#timkione bb au

[psychologeek]

Whumptober #13:

TEAM AS A FAMILY | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part."

@keitria this isn't exactly what you want, but part of the universe

There's a basement underneath The Nest. 

During the constructions of the old theatre, Tim has extended it sideways and below, making it so sheltered that one could survive anything smaller than a nuke. Whole with enough MRE for a year, necessarities such as bathroom and algae for oxygen and recycling water.

There's a box in the basement. One that used to hold his secret photos, back when he was a child.

It still holds memories. 

~

There's a kid's cap, and child-sized shovel.

("There you go, kiddo! Just like your dad!")

There's an old book and a pair of gloves.

("You are part of a long, powerful dynasty. Never let anyone make you feel ashamed of who you are.")

There's a magnifying glass and a pair of googles.

(“The hair gets in my eyes and Flush’s so mode about it he keeps telling me I just need  to cut it but I don’t want to did you know they have shampoo that can make you smell like STRAWBERRIES? that’s totally crash past is so crash but I still like my hair.”)

There's a golden earring. 

("What's wrong, Rob?"

And everything was too much. Too wrong. 

"It's nothing.")

There's a golden earring, shaped like the sun.

("It just. It feels wrong," he later tried to explain. "Like it's... it was done for a girl. But that was done to my body. But it wrong and- urrgh, sorry, it's hard to explain it.")

Just a single eering. 

(Kon and a needle and a pair of earrings -

"I thought maybe it could help," said his teammate. "Maybe we can make it, like, something of our own? Making this - I don't know. Something good? That we choose?"

And there was a needle in Kon's hand, and a hole in his earlobe were a tag used to be. A number.

But after that, they were just friends who shared a single pair of earrings.)

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[psychologeek]

Whumptobrt #30+31: TimKlone (end scene)

Whumptober index - there are at least 5\6 parts in the series before this No. 30: recovery | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?" No. 31: asking for help | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.) If anyone wondered "I'm alive, I'm just not well" is a perfect summarry of my current state.

"What's her Kryptonian name?"

Tim stays silent for a moment.

"She... doesn't have one," he finally says, quietly. "

He looks at his daughter, avoiding her father.

"Tim-"

"I- I couldn't, I'm sorry. I know, I could have asked Clark or Kara or- but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel- I'm sorry, I couldn't -"

And there's a hand around him.

"It's okay".

"No, it's not," Tim still doesn't look away from the child in his arm. "It's - it's also her culture. Her traditions. I was - I shouldn't left her out".

"You didn't," is the  quiet reply. "You did your best, and that is enough."

Tim is-

Tim is sitting there, a baby in his arms, and there's another's hand who wipes her face as he cries.

(There's another hand that holds him).

~

"How do you say light?"

The question comes out of nowhere.

"Light?"

"No," Kon says. "Not in English. In that language you sometimes humm in. I remember you once gave an hour long lecture about why Kryptonian names doesn't make any sense. Something about Kal means easy or lightweighted?"

 There's a moment of confusion before Tim realises.

"Or"

"Or what?" Kon looks confused. "What are the options?"

"No, that's how you say light in Hebrew. 'Or'."

Kon's eyes widen with horror,"I'm not calling our daughter Orel! "

"It's actually pronounced Or-el, not o-re-l," Tim corrects him unnoticed.

"I mean, you can also have 'Ori', which means 'my light', or Uri- which is aort of, more ancient and less used? But it means 'my fire'. It's actually also considered to be one of the angels that sits over a newborn's cradle to-"

"Ori," Kon mumbles behind him. "my light. I like it. Ori-El. It's you and me, both of our history, but together. New. And it's a reminder: I'll always have a place to call home, I'll always have a light to guide me. Even in the darkest times."

~

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[psychologeek]

Whumptober #5: TimKlone bb

No. 5: SUNBURN | Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

"So," Kon says. "What's her name?"

And it's not supposed to be such a hard question. Such a terrible, heartburning issue. 

(But it is. Because that's who they are. Because there are other Robin and Superboy and none of them willingly handed over their names. Because they both had to name and rename themselves, to curve out that place in the world one should be handed freely. Because Kon-El and Konner and Conner and Kon. Because Timothy and Jackson and Timmy (and everything he was named before). Because Drake and Wayne and Kent and El. Because of legacies and families and how permanent it is.

