#tim isn’t gonna magically see this and change his mind. he doesn’t care what you toxic buddie fans think

[plutobuckley]

I hate that I have to state this again, but...

The hate towards Lou is super unjustified and just plain nasty! How are some of you so blind to see that he's actually a really nice guy, who enjoys playing his character, and also enjoys interacting with the fans (something that he doesn't have to do, but chooses to)

And when I say fans I mean the people who say they care about the show and really mean it, cause some of you "fans" seem to only care about one thing and it's becoming very clear

Please do better instead of holding a petty grudge against an actor who is just doing his job and stop twisting his words to make him look bad! Whatever happend to separating the actor from the character if you hate the character that much (another thing I don't understand is how people can hate Tommy so intensly and act as if character development doesn't exist)

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [07]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption w.c; 3.5k a/n; the beginning of the end! like my mama said while i was cleaning my room, it has to get messy before it gets clean! that being said this is a series for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! now that we’ve gotten this far, would you say our heroine has truly lost her mind? 

[06] [07] [08] -> masterpost

Something is off and Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what, and therefore he has no way to approach it. 

HIs knee is bobbing uncontrollably as he throws his phone back and forth from one palm to another. He’s in a recording studio downtown, in an unfamiliar area that made Jungkook thankful that he decided to leave an hour early. He hears some hushed voices from another room, and he tries not to fiddle around too much as the chair in the waiting area is rickety and on its last limb. 

You texted him this morning with your usual pleasantries, saying you had a fun lesson to teach today and you couldn’t wait to set up your classroom. You’re also equally excited for Jungkook’s first recording session, and you urge him to “knock the socks off this producer guy.” 

But since that night you slept over, you haven’t brought up the tears you shed in his sheet. You’ve been painfully amicable, insisting that you’ll tell him when the time is right. 

Jungkook wants to be patient for you, and he will be. But he doesn’t know how to help you, help the two of you move forward without any context. He gets that the memories that are holding you back are painful, but he wishes to help ease that burden. Jungkook’s head starts to spin at all the possibilities that he could get you to feel comfortable enough to talk. 

“Hey,” Jungkook’s reverie shatters when a small guy in all black comes up to meet him. Jungkook shoots up, hand immediately darting out to shake the older one’s hand. He chuckles, “Jihoon sent me your demo last week. You have some killer vocals.” 

“Thanks,” he replies bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m Jungkook, by the way.” 

“Right,” the producer nods, gesturing for him to follow him down the hall. “I’m Min Yoongi.” 

Jungkook nearly trips over himself. He’s heard that name before, he’s sure of it. He tries to wrack his brain for the memory, something he’s brushed to the side after so long.

“Jungkook!” you cried. He was paralyzed when you first met, a frazzled woman shoving herself on him like you’ve known him his entire life. He didn’t know why you were trying to hide him, but you looked so terrified he couldn’t formulate a quick enough response. “Kook, what the fuck? It’s broad daylight, you can’t be out like this without a mask! Where on earth did you hide that bike? Dispatch will have your ass and the devil Min Yoongi’ll kill you again for sneaking out—” 

“Uh, Yoongi?” the pair step inside his little studio, neat and monochromatic. There’s a comfy couch in the corner, and Jungkook seats himself there while Yoongi slides into his rolling chair. “Do you by any chance know someone named y/n?

Yoongi shrugs, too busy going through his computer files to take notice of Jungkook’s wheels turning. “No, should I?” 

“Guess not,” Jungkook mutters, “what about Dispatch? Are you involved with them?” 

The older one swirls around in his chair, knuckles nestled in his milky cheeks. “Is this an interrogation?” 

Suddenly feeling hot, Jungkook shakes his head. “Sorry.” 

“But to answer your question, thankfully no,” Yoongi leans back in his seat, staring at the ceiling, “thankfully they’ve been smoked out ever since they got sued for defamation against that SNSD member, among dozens of other women. That was what, two years ago? But my artists are always squeaky clean.” 

Jungkook grapples the pieces in his brain, feeling the sudden itch to text you. 

“You’re askin’ a lot of weird questions, kid,” Yoongi says simply, “but since you have the voice of a fuckin’ angel on Cloud 9, I’m willing to overlook it.” 

The younger one nods wordlessly, letting Yoongi go on a tangent as he describes the song he has in mind and how he wants to approach it. He tries to focus, and intermittently fails as he falls in and out of thought, always coming back to you. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Hoseok, I feel it.” 

“Feel what, nausea? Heartburn, indigestion? Upset stomach? Diarrhea?” 

“Is that supposed to be a joke, Noona?” Bogum is sitting next to you on the picnic blanket laid out for the both of you. Today was supposed to be Hoseok’s off day, but Bogum’s mom offered Hoseok a pretty penny to take Bogum for the day while she had to attend a last-minute work project. 

“Yes, Bogummie. Although it was a terrible joke,” you admonish, sending a playful grin to Hoseok. 

“Do you like my new shoes?” with the attention span of a squirrel, Bogum hops up and jumps up and down on the grass. His new Elmo sneakers light up and make little squeaking sounds, “isn’t it cool! My shoes talk while I walk!” 

You giggle, “Yeah, now we’ll never lose you when you go off to the bathroom,” you reach for his sippy cup and instruct him to drink water, “go play on the slide, we’ll watch you from here!” 

Bogum immediately agrees, shuffling away with rhythmic squeaks from his sneakers as he bumbles over to the small playground on campus. Without the presence of children, you feel Hoseok’s eyes train on you as you try to formulate a response. 

“I don’t know, I woke up this morning and I felt a little too… settled?” you taste the word on your tongue, hoping it matches with the turmoil going through your brain. You continue to stare at Bogum, not a care in the world as he goes down the slide for the nth time, “my life isn’t moving forward anymore. It’s so, peaceful?” you nod at your question, then turn to smile sadly at Hoseok. 

“This might be the last time we see each other.” 

While you don’t know the rules and regulations of whatever fate or magic that brought you here, you always knew that this time had to end. You feel like you’ve experienced enough in this small lifetime to feel this kind of contentment. Any further into this life and you could change it however way you wanted to. 

You didn’t want to do that. You wanted to go home. 

Hoseok’s smile is equally sombre, but he plays it off with a scoff. “I guess this is the part where you leave me and I have to go on with the rest of my life questioning whether these past two months were real or a crazy drug trip while I spend nighttimes TL;DR-ing our story on Reddit.” 

You break into laughter, clutching your stomach as you try your hardest not to think too heavily of this moment. “Hobi, you won’t be alone in this. I’m going to tell Jungkook tonight,” you confess, “I don’t know how he’s gonna take it, but try to be there for him. For me?” 

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, “In your world, were me and Jungkook close?” 

You hide your grin by taking a sip of your water bottle, “Very close. He sobbed himself a river when you wanted to quit the group.” 

“Hm, maybe we’ll be close someday too.” 

“Maybe,” you pull out your phone, instructing Hoseok to do the same as he waits for whatever you’re about to send him. 

Hoseok phone pings and he opens the document you just shared with him. His brows knit at the neat notes, zooming in the small font. “What is this?” 

“For when the other me comes back in my place,” you lean over him to point out the details highlighted in light blue on your digital document. There’s addresses, student details, lesson agendas, even the money you spent while you used the bank account. “it’s in her drive, but I think she might… freak out regardless. If I really got hit by that oncoming truck, I don’t know what she’s going to be feeling. At least this is a quick cheat-sheet, so she can catch up on the past two months and continue on with her life.” 

You try to tamp down the guilt that you feel, knowing your alter-self could be in a far more dangerous situation than you right now. 

“So if you can stop by the apartment tomorrow—Taehyung and I changed the keycode a couple days ago, maybe bring over some coffee so you two can talk it out?” 

“Of course, don’t worry about us,” and Hoseok starts to get teary, which makes you get teary as he says his next words, “once you go back, I want you to be happy, okay? We can’t exactly text or—or F-Facetime like we always—oh shit,” he shoves the sleeve of his hoodie in his eyes, “w-why does it feel like you’re dying or something?” 

You throw your arms around him, letting him cry on your shoulder. You sigh into his amber bangs, his long fingers digging into your wrist but you don’t care. Knowing letting go was going to be hard, you’ve emotionally prepped yourself since this morning, but it doesn’t hurt any less when you’ve become so close with Hoseok. 

“Who knows?” you run your fingers through his hair, in an attempt to soothe him, “maybe I’ll have another taste of that angel wine. You’ll show up in my dreams or something.” 

He shakes his head, “Hell no. What if Jungkook really decks you with his motorcycle the second time around?” 

“True,” you say, “I’ll miss you, Hobi.” 

“Do me a favor when you get back, yeah?” he breaks apart from your embrace, squeezing your shoulders. “Go find me and try harder to be my friend, alright?” 

You deflate a little, “But you’re so cool, I’m a little intimidated. It’s different when you’re surrounded by kids like a mama duck.” 

“I know I’m cool, but just try,” he says, “and I’ll try to be your friend again, too.” 

The two of you hug again, this time not saying anything. At this time Bogum waddles up to the two of you, sweaty and damp as he collapses onto the blanket. The two of you laugh as Hoseok presses a paper towel to the boy’s head. 

Bogum scrunches his nose, “Why are you crying?” 

You sigh, reaching to lightly pinch his forearm. “I’m going to be gone for a little bit. So take care of Hoseok while I’m gone, okay?” 

Bogum frowns, but puffs his chest out and nods, “When will I see you again?” 

Instead of you answering, Hoseok cuts in for you. “Soon,” he says with finality, eyes darting between you and a satisfied Bogum. He looks at you and mouths, we’ll figure it out. 

This time around, you know you don’t have to worry. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Jungkook’s waiting in your room,” Taehyung jabs a thumb in the direction of your shared hallway. “Probably passed out and took a nap.” 

“Oh?” you check your phone, “he’s early then.” 

Taehyung shrugs, the strap off his backpack sliding down to his elbows. “Looked a little frazzled. Maybe he had a long day.” 

“Yeah, he said he had his first recording session. Maybe it was overwhelming.” 

Taehyung nods, moving past you to get to the door. “I gotta go back to the studio,” he grimaces, slipping on his loafers, “literally don’t give two fucks about Tiffany’s seniority. Her fashion taste is complete garbage and I’m ready to spend the rest of the night fighting her for it.”

“Good luck,” and in your haste, you wrap your arms around his waist. 

Taehyung’s surprised by the sudden bout of affection, but he returns eagerly as he squeezes you back. “See you in the morning, we’ll go finish that Kim Seokjin drama we started.” 

You force a smile back, “Yeah, see you.” 

You don’t leave the little space by the door until you’re sure that Taehyung is completely gone from your vicinity. Relaxing your shoulders, you pull off your layers and bag and place them on your corner of the living room. 

Padding quietly, you take your time in turning the doorknob to your bedroom in case Jungkook is still sleeping. 

To your surprise Jungkook is not sleeping, however. He’s hovered over your desk, looking up at you from your yellow notebook. 

“Y’know,” he says, tone sharp, “you really shouldn’t just leave your stuff laying out here like this. Anyone can read it.” 

You bristle, shutting the door behind you even though Taehyung was already long gone. Maybe you wanted to contain everything in your room, hoping Jungkook wouldn’t run away at the story you had behind this. 

“Usually people don’t come into my room to read stuff off my desk.” 

“What is this?” he asks, “some sci-fi novel you’re concocting? Why do you have so much information about me?” 

Over the course of your two months, you’ve added more and more to your logbook. It was the little things at first, like the differences between the Hoseoks and the Jimins. But then you felt like you were starting to forget your life back in W1, so you got to writing memories. Stupid, little tidbits about your relationship with Jungkook. Or the brands of wine you and Sehlyung would fawn over during your nights out. 

