gave another nonchalant shrug. “If that’s how you want to dumb it down, sure.” The plan was far more sophisticated than that. Jason didn’t just need Tim to love him. He needed Tim to crave Jason, need him down to the marrow, and dedicate himself wholly to Jason. Be by Jason’s side as a strategist and partner.

They would get there eventually. Soon Tim would see and understand things from Jason’s perspective. His approach just needed to be a little more head-on.

More fun for Jason in the long run.

It was hard to read Tim’s expression. Maybe Jason was too hopeful to believe there could be some kind of arousal or intrigue there, but he could at least tell there wasn’t nearly as much anger as he expected.

Nor was there any disgust.

For a split second, anyway. Then Tim seemed to snap back to reality, trying to pull away from Jason and the knife.

“Over my dead body,” Tim said with as much venom as it seemed like he could muster.

“You know, I’ll do you a favor, Drake.” Jason lifted one leg over the table so he could sit on Tim’s midsection, making him yell in pain. Jason was a heavy son of a bitch, and his body weight did no favor for Tim’s sore ribs.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tim tried to shove Jason’s chest. He looked a little panicked, like a caged animal.

“I think,” Jason dragged out the words, just for show, “you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to. So I’ll be nice, to make sure you don’t forget it.”

He grabbed Tim’s jaw and jerked his head to the side. Tim cried out and tried to get away. He hit Jason in the chest as hard as he could. Which given his current state, was about the same as being smacked by a toddler.

“You should probably stay still if you don’t want a knife in your eye,” Jason warned. He lifted the blade and pressed it into Tim’s cheek, going deep enough to scar.

He didn’t even have to think about it. Jason knew exactly what he was doing the moment he pressed the blade to Tim’s skin.

A mark that anyone would recognize.

A mark just like the one Jason had been given, years ago.

The letter J could stand for a lot of things. And right now, it stood for marking Tim as Jason’s territory.

Jason dragged the knife down and curled it upward. Then he went in for the second cut, dragging across Tim’s cheek.

Tim had the sense to stay perfectly still while the blade moved. Pained noises came out of his throat and he was giving Jason a death stare, but he stayed still.

A perfectly obedient lap dog.

Jason hummed in satisfaction when his work was done. He flicked the knife closed and slipped it back into his belt, watching fresh blood pour down Tim’s face.

Now they matched.

For good measure, Jason bent over and pressed a kiss against the cut, holding his lips there and feeling Tim’s breath on his skin.

Jason pulled away, licking the blood off his mouth. His first time tasting Tim. It definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tim bit the words out through grit teeth.

Jason just smiled. “Don’t you have pesky bat morals about that?” He climbed off Tim, flicking more ashes onto Tim’s skin from the cigarette that had stayed between Jason’s fingers the whole time. He lifted it to his lips, breathing in. “Your suit is over there.” Jason gestured vaguely to the heaped pile of Tim’s suit.

“You’re-” Tim sputtered on his words. “You’re just going to let me leave?”

“I told you,” Jason hummed, wandering toward his fridge, “you can go live your life. I don’t care. You’ll crawl back to me when I want you to.”

“Like hell.” A loud grunt came from Tim and Jason looked over his shoulder, watching Tim slowly move. Every inch looked painful for Tim, but slowly, he managed to get his stiff joints to obey him.

All while Jason watched, offering absolutely no help.

Tim got dressed with a lot of swearing and groans of pain, occasionally shooting Jason a dirty look. He put a small bandage on his cheek, then limped away, leaving behind the shreds of his dignity.

Jason just smiled, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out on the floor with his heel.

Tim would be back. He would make damn sure of it.

[ickyguts]

>:) wanted to try my hand at the flippy flaky swap au MUAHAHA!

[lavampira]

I know nothing with any certainty but the sight of the stars makes me dream

[zurdurer]

@one-of-many-mothmen

This is so silly actually

You're gonna have to imagine the car park itself but I can promise that this is a Denny's :)

[lavander-galaxy]

they are so cute I may die

@sonderfairy