#tim: to be fair i didn't either

[hypewinter]

At first he'd been overjoyed that the cloning had worked. Then, as the weeks went by, he realized just how messed up of a thing he had done. Tim still remembered the faces of everyone after he told them. There were mixes of shock, horror and disappointment. He'd been unable to face both Bruce and Clark for a while after that.

Now Tim sat in a rocking chair within the newly decorated nursery. He looked down at the baby in his lap, who returned his gaze with a blank one of his own.

He sighed as he turned to peer out the window. It was a full moon tonight. "They're mad at me, I know," he finally spoke. "I can't really blame them either. It wasn't fair to Conner. To his memory."

Tim turned to look at the baby once more. He stared into the baby's eyes. Those painfully familiar eyes that were at the same time new and foreign.

"It wasn't fair to you either."

Tim reached down and brushed a bang out of the baby's eyes. "But I swear I'm going to make it up," he continued. "Starting by giving you your own proper name."

Until now, that baby had been referred to as just that. Baby. If not that it was the clone, the child or Conner's clone. But now that Tim had firmly decided he was raising the baby, the kid needed a proper name.

"Hmm," Tim pondered. "What about.... Kevin?"

He received yet another blank look.

"Okay... how about Alex, Wes, Kyle? Timothy Jr?"

Blank stare.

"You could be Douglas. Doug for short."

At that the baby seemed to almost quirk up his eyebrow. As if to say, "Are you serious?" Though that was probably Tim's mind playing tricks on him.

"Yeah," he said with a soft chuckle. "I wasn't really feeling that one either."

Tim closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. "Mark, Luke, Ezekiel, Thomas, Elijah..." Great, now he was just listing off Bible names.

"Daniel..." he muttered absently.

Suddenly, Tim heard a giggle. He looked back down at the baby to see him cooing softly.

"Wait, you like that? Daniel?"

The baby giggled again. This time reaching up towards Tim. Hesitantly, he raised his hand towards the child. He couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped him as the child grabbed onto his pointer finger.

"Ok, Daniel it is."

Except for something still didn't feel right. Tim leaned back and stared at the ceiling as his tried to pinpoint the feeling of wrongness. Then it hit him. He hated whenever people used his full name. It always felt stuffy and formal. It reminded him too much of disappointed looks. Of hands gripping his shoulders or pulling at his ears, telling him to behave.

"Say," he murmured. "Mind if I give you a nickname buddy? How about Dan?"

Daniel scrunched up his eyebrows. "Ok ok, you don't like that one. I get it. Then how about Danny?"

Daniel seemed to appreciate that nickname a whole lot more as him went back to cooing contently. Tim couldn't help as a smile of his own crept onto his face. "It's settled then," he grinned, holding his child up in the air. "Welcome to the family Danny Drake-Wayne!"

He then pulled Danny close into an embrace, closing his eyes as he took in the scent of baby powder and formula. "I promise, you'll have a better childhood than either I or Kon did. I'll make sure of it."

Edit: original prompt for anyone interested

[flamingpudding]

Part 5 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

For those that ask, yes an AO3 link is in the works. I will post it once its ready. Also fair warning, I will be focusing on DPxDC Family Week now so I have no idea when the next part will be up.

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Thrill and chirp brother

Tim sipped on his n-th cup of specially made Tim-brand-not-Alfred-approved coffee as he shuffled into the dinning room and sat down on the breakfast table. The moment he sat down he opened the laptop again and stared at its screen for a couple of seconds. The scan of the post-it note got nothing. None of the squiggles was recognised in any of the so far known languages. Hell he even ran it through the leagues recordings of interdimensional and interplanetary known languages. No hits so far. Right now he was running a picture recognition program to see if any of these had appeared before it was on 90% with nothing found so far.

Good he hoped this really was just a prank from Cass and Steph. Because if it wasn't, Bruce would go nuts and overly paranoid as well as up the entire Manors security system a third time this month. Sadly, despite his hope, Tim knew that it wasn't a prank.

A cough resounded behind him and Tim blinked two times before sighting, closing the laptop and pushing it only a couple of inches away from him as Alfred put a plate with his breakfast before him. Knowing Alfreds rules about work at the table he would better not touch it again for now.

"Replacement, you look like the dead walking. Did you even sleep last night?" He glared at his brother before he blinked taking in his surroundings before his eyes rested on little Danny.

Tim could see that all of them, despite barely knowing the kid for a couple of hours, had already become attached to Danny. It didn't help that they had discovered Lichtenberg scarring running up Danny's left arm all the way to where his heart was after the child had finally let Damien take care of him. Hell Tim wanted to know who would give a child, a once dead then revived one, scares like that. If Talia had let the kid go through some sort of experimentation…. Well Tim knew where the explosives were stored and by the looks of it he probably could count on Jason's as well as Dick's help to blow up a league facility.

Either way Damien had become very protective of the child. The scarring didn't help calming that protectiveness either. In fact he was pretty sure it steered it more in the rest of them too. Also the fact that Danny spat out glowing Lazarus Water once they managed to wrangle the kid off Jason last night wasn't calming down a different kind of worry anytime soon either. No, it was another factor next to the scarring that spoke for the League having experimented on the poor child. He probably should start investing more time into what sort of facilities the League had built or was using lately.

On a good note, thankfully Danny had let up on Jason after he spat out the green goop and thanks to the fact that he apparently recognised Damien, let said teenager manhandle -cough- take care of the little biter for the rest of the night. It also seemed like the little guys biting obsession with Jason had calmed down, for now. He didn't trust the calm, especially not with the way Danny was still focused on his second oldest brother. Though everyone except for the demon brat was still getting the hissing treatment. Considering his theory that the League probably used the revived child to experiment with Lazarus Water, it wasn't that much of a surprise. Anyone would be feral after being subjected to experiments.

Thankfully it looked that whatever Pit Madness had overcome the child last night was not reacting towards them. But as he watched Dick trying really hard not to pout at Damien who had Danny in his lap in a protective hold, he wondered how long that would hold. Jason sat as far away from Danny and Damien as he could, probably because of the way the child was watching him with glowing blue eyes while munching on whatever food Damien gave to the little biter.

He could also see the reason for Dick's pouting as the elder reached out to attempt to ruffle Danny's hair but the child instantly snapped his head in their eldest brother's direction, hissing, bearing his teeth and even snapping at the air until Dick withdrew said hand again. A pout very evidently on his face. Like a switch flipped the child's focus would then redirect to watching Jason like a hawk again and munching on the food the Demon brat gave him.

At least he was the bitey type that would hiss as warning and not the stabby kind without warning like Damien.

"Yo, anyone at home up there?"

Turning his focus back to his second oldest brother Tim glared at him once more. "If you have to know. Yes I did sleep last night."

"More than one hour?" Dick asked next and Tim refused to look at the eldest. He was not going to answer that. He had coffee, who needed sleep when you have coffee. Besides, he was a perfectly functioning human being even with minimal amounts of sleep. He had not face planted his breakfast for three days now.

"What got you so obsessed that you didn't sleep, Drake? Another case? Or did you try to find out more from the League in regards to Danyal's scars?"

"That too but mostly the post-it note." He finally answered after stewing a little longer under the stares of his siblings. "Neither our nor the JL's language recognition programs got a hit and right now I am running a picture recognition to see if there ever was any kind of writing like that found before but it ran up to 90% before I came down and hadn't found anything like that before. And-"

"Slow down there Timber. I thought that's just a prank from Cass and Steph?" Dick interrupted him and Tim suppressed a groan.

"It couldn't be. I wish it was but both of them weren't in the Manor last night and I don't think Duke would do something like this so-"

"Hold up." Jason cut in and Tim glowered at them for getting interrupted again.

"What do you mean no language recognition program got a hit?"

"It means that there is no languages to translate-"

"Why would you need that? Yea its cryptic as fuck but its clearly written out!"

"Jason what are you talking about?" He opened his laptop again, turning the screen so it was facing Jason. "These are squiggles! How is it readable?!"

"The fuck you talking about?! Don't tell me your sleep deprived mind doesn't know how to read anymore?"

"Jason what does it say in your eyes?" Dick carefully cut in before Tim could question the other any more.

"'The daylight knight will tell the truth with eyes that see the light'. See cryptic as fuck." The older gesticulated towards Tim's laptop screen while Damien raised an eyebrow at him.

"The what now, will tell what?" Dick asked confusedly while Tim turned the laptop back towards him noting down what Jason just said. He was confused as to why Jason was able to read the squiggles but at least that gave him some kind of hint about the post-it. Aside from adding more questions to the already growing pile.

Suddenly a thrilling noise echoed in the room and the four looked at Danny. The child's now green eyes were focused on Jason. Tim could see Damiens hold tightening and Dick tensing when they noticed the green. Danny repeated the same nose he made earlier, still intensely staring at Jason.

"Who the fuck is clockwork?"

The green fated and Danny made a similar noise to chirping, his head tilting in confusion.

"The fuck you mean you don't know? You just said that Clockwork wrote the note?!"

"Todd. Did you just understand the noise Danyal was making?"

Once again the three of them stared at Jason who looked at them confused. "You didn't?"

They shake their heads and Jason let out a frustrated groan as he sat back down his head in his hands. "What did you assholes hear just now?"

"Danyal made some kind of thrilling, then chirping noise."

"Well I heard him say that someone named Clockwork wrote the note and then he said all confused that he doesn't know who Clockwork is." He looked at them frustrated. "Why do I hear the kid speak and you guys don't. You're his fucking twin, right? Shouldn't you know what the brat is saying?"

Damien glowered at their brother offended but didn't retort anything. Tim did see a hint of frustration with their formerly youngest and he could guess. Damien was most likely frustrated about the fact that Jason understood his twin's noises and he didn't. The only thing stopping him from possibly hurling the breakfast knife at Jasons, was most likely his hold on Danny.

Tim also thought about the fact for a while until it suddenly hit him. He looked up and made eye contact with Dick who most likely came to the same conclusion. The two turned towards their siblings.

"The Lazarus Water." Tim carefully offered, watching Jason and Damien tensed slightly.

"What about it?" The second oldest scoffed, turning his attention towards them.

"That's what you two have in common. Both of you got revived and came back through a Lazarus Pit. You still have the Pit in your mind right? And Danny most likely also has a lot of it in his system. It even mixed with his DNA."

After a beat of silence Jason let out a hearty groan. "Fuck. So because of the Pit I understand thrill and chirps now? Just fucking great!"

"Probably can speak it too if you try. That would be pretty cute. Come on, say something in a chirp!" Leave it to Dick to try to lighten the mood, though the glare Jason sent the eldest did make Tim hide a chuckle. He had to admit imaging Jason talking in chirps was a funny image. Should his brother ever do that he would need to make sure to take a video for his black mail folder.

"I will fucking not!"

"Come on, don't you want to communicate properly with our little teethling here?"

"Fuck off Dick!"

"You have to try it Jaybird! For little teethling!"

"Richard." Damien warned but Tim could only snicker as he watched Dick reach out to pat the kids head carelessly, apparently not hearing the warning nor hissing as the elder was too engrossed in convincing Jason to talk in chirp.

Dick let out a shriek of pain.

"Ha! Not so fun getting bitten is it now?" Jason laughed gloating with the fact that for once he was not the biting target.

Tim winched the moment he saw Danny clamp down with his sharp teeth on Dick's hand. Damien was instantly scowling both of them but the little biter refused to let go. He saw Alfred approaching the three and instantly stood up from his chair with a warning on the tip of his tongue as the butler reached out towards Danny.

"Master Danyal." Stunned and frozen the four brothers watched how the butler fearlessly patted the child's head who only let out a small hiss in acknowledgement, teeth still digging into the eldest brother's hand. "I request you let go of Master Dick's hand. I fear it will not taste as well as this snack I have prepared for you."

In an instant Danny let go and chirped, turning his attention towards Alfred who was still patting the child's head without getting hissed at or being in risk of getting bitten. Damien even let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you Pennyworth."