But Jungkook is pointing to a particular page in your notebook, fingers digging so hard that his nails are turning white. You step further into the bedroom, taking slow steps as you approach your desk. 

One sleepless night, you took it upon yourself to write the lyrics to Still With You. The lyrics are written plain as day, glittered with star and moon designs and a little air conditioner decorating the margins.  

Your heart drops as you see the hurt marring Jungkook’s features. 

“I haven’t told anyone about the songs I’ve written,” he says, pain dripping from his voice, “not even Yoongi. How on earth could you have found my song? How could you have known that I wrote it one night against my air conditioner?” 

You feel like cotton is blocking your throat, “Jungkook, I wanted to tell you tonight—” 

“What, that you really are a crazy stalker?” he steps back, whirling around so now he’s the one in the direction of the door. He takes two steps back, closer to the exit. “That I’ve been so dumb to believe your lies? That I should’ve left you on the street? That you still see me in whatever Jungkook you once knew and now you’re taking it out on me?” 

“Jungkook, please listen—” 

“Because now I know you and I can’t work out,” he spits with finality, hands finally finding the doorknob, “we will never work out—” 

“I know!” you finally scream, and Jungkook falters. You’re shaking, but not erratically. You’re sobbing, shoulders wracking as you let your body collapse against the desk chair. This conversation feels startlingly familiar, as if you’re back to square one. “Dammit Jungkook, why won’t you listen? I knew we would never work out.” 

Jungkook itches to hold you, and comfort you. Instead he sticks by the doorknob, feeling true to his findings. After all, the evidence is all in your notebook. While hard to decipher, it’s clear as day that you always knew a lot more than you’ve led on. He wants to ask more, but he’s far too hurt to continue tonight. 

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers, and slams the door to your bedroom shut. 

Your body gives out, and you feel two tons heavier as you sink into your uncomfortable desk chair. Jungkook’s gone. Your heart’s not so much broken, but you feel awful for getting him mixed up into this. Seeing the betrayal and pain in his eyes is heartbreaking, especially coming from you, someone who doesn’t even belong here. 

The whole room seems to be suffocating you, swallowing you whole. A shelf filled with medical textbooks and science jargon. A corkboard filled with pictures of your friends and family, all memories that don’t belong to you. This isn’t your life. 

You need to get out of here, now. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1, four months before. 

Namjoon is sitting between Jungkook and you, like two children and a parent having to intervene. Only this time, you two are being child-like adults and Namjoon is taking up all the leg space sitting in the middle of the back row. 

Jungkook feels like he’s being squeezed through the open window, Namjoon refusing to adjust to his equally large size. He glares over his shoulder, finding you are paying no mind. He scoffs when he sees you nuzzled up against Namjoon’s blazer, babbling like a brook because you’re too wasted to form coherent sentences. 

“What were you going to achieve by doing that, huh?” Namjoon’s voice is devastatingly low, not bothering to look at the younger man. 

He sighs, letting the night breeze tickle his loose strands as he recalls what he did do. It’s all too clear on his end. Entering the bar was easy, after a few rounds with the gang Jungkook decided it was time to mingle. It doesn’t take long for a pretty girl to slide up next to him, with practiced ease finding her way to slot herself between his stretched out legs. And he let her. 

And you? You were livid, of course. He could practically feel the burn of your gaze singing at the back of his head. But you weren’t going to cause a scene, instead you favored Taehyung’s inability to relent and inhiberation to the highest degree. 

Which is why you’re all going home early, before it got too messy. 

Jungkook doesn’t answer in the quiet car, but your soft sobs do. 

You probably haven’t even registered that Jungkook is in the same vehicle. After all, they had to haul your deadweight into the seat because you could barely walk. 

“Why, wh-why Joonie?” your voice is muffled by the thick fabric of Namjoon’s tweed overcoat, nails digging into the seams. 

“Why what, bub?” 

“Why doesn’t he want me?” 

Jungkook’s throat clenches. 

“He’s just stupid,” Jungkook feels dumb, listening to Namjoon and you speak as if they’re all not pressed up against each other like skinny sardines in a too-hot van. “Not to be intrusive, but the two of you are in a complicated relationship.” 

You hum in agreement, your previous drunkenness mellowing out and turning into a tired haze. When you finally arrive at the apartment complex, Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to be the one to carry you upstairs. He barely gives Jungkook the opportunity as he sweeps you into his arms, making the way to your room. Jungkook follows the both of you like a stubborn duckling. 

When Namjoon manages to get the door unlocked, he turns to Jungkook. “You should go up with everyone else. Don’t bother coming in here unless you’re gonna apologize.” 

The door is wide open, and Namjoon straightens up as you float away to your bathroom, insisting you can wobble your way to get your makeup and clothes off. Jungkook tries his best to look confident in front of his elder, steeling his features. 

“I’ll apologize, you go up first.” 

Namjoon pulls his wristwatch out, “You got fifteen minutes. You can’t stay here tonight.” 

Jungkook flinches when he coolly brushes past him, slamming the door on his way out. He then busies himself in your small kitchenette, finding your favorite Hello Kitty mug and pouring you a glass of water. He places aspirin and the water next to your bedside table, ready when you need it. 

It’s been ten minutes since then, and he’s running out of time. Standing in front of your bathroom, he makes a move to knock. No answer. He can’t hear the water running, or faint lo-fi hip hop that you always liked to listen to before getting ready for bed. 

Taking a chance, he turns the knob only to find it unlocked. You’re sitting on the floor, knees hugged and only in a long t-shirt. 

“You can go,” you mumble into your knees, not wanting to make eye contact. “I’m fine.” 

Instead he fits himself into your bathroom, sitting next to you. You don’t bother to move and make room, so Jungkook has to squish himself to fit. “Listen, pretty girl–” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

He sighs, “I’m sorry. I was being a dick and you don’t deserve that. I disregarded our feelings and that isn’t fair to either of us.” 

“I said it was fine,” he sees how hard you’re glaring at the tile on your wall, nothing interesting but your eyes are ablaze. “I know why you did it.” 

He stays silent. 

“You want to push me away before we get hurt,” you state, “but you don’t get to decide that on your own, Jungkook. I’ll give you time, but don’t wag yourself in front of my face like I’m some shameless puppy begging for attention,” you get up shakily, and you hold out a hand in refusal to Jungkook’s immediate reaction, “it’s either all of me or none of me.” 

And for the second time that night the door slams in Jungkook’s face, forcing himself to make a decision. 

[redhoodieone]

Destroyed Each Other Part 2

A/N: I didn’t exactly know how to end this (since each of my smuts was supposed to be how each guy fucks the reader, but it ended up being something else), so I ended it on a good note. I absolutely love Jason Todd, and I guess my love for him changed the direction of the story. I do have other smuts in mind. I’m just happy this fulfilled my dirty fantasies and I hope you all enjoy it! (Also, I won’t write Tim Drake or Damian Wayne smut, since they’re way too young in my mind and I’m not even sure if I could pull it off successfully, so I just made a joke about them in the story!)

Warning: Unprotected sex, Oral sex, birth control, condom talk, language, and happy ending!

 It’s happening so quick. Before I can even say a word, Jason’s head is already lowered down, and his mouth contacts my overly-sensitive pussy. He licks an agonizingly slow lick up my slit and to my clit. “Oh! Fuck!” I cry out. The touch of his tongue is wonderful. I can hear him smirk and repeat the same actions. But it’s torturing me more and more. I reach out to tug on his dark hair; and gain some stability because I know I’ll be falling apart soon. “Fuck Y/N...you taste so fucking good. I think I wanna stay here and eat you all day long,” Jason moans against me. The vibrations send heat throughout my body. He begins to suck my clit gently and then furiously. The long torturous circular licks around my clit has me whining beneath him. His patterns, techniques, and patience prove how much this means to him. How in the fucking world can Jason Todd be the master of eating pussy? I’ve never felt this way during oral sex. Maybe my ex-boyfriend’s never knew what to do and never took in consideration how to build me up, and instead just fuck me without giving me an orgasm first. Jason Todd is the perfect fucking gentleman. It’s like he knew what my body was dying for. He knew the sensitive spots and knew how to work me up instead of just ramming fingers and fists inside me. Jason moves away for a second to quickly kiss to my thigh. I whine and try to grip the tile beneath me. He returns to my clit and licks it slowly but runs his tongue faster now and looks up at me to see my face flushed and sweaty. My moans must be boosting his self-esteem. He chuckles when I try to move my hips against his mouth. I need more now!  