Because names are words to describe a future. And they are important.)

It's supposed to be a light question. But just like the sun, every light can burn.

"I still call her baby," Tim says, softly, looking at the miracle in another miracle's arms. "I thought... I had a name planned. When she was born. I wasn't in a good place, then. I… I'm still working on it. I thought about naming her Dani-el, which means ‘god has judged me’. Because I was, you know? It felt like that. It felt like a sentence. A punishment because I was so greedy and couldn't let go. You were gone, and I kept messing around, and - and that was what I deserved.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Kon's face. 

(There's pain, and it hurts in ways nothing else can.)

“I still consider Emunah, for her middle name,” he tries to lighten up the conversation. “Which means... well, I guess you can translate it to something like faith, or belief. Something irrational, if you like." He sums it up.

The sun beams at them, and the baby is happy. Kon's presence is a supernova by his side.

"But then she was born," he says. "Then she was born and real and there. And she wasn't a punishment or irrational or a gift or a curse. She was just. A baby. Someone that needs things and for some unbelievable reason, it was on me to care for her. And it felt. I don't know. Selfish to name her about me. About my choices or feelings or thoughts. Because she isn't - she's her own person, and she has so much to grow into."

“Daniel Emunah,” Kon says, trying the name. 

“That's what I wrote on her papers,” Tim agrees. “I just… couldn't send them.”

“Judgment and irrationality,” Kon says softly to the baby. “No, you don't look like Judgment, do you? You aren't a punishment. Not only judgment or irrationality. Your family has definitely got THAT part already covered."

Kon blow a kiss on her stomach, and the baby laughs. And it's sweet and pure and new.

(It's warm. Nothing like cold looks and loneliness in the old manor. Nothing like judgment.)

“Yeah, irrational, sure,” he looks at the teen by his side. “Some might even say crazy, or obsessed. But also fierce. Strong. Keep going against all odds. It's trying and growing and-” Kon tries to find the right words. To explain the difference between a winter's hearth and a summer’s wildfire. 

“Hope,” the word strikes him. “It's hope. People keep going because they have hope.”

And he smiles. And this makes Tim feel warm and something inside of him loosen. Like this acceptance, this unapologetic way Kon handles things, is a salve to a wound he never let himself notice.

“Hope Emunah,” Tim tries, and can't help but snort. "Hop Emunah. Sounds a little like a leap of faith.”

Kon considers that for a moment and shrugs.

“Well, if the shoe fits-".

~

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[psychologeek]

Whumptober #11: TimKlone

SEEING DOUBLE | Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

The Waynes are busy. It's okay - Tim gets it. It's not like that's a new thing. He doesn't want to be a burden.

He doesn't avoid them. He just ... gives them time to adjust. To get to know the new kid. Let Bruce bond with his real son. That's it.

(And isn't that a suprise? Isn't that a an absolute roundball to the guts?)

But it's okay. He's fine.

When he looks aside from the microscope, he can see two black haired figures reflecting in the glass.

Then four.

Then there are too many to count, and his face are wet, and he gives himself five minutes before he needs to calm down.

He was never a real part of this family anyway. Only a temporary replacement, a placeholder until a real son will come. Nothing but another convenience body in this endless war.

(And sometimes, in the dark nights, when Kon came to find him-

Sometimes they talked about making their own places. How it feels like carving the world with a spoon, drowning midair, flying when you never had the comfort of a net to guard you.

Sometimes they talk about what it's like to raise yourself.)

[psychologeek]

Whumptober #9:

OBSESSION  | Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)  

prev: No. 13 (pt. 1) No. 8 (pt. 2)

~

He shouldn't do that.

Young Justice The Team trusts him

(And if he and Cassie beat up the white coaters, harder than before, it's between them and their long-dead friend.)

He shouldn't do that.

But.

It's just medical equipment. It's okay. He's not gonna use it. Just a supply. And it's not like it's hard for Raven to put it in a space pocket so it would only come back to its original form when Tim uses a very specific combination of words and and gestures, all without damaging any of the delicate wiring.

In fact, he's even redeeming that equipment, in a way. It would use for ethical scientific reasons only. Just in case. 

Right?

~

T #49 makes it to the second week before failing. The little blastocyst's implantation just fails, all out of a sudden.

It doesn't make sense. 

It doesn't make any sense.

It should work - it worked with mice and lambs and even monkeys. 