Dick was now cradling his hand, pouting and mumbling something about unfairness at the three as Jason laughed. Tim too couldn't help but chuckle, of course Alfred somehow became an exception towards Danny's biteyness.

It was at that moment that Duke entered the room, took one look at them, blinked, rubbed his eyes and then turned around and left again muttering something about it being too bright and early for any of this.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 23

Au where Danny hides his powers and eldrich nature from his husband Tim and Tim hides his vigilante career from Danny.

Both are very successful and neither suspects a thing. Tim had originally planned to admit to being a hero at some point but they were always either interrupted or it just wasn't the right time and then Danny had mentioned a few times during thier engagement and marriage that he couldn't handle being with a superhero or vigilante and that it was a deal breaker. Unfortunately Tim was already deeply in love and couldn't bare to break up with him so now he lives in fear of Danny finding out and blackmailed the rest of the family into never letting it slip.

Danny is in a similar situation, ever since the portal incident people were afraid of his other half and no matter how hard he tried they always ended up hating him. He loved Tim and couldn't bare the thought of his husband having that same look of terror. Of hate. So he hid. Its all he could do. Back when he and his friends went on that road trip and gained the power of the reality gauntlet he had tried to undo his undeath entirely only to find out Danny had glitches spacetime enough that even if he undid it (which the gauntlet was incapable of doing) he would eventually wind up with the portal opening up on top of him at another date. Call it fate or destiny or whatever you like. He was stuck like this.

So he did the next best thing. He erased any proof he had ever existed. Even from the minds of his own friends. He then skipped town-or in this case universes- and used the gauntlets power to carve out a false identity in this new world full of heroes and hope

Luckly there was no one who could rat him out...until some blond guy in a trenchcoat started following him around the grocery store and talking to him. At first Danny was a little confused and annoyed but when he asked what the blond guy wanted he asked, "I wanna know what you are." And Danny went pale.

Constantine then proceeded to blackmail Danny into helping him with a case or else he would expose his dirty little secret to Tim.

Danny made the a deal, ensuring that it would only be this one time. He told Tim that he was being blackmailed but insinuated that it was something petty between him and some of the other high society house spouses. The kind of drama that Tim always made extra sure to steer clear of. He swore to Tim he was this close to spiking Bethanys muffins with a laxative in retaliation for something and Tim gave helper suggestions for how to do it without being caught while they got ready for the day.

Ever since Alfred passed away it was up to Danny and a few other people to keep the Waynes from falling apart. Honestly, no one realized how much that man did until he wasn't around anymore.

To be fair he pretty much spoiled Tim by picking up after him to the point the man can't function after a few days. If Danny ever had to leave Tim alone for prolonged periods of time he would return to a giant mess and something burning in the kitchen.

Danny would clean, Tim would spew a fountains worth of apologizes, he would forgive Tim (as if he was ever mad in the first place. This just reaffirmed that Tim needed him to protect and care for him, making his core vibrate in happiness) then they would...reacquaint themselves. He nearly shifted forms the first few times this happened. That would be one heck of a way for Tim to find out about his ghost half.

Danny smiled, thinking about those memories. He truly adored Tim and couldn't imagine a life without him. He would just have to make sure this trench coated guy never came anywhere near his precious husband.

John would really like to know what this entity was and what it wanted with the Wayne brat. It couldn't really be in love with the kid, could it? He had personally seen these relationships work out before but there many more he had seen that hadn't. He didn't want to take that risk, so he needed to get close enough to evaluate the situation himelf.

[c-nstantine]

for the man who has everything

Description: Dick doesn't know what to get Bruce for Christmas

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Word Count: 0.6k

Just days before Christmas, Dick Grayson had found a gift for everyone except Bruce Wayne. In all fairness, it's really hard shopping for a billionaire. Either Bruce already had the gift or it was something so minuscule that it didn't matter if Dick had gotten it or not.

"What did y'all get Bruce for Christmas?" Dick asked as he found his siblings wrapping presents in the den. Thomas was drawing his mother and father pictures while the twins simply played with bows in their playpen.

"Condoms," Jason spoke first. His tongue poked out of his pink lips with concentration as he focused on making sure that the edges of the box were wrapped to perfection.

"Listen, I love Thomas, Martha, and Alfred, but he doesn't need any more kids," Jason tried to justify himself as his siblings turned and stared at him.

"So as a Christmas present, you got him condoms," Stephanie reiterated carefully.

"Yep, a whole lifetime supply," Jason said proudly, holding up the now-wrapped box of condoms. Interestingly, enough his siblings agreed that maybe this was a good gift.

"Okay? Next," Dick said, slightly ignoring what Jason said. He didn't want to think about how Jason 'acquired' a lifetime supply of condoms because that doesn't seem possible.

"I finished his paperwork for the next three quarters," Tim slipped a manila folder into a Christmas bag with a bow and smiled. Sometimes Bruce was a little lazy with his paperwork but it's not like the board of directors would notice anyway.

"Sometimes I forget he's a CEO," Stephanie said while scratching her head. Honestly, he just gets referred to as Y/N Wayne's husband. It's totally not like she took his last name or anything. Sometimes he was grateful to not have all of the spotlight on him.

"I painted a portrait of mother and father," Damian adjusted the bow on his gift. He had painted a large oil painting of the two of them. His siblings were a bit surprised at how he had found the time to do this.

"Me and Cass got him an original copy of Zoro's poster," This gift was a bit more sentimental. Coming from Duke and Cass, it was perfect. Knowing Bruce he'd probably hang it in one of his offices. These were all exceptional gifts but Dick didn't have anything yet. The door opened to the den and everyone stopped what they were doing.

"Hey, ma. What did you get Bruce for Christmas?" Jason asked, after exhaling. The room was less tense at the realization that it was just Y/N. She had come to get the twins and check their diapers.

"I can't tell you," She said in a baby voice as she picked up Martha and Alfred from their playpen. The two babies gurgled at the sight of their mother.

"Gross," Tim spoke before realizing that he said it out loud. Dick snorted in response and Y/N jokingly glared at her son.

"Not like that, it's a surprise," She spoke with a baby on either side of her hips.

"Is it another baby? Because if it is Jason's gift is going to be hilarious," Duke asked, putting two and two together. The room tensed once again and everyone panned to Y/N waiting for a response. She felt like they were searing holes into her head.

"No, it's not another baby." Everyone collectively let out a sigh of relief. The thought of Bruce having any more children was a bit daunting. Isn't he old by now anyway?

"You'll find out at dinner tonight. Merry Christmas, kiddos," She said walking out of the den with her babies in tow.

"Merry Christmas, "The kids chorused back to her and Dick still didn't know what to get Bruce for Christmas.

[itsharleystuff]

↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about losing three times against you.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!

a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)

no use of y/n

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."

"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.

"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.

"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."

Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.

"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."

When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."

You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.

"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.

"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."

He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”

He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.

You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.

“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”

Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.

“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.

“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.

“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”

“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.

It had all happened last weekend.

Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.

At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.

Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.

Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.

You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.

Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.

How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…

“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”

Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”

The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.

“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”

“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.

You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”

Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.

“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.

“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”

His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.

“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.

“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”

You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.

Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.

“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”

Well shit. Now you had screwed up.

This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.

Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.

You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.

It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.

“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.

“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.

“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.

So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.

You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.

You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.

Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.

Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.

“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.

“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”

You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”

“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.

Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.

You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.

“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”

You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.

“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.

“No,” you huffed.

“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.

“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”

Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.

But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.

“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”

Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”

There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.

Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.

“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.

“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”

“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.

In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.

“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”

You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.

“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.

That was the night that started everything.

After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.

Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.

That’s how you ended up here.

Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.

“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.

“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.

“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.

“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.

“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.

The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”

“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”

And just like that, you’re left alone.

After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.

There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”

He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.

Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.

“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”

He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”

“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.

“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.

You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.

The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.

“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.

“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”

This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.

“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”

Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.

“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”

You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.

The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.

“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”

He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”

You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”

“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”

“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”

The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.

“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”

“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.

“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.

He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.

“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.

“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.

“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.

Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.

“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”

His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.

“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.

“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.

As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.

“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”

You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”

His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”

The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”

His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”

It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”

Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”

Three fucking times?

When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.

“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.

He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.

“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.

“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.

“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.

“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.

The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.

His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.

“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”

He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”

You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.

This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.

“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”

He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.

“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”

But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.

“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.

“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.

It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.

Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.

[rubydubydoo122]

As much as I hate to say it, and as much as I love Jason ToddI'm gonna need DC to kill him again, and keep him dead this time.

Now before you come at me, let me explain why I think this. Jason Todd is a character that while alive will always be connected to Gotham, and because of his differing morals with Batman, he will always be in a cycle of conflict with him. We saw it in UTRH, we saw it in RHATO, we saw it in Gotham Wars. Because Jason isn't a villain (I feel like in UTRH he was an anti-hero, and any actions that didn't align with the morals he set during that time is because he was villainized by Batman) Bruce's actions feel overtly brutal (batarang to the neck, beating him so har his helmet broke, chemically altering him to feel fear) especially since it's towards his SON the one he claims to have mourned. It's a vicious cycle that isn't fair to Jason, and it's major character assassination of Bruce. It's overdone and I am sick and tired of it, but I do not see either characters backing down from their moral stances.

Now you might be thinking, just because Bruce and Jason don't get along doesn't mean they can't make up-- they've tried. Multiple time. Every time Jason and Bruce take a step in the direction of being close to each other again, Bruce becomes a control freak and abuses Jason like he's his own personal punching bag, and there's only so many times someone can forgive someone before enough is enough.

But I still haven't explained why specifically I think Jason should die again. And it's because of two reasons. Jason deserves peace, and as long as he's a ghost walking on earth, he won't be able to get that. Also because it would make Great Angst. We all know Bruce would break if he lost Jason again. He's going to push everyone away, and if you're going to have Bruce push everyone away, give him consequences for his actions.but we saw how protective Dick got during Gotham Wars. Just imagine Dick walking up towards Bruce and saying, "It might've been my fault last time for not picking up his calls, but this time, you can't deny that this, is all your fault." "How dare you! He was my son!" "You lost him once, and when he came back you treated him worse than any of the loonies in Arkham. You don't miss him at all. You only feel guilty because of your goddamned savior complex. You only treat him like your son when he's dead."

and while we're at it, maybe Tim can have a complete crisis. He had to pick up the pieces of Bruce in the aftermath of Jason's death last time, and look where that got him. All of his friends and family died. He was never truly recognized for guiding Bruce out of the dark, and we all know that Tim is one inconvenience from killing a bitch. Maybe this is it. I actually think it would be hilarious for Tim to take up the Red Hood mantle, Only to screw with Bruce. Because he knows that's what Jason would've wanted.

Have Damian afraid of what Bruce has become in guilt. Have Damians castle of worship for his father come tumbling down, because Damian always knew his father loved all of the previous Robins more than him, and if his father no longer wanted them, what was stopping Bruce from sending him back to the League.

Like DC if you're going to use Jason as a catalyst for an event, kill him off again. last time it was on a whim. This time, do it on purpose. This time, give his death a purpose. This time, make sure his death changes something, because god, Bruce has fucked up so much.

[definitelynotshouting]

Can you tell us something about Martyn or Scott in your hunger au? Completely your choice on what, I just want to see what they’re like in your au

[A COMM CALL; QUIET SPEECH FILTERED THROUGH LOW CRACKLES OF STATIC]

MARTYN

I'm not gonna lie, I didn't actually expect you to help them.

SCOTT

[A RUSTLE]

Why not? It's not like I had to do anything, really. Just— point them in the right direction and, I dunno, let them sort it out.

MARTYN

[Dryly] Yeah. I guess I just thought you'd be more... angry.

SCOTT

Me? I'm not— I wouldn't say I'm angry. Why, are you angry?

MARTYN

[SLIGHT PAUSE]

...

Y'know, that's hard to say. I don't think I'm not angry, but I'm not, like... actively mad, either?