Jason becomes protective in a sense to hold me, but since he’s eating me out, he uses his hands to hold my legs down, but one hand continues to rub my thigh. I’m gasping and whimpering pathetically, Jason has me under his spell. One of my hands is holding myself up in a sitting position, while the other is pulling Jason’s hair. My hips move against his mouth, I need more constant friction and touching. A long finger enters me. “Jason! Oh my God!” I pant, as he moves it inside and out of me. It’s not enough. “I need more! Please!” Jason glances up at me. His mouth is wet from my arousal, but the shit-eating grin is there again. “What’s that doll? You want more than that? How about this instead?” Another finger, and the curling motion to rub against that sensitive but perfect spot has me a moaning and gasping mess. My body feels like I’m on fire, and I’m only going to keep burning and burning until the last spark. “Oh fuck, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful. I wanna see you cum so bad. I wanna taste your cum. And to think it’s all because of me would make it so fucking delicious,” Jason pants. His fingers continue working their magic inside me; stroking my g-spot, as his thumb rubs relentlessly against my clit. It’s all too much. The overwhelming pleasure has me gasping for air, and tears are running down my reddish cheeks. I remove my hand from his hair and reach out to move him up to where I’m sitting. Jason’s eyes are focused on me. The pupils are dilated to where the blueish, gray eyes are vanishing for a moment. His mouth is parted, and he’s breathing heavily too. Instinct takes over. I grab Jason’s face to kiss him. The second our lips touch, an electric spark shoots from my toes and to my stomach. I can taste myself on him, which triggers another moan from me. Our tongues are battling for dominance, he wins as usual and licks and searches throughout my mouth until I’m whimpering for more. And then I clench and unclench around his fingers; gushing all over his fingers as the dam has been broken. I break away from his mouth and scream, the searing pleasure has me gasping for air. Jason quickly moves back down and licks up my juices. Moaning and savoring the taste he helped me make shows me what kind of man he really is. It’s like Jason Todd takes pleasure in making girls cum that he might actually get off on just that. He raises his head back up and licks around his lips. I stare at him and wonder what’s in those mischievous eyes. “Holy fuck, doll. That was fucking hot, wasn’t it? And better yet, there’s still more.” I shake my head no. I don’t think my pussy can handle more. The thought of more pleasure makes my thighs clench to shield my pussy. “No, I don’t think so, Jason. I-I don’t think I can do anything else.” “Oh, come on baby girl. I need a release too! And since I made you cum, I think I deserve to cum as well, right?” Jason practically whines. He frees his thick cock from his boxers, and hastily parts my legs. He rubs the tip against my juices for lubricant. “And besides, I don’t think I’ll last much longer considering your orgasm was like foreplay for me. Just seeing you moaning and cumming on my fingers is enough to bring me on the edge. I don’t think this’ll be very long.” With one more kiss from Jason, he thrusts himself into me; stretching me to the point where it hurt a bit but was pleasurable enough to want him more. He begins to thrust slowly and deeply, before my nails on his shoulders and chest scratch him to pick up the pace. The sounds of skin on skin slapping is loud; I immediately wonder if Bruce and Dick can hear us. Dick must have already heard me during oral sex, and I wonder why if he’s still out there and listening to us. It’s as if Jason knew I was thinking about Bruce and Dick. He snarls and slams his cock deeper and harder into me. I release a long overdue moan and scratch his back once more. He then lifts me up a bit, to the point where he’s holding me up and fucking me upwards to where he can hit that spot he knows so well. “There...I-I found it...How many fuckers can say that when they’re fucking you, Y/N?” Jason pants, breathing heavily from his nose. He’s struggling to speak, but he wants to do much. “N-not many!” I choke out. Jason’s cock is deliciously rubbing hard against the spot, and I know I’ll be coming undone any second. “Good! Because this spot is MINE! Only I can find it and make you cum! You’re my cum queen now, Y/N!” And Jason isn’t even quiet during sex; he’s very vocal. He often drops his head beside mine to groan loudly. Between our panting bodies, his hand slips down and rubs my clit hastily to get me to the edge where he’s waiting for release. But Jason is still that guy who needs reassurance; who needs compliments because the guy has never been praised for much in his life. “Oh Y/N. You’re so fucking good! You’re taking my cock so well in that beautiful pussy of yours. P-please tell me I’m good, too. P-please tell me I’m fucking you good, too,” Jason pleads, the look in his eyes breaks my heart. “Y-you’re fucking me so good, Jason! You’re doing so good! I-I need more of your cock!” I shout uncontrollably. Jason smiles sweetly. He kisses me harder which shows the confidence is back, and his thrusts are deeper, faster, and harder now. I kiss him back harshly. Our lips must be red and chapped from sucking and biting each other’s moans. I bite his bottom lip once more, and I gasp into his mouth. My pussy clenches and unclenches around Jason’s, and my juices soak his cock. “Fuck! Y/N! I’m fucking you so good! I’m gonna cum in you!” Jason groans loudly. His thrusts are getting sloppy. “Jason, don’t cum in me! Pull out!” I warn him. Jason thrusts a few more times, and then he shuts his eyes. His mouth is open, and he chokes back on his gasps. His orgasm must have been strong, and it takes a moment for him to open his eyes and breathe again. He pulls his cock out, and he grimaced. “Oops.” “J-Jason! Did you cum inside me?” I demand. “Yeah...but you’re kinda ruining the sexy sex glow. It was hot, wasn’t it?” Jason breathes out. “But you came inside me! Why? Why would you do that, Jason? It’s not exactly safe!” “Yeah, but you’re on the pill, right?” “Yes, but it doesn’t matter! It’s not a hundred percent effective! Oh my God! Do you do this with your other girlfriends?” I panic. Pushing him far away from me, I begin to get dressed, despite my legs shaking and my breathing uneven. I’ll have to tell Bruce. He’ll know what to do. Jason quickly gets dressed and stops me from walking around him. “Look, I-I know what I did was stupid, but I don’t go around fucking girls without protection. I don’t trust any of them, and I’m obviously clean. So, you don’t have to worry about me giving you STD’s and shit,” he explains worriedly. “I know you’re clean! I didn’t think you were a manwhore or anything. I just hope I don’t get pregnant because of one unprotected fucking!” I cry out. “You let Bruce pull out. Isn’t pulling out just as dangerous as me cumming inside you?” Jason argues back. I frown. I’m being a hypocrite. Jason’s right. Maybe I should be more careful and have better judgment. But truth be told, I don’t think I really regret anything. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just...well, you can go ahead and call me a whore too, but all I want is to have fun. I don’t want to settle down, have kids, and do the whole ‘family thing’ yet. After everything that has happened, I just...want to have fun and not worry. So, I guess in a way I’m only looking for sex and nothing serious right now,” I confess. I hope Jason goes easy on me and my confession. Jason’s tall as fuck, he towers over me to where I must look up at him. He sighs, and then smiles at me. “I get it. It doesn’t make you a whore unless you just fuck one person from now on. So, I guess you have to pick someone and just stick with them until you figure yourself out. The question is...” Jason says, before he tilts his head to the side. “Is it me?” Before I can say anything, Tim and Damian come into the kitchen. The smell of sex is still strong and evident, and the paper towel with Bruce’s cum is still on the counter (which I believed I threw it away earlier, but I guess I never did). They raise their eyebrows at us, before Tim clears his throat. “Wow, kitchen’s crowded. So, um...we’re going to leave now and see you guys soon,” Tim says anxiously before he turns away first to leave. Damian raises an eyebrow at me. “Don’t even think Drake and I are next for your sexually active sessions, sister. If I had to support one of them for your sexual activities, choose the one man who really makes you feel special and worth it. But believe me when I say I’m just shocked and relieved you didn’t resort to male prostitution for your strong urges. Carry on then.” With Damian gone, I exhale. Maybe it had been too long since I’ve been intimate and loved. And even though I’m not biologically related to anyone here, it just makes it more difficult to understand how I feel. Never once has any guy here used me and thrown me to the side. Never once has any guy here ignored me and abandoned me when I needed him the most. Never once has any guy here made me feel unloved and alone. I’m drowning in these thoughts when I barely notice Jason has been staring at me the whole time. I wonder why he’s even staring at me. We just fucked, so shouldn’t he be off bragging about it to Bruce and Dick? Because even now, I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t even know what I want. It’s as if he’s read my mind again. Jason wraps his arms around me and brings me into a bear hug I’ve seen and heard so much about. With a kiss on the forehead, he lowers his head to where our foreheads almost touch. “Stop thinking so negative, Y/N. I really like you, and I’m not going to stop anytime soon.” “We just had sex. So, shouldn’t we be done with each other?” I ask curiously. Jason manages to look down at me. He frowns. “Why would we be done with each other? What we had was the most fucking hottest sex ever, and you don’t want me now?” “I didn’t say I didn’t want you. I just figured you wouldn’t want me now after you’ve had your taste and fun,” I defend myself. Jason looks destroyed. Pained, heartbroken, and rejected. The natural glow of happiness in his smile and eyes are gone. He releases me and takes a step backwards away from me. “So...that’s what this is all about. You think I would just use you for sex, Y/N? You think Bruce and Dick are better than me, and would want you after a good fucking? Bruce and Dick may be more emotionally stable than me and have their shit figured out but look who’s still here after the good fucking! I’m the only one here, doll!” Jason snaps. He raises his voice and his fists are clenched at his sides, but I know that he wouldn’t hurt me. “What do I have to do for you to believe in me and see that maybe I’m worth it, too?!” “You made Dick leave,” I point out. “If he was man enough, he would have taken me out of the kitchen instead of just leaving you here!” I feel like total shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said. Maybe Jason has grown up since I’ve known him. “I-I’m sorry...Jason. I just...well, I can’t make excuses for what I’ve said and done, but maybe I have shit I have to work on, as well. I really need to work on self-esteem issues and having more faith in those I love. I guess I’m not exactly on Bruce and Dick’s level.” Jason sighs, and then looks back down at me. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I guess we’re more alike than what we thought.” “I guess so,” I agree. “Let’s just...start over. Can we?” he asks softly. Looking at me with hope in his beautiful and strong eyes. “I don’t think I can have any more sex today, Jason.” He laughs hard. “I was thinking of maybe getting food or something, and then just sit and talk,” Jason suggests. “That sounds much better,” I accept excitedly. “But I should probably point out, I can’t exactly walk right now.” Jason smirks, and throws me over his shoulder. With one slap on my ass, he walks us to the front door. “Then that means I did my job well.”

“That you did!” I approve. “You’re one lucky girl, Y/N.” “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Jason.” “I am, but just remember, Y/N: you’re mine from now on. No more fucking other guys.” “Same to you, Jaybird. I mean, other girls though.” I laugh and receive another spanking from Jason.

[bat-lings]

Thoughts on the Tim and Damian "rivalry"?

Unconvincing at best and really forced at worse.

Firstly because trying to sell a rivalry between a sixteen-old and a ten-year-old just. Doesn’t work for me. It kinda makes Tim look like an asshole whenever he’s throwing the first punch at an unadjusted and formerly abused preteen tbh.

[Red Robin #1-2]

Yeah Tim is in a bad place, we all react badly when hurting, okay. What bothers me about this scene is that it should’ve been framed like a misstep on Tim’s part and that it wasn’t. Alfred pats him on the back? Really, would Alfred condone that?

Ahem, back on subject. Secondly I don’t find as much basis to this rivalry as we’re made to believe there is. It’s one-sided on Damian’s part, so by definition there’s no rivalry to speak of— outside of Batman & Son anyway.

That arc aside, Tim and Damian’s dynamic has actually little to do with rivalry. Plus, every reason that can possibly be given for them to compete over just doesn’t hold for me.

>> Fighting or detective skills? For all his super ninja/assassin training, Damian is ten. Tim has nothing to envy him training-wise & is more experimented, meaning he can beat him the second he starts trying. As detectives and while Damian is far from inapt in that area, Tim does have a natural ability in detective work and he is, again, more experimented. I’m not selling Damian short in either department, he’s ten and Tim’s sixteen, it’s normal. Tim knows that, he’s got no reason to feel threatened by Damian’s skills.

>> Bruce’s love? I’ve never read Tim as seriously doubting Bruce loves him tbh. Most of his insecurities come from doubting himself as Robin, not as someone Bruce cares about. Yes it can overlap in a kid’s mind, an probably does to some point in Tim’s— but not that significatively to my understanding. His relationship with Bruce is actually pretty swell by the time Damian arrives*.

[Robin (1993) #123 & #163]

*Those issues respectively happen before and after Damian’s character is introduced. He didn’t change things all that much if at all, considering.

>> The Robin mantle? Let’s separate this into Before / After Bruce’s death.

Before Bruce’s death, Tim’s place as Robin is secure. Bruce has legit no intention to give the mantle to Damian. Bruce repeatedly went out of his way to praise or reassure Tim.

[Robin (1993) #9, #166, #17, #106 & #74]

+ several other times I’m not putting there since they weren’t in Tim’s presence. For context Robin #17 has Tim disobeying express orders to stay put ‘cause he doesn’t have a choice. He doesn’t even have the time to worry Bruce will chew him out before Bruce does the opposite.

I don’t mean that a few sweet words here and there magically cure all of Tim’s insecurities. They don’t. But they’re still there for Tim to hear. And Bruce’s opinion aside, Tim himself trusts his skills more and more as time goes by (tbh I see him as more confident than fanon sometimes makes him to be). The tale according to which Damian shatters that confidence all by himself leaves me unconvinced.

Batman #665 has Tim going after a villain who beat the shit out of Bruce to prove his worth after Damian’s arrival but that really feels… off, for Tim. Throwing himself at an enemy he knows he can’t beat when it’s not a last resort is just not like him. Tim grew into Robin with Jason’s death firmly in mind, in a narrative that blamed Jason’s death on his own recklessness, and was always careful to do better & not to run headfirst into danger without a plan.

Even if Tim could possibly feel threatened as Robin, Damian at this time has no qualms about killing. A kid that’s okay with killing from the get-go is not a Robin candidate in Bruce’s mind, and Tim knows that.

After Bruce’s death, the reason Dick gave Robin to Damian is because Damian needed it more than Tim did (and because it was the only way to keep Damian in check). It had nothing to do about their respective abilities or what they deserved. And it’s not why Tim is hurt– he’s hurt ‘cause Robin was the only remaining stability in that shitstorm period of his life. Damian himself actually has very little to do with it. It’s Dick Tim’s angry with. And since the title has already been taken away from Tim, there’s nothing left to fight for anyway.

>> The Batman mantle / who’s Batman’s fittest successor? Tim doesn’t want to become Batman. Like. He really, really doesn’t want to become Batman. He associates it too much with Bruce’s unhealthy psyche.

I was gonna go panel hunting but @nightwing-ing-it already did all the hard work so I’ll shamelessly let that rad post do all the argumentation for me: /post/174701270362/tim-drake-not-becoming-like-batman (I’d just add ‘Tec #621 to the list since it shows that Tim has never wanted the cowl and has been conscious of its worst facets from the very beginning.)