Then why? Why wouldn't it work with humans?

The only non-optamised thing he can think of is using defrosted ovum. But it's not like he can just get a supply of freshly cooked human eggs out of-

Oh.

Oh, augh. Ew.

He CAN use. Well. His personal supply.

Disgusting.

Dysphoric.

But for Kon?

Worth it.

Always.

[psychologeek]

So.

I just realised most of you wouldn't understand what I'm talking about.

Emunah (by Kfir Epstein) was a song I heard a lot during my teens. It still holds a special place in my heart.

Translation (I try my best)

The question, that floats between us And the pain - belongs to mankind That wilderness, our destiny it curves And a single hope, perhaps she will return And a pleading voice: please, just come back to me... Emunah,

The tiny single one I still have, And it screams and hits me, May the winter remember that it is time for its pass.

Emunah, that the sky wouldn't fall and crush me, Thay the truth would whisper from inside of me, That the darkness will go That the light fill everything.

Promises, disappearing into the silence In the nothingness, there is a muffled sound of a cry The Neshama, within me it's insisting It is begging, giving up every piece of my body. And a pleading voice: please, just come back to me... Emunah..

I struggled to keep the poetic and the way some parts are more artistic-like? But also.

Just

I think it fits.

Whumptober #5: TimKlone bb

No. 5: SUNBURN | Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

"So," Kon says. "What's her name?"

And it's not supposed to be such a hard question. Such a terrible, heartburning issue. 

(But it is. Because that's who they are. Because there are other Robin and Superboy and none of them willingly handed over their names. Because they both had to name and rename themselves, to curve out that place in the world one should be handed freely. Because Kon-El and Konner and Conner and Kon. Because Timothy and Jackson and Timmy (and everything he was named before). Because Drake and Wayne and Kent and El. Because of legacies and families and how permanent it is.

Because names are words to describe a future. And they are important.)

It's supposed to be a light question. But just like the sun, every light can burn.

"I still call her baby," Tim says, softly, looking at the miracle in another miracle's arms. "I thought... I had a name planned. When she was born. I wasn't in a good place, then. I… I'm still working on it. I thought about naming her Dani-el, which means ‘god has judged me’. Because I was, you know? It felt like that. It felt like a sentence. A punishment because I was so greedy and couldn't let go. You were gone, and I kept messing around, and - and that was what I deserved.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Kon's face. 

(There's pain, and it hurts in ways nothing else can.)

“I still consider Emunah, for her middle name,” he tries to lighten up the conversation. “Which means... well, I guess you can translate it to something like faith, or belief. Something irrational, if you like." He sums it up.

The sun beams at them, and the baby is happy. Kon's presence is a supernova by his side.

"But then she was born," he says. "Then she was born and real and there. And she wasn't a punishment or irrational or a gift or a curse. She was just. A baby. Someone that needs things and for some unbelievable reason, it was on me to care for her. And it felt. I don't know. Selfish to name her about me. About my choices or feelings or thoughts. Because she isn't - she's her own person, and she has so much to grow into."

“Daniel Emunah,” Kon says, trying the name. 

“That's what I wrote on her papers,” Tim agrees. “I just… couldn't send them.”

“Judgment and irrationality,” Kon says softly to the baby. “No, you don't look like Judgment, do you? You aren't a punishment. Not only judgment or irrationality. Your family has definitely got THAT part already covered."

Kon blow a kiss on her stomach, and the baby laughs. And it's sweet and pure and new.

(It's warm. Nothing like cold looks and loneliness in the old manor. Nothing like judgment.)

“Yeah, irrational, sure,” he looks at the teen by his side. “Some might even say crazy, or obsessed. But also fierce. Strong. Keep going against all odds. It's trying and growing and-” Kon tries to find the right words. To explain the difference between a winter's hearth and a summer’s wildfire. 

“Hope,” the word strikes him. “It's hope. People keep going because they have hope.”

And he smiles. And this makes Tim feel warm and something inside of him loosen. Like this acceptance, this unapologetic way Kon handles things, is a salve to a wound he never let himself notice.

“Hope Emunah,” Tim tries, and can't help but snort. "Hop Emunah. Sounds a little like a leap of faith.”

Kon considers that for a moment and shrugs.

“Well, if the shoe fits-".

~

(Like it? I have more mini-fics Whumptober index | And full size fics on ao3. )