SCOTT

Well, there you go, then. It's about the same for me, not much else to it.

MARTYN

...

Fair 'nough, I suppose.

SCOTT

Honestly, I'm surprised you're not more angry, considering all your— y'know, stuff.

MARTYN

What, just 'cause I knew Grian way back when?

SCOTT

Well yeah, obviously. You've known each other for a long time.

MARTYN

Have we? I'm not so sure anymore.

...

[Almost speaking to himself] He's felt weird for a while now, ever since he came back from Evo.

SCOTT

What's that supposed to mean?

MARTYN

Call it a hunch. I dunno, but he just feels— off. Wrong. Different? I can't put my finger on it.

[RUSTLE OF FABRIC, AS IF FROM A SHRUG]

Or— well, he did. Not like I've seen him around in a while.

SCOTT

[HUFF OF LAUGHTER]

Your superpower is freaky, Martyn, did you know that?

MARTYN

So you keep telling me.

[Teasingly] BigB thinks it's cool, though, so I don't give a damn what you have to say.

SCOTT

[Audible smile] BigB's got the superior opinion, yes, of course.

[A PAUSE]

MARTYN

...

So have you had any news yet? About if they've found him or not?

SCOTT

[With some surprise] You really want to know?

MARTYN

Yeah, man, tell me. He's still— I mean, I guess friend's a strong word now, but I still care.

SCOTT

Um, yeah, Jimmy said—

Hm.

...

MARTYN

[SMALL INCREDULOUS NOISE]

Jimmy said, did he?

SCOTT

I'm not sure why you're surprised. We do still talk, y'know.

MARTYN

Oh yeah, just— wasn't sure, is all, what with the whole— y'know, after the whole ranchers thing.

SCOTT

[Stiffly] Jimmy is... look, just because he has a boyfriend now who isn't me doesn't mean we can't whisper sometimes. Also, this is like, one of the least romantic topics you could ever talk about, so—

MARTYN

[BARK OF LAUGHTER]

God. Tell me about it.

SCOTT

Well I would, but you're too busy trying to interrogate me about Jimmy. I've got better things to do than sit here and pine, y'know?

[BRIEF SILENCE]

MARTYN

So, they found him?

...

[Press X to doubt] Right.

SCOTT

[LOW SIGH]

Yeah, they found him. Tango told Jimmy, who then told me; a bit of he said, she said...

He's in pretty rough shape.

MARTYN

[SMALL SCOFF]

That so?

SCOTT

According to Tango, yeah. Look, I didn't ask for any details, don't shoot the messenger. All I know is Jimmy said he's really sick.

MARTYN

[Wearily] Yeah, that sounds just like him. Goes haring off into the— the bloody sunset and comes back wrong immediately after. That's great.

[Slightly more upbeat] Cool, man, well— thanks for keeping me updated. I 'ppreciate it. Good luck with Tim.

SCOTT

[A LONGER SIGH]

I don't nee—

[ANOTHER PAUSE]

Okay, yes, yeah. I'll keep you up to date as best I can.

MARTYN

Maybe whisper Tango directly while you're at it. Cheers, Scott.

SCOTT

Mhm. See you around, Martyn.

[CLICK]

[milkycarnations]

Three's a Crowd | Brian/Reader/Tim | 2.1k words

Divider can be found here. just a small oneshot featuring Brian with two subs.

one-shot masterlist | mdni | cw: first time anal, orgasm control, dirty talk, dry humping

“Well, aren’t you special?” Brian’s voice drawled out with a satisfied hum. He was more than amused. Startled, you and Tim pulled off of each other, saliva still stringing your lips together and your fingers still tangled in Tim's hair. It was horrifying, as if your parent had walked in and caught you doing something nasty. 

“Both of my subs getting up to no good - and you didn’t even offer to let me watch?” he lilted with mock upset. 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Tim grumbled. His hands gripped your waist tightly, preparing to end the makeout session and pull you from his lap. 

“And I didn’t ask you to stop. Go ahead.” 

You felt Brian walk up behind you, his eyes boring into your back. This situation was an embarrassment. You and Tim were desperate, it was only natural that you'd turned to each other - even though there wasn't a dominant bone in either of your bodies. Brian was busy. There was no way in hell you'd throw yourself at him. It was a sure-fire way to be sadistically teased and humiliated. That's exactly how you ended up on top of Tim, grinding in his lap as you sloppily made out. You glanced back to look at him. 

"What?" your words came out breathier than you'd hoped, falling in line with Tim's breaths.

"You heard me," he came even closer, "Keep going." 

Tim's hands readjusted, grabbing at your hips now with anticipation. Beneath you, you felt him grow harder, obviously expecting something to happen between the three of you. 

"You're serious?" you weren't sure what you expected, but Tim knew what he wanted. His mouth came to your neck, sucking and licking at the flesh - just where you liked it.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"  Brian pressed up against your back, hips resting by your shoulders.

To be fair, it always felt like he was joking when he had that shit-eating grin on his face. A calloused hand grabbed at your face, squished your cheeks, and pushed you into Tim. 

"Be a good girl and kiss him back." 

Tim whimpered beneath you as he greedily moved to your lips. Unbothered by Brian's presence, he continued where you both left off and bucked his cock up into you. His hard-on was tight in his jeans and the friction from your pants left you tingling. 

"There you go. See, that wasn't so hard," 

Brian's hand moved to your hair, holding your head in place for Tim. The way he gripped your hair always sent a chill down your spine. When Tim's hands dipped to cup your ass, you bit hard on his lip. The involuntary moan that pulled from him made Brian chuckle. Your face was flaming with heat at the wet spot growing in your pants, but that didn't slow Tim down. He was desperate to cum, even if it was from dry humping you on the edge of his bed. The rutting grew erratic and rushed and Tim started panting. His hand must've brushed against Brian's body, because Tim dragged himself away from your face and started to beg. 

"Brian, please! I need to-" 

The subtle depth to his voice made him sound all the more desperate and he whined and keened. 

"Lay down." 

There was a mere moment of hesitation before Tim laid on his back, eager to pull his cock out.

"And scoot up," 

Brian pushed you forward, sending you toppling over Tim's chest. The two of you shuffled up the mattress towards the headboard. Initially, Tim pouted at the sight of Brian walking away, but he perked up as he started rummaging through the nightstand. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a bottle of lube. Tim's mind immediately began to wander, fully expecting Brian to fuck him while you rode on top. It was by far the position he loved the most and he was trying hard to contain himself. 

"Fuck," Tim shuffled to take off his pants.

"No. Those stay on." Brian demanded. 

You paused. Normally, you were wet enough that you didn't need lube. You were especially wet enough now. All Brian needed to do was look. If the lube wasn't for Tim, then-

Brian reached around you and unbuttoned your pants. He tugged them all the way off and tossed them to the floor. 

"Oh wow," he cooed, "You two really were busy. You're dripping already, soaked through your panties. How long have you two been going at it?" 

Neither of you answered. You were both confused, and truth be told, you had no clue how long you'd been grinding against each other. Your panties came off next, followed by Brian's jeans and boxers.

"You should've taken the opportunity to cum while you had the chance," Brian lifted your hips up, situating your pussy above Tim's clothed cock. Farther up, your head rested against his chest. The lube bottle clicked open and closed as Brian slicked up his fingers. 

"Oh!" you yipped.

He rubbed his fingers against your ass before pushing one inside. It felt strange. You'd never done this before - not even with him. Your cunt was right there. Why would he- you let out a shuddered moan. 

"That feel good?" 

Whimpering, you nodded your head. It felt good, but not nearly enough. He continued to work his fingers, graduating to two with ease. Oh my god, why hadn't you tried this before? As he pulled out, you whined at the loss of his touch, but you stiffened when you heard the bottle of lube open again. Brian sighed as he stroked his cock. You managed to look at Tim's face. His pupils were blown wide in disbelief and ecstasy. Conflicted, but desperately horny as he watched Brian play with you.

"What are you making that pathetic face for?" Brian cackled as he worked to lube his dick. 

"I thought..." 

Tim really was pathetic. You felt pity for him as he genuinely seemed mortified. 

"You assumed. You know what they say about that - heh." he giggled to himself before continuing, "but neither of you asked. That's rather inconsiderate. I'd even say distasteful. Relax baby," 

The last part was directed to you as he moved his dry hand across the swell of your ass and patted the flesh. You were both so dumbfounded, realization hadn't truly kicked in until Brian pressed the head of his cock against your hole. Your eyes shot open, and you cried out as your hands gripped tightly against the fabric Tim's shirt. 

"Shh, relax," he tutted, voice tender. Brian worked himself in slowly. His cock stretched you open, but he had prepped you with plenty of lube. It didn't hurt. If anything, it was slightly uncomfortable, but that was only because- 

"You're a virgin," Brian said suddenly. Tim was baffled. You weren't a virgin.

"Do you have any idea what's going on up here?" Brian leaned in to whisper, "I'm gonna fuck her in the ass." he spoke matter-of-factly.

Sandwiched between them, you mewled out in pleasure. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Under Brian, your hips slumped down as you found it difficult to support yourself with wobbly knees. Your knees were weak, your legs were weak - your whole body felt weak. Tim whined out, a high-pitched noise unlike anything you'd heard from him. Once Brian bottomed inside of you, he leaned back and tore your hips up. 

"Stay still. I don't want your clit touching anything because you're not cumming tonight. Neither of you." 

Wailing at his words you muffled yourself into Tim's chest. Brian began to slowly draw out of you. 

"That's not fair!" Tim panted. You thought the same. It wasn't fair and Brian was right: you should've cum together before he walked in.

"What about it?" 

"Why does she get to be touched and not me? I asked, I wanted-" 

Brian interrupted, "Because I know you and I can't trust you not to make a mess all over yourself. You'll cum on accident and then you'll just take the punishment like you always do. This is the punishment. A better punishment, because you like pain too much." he emphasized and thrusted back in. "Besides, if she cums while I'm in her ass... Fuck, then I think she deserves it, huh? Wouldn't that be impressive?"

Your legs straightened, "As long as you keep your fucking hips up!" he yelled and placed you back above Tim's legs.

Tim was clearly upset, but he was more flustered than anything. Though it was torture, watching this unfold above him was making his cock leak. Tim was hoping - praying - that Brian would change his mind. Hoping that after, Brian would let him cum anyway. A mixture of lube and slick gathered down your pussy and pooled at your clit. Gravity forced it down and it dripped between your legs in a thick, sticky strand. Tim gasped as it landed on his jeans above his cock and soaked into the fabric. 

"Be a good girl and tell Tim what he's missing." 

Brian began to rut into you at a proper pace, his skin slapping against your ass and thighs. 

"AH- it feels, good!" 

"You can do better than that." 

"It's big," you quieted. Dirty talk would never not be embarrassing. 

"What's big? Use your words for me and tell him."

"Your cock - his cock is big." you told Tim, but he knew that already, too. "It's making me wet and I'm aching, please!" you blabbered out. His cock was dizzying, but it still wasn't enough. If anything, it made your cunt feel needy and sad, because you wanted nothing more than for Brian to be inside it.

"Please, what?" 

"Fuck me," 

"I'm already fucking you." 

Tim squirmed beneath you. He was making unbroken eye contact with Brian, tears brimming in his eyes. 

Drool fell from your tongue. What the hell? Each thrust forced a moan from your lips. 

"God, such a whore for my cock. Are you drooling? Maybe I should do this more often." sniffling, you nodded vigorously, "Good girl, begging me to do something that won't even make you cum. Tim should take some lessons from you. No arguing, no complaining." 

"Brian please, I'm sorry." he started. 

"Now you apologize? What took you so long?" 

"Please, it hurts." 

"So shallow," you could practically hear Brian's smirk, "you're only apologizing because your dick hurts?" 

"I know, I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore." 

At this point, Tim's jeans looked unbearably tight. He was bucking up and grinding into nothing, the weight of your chest on his driving him insane. 