(Yes tumblr blacklisting posts with links from the tags is annoying, I’m doing what I can)

Damian wants to succeed his father in every sense because he was taught to want it. He’ll probs grow out of it (I hope). Until then Tim’s reaction if Damian ever claims to be the fittest successor in front of him should be along the lines of “sure, whatevs.”

Conclusion: any strong feeling of inadequacy, of lack of skills, of being threatened– those should be experimented by Damian only. Whenever Tim is made to strongly believe he actually has something to compete for against Damian, I have trouble finding credibility in the narrative.

A rivalry doesn’t feel natural to me. It feels like a flawed construction made up on the spot to fit a flawed idea.

And to be fair, canon itself didn’t force it all that much. Morrison suggested said rivalry during Batman & Son ‘cause it went with all his family metaphors I guess. But that arc aside there isn’t any other occurrence (that I remember) where Tim is actively participating in a “rivalry”. He mostly reacts to Damian’s provocations, but he’s not competing for anything.

Whatever rivalry was hinted at between the two doesn’t have a big place in canon at all. Damian being barely even mentioned in Tim’s Robin run, my feeling is that any kind of true rivalry wasn’t meant to play a role outside of Morrison’s Batman & Son narrative.

Plus it’s not just with Tim: Damian is an abrasive brat towards everyone in the Batfam ‘cause he’s that insecure. He thinks everyone is his rival in some way.

[Gates of Gotham #2 || Batgirl (2009) #5 || Batman & Robin (2009) #1]

It’s not so much a Tim & Damian thing as it is a Damian thing, and I see little appeal in any narrative trying to say otherwise. It just doesn’t work in my mind… and again with the age difference, fam, it would make it ridiculous for Tim to engage in any kind of rivalry. Would you compete against a preteen 6-7 years your cadet saying they’re better than you?

If it wasn’t obvious enough: this is all a very personal take. Some points may be clumsily presented as facts— they’re not meant to be, it’s just that I’m too lazy to add “in my opinion” to each sentence.

Arguably most of my arguments don’t necessarily have much weight when discussing what a character might be feeling, rational-thinking aside. Many read Tim as way more insecure than I do, and a new arrival in any family can breed jealousy anyway. And there is jealousy between Tim and Damian.

But jealousy doesn’t always equal rivalry and I don’t read Tim as insecure enough to kill all rational thinking. Again you may see things differently and you’ll have fair reasons to.

Me? I like it as a one-sided thing for Damian to grow out of.

On that note, Damian is already far less agressive towards Tim by the time he comes back in Gotham during RR... up until the hit list thing, because it truly hurt Damian. As of Gates of Gotham there’s little spite left between them anymore.

God this is way longer than it should be. Shutting up now, thanks for the ask!

[poison-basil]

Detective Richard Grayson - Chapter 5

Tension in Tim’s back tightens like a bow string and Dick prepares himself for him to try and deflect the conversation, move it onto something else, try to distract him. The scars move and shift across the tightening muscles, new ones catching his eye as Tim turns.

His gaze is dark and heavy, but completely different from earlier, no longer is there the hint of lust, now it’s just a stare of someone with a heavy burden on their shoulders. Someone who has long given up on people and lets the weight of the world bury them.

Dick’s seen this look a couple times, at the precinct there are officers with the same damning look. Who no longer see the goodness in the world and only Gotham’s gritty underbelly. From working impossible cases with harrowing circumstances.

A sigh is dragged between the younger man's lips. He flops over onto his back and looks up at Dick, his face entirely blank, but his eyes moving rapidly and Dick can only wonder what's going on inside his mind right now.

Dick still has a hollow feeling in his chest from the stuff he’s now figured out about Tim.

That he died.

Dick slowly places a hand on Tim’s arm and squeezes, taking a moment just to feel that he’s real.

He can’t fathom how it happened, apparently something magical according to Red Robin. Something powerful. It was something that he would have to ask, but right now, he needed Tim to come out and say it to him, let him in a little, so Dick could be there for him.

“Dick… It’s not that I don’t want to tell you… I just don’t know how…” Tim says, his voice quite.

Dick’s grip tightens and he hopes that it comes across reassuring and not like a threat. “I don’t want you to lie to me Tim. I won’t force you to tell me anything but please don't treat me like an idiot. I think I deserve more than that.”

Silence stretches between them for a moment, neither of them saying anything and just looking each other. Tim’s lashes fluttering as he blinks, eyes flickering in thought.

“Tell me what you know,” Tim says, breaking the quiet. He leans up on his elbows. “And I’ll fill in the blanks where I can.”

Dick releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. This is going to be harder than Dick thought. He doesn’t know how much Tim is willing to tell him and though he said he’d fill in the blanks, that doesn’t mean he won’t leave things out.

But at least he is willing to talk, thats the main thing right now.

“You’re the Red Hood.” This is no time for subtlety. Tim has always been good at talking around discussions.

Tim’s face doesn’t change at the mention of his identity. Not a twitch. Dick has to give it to him that that's pretty impressive.

He nods slow, “Yes.” He doesn’t add anything else and Dick takes it that this is how it’s going to play out for now. Dick laying down what he knows and Tim comfiming.

“You got that graze on your arm from when you protected me, in that shoot out outside the coffee shop.” He begins, his gaze lingering on the wound for a moment before drifting back to Tim’s face.

Tim brings a hand up to the graze and nods.

“You were the Robin that hung around with me while I patrolled at night.” Dick says and cannot help but wonder at the young man beside him, with pale pink scars littering his delicate white skin. Showing that there is so much more that Dick doesn’t know.

He carries on before Tim does anything, “You know Batman because you were Robin.” It hurts and Dick feels like he’s looking at a stranger. Who is this man? Was the Tim he knew really? Or just another facade.

Tim and Robin were completely different,if Dick hadn’t of found out from Red Robin just who the Red hood was before, Dick never would of pegged that Tim and Robin were two in the same.

Tim was quiet and careful about everything that he did. Always sticking to the sidelines, never making a fuss. Robin was loud, brash, life of the night, always cracking jokes and telling terrible one liners. Two very different people.

And here was the Tim. The Red fucking Hood. Another face that Dick didn’t recognise but at the same time was closer to the Tim that he knew.

Tim’s mouth tightened at the corner. “That’s right.”

Dick can feel the frustration burning in his gut, he wants more than yes’s and no’s. But for now he will take what he can get.

“You own the theater that Bruce Wayne’s parents last visited. You were Bruce Wayne’s ward. You were the second Robin. Meaning there was a first, someone that came before you.” Dick mulls it over in his head for a second and it’s like smacking into a wall. It made so much more sense now. All of it. “Red Robin was the original Robin, partner to Batman. Jason fucking Todd was the original Robin right?” Dick can hear the hysteric tone in his own voice. “Batman is The Bruce Wayne, right?” Dick asks.

And this time he waits Tim out, he needs more than a nod. He needs to hear the words come from his mouth.

“Yes Dick,” Tim begins, he shifts to sit up against the headboard. “You’ve got it, Jason was the first Robin and Bruce is Batman. You have to swear Dick, that you won’t tell anyone else.” He’s bringing his knees up to his chest and Dick sees the tension tightening Tim’s muscles as he speaks.

“You know I wouldn’t do that Timmy.”

“I know,” He sighs. “It’s just been so long and the thought of trusting an-- an-- an outsider--” He cuts off for a moment taking a deep breath and Dick feels his chest constrict at the words, but he lets Tim have his moment. He doesn’t want to interrupt, not while Tim is willing to talk, no matter how much it hurts.

“I trust you with my life Dick, my secrets. But there are some secrets that aren’t just mine to share. You have to understand that. You figured out who I am and by association who Jason and Bruce are and that’s dangerous, for us and for you! I haven’t told anyone outside of the hero circle knows who I am, other than you that is. It's been ingrained into me from the start that no one is allowed to know. Bruce for all his teaching and preaching about keeping quiet about who we are, has let slip who he is, even to rather questionable people. But I wouldn’t be able to handle it. If something were to happen to you? Because I was selfish and wanted you to know? That-- that would ruin me.” Tim whispers the last bit is staring down at his hands, his gaze blank and eyes wide.

Dick reaches over and grips one of Tim’s hands when he sees Tim’s bottom lip tremble slightly.

Tim looks up at him and Dick can see the beginning of tears in his eyes. He can’t resist pulling the smaller man into his arms. Holding him close and tight against him, he can feel shudders running though his small frame as he suppresses his tears. Dick runs a hand through his too long hair and brushes light kisses to the top of Tim’s head.

“It’s ok Timmers, I’m here, I’m here.” He coo’s lightly and whispers soothing words into the young CEO’s hair, waiting for him to collect himself. He never thought that Tim would’ve thought about him to that extent. All the weight he has been carrying around because of the Bat and his rules.

Dick mentally makes himself a note that the next time he sees Batman to give him a piece of his mind for letting Tim go on like this and not helping. He’s supposed to be the world’s greatest detective right? How could he not see that Tim is suffering?

Tim wiggles in his arms and Dick loosens his hold slightly so that he can lean up on his elbows, when his face comes into view his eyes are red and slightly puffy and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

“You ok?” Dick asks, keeping his voice soft.

Tim nods and rolls over, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to word vomit all over you like that.” He says looking over his shoulder.

“No worries, in fact, I kinda like it.” Dick announces, he gets out of the bed and makes his way around to where Tim is sitting and smiles down at him, it grows wider at the look of confusion clouding Tim’s face. “That you can confide in me like that, that you don’t worry about what you’re about to say. Not the crying. But I’ll never say no to cuddles Timbo.”

Tim is laughing and Dick goes to pull on his clothes that are scattered all over, throwing Tim his stuff. “You’re aren’t an outside Dick.” Tim suddenly says as he pulls a top over his head. “And now that I’m back and you’ve figured out about the Red Hood, you better believe I’ll be around more.”

As soon as Dick pulls his pants up he rushes Tim and hugs him. “Thank God.” He breathes. “I had this horrible feeling that you were going to disappear on me again. I was going to use the Bat Signal on top on the GCPD to get the Bat to tell me where you were. You’re gonna tell him right?” Dick says, pulling away slightly to look Tim in the eye. “You’re going to let him know I know? I don’t want to have to hide from the Batman. I don’t think I’d do a very good job.”

Tim’s got a sly grin on his face. His eyes almost twinkelling in amusement. Dick feels his junk start to stir a little at that smile and the hidden promises behind it. “Don’t worry, I’ll let the big man know. He won’t be happy but he’ll just have to deal.”

“He isn’t just going ambush me right? I’ve heard stories man.” He jokes. But Tim’s just silent and Dick feels dread fill his stomach. “Timmy?”

“He might.” Tim say’s with a look of sympathy.

Dick groans, damn he hadn’t thought about having to deal with Batman. From what he’d heard from those unfortunate enough to meet him it was terrifying, whether you were a criminal or someone he was trying to help.

Dick looks at the time, “Do you have work today?”

“Shoot!” Tim shouts, stratelling Dick. “I have to be in early today! I have a RnD project to look over. Fuck.” He curses, he runs over to his closet and starts rummaging around.

Dick feels sadness seep into his bones. All hope that he could some extra time with Tim vanishing as he watches him rush around getting ready.

Dick has the day off, so he’ll be at home, alone.

Trying to shrug off the heavy feeling Dick collets the rest of his gear that he left lying around. “You want coffee before you go?.”He asks and Tim gives him a quick yes before disappearing into the bathroom.

He hears the shower turn on as he pops on the coffee maker.

Taking a moment while it does its thing Dick takes a wonder about the room. Looking at the books, dvd’s and albums Tim’s put on display. The record they were dancing to is still out so Dick pick’s it up and puts it back into the sleeve before setting it down on the side.

He would try putting it away but from what he can see there is no rhyme or reason as to how anything is put away, but he isn’t going to risk messing up Tim’s system.

He remembers once, back when they were younger and Tim would invite him to Drake manor once in a while, when his parents were abroad. He was looking through Tim’s dvd collection in the rec room and as he was putting them away. Tim had ran over to him and snatched the dvd’s right from his hands and informed him that he was doing it “all wrong”. Dick didn’t know that putting them in alphabetical order was such a crime, but from then on Dick wasn’t aloud to sort or put anything anywhere without Tim watching him carefully.

Dick’s still laughing at the image of Tim in all his tiny fury when the coffee maker beeps. He pours to cups and sits at the table and waits for Tim.

He’s halfway through his when he hears the shower shut off and couple of minutes later Tim comes out of the bedroom with wet hair and wearing a fitted suit that makes Dick just want to mess him up. He grips his cup a little tighter than necessary to keep from reaching out and untucking Tim’s shirt.

“Here.” He says, lifting the other cup upto Tim who takes it gratefully.

He’s inhaling it like someone’ll take it from him at any moment. “Thank you.” Tim sighs, shoulders sagging in pleasure.

Dick finishes his drink and puts his cup in the sink. “Are you going to be leaving soon?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m going to finish this and head off, you want a lift home?” Tim asks.

Dick smiles and wraps a hand around Tim’s back. “That--” He breaks off momentarily to kiss those beautiful lips. “Would be fantastic.”

Tim grins up at him and quickly finishes his coffee. “Let's get going then handsome.” Tim grabs his keys and heads for the door.

Dick can’t keep the grin off his face for the rest of the day.

Thank you for reading! Had some trouble writing this chapter, hope its ok!  Also if anyone knows how to get the read me link to work else where other than just the dashboard please let me know! I’ve tried a couple of things but I cannot seem to get it to work! Thank you!

[izzy-b-hands]

RULES: TAG 10 MUTUALS YOU WANT TO KNOW BETTER!

Tagged by @sevdawn thank you so much!! I’ve been wanting to do something like this or an ask game thing for a while now; you’ve got good timing! 

Name: Aly

Star Sign: Virgo

Height: Haven’t really formally measured since like the beginning of high school, but about 5′3 (160 cm) ish? Short as fuck around most other people lol. 

Put your music on shuffle. What are the first 4 songs that pop up?

Quick warning again about my all over the place music taste, so this could be...interesting.

1. The Blinding--Babyshambles

2. We Both Go Down Together--The Decemberists

3. Gallows Strung--Snow Ghosts

4. Never Land (A Fragment)--The Sisters of Mercy

Ever had a song/poem written about you? Only a few that I know of--a close friend and I were always sorta/kinda crushing on each other thru middle and high school and were big time into wanting to start a band at the time (in addition to being in creative writing classes together) so we wrote lyrics and poems and stories that we occasionally would admit were about each other, or would avoid admitting it was about the other in the awkward way kids do lol. 

Last time you played the guitar: Oh god, not recently enough! I should be practicing way more than I am, but work has kept me kind of exhausted lately--so about two weekends ago, if you count a very quick solo jam session to work on the soundtrack for the TV series I’m writing. 

Celebrity crush: Y’all are evil. I kid, most of you who follow me can probably guess these already--the guys of Avatar (Tim and Kungen in particular tbh, not that they aren’t all gorgeous and talented of course!), Teemu and Jari of Wintersun, Janelle Monae, Tessa Thompson, Ville Valo, Jessica Chastain, Richard Ayoade, Daniel Dae Kim, and A$ap Rocky are the crushes I either A: never outgrew from my teens or B: acquired as a young adult and let myself daydream about because real life is crushing as fuck--may as well let daydream version of me have all their romantic dreams come true lol. 

A sound you hate + a sound you love?

Hate: Oh god my ASD comes into play here, there are so many I could list, but one of the absolute worst for me is the sound of someone scratching their nails along silk. I recently tried listening to a new band who had a sound like that incorporated into one of their songs and my ears basically died until I turned the song off. 

Love: I could easily list music here, but I wanted to go with a different sound instead--the caw of a crow. The sound is really soothing to me, and there’s usually always a ton near our building, so their cawing even wakes me up on the few mornings I can sleep in, and it is really nice calming sound to wake up to. The one thing that is probably really silly but that I haven’t looked up is if Gothenburg or Sweden in general are home to any sort of crows (or ravens, I love listening to them too.) If it isn’t, then that might be one of the few things I’ll miss from the US. 

Believe in ghosts? Kind of? Like, I want to think that there’s some way all of our minds and souls can keep communicating after death, floating around each other, getting to meet people we’d always wanted to in life, meeting up again with people we lost touch with while alive, etc. But then part of me knows how science plays into some of it (like certain vibrations and sound waves making it feel like we’re being watched, even if we aren’t) so I sometimes wonder if I’m not just being silly in wanting to believe. But then I also remember that someday I’ll be dead no matter what, so if I want to believe and it isn’t hurting anyone, then why not believe? Life is short and painful, take your joys where you can. 

Do you drive? Nope. Anxiety and what my doctor calls ‘PTSD-like symptoms’ from past driving accidents with family behind the wheel keeps me from it. I’ve tried, over the years, to get my permit and license, but it never happens, and I’ve really lost any urge to ever want to try again. I was once at a point where even being a passenger made me terrified--I’m past that now, but idk if I’ll ever drive. I’d rather, at this point, rely on public transit and learn to bike ride so I can use a bike once I move to a more bike-friendly locale. 

Last book you read? A random collection of poetry that I had to buy for a poetry class when I was in college. It is the huge tome, and I’ve been working my way through it to find all of my favorites. 

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Shouldn’t, but yup lol. I associate the smell of it with good things--my grandfather’s garage, going out on errands with him and getting treats at the gas station, going to car shows with him. In case it isn’t obvious, my grandfather is a ‘car guy’ in that he loves vintage cars and loves taking really good care of any cars he has, so all of my best memories with him revolve around times where we were around cars, and usually surrounded by the smell of gasoline.

Worst injury you’ve ever had: I’ve got a few; would probably be my left leg being broken as a kid, and all the damage I did to my ankles--I have flat feet that as an adult I found out I should have probably gotten physical therapy for when I was young, but I never did so they were constantly spraining really badly, to the point that I nearly broke both within a month of each other when I was about sixteen. Now they hurt if I wear shoes they don’t like, wear good shoes but for too many hours, walk for too long, don’t walk enough, or if the weather changes, and maybe just whenever the fuck they feel like bothering me tbh. If I could just have my feet float and be magically connected to the rest of my leg, I probably would lol.  

Do you have any obsessions right now? I have a hard time calling anything an obsession now--work ( both my day job and my writing and music work on the side) keeps me so busy that I don’t have time to ‘obsess’ as I did when I was a teen. But I guess you could toss Avatar and Ghost in as a kind of obsession, in that they’re two of the few bands I’m really following in terms of news and tour info right now. I’ve gotten really into Pokemon again, while trying to do my own version of a Nuzlocke run on Pokemon Y, so I guess that might count. I consume a shit ton of McElroy and Polygon content whenever I’m feeling terrible, so that could probably count too. Idk, having an ‘obsession’ as an adult doesn’t really feel like an obsession--it feels more like the only subjects/things you can escape to when the rest of life is busy sucking major ass. 

Do you tend to hold grudges towards people? I try my best not to, but there are a few I still hold. The biggest one is with my father, and my various issues with him, but I recently found out he told a family friend he’d disowned me (whoops, he never told me lol) so I don’t feel bad holding that one at all. Fuck him, and I know he has a tumblr and might well see this, so if you do, J (not gonna put his full name here of course, I’m only partially petty as fuck haha) , then guess what? I disown you too. My grandfather, for all his faults, was a better father figure even on his worst days, and the male celebrities I looked up to as father figures were better too--and they don’t even know I exist!!

In a relationship? ...no. But I talk to someone who I have some sort of feelings for, but we aren’t in anything other than a friendship (or if the other person considers it to be something more, than they haven’t said and we haven’t discussed it.) But still, that’s not technically a relationship, so no, still single. 

I tag: @plupluru, @calliopinot, @apineappleheart, @feathers-andflesh, @starmoonchildfromthebeamsabove, @silversatori, @fuckdensen, @skulldr0p, @vvitchimage, and @rammchickk 

[muchmorethanmusesarchived]

🚑 for Eileen & 👻 for Severus & 🌎 for Timberly

And then I’d sit, and think some more || @obsessev​ || Stil Accepting

🚑 - If your muse was the only person around and someone was injured, would they help? Would they have the experience needed?

Okay so because I’m human garbage, Eileen’s bio never got completed so a little backstory on this… My vague ideas for her (and given that you’ve got the ONLY Tobias I’ve ever seen, your thoughts are welcomed??) are that she was a pureblood witch - perhaps not as rich and resplendent as say the Black’s and Malfoy’s and the Potter’s but certainly a step above the dirt poor, blood traitor Weasleys. As such, I imagine that a decent marriage had been lined up for her upon her graduation (and idea briefly explored with @muse–minded on my old blog) - because I headcanon arranged marriages for the likes of Narcissa etc. some 15-20 years later so… Why not Eileen?

So her choice to ‘pull an Andromeda’ probably follows not too briefly on the heels of her finishing her N.E.W.Ts and a career isn’t exactly what’s expected of her… So as for the training..? She might have some limited knowledge of spells she could use - potions, she could certainly do a lot more to help with those, were she given the option to brew… So, before she leaves school. Sure, she’d help, almost without hesitation, depending, of course - on who the person was. 

But once she leaves? that’s where the blockage comes in. Tobias. She probably runs away from her family quite young (it’s, what, the 50′s? People move fast back then - I don’t know how long it would take Tobias to get down on one knee and secure himself a wife but…) and at first - she keeps it a secret from him and… Well. He’s not too bad at this point… But you don’t bring home strays, you don’t invite all and sundry into your living room when you’ve got a husband coming home from work and he’ll be hungry and if you’re honest - potions, which came so easy, is nothing like muggle cooking. 

She might still help anyway at this point. 

But the longer she’s with him? The less likely she is to help. The people in Spinner’s end are gossipy, dirty and mean. You’ve got your own problems, and why do you want to heap yourself up an extra serving because that nosy bitch at number five told her husband - who told your husband - that you were talking to a strange man on the street and now your husband doesn’t like that because, really, who do you think you are? Huh? What do you think you look like? What do you think you’re making him look like, god damn it Eileen! You’re gonna cuckold him in his own fucking house, huh? 

No, you mind your own business, and you find the scowl that wedding day Eileen thought she’d left behind at Hogwarts and you keep your head down. You’ve got your own problems.

When it’s your husband who’s hurt himself? Drunk legless, and falling over himself. Perhaps you freeze, maybe this time… Maybe this is it. He’s hit his head and he’s bleeding and maybe this time. You’ll be free. After a pause, only long enough that he could charitably think he’d given the silly bitch a right shock two nights ago when he’s dried out - you’re at his side. Because if this isn’t it, and you don’t help… Well, his reaction to your inaction doesn’t bear thinking about.

👻 - Does your muse believe in an afterlife? What do they think it’s like?

Well. Yes, Severus believes there is some kind of afterlife - because - well. Ghosts exist, bro. 

As for the ideas of Heaven and Hell? I’m not sure if Severus was exactly raised religious (I mean, it was the 60s, so it’s possible) although I can see it (If he was, he would reject it vehemently). I think Severus - especially when he’s older has seen enough and learned enough not to categorically rule it out. There are wonders of the world and of magic that means he isn’t so narrowminded as to just dismiss it but I don’t think he’d truly believe in heaven and hell as we often see them portrayed.

He may think on it - especially at his lowest points - and would certainly hope they’re not real. Lily, after all, has certainly gone heaven bound if they’re real and he is hell bound - because he cannot atone for what he has done (when he is not so low, he does wonder how much more kicking he deserves from the world for his choices but…) and he has no hopes of being blissfully reunited with her if that was the case.