"That's too bad. I'm gonna cum now. You can think about what that might feel like." Brian's voice was audibly growing hoarser as he neared his orgasm, and Tim sobbed as he realized he wasn't going to get his way. Brian's hips stuttered, each thrust a faint burst of pleasure. It felt as if he was hitting your g-spot from the other side, but it was hardly enough to get close to cumming. You too had started crying as your cunt fluttered around nothing, holding onto Tim tightly.

"Fuck!" Three pumps until he stilled deep inside of you. Brian let out a satisfied sigh before pulling out, cum and lube falling onto Tim's lap again. Tim trembled at the sensation of his wet pants. You went to flop against Tim, but Brian yanked you up and onto your knees. 

"Absolutely not. Both of you need to calm down, first. I'm not gonna let you cum humping each other like dogs. Oh, look at your pretty face." a finger shot to wipe the tears off of your cheeks, "You did so good." 

"Brian, I'm BEGGING you," 

Tim words had become even more frantic. Reaching your hand out, you tugged on Brian's shirt. 

"Please?" 

"Both of you now? Really?" 

"Didn't I earn it?" you pouted. 

He smirked in a way that you knew he had an idea. A hand reached your back as he pushed you onto Tim once more. 

"If you're so desperate," leaning over, he pressed down on your shoulder, making your cunt rub against Tim's jeans. The sticky lube and cum was cold against you. "Just like this. I'll give you a minute, exactly. Quick." 

Instantly, you were all over each other. It only took a few firm thrusts to push your swollen clit over the edge. Being on top gave you a good advantage. Tim wasn't as lucky. Forty-five seconds later, an arm snaked around your waist and tore you away. 

"Fuck, I'm not done!" 

"Minute's up, sorry. Better luck next time?"

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; obligatory sugar baby Kon. ( + non-chrono link for mobile. )

“Um . . . right,” Suzie says quietly, and . . . well, he just thought it: she's a secret herself. 

Tim definitely needs to just take over whatever neighborhood he buys Kon a cul-de-sac in. Or maybe just, like, the entire tri-state area. Get Suzie a little place of her own, maybe, with an actual living space in it. She doesn't have physical needs like the rest of them do, no, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't have anything. Like–he doesn't know, whatever girls like. Stuffed animals and her own TV and a place to keep, uh . . . okay, Suzie doesn't need batarangs or a place to store smoke pellets and caltrops or grappling lines or work on her equipment or anything like that, but still. It's, he doesn't know–the principle of the thing, or something. 

He's gonna have to work on his trust fund budget a little, maybe. Ridiculous as it is, buying an entire tri-state area would definitely put a significant dent in it. 

“Suzie,” he says. “Are you . . . alright here? When the rest of us aren't around?” 

“Yes?” Suzie says, looking confused again. That was probably an unfair question on his part, Tim thinks. It's not like she really knows what he means by “alright”.  

Kon didn't either, after all. 

“I mean–it's not too lonely?” he asks. 

“Oh,” Suzie says, then bites her lip. “Um . . . I mean . . . I'm fine, yes! You don't need to worry about me!” 

Maybe this is a Bat thing, but absolutely nothing has ever worried Tim more than hearing “you don't need to worry about me” from someone. 

“Okay,” he lies, and smiles at her. “But you know you can call us if you want to make plans sometime, right? You don't always have to just wait for us to show up.” 

Suzie looks at him for a long moment, then–well, she doesn't turn pink, exactly, since that would require blood and veins and actual skin instead of smoke, smoke, and more smoke, but he's pretty sure she blushes all the same. 

“Oh,” she says. “Um–right! Yes. Yeah. Yes.” 

Tim smiles at her again, trying to be–he doesn’t know, reassuring, maybe. Something to the effect, at least. 

“Good,” he says. “It’s good for the team to spend time together outside of emergency situations, anyway. We can’t only hang out during crisises and expect to work well together, you know? So it’d be helpful to have an extra excuse to, really.” 

“Right!” Suzie says, beaming at him, which hopefully means that implying she’d be doing something good for the team by asking for attention when she feels isolated or lonely worked. 

Tim really doesn’t know why he didn’t think more about her living situation before this, but to be fair, he also thought about literally no one’s living situation before Kon just casually announced that he lived in an ethically-dubious cloning lab that wasn’t paying him, so . . . yeah.

Definite oversight. Definitely a thing to pay more attention to in the future. Just–definitely. 

Several kinds of definitely.

[rosered2018]

The Magnus Archive - American Edition

I know there's been plenty of talk here about what the Magnus Archive would be like if it were set here in America, and I have to admit I've given that a fair amount of thought.

This is what I've come up with.

The Institute itself would be in Chicago. It's a fairly old city, and has its fair share of ghosts and urban legends. It's also far enough off the beaten path that it wouldn't attract the attention of anyone who would have reason to pay attention, but is a big enough city that Jonah Magnus would have access to all the amenities he's gotten used to.

I think Jon would be from New Orleans or somewhere around there. This is as much a nod to Jonny being from the south of England as my liking the irony of Jon being from the magic capital of the U.S. and playing the skeptic card as hard as he possibly could.

Martin I could see being from Minnesota or Michigan or somewhere else that's aggressively midwestern. His backstory would be mostly the same, except that at some point he ended up in therapy. He went low/no contact with his mother, and is dealing with the guilt from having made that decision.

I think Tim would be from somewhere around New York City - Either Manhattan proper or one of the five boroughs. The publishing industry has its headquarters there, and there are a lot of places there that are ripe for urban exploration, so it would make sense that it would be the place where he and Danny would have crossed paths with the Circus.

We didn't get any of Sasha's backstory, but I think she would be a local girl. She's had encounters with things that she couldn't quite explain and she wants answers, and her digging eventually led her to the Magnus Institute.

The OG Elias strikes me as someone from one of those old Boston families who came over on the Mayflower and never let anyone forget it, and Elias was like that right up to the point where he discovered weed. Afterwards, he was too busy being stoned to give a rat's ass.

Jonah Magnus I could see coming from a humble background and clawing his way up the socioeconomic ladder to become the asshole we all know and hate.

The main difference between the original storyline and the American version would be that the distances would be further. One statement might take place in Indianapolis while another one might happen in San Francisco.

When the apocalypse happens, Jon and Martin are in upstate New York or somewhere equally remote, and have to walk back to Chicago, where things play out basically the same way as in the podcast.

[phantoms-lair]

"Okay, I can see why your astrology loving self likes it here," Tim elbowed Danny.

"It's astronomy and you know it." Danny said, fake offended.

"Yeah, I will admit I'm surprised by how good the internet is here. I wasn't expecting that out of rural Kansas."

"Well, think of who they have to keep in contact with, and how far away." Danny pointed out. "Honestly, pretty sure Bruce is responsible."

"Wouldn't be surprised."

"Hey Danny!" Elle hovered over the two of them. "Let's go flying!"

"We've got a guest you know." Danny gestured at Tim with his thumb. "Be kind of a jerk move to fly off without him."

"Can't he fly?" Elle asked. "His hero name is Robin, right?"

Elle looked like she was ten, but Tim had to remind himself she was less than half a year old and often surrounded by metahumans. "No flight. All my powers are up here." he said, tapping the side of his head.

"You're psychic?" she asked.

Danny laughed and Tim rolled his eyes. "No powers, just smart." he clarified. Then he looked back at the stars. "It would be interesting to see what it would be like to have powers, but like most of the family, I'm a normal human."

"No one who can lie to Batman with a straight face is normal." Danny pointed out.

"If he wants to know what it's like to have powers, why don't you show him?" Elle asked.

"It's rude." Danny said, sticking his tongue.

"Not with consent."

"Not with permission." Danny pleaded. "You are too young for me to want to hear you use the phrase 'consent'."

"Missing something." Tim pointed out.

"Overshadowing. If I take control of you I can channel my powers through your body. But like I said, it's kind of rude."

Tim wasn't sure 'rude' was the word for stealing someone's bodily autonomy. But Elle did have a point of her own. There was a world of difference between doing something with or without consent. "Okay, how would that work?"

"How would what work?" Danny asked.

"The overshadowing thing."

"Oh, it's er," Danny was fiddling with his fingers, suddenly nervous. "It's kinda creepy."

Tim gave him a flat look. They'd covered Danny referring to himself as 'creepy' enough in Gotham that he wasn't amused.

"It's basically possession. I would seize control of your body and channel my powers through it. Normally the person getting possessed is sort of put to sleep and only has vague impressions of the time they were controlled. But a person with strong enough willpower can resist and be aware." Unsaid was that pretty much everyone in Tim's family would be able to hold onto their awareness.

"Could you cede control once you had it though? Possess someone but not control them?"

"I honestly don't know. I've never tried it." Danny admitted.

"Then lets try it," Tim suggested.

Danny looked at him like he was crazy. "Why?"

"Two reason. The first is it will see how well I do if a ghost tries controlling me. The second," he shrugged, "I'm not a metahuman and will probably never be one. And I'm okay with that, but it's been interesting to see what it feels like to be one, you know?"

Danny pursed his lips and Tim wondered if he was crossing a line. Being a metahuman hadn't exactly been a fun experience for Danny, after all.

"Okay." Danny said reluctantly. "But you don't get to blame me if you don't like it."

Or he could just still have issues with the thought of people rejecting him for his powers. "Fair. We've got Elle as our witness that this was my idea. I could talk to the Kents beforehand too-"

"Not necessary!" Danny shuddered.

Tim felt his heart droop. Deep down Danny still didn't trust they'd keep caring for him. He hated what the Fentons had done to Danny's self esteem. "You don't have to if you don't want to." Tim softly reminded him. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable either. But I trust you, you know?"

Danny swallowed heavily. "Okay. If you're sure."

It felt cold, at first, like a chill up his spine. Then Tim felt his mouth move and vocal chords activate independently of of him. "Okay, so this is overshadowing." His own voice said. "So I guess, try to do something and I'll try not to stop it?"

"Do you have to talk out loud?" Tim asked. "It's going to look like I'm talking to myself."

"I guess that works. And yes, no psychic connection for this. Sorry."

"Weird," Elle observed. "I've seen some recordings of overshadowing and usually the person has the eyes glowing the ghosts color when control, but the glow fades when they resist control. But the eye glow didn't go away when Tim spoke."

"He's not resisting me, I'm letting him have control, it's different." Danny insisted.

"Maybe I should start resisting you. Just to see if I can." Tim suggested.

Elle giggled. It really did look funny with him talking to himself.

"Okay," Danny raised Tim's arm and clenched his fist. "You try to open your hand and I'll try to keep it shut."

Tim had to admit just feeling his arm move like that was mildly panic inducing. He'd managed not to be carded by Hatter but imagined this was what it felt like. He struggled to move his hand only to have it firmly stay in place. He struggled more, eventually sending his arm into erratic fits, punching himself in the face. "Owww" he moaned as

Elle doubled over in laughter.

"Healing factor should take care of it in a few minutes. Unless you want to stop now." Danny rubbed their injured nose.

"No, I mean, I think I want muscle control back, we can work on resisting stuff more later. But I want to see what having powers feels like!"

"Which one do you want to-"

"Flying!" Elle interrupted gleefully.

"I think you might have an ulterior motive." Danny said dryly. "You up for flying, Tim?"

"Yes please," Tim answered, trying to hide how excited he was to try.

He's seen others fly, several times, but it wasn't something he's ever thought he could do except on a hang glider or something.

"We're going for invisibility first." Danny warned. "Since we don't want to be seen."

If getting possessed had been a shiver up his spine, becoming invisible was like being dunked in cool water. Not frigid, but a definite chill ran across his skin as it vanished from sight. Then Tim felt gravity lose it's hold on him. Without any form of propulsion he lifted up about a foot in the air.

"We're going to start low and slow." Danny assured him. "So if anything goes wrong you aren't going to fall too far." Gently he leaned forward and glided effortlessly through the air.