🌎 - Does your muse want to change the world? How would they go about it?

Eh.

Tim, to be honest, doesn’t have much of a concern for the world outside of her own life. At least… Not in the traditional sense? She’s not a wide-eyed idealist going out into the world to try to fix it. Her life has issues, undeniable issues - but she is still relatively privileged. She is pureblood, moderately wealthy and… She just accepts that most things are the way they are? And somewhat selfishly - outside of her own situation - she struggles to really care about the plight of others? Like man, that sucks that house elves are oppressed, Hermione - but her family house-elf seems happy enough and honestly joining clubs and organisations is a way to draw unwanted attention, so thanks but no thanks…As she gets older her sense of compassion does develop somewhat - most notably in relation to her brother or Patrick. In more modern verses - where Voldemort is on the rise - she finds herself worrying for her squib brother (he’s a pureblood, yes, but his lack of magical ability concerns her - and Voldemort’s idea that magic can be ‘stolen’ concerns her even more) and for her muggleborn partner. In fantastic beasts / riddle era interactions - Gellert’s views on muggles concern her (how is a squib better than a muggle?) but she can also be easily manipulated by him…Overall, however, her concerns are for those immediately connected to her - and her sense of an overall ‘greater good’ is only really spurred on by that. Otherwise - her world alterations are very self-centred. If she was likely to ‘change’ anything about the world - it would be by writing books about it. 

[starspatter]

I think you should do ALL THE ASKS :D

WELL ALL RIGHT THENA - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.1) DCAU TimSteph2) ItsuHaru3) Logan x Diana Prince4) Itsuki Koizumi x Kyouya OotoriB - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.*looks at WonderWolf and SuperBats*C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.BatCat.  Even back when I wasn’t a fan of Batman I remember I read one DCAU comic involving Catwoman, and her character just didn’t appeal to me.D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.Any Kagepro ships tbh.  Idk I’m just not really invested in the romance of the series.  I prefer them all as friends/platonic.E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?Ahaha…  I’ve contributed a fair bit of Kagecrack through vids/posts, though I think my favorite are these BTAS crossover edits.Also Kyorange and Skitzo!Kyon for TMoHS.  (Plus the “genderbent cast is the previous generation” theory if that counts?)F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?Well I’ve been a Pokémon fan since elementary school.  While I no longer watch the show/play the games, I still follow the new generations and RP on occasion.G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?Eeyup.  While I don’t ship too often, when I do I ship HARD.  ItsuHaru was my first real “obsessive” OTP, but I think the honor for the *very* first ship I had goes to… Cody x Ken from Digimon S2, in a sense. *shot* ^^; Idk I was just really focused on the idea of them making up and becoming “friends”. XP Though I also shipped Ken with Kari too bc of the Dark Ocean stuff.  (Also Gary Oak x Molly Hale from Pokémon but that’s a whole other story. >.>; )H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?I’m still mostly a weeb so animu is my go-to, but I’ve been branching out to more Western stuff lately.  (Although when it comes to Kagepro the songs are still the best medium. =3=)I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?Steven Universe.  While I still love the show, hearing about all the toxicity in the fandom really turned me off so I just try to avoid it.J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr. (You don’t have to care about it or follow it; it just has to be something that Tumblr made you aware of.)Again, Steven Universe.  Also Over the Garden Wall and Bojack Horseman (the former of which I still really recommend you see).K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?I’m also gonna say Sunset Shimmer from Equestria Girls.  She went from being a seemingly one-off villain to a fully redeemed good guy and leader in her own right.  Though she still has her insecurities, it lets her relate to and help others in the same situation to not let those feelings of inadequacy or jealousy overcome them.Also Midna from Twilight Princess.  Her change of heart from servicing her own needs to selfless sacrifice after observing how hard Link tried to save others mirrors my own feelings when I met Link in OoT/MM and watched him grow into a true hero, working to help both the people of Hyrule and Termina even when he had no obligation or was openly blamed for Ganon’s rise to power.L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves. (Characters you’re neutral about are fair game, as are characters you merely dislike. Characters that you absolutely loathe with the fire of ten thousand suns are exempt, as there is no point in giving yourself an aneurysm over a character that you hate.)So I’m not a big fan of Dick Grayson in the DCAU (or any of his animated adaptations aside from Lego Batman; his YJ version being especially egregious) since I see him as rather childish and bad at dealing with conflict, but he’s admittedly a lot better in the tie-in comics, which give him some much needed development as Nightwing (whereas he barely got any screentime in TNBA).  There he acts as a genuine big brother to Tim, and is shown to not be as nearly as bitter at Bruce as the Old Wounds ep would have one believe.  I also like that they highlight Dick’s fondness for music, wherein his musical knowledge actually comes in handy to solve a couple cases.M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.All of the Mekakushi Dan, SOS Brigade, or Host Club tbhN - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).1) More Kagepro content in general2) More DCAU TimSteph 3) More ItsuHaru

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?Growing Up - Run River NorthDefinitely a Timmy Todd/TimSteph song now that I think about it.  Especially the lines “I found my way without your help, with a broken family” and “monsters in my head”. ;(P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).…Tbh I’m really liking the “Legion x Ouran” idea lately. XD *shot*Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.Hm…  I don’t think there are any I’ve really “abandoned”, per se.  Most of them are still there, just not at the forefront anymore.R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?All the relationships in Kagepro *shot*S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)Molly Hale from the third movie is the god of the Pokémon world.  Just… don’t ask lol.T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?Already answered, but I’ll add a few of my favorites for DCAU TimSteph:1) Tim cuts his own hair after RotJ (or rather just lets it grow long) since he doesn’t trust anyone else with sharp objects around him.  Steph is the first person he allows to trim his hair for him (even though she has no experience with it either), since I imagine him feeling comfortable enough around her that he even falls asleep like Sousuke does with Chidori in Full Metal Panic! The Second Raid.  (For context, he was raised as a soldier from an early age and this is what happened when they tried to take him to a salon.  Played for laughs, but probably an accurate portrayal of people suffering from anxiety/PTSD having to deal with mundane tasks that trigger them.)

2) Similarly, Steph plays piano to help calm Tim down whenever he’s having a panic attack.3) After RotJ Tim refuses to wear red for a long time until Steph knits him a red scarf and tells him it “suits him” bc red is the color of heroes.

As an aside, I also recently like the idea that Logan was at Lex’s party in the DCEU and saw Bruce and Diana together, based on this playlist that I made.  U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.Gonna talk about a few I don’t mention too often nowadays.

1) Link from The Legend of ZeldaLink will forever be my greatest true love.  He’s the first real “hero” I believed in, and he honestly changed my life at one point to actually want to be a better person.  While that faith has faded and I don’t think I can ever reach his example, I still wish I had that kind of courage and kindness - or at least be able to inspire others in the same way he did me.2) Meroko Yui from Full Moon wo SagashiteIf Link was the first (and only) person I ever truly fell in love with, Meroko was the one who taught me what “true love” was in the first place.  I won’t say too much since I still sincerely hope you will check out the series someday, but suffice to say there’s a scene towards the end where she makes a choice that shows how much she has personally grown, and come to understand what it really means to “love” someone wholeheartedly.

3) Gary Oak from PokémonThis is a bit of an odd one, but Gary is a character I related to a lot when I was an adolescent since, of the main series cast, he was the first and one of few to really change his “status quo” by quitting training and deciding to become a researcher instead.  In my eyes it seemed like a shockingly conscious choice to “grow up” in a world where you can ostensibly remain a “child” forever, and I both admired and deplored him for it (especially at that tender transitory age I was going through at the time, where it feels like you’re being forced to “become an adult” whether you want to or not).

V - Which character do you relate to most?Already answered.W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.Romance in general is really not my thing, so I dislike when it’s the focus/the writers feel the need to pair every character.  I’d rather leave things open-ended most of the time.X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.Family/friendship stories + tragic adopted children wanting to be heroesY - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?X-Men, Kingdom Hearts, Dangan Ronpa, Fate/Stay Night, Various Magical Girl series, Various RPG Horror games

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go! (Prompts optional but encouraged.)I feel like I’ve rambled enough already phew. OTL Thanks for asking though. =P

[satire-please]

My Teeth are like Swords - Part 2

Summary: (I’m tired and can’t transfer this in a way to keep my italics in dang it.) Tim is a detective...who lives with detectives. The other Bat's start noticing something different about one of their own. And Tim realizes that he can't hide forever.

Part 1

Dragon Tim on Ao3

Like finding gold dust on a blood moon, there are times Tim will hear about his Mother. It’s difficult to encounter another drake, they’re too rare, too widely spread that it’s a miracle that Tim has met two. But it’s always a surprise to hear that Janet Drake is considered a romantic, sentimental imbecile to other dragonfolk.

To mate with a human is one thing, but to shift and willingly live beside them in their pitiful metal ant hills? Preposterous.

And to carry young on that state? Inside of their own bodies instead of in a proper shell as hard as diamonds? Unheard of.

What foolish unnecessary risks.

Tim felt his core bubble in warmth whenever he hears such slander. That Mother would care that much. Once, he did approached her on the subject.

“I spent many centuries as a upstanding, model drake.”Janet sniffed disdainfully, steering Tim from a fuming man at one of Gotham’s many galas. The drake from the east is starting to show, smoke passing from his nose uncontrollably. How embarrassing, her Timothy showed more restraint when he was three. “Now I find it much more valuable of my time to do as I please. Besides, the fact remains that my line will continue to endure and adapt unlike most bloodlines that will taste stone and dust.”

Tim summed it up to, ‘I do what I want. Leave me alone or burn.’

She glanced behind her to give the man a subtle sneer. What a fool to think that she would accept such an inadequate betrothal for her son. And, to add insult to injury, the man’s daughter hadn’t even bothered to present herself. “A dragon is a dragon, Timothy. It doesn't matter if you are half, a quarter or only possess a single drop of our blood. Magic doesn't care. It will still take, you will still shift, you will still fly. And if those incessant pathetic hair ribbons say anything different, show them there are still ways to make a dragon fry.”

Tim loved his Mother.

It’s...a shame he’s the only one who knew how she died.

And it wasn’t from that stupid water Obeah left, no matter how traditional to dragon slaying poison is. True it weakened her to the point of inducing a death-like coma, but if Tim lifted an eyelid the iris would still flash and respond. If Tim pressed his hand to her chest, he’d still feel the hint of fire tucked within.

Robbing the cemetery had been a pain though. It’s not like he could just tell Dad that, ‘Um hey, mother’s not dead. No, I know she seems like she’s dead. Yes, I know she doesn’t have a pulse, but you see–’

Yeah, not happening.

He abused his connections for a nice cave carved out of the cliff face next to the manor. It’s not like Mr. Wayne was using it. It could be accessed from the rocky beach if necessary, the entrance tight until you were a couple meters in. Then it stretched enough for his mother’s body to shift unconsciously, so the dragon could heal and sleep in peace.

Tim had thought it was perfect.

It didn’t matter much in the end.

Not when Mother finally woke and could smell Tim’s lie about Dad. Not when she stopped eating. The young teen would find, hunt, and drag dead deer and antelope into the cave only to rot around her body as she stared emptily at the stone walls. She waited for death. Nothing could change her mind...no matter how much he begged and pleaded.

“Please!” He stroked her rough eyelid, thoughts racing for any excuse for her to stay with him. To not leave him alone. “Isn’t there something you still have to teach me?”

His hand falls away as a lazy violet eye cracks open. It’s bigger than his head and the pupil focuses so achingly slow. “You’ve known all since you turned twelve, my pet. Our race never repeats themselves, not with memories like ours.”

“B-But I need–”

“You have my hoard, you will not go without means. You have my brain, you will do well and even thrive. You have a territory, a perfect environment for your future form and most of all you possess a purpose to keep your heart beating. Even if it is as ridiculous as looking after those silly humans. I am satisfied...now let me die in peace.”

“No please, m-mother, stay with me.”

“Oh, my darling. One day you will understand. Our love...is a terrible thing.”

And with that she stopped responding. Tim reasoned, screamed, cried while the reflection of his distraught face became clear in those unblinking glassy eyes. His throat raw as he hit and scratched uselessly at the black scales going grey, like the ashy rock dripping behind them until the camouflage of her skin was truth and she was stone.

Like all dragons when they die.

That’s how Timothy Drake inherited Gotham, sobbing on his knees as the refuge became a crypt.

It takes several years before Tim raids another grave...his father’s.

After all, Mother would appreciate his skeleton crystallizing next to hers. She would have liked that.

Timothy still loves his Mother.

**

It's a slow night and Jason’s gonna explode. He's stopped four muggings, seven car thefts, and a couple of kids trying to make a molotov cocktail. Okay, Jason felt bad at stopping the last one, come on what is he turning into? A twitchy cop? Geez, let kids be kids and fuck the police. He’s about to shoot his own damn foot for some excitement when he sees something in the corner of his eye as he hits the next roof.

Oh-ho? In the curve of hanging gargoyles menacingly scowling at those is a hint of red that tugs a smirk on Hood’s lips.

Replacement.

Well, alright, he hasn't meant that name in a bad way for a while. It's not like Jay wants to carve a new one in Mr. Serious anymore. Sure, he’s an annoying prude with the biggest stick up his ass, hangin’ off Bats’ every word like the good guard dog, the good tool he is, but, hey, he ain't a bad guy. Saved Jay from enough pinches that he feels right and guilty about the whole almost bleedin’ him out thing. So he makes it up the only way he can..with tough love. Plus, the more Jay can shake that Babybird nice and loose, the better. He takes in the former Robin’s figure, how he’s hunched in upon himself. His head of black resting on his knees as the crouch tucks him right under one of the silent stone guardians.

Babybird snoozing on the job? Have some shame.

Not that Jay has any of that. He barely stops himself from snickering, giving himself away when the helmet goes static for it, and creeps closer. Close enough to get the best view of the little shit’s face. It takes a Bat to sneak up on a Bat, you know. A grin spreads wide on his cheeks as he pulls his gun from his holster (it’s only rubber bullets now, calm the fuck down) Then, he aims to the sky and fires.

The crack of the bullet gives Jay the most beautiful flinch and jerk you ever did see–

Boom.

–but the returning blast of burning hot possible death that floods the ledge is not.

It takes every scrap of speed he has to not singe his fucking eyebrows off. It’s more fire than force, but thank Batman for quick reflexes and the tell tale click near Red.

“What the hell, Babybird?” Smoke billows, curling around the two and Jason coughs, waving his arms madly.

“I could say the same for you, asshole.” In the black mess, a spark sputters between Tim’s teeth, just like an annoying lighter that flickers and hurts your thumb the more you try, as he tries to control his shaky breathing. Inhale. Damn, that really startled him. Exhale. His fangs sink into his lower lip, drawing blood over the rude awakening. He shakes his head like a dog, forcing what was sharp canines into blunt square human teeth. “Gunshot really? Gosh, you always have to be a dick, don’t you?”

“Do you always have to throw something flashy when ya wake up? Ain’t that Robin’s way?” Jason brushes his clothes, disgruntled. He didn’t see a flash grenade or anything, but Bats right? More prepared than a Girl Scout.

“Maybe.” Tim wonders how long he’s going to get convenient excuses.

“What? Ya sleep with them or something? Didn’t know ya needed a teddy bear, Replacement.”

Tim smirked, “Oh, come on, Hood, didn’t you learn to let sleeping dragons lie?”

“Ha, ha. Whatever, call it a night, you pyromaniac piece of shit.” Jason puts his gun away and fishes for a peace offering under his collar. He thrusts the white cigarette at the other, “Smokes?”

“Not right now, Hood.”

“Your loss, Replacement.” Jason lights it, dragging a puff to cover up a pout. Hmpf, stuffy princess. Doesn’t drink with him (I’m not legal to drink, Jason). Never smokes with him (We have set an example to Damian, Jason). Jay should be offended cause nowadays Tim carries the hazy scent round like a club’s perfume and Jay knows he’s hiding the good stuff somewhere.

He’s just never seen Tim do it.

Tim observes the turn of Jason’s mouth and jerks his head towards the street below, “Not smokes, but you hungry enough for hotdogs?”

“This is Gotham, baby, when I am ever not down for hotdogs?”

The two shoot their grappling lines towards a vendor who’s too used to this shit to give one. But as Tim rattles off their order, something itches at Jason. Something that’s off.

(The Gargoyle they left above bares new marks along its side. The side that Jason couldn’t see. They were not chiseled in, but Tim is sure most wouldn’t notice the new additions.)

Whatever.

He’ll figure it out.

**

Timmy’s been sleeping more.

Dick is so grateful he wipes at an imaginary tear, sniffs, and whips out his phone to snap a picture again. Tim doesn’t snore, but that’s definite drool on his chin, nicccccccce. Dick takes in the scene and gets another shot from a different angle. He almost has a full album now titled, Behold the Cryptid Sleeps, it’s only fair after all the pictures Tim took of them when he was their cutest little stalker. For now, Dick just calls it karma and texts Babs to back the good stuff up.

But, okay, Dick admits it’s starting to get weird.

And Timmy’s sleeping habits have always been weird. Before he had stolen Bruce’s crown and title of Sleep Dep King. Working on case after case, day after day only to finally pass out, usually with something like,

“How many days does it take to start hallucinating again, Bruce?”

“...Three.”

“Huh, so that’s why you’re purple with seven eyes.”

It usually takes a lot to get Timmy to crash and burn into a bed, usually (always) in the form of Alfred and good food laced with sedatives. It’s not that Timmy doesn’t know that they’re in the food, it’s just that no one says no to Alfred Pennyworth. No one.

But now it’s like Tim is on an egg timer and it’s wonderful.

After about 24 or 26 hours, against his will, Timmy starts swaying on his feet and lurches grumpily towards a safe, soft spot to snooze. True, Dick notes sometimes they’re odd places, like underneath the desk of the bat computer, nestled in much of the wiring. Or head resting on the kitchen table, his angry eyes drooping with, “I don’t understand. Coffee has failed me, Alfred.”

“Our bodies change over time, Master Timothy. One cannot expect caffeine to sustain them forever.”  

“You’re...lying. You did something to the coffee, admit it!”

“I have not...this time.”

“You must have I...can’t even–” But Tim doesn’t get to finish the response.

“Master Dick I believe Master Timothy needs to be escorted to his room. If you would–” Alfred leaves the sentence open, because anytime Dick can hold an unconscious, not struggling brother? You know he’s all over that.

Bruce has even started to prioritize breaks in the patrol schedule for Tim. Or, to be more accurate, he’s encouraging (enforcing) Tim to use the breaks that have always been there.

But…really the switch in the dynamic is kinda odd, especially when Dick finds Tim on one of the Manor’s couches after patrol, his skin paler than milk and shivering in his sleep. When the room is set to 75 degrees….and he’s under at least five blankets.

Dick pads over and cups the younger vigilante face in two hands. “Holy Batman, Timmy, you're as cold as ice.” His brow furrows when Tim barely responds to the statement, his eyes half open to blurrily peer at Dick. That’s not a good sign. Plus, he’s is not kidding. Tim’s skin is cool to the touch, it could compete with one of the dripping stalagmites in the cave.

“S’cold Dick…and tired.” The words push out of his lips clumsily. He raises his arms to grasp the Dick’s wrists as if he was going to push the hands off his cheek and then just forgot. The heat’s too inviting. “Just need sleep, m’fine.”

“I think you're a liar that lies, Babybird.” Dick leans back only to pull the covers off enough to slip beside Tim onto the couch. He tugs the boy in with an arm until Tim's head finds a comfy spot on his shoulder. Heck yeah, it's cuddle time. The best way to share body heat ever. He looks around the den and sees the remote for the T.V. It takes a few tries to stretch in a way to get it, especially without moving too far from Tim, but Dick’s not an acrobat for nothing.

Tim huffs a weary laugh against Dick’s neck, “Well, I'm the guy that lies to Batman, you know.”

“Shhhhhhh, he’ll hear you.” Dick pats Tim’s hair, starts clicking channel after channel (a thousand channels is just not enough) for something to watch.

“M’good, you can go.” Tim didn’t expect it would take so long for his core to normalize. Fire might smoulder under his breast, but damn it, it’s sucking most of the heat from his extremities. To his calculations, it may be months before his body can adjust to the change...if ever. Tim can already imagine the mountain of clothing he’ll need for Gotham’s winter. Mother got away with it by layering and calling in fashion. How is Tim going to spin it when he’s jumping off roof-tops fat with every wool item he can find? Oh. Or he could design heaters in his clothing. That could work. But still, this is the reason why most drakes live near volcanoes. Temperature regulation is a bitch.

Dick hums above him and breaks Tim’s line of thought. Oh well, he guesses he’ll stay here for a bit longer, just until he thaws out and stops being an Tim-icicle. It’s not that Dick minds, right? He fades away at the sound of a bad romantic comedy playing in the background.

He doesn’t see the frown on Dick’s face.

Or hear him quietly whisper into his com, “Alfred, could you run some tests for me?”

**

Alfred would have a conniption.

“Drake, you wretched slob.”

Damian must see to it that the competent butler never visits the former Robin. Ever. The man is old and truly must be spared from any health issues that may occur from witnessing this vile display of chaos. In fact, Damian wishes he could spare himself from the scene, yet Father did request him to fetch the evidence and Dick is off planet. How dare he.

Damian squints pass the entrance only to flinch back. There in the dark, two pinpricks of purple follow his every move...and hiss.

The Robin swallows and forces the door open all the way, allowing the dim light from the basement to flood the room. There are no light switches. It’s...odd. The boiler hums nearby explaining the heat that’s almost sweltering. Heaps of objects litter the floor, making narrow pathways here and there. Fortunately, food must be absent in the debris since the smell lacks rot. Instead what perfumes the air is what Damian associates with his predecessor, the smell of spices burned with a touch of something chemical. Gasoline, perhaps? Damian’s breathing finally evens out when he spots a mess of black hair poking out from a mountain of bedding.

Blearily, Tim focuses on the intruder. “Damian? What are you doing here?” he sleepily grumbles.

Though Grayson might find the tone endearing, Damian does not.

“I have come for the Spear of Enue. Father requires it and has requested me to retrieve it from you. He said it was in your possession?”

“B needs to leave my stuff alone.” Tim sits upright, staring emptily for a moment and clearly displeased about being awake. Then, with a groan he sluggishly works himself out of the bedding. “But a case is a case, I guess. Yeah, I have it, just give me a sec to get it.”

“The spear is here?”

A hum. “Sure, it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

Well, at least Drake seems more amenable when half-awake. Robin crosses his arms and strives not to look too haughty. Usually collecting data from the older vigilante takes more coaxing (threats) and persuasion (heavy bickering) to get the desired result. Perhaps he should lend his assistance.

“Drake, where are your lights? Two pairs of eyes would obviously be quicker than one.”

“Lights?” A confused tone. “Why would I need lights? I can see just fine.”

“Tch, I’m surprised you can locate anything in this outrageous dump.”

“Mother always said I was a messy hoarder, but I have a strong belief that mess is a matter of perspective. Besides, I know exactly where everything is.”

Tim slinks out of bed and makes his way toward a pile that seems to have earned the category of lethal and shiny weapons. Damian attempts to move towards the same direction, but his foot hits an item and he just manages to make the trip look intentional. Of course, Drake was not even looking. Wait.

“Drake, is that my katana?” He points to the hilt barely poking out from the bottom, half of the weapon slithering from under the bed.