"Do you think I could do this myself?" Tim asked.

"No clue, let's try!" Danny seemed to be warming up to the idea of testing with Tim's lack of a bad reaction to being overshadowed.

The floated in place and Tim tried to move their shared body. But while he could mover his limbs with ease, Danny's power couldn't be interacted with. "Doesn't look like it, sorry."

Elle looped back around. "This is low and slow is kiddy stuff." She groaned.

Danny gave her a mild glare. "You are three months old. You have no right to complain of kiddy stuff."

"If anything I can more." Elle countered. "Come on, can we at least do tag or something?" Tim shrugged. "Sure, tag sounds good."

~

"Does she normally smoke you this bad at tag?"

"No." Danny grumped.

Tim sighed. "Sorry. Having to plan out our strategies is letting her hear us. If you took full control-" "Then you wouldn't be in the game, I'd just be using you as a meat suit for no reason." Danny pointed out.

Tim thought for a moment. "Danny, can you put your shield in a bubble around us, so Elle can't hear us planning?"

"Sure, but it's going to be obvious."

"That's fine, we're just planning the planning." Tim assured. Danny raised the shield "We're planning to plan? Seems redundant."

"We're planning the things that will let us plan in plain sigh without your sister knowing." Tim corrected. "So our main issue here is we've got two minds that need to collaborate. Even if we split the division of labor of you powers me body, we each need to use both. You can take control of my body if an opportunity needs it, but I can't take control of your powers, so that what we need more communication for."

"Elle hasn't developed much beyond the standard, so we can keep to those. So, intangibility," Tim tapped the ring finger of his left hand twice. "If I make that motion, it means I'm asking you to use intangibility, if you do it it's warning me you're using it and I don't have to flinch away. Blinking twice will work the same for invisibility and..." Tim thought a moment more. "Tongue for flying." "Okay, I get eyes for invisibility and hands for intangibility, why tongue for flying?" Danny asked.

"Because it can't be seen. So tongue on the roof of my mouth acts as the taps or blinking, but can also be used to indicate direction in three dimensions." Tim demonstrated by holding his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then pressing it to the left side of his cheek."

Any more discussion was interrupted by Elle knocking on the shield. Danny dropped it to reveal his younger sister looking annoyed. "Are we playing or what?" Dany smirk and cracked their shared knuckles. "Round two begins now."

~

Alfred stood on the porch with the Kents while Martha rang the bell to call the children in. It had been a lovely visit catching up with them while Tim spent some time with Danny and Elle. It warmed his heart that despite moving to Smallville and possibly adding Kent to his name instead of Wayne, Danny and Tim were still very much brothers.

(One of the contingencies, if the Kents hadn't felt able to take in the boy, was for him to be officially adopted by Tim as a Drake, allowing him to still be a part of the family without feeling an unwanted connection to Master Bruce. But that plan was scrapped when Danny became publicly known during the Seige of Gotham. It was for the best, Danny truly needed more adults he trusted.)

It wasn't unexpected to see the children approach from the air. What was unexpected was there was only two of them and Master Tim seemed to be flying of his own volition. A raised eyebrow was all it took to remind the children that this wasn't an ordinary situation either.

Tim felt his shoulders hunch and his cheek flush as Danny's self-consciousness expressed itself in his body. Danny separated from him and opened his mouth, probably to apologize, but Tim wasn't going to let him. "I wanted to know what it was like to fly." he said, cutting off any apologies for his existence his brother might make.

"Indeed." Alfred said simply. "And how did that work out?"

"Quite well. I can better coordinate flying members of the team now, as well as Danny and I worked out a simple non-verbal code in order to plan around Elle while she could hear everything we said to each other. It was a productive endeavor."

"More importantly, Master Tim." Alfred's eyes crinkled into a smile. "Did you have fun?"

Tim felt himself becoming bashful now, ducking his head. "Yeah." He answered. "I did."

Good. Just as Danny needed the occasional reminder they were cared for, Tim needed the reminder that he was more than his use.

"That's something." Pa rubbed his chin. "Don't suppose you'd be willing too take me up there too. "I'd love to be able to go flying with Clark."

Danny's face turned red, and he half hid behind Tim's shoulder.

"It's okay if you're not comfortable with us for that yet." Ma said kindly. "We know you haven't know us as long as Tim."

"S'Okay." Danny muttered.

"You can take Pa and I'll take Ma. We can all go flying!" Elle cheered.

"When your brother's ready," Ma gently admonished.

"With that we must be off." Alfred apologized. "While I treasure these times, it's not fair to Miss Gordon to have to run herd on our family all evening without backup."

"Give Bruce our best." Ma patted Tim on the head while Pa and Alfred shook hands.

"I will. See you soon Danny."

"Yeah." Danny smiled at his brother. "See you soon."

It would be sooner than either of the two thought

[theflyindutchwoman]

I trust your judgement and your interpretations of scenes always make so much sense, so here’s my question for you: what was your take on the Tim x Blair elevator scene at the beginning of 6x08? It definitely rubbed me the wrong way and I’m having trouble making sense of it.

Honesty? I'm a bit at a loss… All I know is this scene rubbed me the wrong way too. It painted a picture in my head and I would like very much to have it removed. Fair warning : I'm going to be a tad negative below the cut.

I think it would help if we knew how long had passed between 6.07 and 6.08 or how many sessions Tim had attended… But my guess is, not that long and not that many. So it already felt out of place for him to be suddenly this comfortable with his therapist - especially in light of his behaviour with her in the previous episode. Still, that could have worked and showed his progress. But for him to be flirting like that… I was not prepared. It's not like this is his default mode. Now, I realise that may very well be me reading into things but apparently I'm far from being the only one… so if that wasn't the intent, then something went wrong in the execution.

And that's the thing : I'm still unsure what the intention behind this undertone was. If that was to highlight Tim's progress with his therapy, then there were other ways to depict that. If it was to show how he's still spiralling but pretending that everything is alright, then this wasn't it either. If it was his attempt to find out more about Mad Dog, then that was wrong of him for so many different reasons. If it was to imply he was somehow suspicious of Dr London, then it needed to be more obvious because his face after he left the elevator didn't clear things up. And here's the other issue with this : as far as we know, he didn't have any reason to suspect anything. The fact that Blair was talking with Mad Dog and apparently got into the wrong elevator wasn't a good enough reason for me (not without any prior knowledge of her shadiness). If something had happened during therapy that would make him question her, then we needed to see that. Ironically, this scene could have worked if it had happened at the hospital, when Tim was actually started to get suspicious of a potential leak inside the department… Or towards the end of the episode. By then, you could argue that he was trying to play her. But here, at the beginning of the episode? Not so much. And it it was to show how she was using her position to get information, then she should have been the one to make the move. She should have acted like she did with Aaron so we could catch that pattern.

As it is, without further context, it's hard not to take it at face value and see it for what it is : Tim flirting with his therapist. And coupled with that lingering shot of the door closing in after he entered her office in 6.07 (an image I didn't mind back then), it is sending a very mixed message. One that was absolutely unnecessary in my opinion because it doesn't add anything to the storyline. Maybe next episode will clarify some things on the matter. Maybe it really was unintentional. But at the moment, I'm still baffled by this scene. I just don't like how Tim was portrayed here.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 22 - "Who takes care of you?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Originally Cass was supposed to be the one picking up Danny... but I was not confident enough in that deleted part and so Dick's part ended up getting changed and being the last one instead.

Damian blinked at the child sitting at the playpen of the rescued kittens. He was sure there hadn't been anyone before besides this was a restricted area. Only volunteers and the actual workers of the animal shelter were allowed here. He looked around the area, hoping to see someone that could identify as the child's guardian but he was alone in the room with the child and kittens.

"How did you get in here?" He bluntly asked but the child was apparently ignoring him. The boy's back was turned to him and Damian's eyes narrowed. The child was wearing a slightly oversized NASA shirt as well as ratty looking shorts. He had black hair that appeared to be slightly unkempt with a length just enough to prevent Damian from seeing the child's eyes. He stepped over the knee high kitten fence towards the child but then stopped.

The boy was holding one of their smallest kittens they had rescued two days ago. The kitten had refused any milk or food they had offered it. Damian had planned to try and convince it to eat something before the workers would be forced to attempt force feeding. But the boy was holding it and one of the milk bottles was only used for the youngest of kittens. It was eating.

The small child was mumbling something to the kitten and Damian believed he picked up some of the words being: 'You're safe now.', 'I know it hurts but you gotta eat.', 'Being lost is always scary.', 'I am sure everyone is worried.'.

Under normal circumstances Damian would be suspicious of this boy but right now he was more relieved that the little one they all had been worried about was finally eating something. He would have to thank this little boy and his guardian. Maybe the boy even planned to give that little kitten a home with him.

With a small fond smile Damian decided to let the boy be and turned to feet the other kittens that were already excitingly climbing up his leg for their meal in his hands. He hadn't watched the child for less than five minutes but when he turned back to ask that child about his guardian.

The boy was gone. The feeding bottle was propped onto the fence in a way that allowed the little kittens to still feed off it. It was like the boy had never been there. Damian hadn't heard the door of the room open and close either. Nor the typical rustling of clothes when one stands up. He narrowed his eyes at the spot where the child had been.

Even when asking the other volunteers and workers. No one else appeared to have seen the child he had described to them.

—-

Tim blinked at the boy that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe Tim had been too tired to realize that he had sat down into a booth that was already taken when he had ordered his coffee. The child didn't appear to pay him any mind, to focus on a piece of paper they were drawing on with green crayons.

Tim looked around the coffee shop trying to spot who this child belonged to but found no one. Now the most responsible thing would probably be to alert one of the store workers about a possible abandoned child, get in contact with the authorities and make sure the child would be returned to his rightful guardians or parents.

The problem was, Tim was sleep deprived and had his own fair share of abandoned child issues as well as having seen enough corrupted authorities trafficking children like that.

"Hey there, what are you doing?" He asked the kid instead, black shaggy hair hung into the kids eyes and the head moved only so slightly indicating that the child had heard him.

"Drawing a blueprint." The boy mumbled and Tim arched an eyebrow.

"With crayons?"

"This is the only shop that gave me this for free so I wouldn't have to attempt to steal a pen and paper."

Tim hummed studying the boy more closely and his drawing more closely now. He arched an eyebrow when among the barely readable scribes he noticed something that looked a lot like a mathematical equation.

Letting his eyes wander around the store once more before resting them on the child Tim thought about it. A child seemingly alone in a coffee shop, the only place according to the kid that had willingly given him paper and crayons to draw with. The drawing being a 'blueprint' for something and among the scribbles were some actual calculations that might make sense. He would need to take a closer look to really judge that.

"Don't you have things like that at home?"

Before he could receive an answer Tim's number got called out, telling him that his order was ready. Glancing at the kid he got up to quickly retrieve it. But when he turned back to the table to continue questioning the child he found the booth empty with no indication that anyone had been there before.

Partially Tim thought his mind might have hallucinated the boy in his sleep deprived state but a broken piece of green crayon left on the floor by the place where the boy had sat was his indication that he hadn't. Strangely enough, when he tried to check for video evidence, Tim found that all surveillance videos were corrupted.

—-

Jason was just done dealing with this drug deal when he heard rustling behind some of the warehouse crates. Instinctively he pulled out his gun. It appeared like one of these goons tried to sneak away. Well not on his watch.

But once he had silently made his way over to the crates he did not find a left over underling like he expected. No when he kicked the crate and pointed his gun it was not a grown ass man trying to hide from Red Hoods wrath, no a goddamn child rolled out of the crate clutching some metal pieces and electric cables to his chest.

"Fuck!" His first thought was that these assholes he had just beat up were not only trafficking drugs but also children, it made him want to beat the ever living daylight out of them a second time. But then the child's head tilted ever so slightly, eyes covered by his shaggy looking hair but Jason thought he saw blue peeking out between the strands of hair.