It’s a silly habit that Tim can’t shake from childhood to put the most prized things under his bed, like the old cardboard box full of pictures, a few stacks of spanish golden doubloons marked from a toddler’s teething, a cursed ruby the size of a skull, you know the usual.

“...Yes?” Tim’s head bobs up from his search and glances over at the weapon. Then, he pauses for a moment or two, his expression shifting so fast (Mine, not mine, mine, not mine) that Damian cannot place it, “Oh, sorry. I guess you’d want that back. I mean, of course you do, it belongs to you, I only had it because you were gone and–”

Drake cuts off, making no movement towards the old katana. Damian reasons it must have been acquired while he was not among the living. He doesn’t know how to feel about Drake keeping that kind of memento, yet he notes there is a definite lack of rage that usually accompanies such a theft. In addition, Drake looks like a petulant child.

“It does not matter. I no longer require a child’s katana.” Damian waves a hand to the other heaps. “The spear, however, Drake, Father needs immediately.”  

“Right.”

It is then he notices Drake’s unusual attire. The vigilante groggily separates the pile for what Damian seeks in boxers and a baggy Gotham U sweatshirt that keeps sliding over a white shoulder. How peculiar, Drake never went to college so why...ah, yes, Dick. But what really has Damian’s brows rising is the two thick watches on Tim's wrist. One that he's definitely seen on his father once before and a glint of something shiny peeking from the sweatshirt.

“Do you often sleep in diamonds, Drake?”

“They're nice to look at before bed,” Tim muttered absentmindedly.

“Is that a slogan for this new fashion statement?” Damian walks over and curiously pulls down the collar to look at it more closely. Many of the gems are larger than an egg as they lace together in the metal filigree. It covers a wide band over Drake’s collarbones before cascading towards his sternum in delicate chains. “This piece is familiar to me. Drake, are these the jewels we recovered from Catwoman?”

“One, I demand the fundamental human right to always be pretty, witty, and gay. You’ll understand when you’re older. Two, I bought these from that auction fair and square, so Selina should have keep her mangy paws off them.”  

Suddenly, Damian remembers that specific tackle to take down the thief had been...more enthusiastic and vicious on Drake’s part. Usually Father is the one to handle any incidents with her, but perhaps all it takes is emotional investment to pin down the slippery woman.

Tim pries off Damian’s fingers only to press what he seeks in them. “Here, the spear. Now, get out. If you’re gonna mock and insult me, I want four more hours of sleep first.”  

The spear is heavy, but Damian manages with a tilt to this lips. “Very well, I’ll skin and eviscerate you later, Drake.”

Drake snorts. “And, hey, you have a spear and everything. All you have to do is be knighted and we’d have the perfect fairytale set up. Farewell, Sir Brat.” He waves to the door before collapsing onto the bed, preparing his nest the way he wants it.

Damian watches the ritual all the way to the door. Stops to take in the scene one a final time. It’s strange, but it does seem like a lair from one of his grandfather’s monster stories. Dark, warm like a breathing thing, full of hidden treasure...and danger.   

How right he is.

But he comes to the realization later...much later.

**

Bruce has seen a lot.

He’s fought aliens on ships millions of lightyears from Earth and tangled with kraken under the sea. He’s negotiated with Circe for Diana’s sake and fed viruses to ruin robot armies for Clark’s. He’s handled witches, sorcerers, and time-travellers from around the world. Every night he tries to plug one of Gotham’s bleeding holes as they gush out the vile and the crazy with the Joker, Ivy, Harvey, and more.

Bruce has seen a lot.

But the universe keeps surprising him one way or another. And sometimes? Closer to the heart then he expected.

“So, you’re the drake that rejected my proposal.”

“And you’re the dame that didn’t even bother to show up to make it.”

Bruces eyes flicker back and forth between his third son and the young, literally steaming woman in front of them. Her pale white hair whips behind her like something alive. The villain of the month does the same. Apparently, Gotham has the perfect waterfront property for the taking, especially with the leyline that cuts right through the city or so the warlock just finished monologuing about.

“What are you doing? I said destroy them.” The fuming sorcerer demands pointing at the Bat-clan. Golems rise in various stages around them being the only opponents beyond the man and woman. They’re all near the Manor by the beach, a few miles from the city but even with the home field advantage...Bruce feels a thread of concern to see Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian joining him to put their backs against the cliff face below his family home.

“Just a moment, Master, I have some unfinished business to attend to.” The woman raises a hand and starts to undo her cloak.

“Master? My, my.” Tim flicks his bo to the side. It’s not going to be useful here. Ugh, this is not how he wanted this to go. “Just how low has your line fallen? Mother was right to refuse to even consider you as a candidate. Do you follow his every command or do you just lick his boots?”

“How. Dare. You.” The woman’s eyes glow yellow and her voice’s pitch becomes grating.

Tim snorts. “Look at you. You can’t even control your shift….pathetic.”

“Red Robin, the situation, now.” Bruce tries striking another golem, but Tim ducks to put himself between the Bats and the newcomers.

“You judge me, when you wear human flesh so much that you stink of it? Your true scent barely bleeds through.” The odor of rancid sulfur strikes the air. The woman peels off her clothes, layer by layer until a pile litters the sand. “Half-breed.”

Rude. The human and dragon are both his scents. Tim thinks he smells fine, thanks.

“I said–” The villain tries to command but the dame strides towards Red Robin.

“How are you different from me? The warlock will save my line and give us power, but you? You play at human.”

“I do what I want,” Tim icily states. “Which is more that I can say for you. Now get out of my territory or burn.”

“No, I think I’m going to put a male in his place. Beneath me.” And the woman lets out a cry that turns into a roar. The other Bats watch as the woman’s form hutches over, makes a terrible crack and then grows. And grows. And grows. Scales take shape as her neck elongates and it’s sickening. Before them a white dragon rises and crashes a claw on the beach. It’s the size of a house.

‘Well…’ Bruce thinks. ‘That’s something new.’

“A dragon, come on. You have to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Jason snarls, shooting at the beast. The rubber bullets do nothing but irritate the overgrown Godzilla-wanna-be.

“Wait, it gets better,” Tim mutters. “So, burn it is. This is why we can’t have nice things between dragons. What a pity...bring it.”

And there is a collective gasp.

Because Tim smirks and the beach is overcome with a violent blast. When the smoke clears...there’s nothing?

Nothing but the golems on the beach, the Bats fighting them and the warlock hissing out commands to a white giant worm, who is diverting much from his cunning plan.

But no Tim.

The white dragon shrieks in fury and raises her giant wings, preparing to crush those on the sand when something large slams into her side. She lurches over and peers over her shoulder. Nothing. But several of her scales are cracked from the impact.

Then, it’s as if thunder booms right in front of them, making their eardrums ring from the force of the sound. Under the blow, the white worm topples forward attempting to steady herself.

It’s shadowy and massive, a heavy body and the thumping beat of wings. It’s slowly moving into the moonlight on the beach, kicking up sand.

The Bats shields their eyes even with the whiteouts down, the gust knocking into kevlar and nomac. Nightwing automatically throws an arm out to keep Robin from falling; Hood makes an unconscious grab to the other arm.

And when he lights down, massive razor-tipped claws digging into the sand, the black scales and shiny leather of wings give the Bats one hell of an answer to all those burning questions.

Timmy’s always cold.

The cave, the hoard.

The night vision.

The ever-ready exploding “pellets”.

All of it comes to a sudden dawning realization.

The baddie of the night looks from one dragon to the other, trepidation leaking in because who would have thought two dragons at once.

Low muttering, winding a spell even as the new dragon throws back his power neck and roars. It shakes them down to their very bones, a sound unlike any they’ve heard before.

The shift of muscle, dark eyes narrowing, and the first lunge is punctuated by the abrupt cries of the Bats who have come to the realization this is one of their own.

But there’s no pause when claws come up to strike, when the first is a good one, raking into his side, putting his first blow into soft underbelly, close to the intended target.

(Only one way to kill a dragon, the heart has to go.)

“Motherfuck--Tim!” But Hood can do nothing but watch the blood, ripe and rich in the night splatter the beach, hoping stupidly it ain’t all Red’s.

“Get to the sides!” the Batman roars, already moving, already reaching for the next weapon in his belt.

He sees the opening when both dragons rear up on hind legs for the next blow, his gauntlet spitting out flash pellets.

It’s go time as the rest of the Robins take it all in and move. Robin pulls a duck and dodge through legs with a batarangs ready for the baddie on the other side.

Hood pulls a whole lotta how ya’ doin’ when the .45s spit a few rubber bullets right on the gouge marks, sliding through the sand as the bigger dragon leans down to latch teeth into Tim’s neck and hold the fuck on.

Nightwing leaps, even with the sand trying to bog him down, both sticks out in a double blow at the exposed weakness behind the white dragon’s ear. He has enough time to cringe at the sound of pain tearing into the night, to see the gleam of claws sinking into her belly in a knee-jerk reaction.

The fight going on behind them, the golem starting to shift and move at the sorcerer’s botched command, and Robin just breathes out a deep damn sigh because honestly, some of us have homework to dumb down. But he shifts, pulling out pellets in rapid succession as he moves closer to the army. The abrupt, “huu,” is just more proof he is a superior marksman. The mental note to pick up the tome from which those accursed spells emanate from is another task on the night’s to-do list.

The abrupt shock of Nightwing’s stick and the barrage of bullets takes its toll, getting the white dragon to jerk away from that black jugular, to rear back with pain.

The claws sink deeper, Red growling low, smoke curling from his maw. His eyes slide to the sides, making sure the Bats are out of firing range before he opens his maw with that familiar and suddenly very telling click.

“Down!” It’s Batman that throws the last exploding batarang within range to the white dragon’s injured belly, so the blast of burning blue flame ignites, sets the soft, vulnerable innards to char.

Red, however, takes the last blow for his own (because she picked the wrong fucking city, the wrong family, the wrong dragon to fuck with), claws sinking in, and the meaty thump in the center is just at the right place to reach.

Low and huffing, “try me.”

“You wouldn’t,” her voice cracks from agony.

“Threaten what’s mine, and I won’t think twice.” He gives just the smallest squeeze to punctuate the point.

“Better not fuck with him, bitch,” Hood’s voice, lazy through the synths while he eyes the army Demon is gonna be taking on, “he ain’t one ta joke.”

The white dragon growls and the iridescent black dragon can feel her tensing up as if to give her last hurrah, to go out with a bang, but he’s having none of that. He snarls, the sound deep from within his chest as he snaps his jaws just in front of the dame’s face, sparks clicking behind his gleaming ivory teeth. “You should know,” he practically purrs, “there are fates worse than death. Don’t. Push. Me.” His words, his threat (a bluff, shh), thankfully, gets the right reaction. She sags with a trailing growl, eyes glittering with malice and defeat.

“Go. Get out of my territory.” The words leave no argument.

“W-Who…” she spits blood, dotting the sand, “who would want...your...shoddy terr-territory anyway.”

Slowly, he retracts, pulling his claws back while the click echoes against the bluff, a warning and a promise. But the dame doesn’t move to start the fight up again. She needs time to heal the grievous injuries. The mage will earn his own fate.

“And now, next on the list,” Nightwing sighs, looking from the dragon to where Robin has starting whipping out the tricks and traps on the moving golem.

“By the way, Timmers,” Hood’s neck cranes as he look up at the massive face hanging low, the chest heaving with that little scuffle. “You ever think, hmm, I dunno to say you might be a motherfucking dragon or some shit? I mean, don’t they say that shit right off the fucking bat?”

The dragon huffs down at him as Hood holds up a hand to demonstrate, “‘nice ta meetcha. Name’s Timmy. Like long flights ‘round the beach, beatin’ the shit outta assholes, and literally roasting my enemies.

Ya know, just the usual shit for Gotham.”