"Shit." He cursed once more hurrying to put his gun away so as not to scare the kid, before he crouched in front of the boy. "Hey there, you okay?"

His hands hovered above the boy's shoulders, close enough to catch the kid should he fall over but not too close to make the boy feel threatened. Looking the kid up and down, Jason tried to see if there were any injuries on the boy.

"No! The circuit board I found is now cracked! What a waste!" The boy held up a clearly cracked and broken piece of electronics with one hand, his other arm was still clutching some cables and metal to his chest.

Not the reaction he was expecting but Jason could find a way to roll with it. "Bummer huh? Want me to show you a place where we could get a perfectly good one?"

The boy was grumbling something inaudible and threw the piece of broken electronics to the side, instead picking up something else that had rolled out with the boy from the crate. Jason watched how the boy, clearly ignoring his question, picked up what looked like a piece of surveillance equipment and inspected it.

"I guess that thing will do. No one will miss it if one of them is gone, right?"

"One of them?" Jason questioned looking at the little transmitter in the kids hands. The boy appeared to finally pay attention to him, turning his head ever so lightly up to look at Jasons. "Yea there are a bunch of these in all the boxes."

He narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder and shouted at his men. "HEY! Get someone to look at this stuff! They bugged the place!"

When he turned back towards the boy he found kid gone. Jason blinked in disbelief, his hands which had been hovering over the kids shoulder were now above an empty spot.

"Where the fuck…?!" He stood looking around the warehouse and around all the boxes and crates. But the kid was nowhere to be found. He cursed several times and had his men looking in the surrounding area but there was no trace of the child.

All that was left from his encounter with he child was that piece of broken electronic the kid had thrown to the side. Not even his helmet had retained any footage. The video one loaded onto his laptop to review it, turned out to be corrupted. So now he couldn't even print out a picture or something of the boy.

—

By now the meetings of his siblings with a small black haired boy had made the rounds in their family. While Damian, Tim and Jason appeared to have had the biggest meetings with the child they weren't the only ones. Once the topic has come up, Steph, Duke and even Cass shared small stories of having met a child with the same description.

Dick had then pouted a little, lamenting that he was the only one that hadn't gotten to meet this strange kid that appeared out of nowhere and then also disappeared like he never had been there. His siblings had only stared at him unimpressed.

Well either way it looked like Dick was getting his wish after all. If Damian hadn't mentioned what the kid was wearing and Jason hadn't added that the kid appeared to be collecting electronics Dick might have overlooked it when he had jumped from roof to roof.

But as it was he caught a little boy trying to drag an old washing machine tied with rope into an empty building. It had made Dick pause and stare at the situation long enough to realize that the kid fit the description his siblings had given him before perfectly.

On instinct he wanted to jump down and talk with the little bugger but he was also curious of what the boy was doing so he watched a little more and he was quite impressed. The child must possess some strength because after a while the kid had dragged the washing machine into the building.

Spotting an open window Dick decided to sneak in that way to continue to observe. Once in though he blinked at what he saw. The kid had built a lab out of scrap metal. There was also something that looked like an arch the boy was clearly working on but holy moly. Tim probably wasn't too far off with his boy genius on the run theory.

But looking around more Dick also noticed that the place did not look lived in. Sure there was this giant self made lab area but everything else looked very much abandoned. He glanced around and snuck into another area finding a mattress, bedding and a backpack with a thermos as well as a couple of packs of snacks but no actual food.

Dick frowned at this. Even if the boy was a child genius, this was no way to life for someone his age. He looked over his shoulder towards the entrance of the area he was in. In the distance he could hear metal clanging. Looks like the kid was already working on dismantling the washing machine he had dragged in.

He reached out to the backpack, looking into it carefully but found nothing but a second set of spare clothes and what looked like an old self made flip phone. He should feel guilty but he wanted to make sure of things, so Dick flipped the phone open, checking if it was on. What greeted him was the image of a teenage boy that held similarities to the child getting hugged by what appeared to be the teenager's friends with a red haired girl behind them.

Frowning more, dick decided enough was enough. He openly walked to the lap area where the child was currently sticking his head into the washing drum. "Hey there kid!"

He winced hearing how the boy apparently banged his head on something and let out a storm of curses that would probably make Jason proud or all of his siblings frown. Leaning over the washing machine he smiled at the kid as the boy glared up at him rubbing his forehead. Ouch there really was a bump forming. He will ice it later.

"You're one of Gotham's vigilantes, Nightwing." The kid muttered but Dick caught the hand sneaking to the side reaching for a heavy looking wrench.

"That I am and you're a little kid working in a self made lab. Where are your parents and or guardian?"

"Don't have any here." The kid was now full on glaring at him. Why was he getting the not as friendly treatment? Sure that's better than the way his siblings had described the boy ignoring them but he hadn't done anything bad to the kid yet.

"If you don't have any, who takes care of you?" He then asked, still all smiles and friendly despite internally being very worried about this child's wellbeing.

"I take care of myself. I am not doing anything illegally. Everything I got here was thrown away by other people! You can't arrest me!" The boy hissed and hadn't Jason and Cass said they saw the child's eyes being blue? Why did he just see green peek through the bangs of the kid?

"Hey, hey, hey! I am not here to arrest anyone! I promise!" He held his hands up but the boy still glared at him. "But if you are alone here, you know I can't just let you be right?"

"No, you can!" The boy sprang up holding the wrench like a weapon in front of him. "I am perfectly fine on my own and working on a way back home! You can just leave me alone and act like you never saw me!"

Dick shook his head. The boy appeared to be stubborn and set on not having anyone interfere with whatever he was building. But Dick, in good consciousness, couldn't just leave like nothing was going on. His siblings had also voiced worry for this child. So he was going to try to negotiate something with the kid, and if that didn't work… Well Dick could always pull a Bruce and bring the kid home and into his care anyway. "Sorry little guy. No can do, but if you tell me more about your situation maybe I can help you get home?"

[melloollem]

We should date|| Tim Drake × No gender Reader × Conner Kent

Summary: It was obvious you liked each other, someone just needed to assume.

Warnings: Showing anxiety(nothing serious), No gender specified.

This writing came from a conversation with the character a.i, but it's still a completely written story of mine (Credits to the creator of the character a.i @/fairybaby).

(DC masterlist)

"Do you think it would be weird for three people to date?" Conner's voice said, interrupting the movie you were watching, at least you and Tim were, Conner was lost in his own thoughts as he stared at the ceiling of the room. He didn't ask anyone individually, usually accepting an answer from either of you. Tim's eyebrow rose at Conner's statement, but he still remained focused on the movie "I'm not sure".

"It depends for whom, certain people don't have the maturity for it" You made your contribution to the conversation, still staring at the television, not really caring about the question "Why is that now?" Tim asked Conner, that was a good question. Now you looked at Conner waiting for an answer.

"I was just thinking," he replied without looking at you. "I didn't know you could keep a train of thought" Your acid comment was met by a grumble from Conner, you looked at Tim expecting a reaction to your joke, but he just gave you a look, the one he always gave when he wanted to know if you were thinking the same thing.

"I mean... I'm not talking about us, obviously," Conner said after realizing how long you and Tim had been staring at each other, but he made the situation worse. "Nobody said that, but now it looks like you're talking about us because you said it." You looked at Conner "Tim agrees with me, doesn't he?" The boy who had previously been analyzing the situation now nods in agreement, drawing a defeated sigh from Conner "Okay" He adjusts himself on the bed to sit down "I'm talking about us".

"Do you think we should date?" You got straight to the point, taking the boys by surprise "You're not even going to take us on a dinner date?" The indignation in your voice was almost palpable "Wait... you want me to take you on a date?" Conner looked at you as if you had two heads, only now realizing how desperate you sounded. "No... no, obviously not" you said after a few seconds of awkward silence "Just saying, like if we were going to date, we should... you know" You looked at Tim desperately begging him to get you out of the situation, but he wanted to hear what you had to say just as much as Conner "We should have a first date, maybe? But I'm not saying I want anything" You avoided the boys' gaze as you said this.

"No, I get it" Tim said in an attempt to comfort you from your growing embarrassment "We get that" Now he was looking at Conner expectantly, you followed suit, seeking Conner's approval "I think that's fair" You were silent for a few minutes after Conner's response. There had always been an implied romance between you, this was the first time you had spoken about it out loud. "So, are you okay with it? Like if we date?" Tim asked intrigued, you had accepted Conner's "proposal" too quickly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You looked confused "We spend all our time together, we do missions together, we take care of each other, people think we're dating, we even flirt all the time. Damn it, why aren't we dating yet? You should be ashamed of yourselves." You returned to your normal tone, it wasn't a problem for you to admit to wanting boys, you just didn't want to be the one to make the first move. Conner laughs, his expression relaxing with his statement "Yeah, that's something you could say" His tone makes Tim smile too, whatever tension there was in the room was now at an end.

"So, are we making a date?" Tim asked "Tim pays" you replied quickly "I bet I do" He let out a quick laugh "Should we plan for this weekend, maybe?" Conner suggested "Or we could go tomorrow" Tim said, pulling out his cell phone "I can clear my schedule" You and Conner were surprised by the suggestion, Tim was very faithful to his commitments. "Any day's good for me," Conner said giving a shrug.

"What would the dress code be?" Conner looked thoughtful at your question "Fancy?" he offered. "Probably" Tim replied, looking at his cell phone, trying to find a good restaurant to make a reservation "I'll look good in an elegant suit" Conner pretended to fix the collar of an imaginary suit "That's sad, I thought you'd be dressed like a Playboy girl" You mocked the boy, making an exaggerated sad face "To seduce me, you know?" Your words drew a laugh from Tim.

"Is that what you expect from me?" Conner joins in with a false tone of seduction "Make sure it's my outfit, since you insist" He gives you a wink "Look very sexy, darling and we don't even need a date for me to ask you out, that goes for you too Timothy" You all looked at each other for a few seconds before Conner couldn't hold in his laughter any longer, you and Tim followed his example.

"That would certainly make things easier" Tim was still laughing a little as he said the words, Conner struggled a little to stop the laughter as he said "We should do it" You and Tim raised your eyebrows at him, did he want us to dress sexy? "We should skip the first date part and just date already" He looked at you expectantly "That would be better" Tim said, now all he needed was your approval.

"So anxious" You were amused by how apprehensive they were "But of course, it's better if we're already dating" You shrugged simplistically, your answer drawing a shared smile from the two boys "Well, we'll have to tell the others, first our friends and then our families, I mean... we don't have to announce it now, we should keep things private for a while, at least until we get used to it all, right?" You and Conner watched Tim's anxious rambling, this kind of behavior was frequent in the boy, but it never ceased to surprise the two of you.

"Or we could announce it immediately, Bruce would like to know about it" Conner said amusedly trying to distract Tim from his growing anxiety, you followed his example "Will we have to ask Bruce for Tim's hand?" You saw that it worked when you heard a chuckle escape the boy "Maybe that's necessary" Conner now looked at you startled "You're joking, right?" Tim looks at you confused "Aren't you?" There's a long silence between the two of them, they do that thing of communicating with their gaze, before Conner turns to you and asks "Are we?".

You laugh at their awkward interaction "I have no problem asking for Tim's hand" You clear your throat, recovering from your laughter "I even have a little speech for that" They look at you in surprise "I'm sure you do" Tim says "You should share it with us" Now they're puzzled, had you really planned a speech? You get up from the bed in front of the boys, let out a sigh of preparation and begin to recite what you would say to Bruce "Batman, knight of the night, I am here to claim your son's hand in marriage, with the promise to honor him for the rest of my life" You end your dramatic performance with a bow to the audience.

An expression of relief flashed across their faces as they realized you were only joking, now they were laughing wildly at your act, Conner covering his mouth but still laughing just as loudly "Dark Knight" He struggled to repeat your words and Tim only laughed harder after that. You flopped onto the bed taking Conner's place among the boys, glad that Tim's worries were forgotten by him "I'll warn him in advance so he can get ready" Conner nodded in agreement with Tim "That's a good idea, it's going to be one of the most dramatic events of his life" Conner still had a big smile on his face, he was having a lot of fun with the whole situation.

"Rehearse a speech too, Conner, you'll have to fight as well" His speech drew uncontrollable laughter from the boy "I'd never do that, that's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard" He said a little breathlessly "He'll kick us out of his house and we'll probably lose our boyfriend" He laughed more, exaggerating Bruce's possible reaction "Tim will be locked in a cell and forbidden to see us" Tim's expression became tense again at the supposition of Bruce's possible reaction "Do you think there's a possibility of something like that happening? Do you think he'll really forbid us to see each other?" Conner's eyes widened, he'd forgotten how Tim couldn't see the humor in jokes like that.

You quickly moved closer to Tim, holding his face with a worried expression "No, no, no. He's just joking, everything will be fine" The question hadn't been put to you, but you could provide the answers Tim wanted "There's no reason for Bruce to do that" An instinct in you made you move closer to Tim with the intention of kissing him as an attempt at comfort, you slowed down when you realized what you were about to do. Was it acceptable to kiss Tim? You've always been Physically close, but not that kind of close. The boy swallowed as he noticed your intention, his eyes alternating between Tim's eyes and his mouth.

You asked him in a whisper if you could do that. Conner looked at the whole scene with admiration and when your lips captured Tim's after a silent approval from him, it was safe to say that Conner was ecstatic, fascinated by how common and acceptable that kind of interaction seemed between you, it was genuine and beautiful, a kiss that had no hint of anxiety because it seemed like you always knew you could have it. After the kiss Tim looked at you passionately as he said "Everything will be fine", an attempt to convince himself with the words.

"You're both crazy" was his only response to your interaction "Don't exclude yourself, you're crazy too" you pulled away from Tim, throwing yourself close to Conner who captured you in his arms "Well, it's safe to say that I am" You held out your hand to Tim, wanting him to come closer too. Tim follows your gesture, leaning forward and lying partially on top of you. Now you, Tim and Conner were snuggled up to each other.

"We should plan what we're going to say," Tim said, very much immersed in his own thoughts, he seemed to be talking to himself. The room was silent for a few seconds, all of you were having your own reflections on this "We don't have to" Conner said, drawing a defeated sigh from Tim "Maybe" The three of you seemed satisfied, but it only lasted a short time "But we should" He sat down on the bed now facing you "A little preparation wouldn't be bad. Bruce doesn't cope well with this kind of revelation" He was looking for some kind of agreement from you.

"You need to calm down, it's not like we're doing anything so nefarious. Your mission performance won't decline, he already knows us well, he's dated a thief and an assassin, you're with two heroes. We're at an advantage" You said, trying to show Tim that his ideas were altered, but that didn't diminish his fear "If it would make you feel better, let him be informed before we talk to him, tell your brothers and he'll cope fine, he's a grown man, Tim, remember that" You tried again. "Maybe you're right" He went back to his old position, looking less distressed, but still tense "We'll be fine" Conner said "Probably" Tim whispered "We will" You assured him.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Twinkfrump Linkdump

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in CHICAGO (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Welcome to the seventeenth Pluralistic linkdump, a collection of all the miscellany that didn't make it into the week's newsletter, cunningly wrought together in a single edition that ranges from the first ISP to AI nonsense to labor organizing victories to the obituary of a brilliant scientist you should know a lot more about! Here's the other 16 dumps:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

If you're reading this (and you are!), it was delivered to you by an internet service provider. Today, the ISP industry is calcified, controlled by a handful of telcos and cable companies. But the idea of an "ISP" didn't come out of a giant telecommunications firm – it was created, in living memory, by excellent nerds who are still around.

Depending on how you reckon, The Little Garden was either the first or the second ISP in America. It was named after a Palo Alto Chinese restaurant frequented by its founders. To get a sense of that founding, read these excellent recollections by Tom Jennings, whose contributions include the seminal zine Homocore, the seminal networking protocol Fidonet, and the seminal third-party PC ROM, whence came Dell, Gateway, Compaq, and every other "PC clone" company.

The first installment describes how an informal co-op to network a few friends turned into a business almost by accident, with thousands of dollars flowing in and out of Jennings' bank account:

https://www.sensitiveresearch.com/Archive/TLG/TLG.html

And it describes how that ISP set a standard for neutrality, boldly declaring that "TLGnet exercises no control whatsoever over the content of the information." They introduced an idea of radical transparency, documenting their router configurations and other technical details and making them available to the public. They hired unskilled punk and queer kids from their communities and trained them to operate the network equipment they'd invented, customized or improvised.

In part two, Jennings talks about the evolution of TLG's radical business-plan: to offer unrestricted service, encouraging their customers to resell that service to people in their communities, having no lock-in, unbundling extra services including installation charges – the whole anti-enshittification enchilada:

https://www.sensitiveresearch.com/Archive/TLG/

I love Jennings and his work. I even gave him a little cameo in Picks and Shovels, the third Martin Hench novel, which will be out next winter. He's as lyrical a writer about technology as you could ask for, and he's also a brilliant engineer and thinker.

The Little Garden's founders and early power-users have all fleshed out Jennings' account of the birth of ISPs. Writing on his blog, David "DSHR" Rosenthal rounds up other histories from the likes of EFF co-founder John Gilmore and Tim Pozar:

https://blog.dshr.org/2024/04/the-little-garden.html

Rosenthal describes some of the more exotic shenanigans TLG got up to in order to do end-runs around the Bell system's onerous policies, hacking in the purest sense of the word, for example, by daisy-chaining together modems in regions with free local calling and then making "permanent local calls," with the modems staying online 24/7.

Enshittification came to the ISP business early and hit it hard. The cartel that controls your access to the internet today is a billion light-years away from the principled technologists who invented the industry with an ethos of care, access and fairness. Today's ISPs are bitterly opposed to Net Neutrality, the straightforward proposition that if you request some data, your ISP should send it to you as quickly and reliably as it can.

Instead, ISPs want to offer "slow-lanes" where they will relegate the whole internet, except for those companies that bribe the ISP to be delivered at normal speed. ISPs have a laughably transparent way of describing this: they say that they're allowing services to pay for "fast lanes" with priority access. This is the same as the giant grocery store that charges you extra unless you surrender your privacy with a "loyalty card" – and then says that they're offering a "discount" for loyal customers, rather than charging a premium to customers who don't want to be spied on.

The American business lobby loves this arrangement, and hates Net Neutrality. Having monopolized every sector of our economy, they are extremely fond of "winner take all" dynamics, and that's what a non-neutral ISP delivers: the biggest services with the deepest pockets get the most reliable delivery, which means that smaller services don't just have to be better than the big guys, they also have to be able to outbid them for "priority carriage."

If everything you get from your ISP is slow and janky, except for the dominant services, then the dominant services can skimp on quality and pocket the difference. That's the goal of every monopolist – not just to be too big to fail, but also too big to care.

Under the Trump administration, FCC chair Ajit Pai dismantled the Net Neutrality rule, colluding with American big business to rig the process. They accepted millions of obviously fake anti-Net Neutrality comments (one million identical comments from @pornhub.com addresses, comments from dead people, comments from sitting US Senators who support Net Neutrality) and declared open season on American internet users:

https://ag.ny.gov/press-release/2021/attorney-general-james-issues-report-detailing-millions-fake-comments-revealing

Now, Biden's FCC is set to reinstate Net Neutrality – but with a "compromise" that will make mobile internet (which nearly all of use sometimes, and the poorest of us are reliant on) a swamp of anticompetitive practices:

https://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2024/04/harmful-5g-fast-lanes-are-coming-fcc-needs-stop-them

Under the proposed rule, mobile carriers will be able to put traffic to and from apps in the slow lane, and then extort bribes from preferred apps for normal speed and delivery. They'll rely on parts of the 5G standard to pull off this trick.

The ISP cartel and the FCC insist that this is fine because web traffic won't be degraded, but of course, every service is hellbent on pushing you into using apps instead of the web. That's because the web is an open platform, which means you can install ad- and privacy-blockers. More than half of web users have installed a blocker, making it the largest boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But reverse-engineering and modding an app is a legal minefield. Just removing the encryption from an app can trigger criminal penalties under Section 1201 of the DMCA, carrying a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine. An app is just a web-page skinned in enough IP that it's a felony to mod it.

Apps are enshittification's vanguard, and the fact that the FCC has found a way to make them even worse is perversely impressive. They're voting on this on April 25, and they have until April 24 to fix this. They should. They really should:

https://docs.fcc.gov/public/attachments/DOC-401676A1.pdf

In a just world, cheating ripoff ISPs would the top tech policy story. The operational practices of ISPs effect every single one us. We literally can't talk about tech policy without ISPs in the middle. But Net Neutrality is an also-ran in tech policy discourse, while AI – ugh ugh ugh – is the thing none of us can shut up about.

This, despite the fact that the most consequential AI applications sum up to serving as a kind of moral crumple-zone for shitty business practices. The point of AI isn't to replace customer service and other low-paid workers who have taken to demanding higher wages and better conditions – it's to fire those workers and replace them with chatbots that can't do their jobs. An AI salesdroid can't sell your boss a bot that can replace you, but they don't need to. They only have to convince your boss that the bot can do your job, even if it can't.

SF writer Karl Schroeder is one of the rare sf practitioners who grapples seriously with the future, a "strategic foresight" guy who somehow skirts the bullshit that is the field's hallmark:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/07/the-gernsback-continuum/#wheres-my-jetpack

Writing on his blog, Schroeder describes the AI debates roiling the Association of Professional Futurists, and how it's sucking him into being an unwilling participant in the AI hype cycle:

https://kschroeder.substack.com/p/dragged-into-the-ai-hype-cycle

Schroeder's piece is a thoughtful meditation on the relationship of SF's thought-experiments and parables about AI to the promises of AI hucksters, who promise that a) "general artificial intelligence" is just around the corner and that b) it will be worth trillions of dollars.

Schroeder – like other sf writers including Ted Chiang and Charlie Stross (and me) – comes to the conclusion that AI panic isn't about AI, it's about power. The artificial life-form devouring the planet and murdering our species is the limited liability corporation, and its substrate isn't silicon, it's us, human bodies:

What’s lying underneath all our anxieties about AGI is an anxiety that has nothing to do with Artificial Intelligence. Instead, it’s a manifestation of our growing awareness that our world is being stolen from under us. Last year’s estimate put the amount of wealth currently being transferred from the people who made it to an idle billionaire class at $5.2 trillion. Artificial General Intelligence whose environment is the server farms and sweatshops of this class is frightening only because of its capacity to accelerate this greatest of all heists.

After all, the business-case for AI is so very thin that the industry can only survive on a torrent of hype and nonsense – like claims that Amazon's "Grab and Go" stores used "AI" to monitor shoppers and automatically bill them for their purchases. In reality, the stores used thousands of low-paid Indian workers to monitor cameras and manually charge your card. This happens so often that Indian technologists joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Isn't it funny how all the really promising AI applications are in domains that most of us aren't qualified to assess? Like the claim that Google's AI was producing millions of novel materials that will shortly revolutionize all forms of production, from construction to electronics to medical implants:

https://deepmind.google/discover/blog/millions-of-new-materials-discovered-with-deep-learning/

That's what Google's press-release claimed, anyway. But when two groups of experts actually pulled a representative sample of these "new materials" from the Deep Mind database, they found that none of these materials qualified as "credible, useful and novel":

https://pubs.acs.org/doi/10.1021/acs.chemmater.4c00643

Writing about the researchers' findings for 404 Media, Jason Koebler cites Berkeley researchers who concluded that "no new materials have been discovered":

https://www.404media.co/google-says-it-discovered-millions-of-new-materials-with-ai-human-researchers/

The researchers say that AI data-mining for new materials is promising, but falls well short of Google's claim to be so transformative that it constitutes the "equivalent to nearly 800 years’ worth of knowledge" and "an order-of-magnitude expansion in stable materials known to humanity."

AI hype keeps the bubble inflating, and for so long as it keeps blowing up, all those investors who've sunk their money into AI can tell themselves that they're rich. This is the essence of "a bezzle": "The magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

Among the best debezzlers of AI are the Princeton Center for Information Technology Policy's Arvind Narayanan and Sayash Kapoor, who edit the "AI Snake Oil" blog. Now, they've sold a book with the same title:

https://www.aisnakeoil.com/p/ai-snake-oil-is-now-available-to

Obviously, books move a lot more slowly than blogs, and so Narayanan and Kapoor say their book will focus on the timeless elements of identifying and understanding AI snake oil:

In the book, we explain the crucial differences between types of AI, why people, companies, and governments are falling for AI snake oil, why AI can’t fix social media, and why we should be far more worried about what people will do with AI than about anything AI will do on its own. While generative AI is what drives press, predictive AI used in criminal justice, finance, healthcare, and other domains remains far more consequential in people’s lives. We discuss in depth how predictive AI can go wrong. We also warn of the dangers of a world where AI continues to be controlled by largely unaccountable big tech companies.

The book's out in September and it's up for pre-order now:

https://bookshop.org/p/books/ai-snake-oil-what-artificial-intelligence-can-do-what-it-can-t-and-how-to-tell-the-difference-arvind-narayanan/21324674

One of the weirder and worst side-effects of the AI hype bubble is that it has revived the belief that it's somehow possible for giant platforms to monitor all their users' speech and remove "harmful" speech. We've tried this for years, and when humans do it, it always ends with disfavored groups being censored, while dedicated trolls, harassers and monsters evade punishment:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/como-is-infosec/

AI hype has led policy-makers to believe that we can deputize online services to spy on all their customers and block the bad ones without falling into this trap. Canada is on the verge of adopting Bill C-63, a "harmful content" regulation modeled on examples from the UK and Australia.

Writing on his blog, Canadian lawyer/activist/journalist Dimitri Lascaris describes the dire speech implications for C-63:

https://dimitrilascaris.org/2024/04/08/trudeaus-online-harms-bill-threatens-free-speech/

It's an excellent legal breakdown of the bill's provisions, but also a excellent analysis of how those provisions are likely to play out in the lives of Canadians, especially those advocating against genocide and taking other positions the that oppose the agenda of the government of the day.

Even if you like the Trudeau government and its policies, these powers will accrue to every Canadian government, including the presumptive (and inevitably, totally unhinged) near-future Conservative majority government of Pierre Poilievre.

It's been ten years since Martin Gilens and Benjamin I Page published their paper that concluded that governments make policies that are popular among elites, no matter how unpopular they are among the public:

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/perspectives-on-politics/article/testing-theories-of-american-politics-elites-interest-groups-and-average-citizens/62327F513959D0A304D4893B382B992B

Now, this is obviously depressing, but when you see it in action, it's kind of wild. The Biden administration has declared war on junk fees, from "resort fees" charged by hotels to the dozens of line-items added to your plane ticket, rental car, or even your rent check. In response, Republican politicians are climbing to their rear haunches and, using their actual human mouths, defending junk fees:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-12-republicans-objectively-pro-junk-fee/

Congressional Republicans are hell-bent on destroying the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau's $8 cap on credit-card late-fees. Trump's presumptive running-mate Tim Scott is making this a campaign plank: "Vote for me and I will protect your credit-card company's right to screw you on fees!" He boasts about the lobbyists who asked him to take this position: champions of the public interest from the Consumer Bankers Association to the US Chamber of Commerce.

Banks stand to lose $10b/year from this rule (which means Americans stand to gain $10b/year from this rule). What's more, Scott's attempt to kill the rule is doomed to fail – there's just no procedural way it will fly. As David Dayen writes, "Not only does this vote put Republicans on the spot over junk fees, it’s a doomed vote, completely initiated by their own possible VP nominee."

This is an hilarious own-goal, one that only brings attention to a largely ignored – but extremely good – aspect of the Biden administration. As Adam Green of Bold Progressives told Dayen, "What’s been missing is opponents smoking themselves out and raising the volume of this fight so the public knows who is on their side."

The CFPB is a major bright spot in the Biden administration's record. They're doing all kind of innovative things, like making it easy for you to figure out which bank will give you the best deal and then letting you transfer your account and all its associated data, records and payments with a single click:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/let-my-dollars-go/#personal-financial-data-rights

And now, CFPB chair Rohit Chopra has given a speech laying out the agency's plan to outlaw data-brokers:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/prepared-remarks-of-cfpb-director-rohit-chopra-at-the-white-house-on-data-protection-and-national-security/

Yes, this is some good news! There is, in fact, good news in the world, bright spots amidst all the misery and terror. One of those bright spots? Labor.

Unions are back, baby. Not only do the vast majority of Americans favor unions, not only are new shops being unionized at rates not seen in generations, but also the largest unions are undergoing revolutions, with control being wrestled away from corrupt union bosses and given to the rank-and-file.

Many of us have heard about the high-profile victories to take back the UAW and Teamsters, but I hadn't heard about the internal struggles at the United Food and Commercial Workers, not until I read Hamilton Nolan's gripping account for In These Times:

https://inthesetimes.com/article/revolt-aisle-5-ufcw-grocery-workers-union

Nolan profiles Faye Guenther, president of UFCW Local 3000 and her successful and effective fight to bring a militant spirit back to the union, which represents a million grocery workers. Nolan describes the fight as "every bit as dramatic as any episode of Game of Thrones," and he's not wrong. This is an inspiring tale of working people taking power away from scumbag monopoly bosses and sellout fatcat leaders – and, in so doing, creating a institution that gets better wages, better working conditions, and a better economy, by helping to block giant grocery mergers like Kroger/Albertsons.

I like to end these linkdumps on an up note, so it feels weird to be closing out with an obituary, but I'd argue that any celebration of the long life and many accomplishments of my friend and mentor Anne Innis Dagg is an "up note."

I last wrote about Anne in 2020, on the release of a documentary about her work, "The Woman Who Loved Giraffes":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/#annedagg

As you might have guessed from the title of that doc, Anne was a biologist. She was the first woman scientist to do field-work on giraffes, and that work was so brilliant and fascinating that it kicked off the modern field of giraffology, which remains a woman-dominated specialty thanks to her tireless mentoring and support for the scientists that followed her.

Anne was also the world's most fearsome slayer of junk-science "evolutionary psychology," in which "scientists" invent unfalsifiable just-so stories that prove that some odious human characteristic is actually "natural" because it can be found somewhere in the animal kingdom (i.e., "Darling, please, it's not my fault that I'm fucking my grad students, it's the bonobos!").

Anne wrote a classic – and sadly out of print – book about this that I absolutely adore, not least for having one of the best titles I've ever encountered: "Love of Shopping" Is Not a Gene:

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/11/04/love-of-shopping-is-not-a-gene-exposing-junk-science-and-ideology-in-darwinian-psychology/

Anne was my advisor at the University of Waterloo, an institution that denied her tenure for fifty years, despite a brilliant academic career that rivaled that of her storied father, Harold Innis ("the thinking person's Marshall McLuhan"). The fact that Waterloo never recognized Anne is doubly shameful when you consider that she was awarded the Order of Canada:

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/queen-of-giraffes-among-new-order-of-canada-recipients-with-global-influence

Anne lived a brilliant live, struggling through adversity, never compromising on her principles, inspiring a vast number of students and colleagues. She lived to ninety one, and died earlier this month. Her ashes will be spread "on the breeding grounds of her beloved giraffes" in South Africa this summer:

https://obituaries.therecord.com/obituary/anne-innis-dagg-1089534658

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/13/goulash/#material-misstatement

Image: Valeva1010 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hungarian_Goulash_Recipe.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[cdelphiki]

Jason and the Three Terrors spoilers

So I got an ask I'm going to put under a spoiler to answer! I'm going to include a snippet of my draft of a side story I'll post eventually, showing what's going on in Gotham right now!

HI I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS. Okay, to answer: We do!!!!! I don't now how much of the details will be put into the actual main story, since it's all Jason's POV, but I am working on a side story that's from Tim's POV. I might have it just be one "big" fic where I also have Bruce and Clark's POV and it's basically just jumping through part II showing what's going on with all them. Also Alfred will be preparing rooms for them all, just not quite yet. Bruce knows the kids won't be coming to him yet, but he and Clark are both working toward the four of them moving to Gotham to be with Bruce.

Tim basically figures it all out, Bruce had left the case to him to deal with, and Tim figures out Clark is in contact with the defectors pretty quickly, and once he makes the connection to Jason and Damian being Bruce's kid, he brings all the info to Bruce and Bruce is PISSED lmao. Anyway here's a small snipped from Tim doing the detective work: Its the most polished part I have, but it's still a rough draft. (This takes place on either Friday or Saturday morning, when Tim went over to Clark's house that same Saturday morning.)

-

Tim finally tracked down the League kids. It was surprisingly difficult. Whoever was on their side was good, because the paper trail of them going through airport security was wiped almost immediately after they left the airport. Tim couldn’t find any close up photos of them anywhere.

So it took him a week to figure out where they’d gone, but once he finally figured that out, it didn't take too long to track them down.

They’d bought train tickets to Metropolis, and Tim found where the teenager had exchanged his fake New York drivers license for a real Delaware one. Which was pretty damn impressive.

But it meant Tim had a clear photo of him.

And his first name.

And honestly? Tim was very, very confused.

Because this kid looked exactly like Jason Todd, just bigger, with straighter hair, and a white streak in his hair.

But Jason was dead.

Bruce grieved him way too hard for that to be fake. Jason was definitely dead.

But this kid went by the name Jason… Jason Johnson. Which was Jason Todd’s adoptive mother’s maiden name.

And the eyes were exact.

Tim had run them through a program to compare them to Jason Todd’s and, well. It said exact match. Same with a facial recognition.

When a new photo popped up on his newly created alert, Tim easily pulled the Daily Planet employment records and was able to double confirm. This definitely looked like Jason Todd.

But if he was Jason, why hadn’t he come to Bruce?

Was the League threatening him? Was he afraid to come to Bruce because of that? He’d gone to Metropolis, which was close. Did he know that the bats would figure it out, find him, and help him?

Tim was honestly ready to go straight to Bruce with all this, but he hesitated. Jason’s birthday was coming up in a little over a month, and Bruce was not handling it well.

If Tim was wrong here…

So Tim needed to gather more evidence.

The first thing he did was enlist Kon.

“Tim why are we doing this,” Conner asked, after he’d flown the two of them to Gotham Cemetery. It was just before dawn, so the cemetery was completely abandoned, giving them perfect privacy.

And it was way too early for Bruce to be awake, so he wouldn’t notice what Tim was doing, either.

“I have a hunch, okay?” Tim said, as he walked the last few paces over to the gravestone that said Jason Todd.

Conner stayed back where he landed and said, uncertainly, “This feels wrong. Isn’t it wrong? Like… grave robbing?”

“It’s not wrong,” Tim shot back, “We aren’t digging him up. Just looking.”

“What if I don't want to look?” Kon whined back.

Which was fair enough. Tim didn’t want to look inside coffins, either. But this was necessary.

“If I’m right, there’s nothing to even look at,” he said, “It��s empty down there.” And if it wasn’t empty down there, then they were dealing with a clone.

But the clone clearly wasn’t doing what Ra’s wanted him to do, because he’d gone and stolen three kids right from under Ra’s nose.

Kon held his gaze another long moment, clearly hoping Tim would change his mind. When Tim held the gaze firmly, and didn’t budge, Kon dropped his shoulders and grimaced.

And, finally, looked down at the grave they were standing near. He took a deep breath, then really looked, and his eyes went wide.

“Damn,” Kon exhaled, “You’re right.”

Tim couldn’t help his grin.

“How are you right?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said, “that’s what I need to figure out next.”