#to figure out the actual plot of this fic

[ipetdogsandcats]

if i had six chances to get you into brudick...

A fic rec list by yours truly!

Casino Royale by spaceisgay (chancellorgriffin)

The fic that got me into Brudick. Bruce and Dick go undercover at a casino to bust a plot by Roulette, and figure out they're in love. I think the characterisation of Bruce and Dick as adults and equals is well done, and the fic is really fun and satisfying to read, partially because of the realisations our pair has, but also because Dick is really, really good at poker. Fun! Hot! (Finished)

2. Strangers in the Dark by Averia

Incredibly underrated. Dick wakes up from his Joker induced coma after everyone thought he wouldn't, and we get to see what Bruce becomes without his guiding light. An incredibly compelling mystery, with a twist that I genuinely did not see coming. (Finished)

3. The End of the World by ava_jamison

Dick is about to leave for college, so Bruce spirals and angsts at a party–perhaps not the most exciting premise, but the writing is impeccable. The vibe is almost a little surreal, as if from a dream, but the affection and longing Bruce has for Dick is palpable. The setting of the fic (literally "a party for teenagers") also refuses to let you forget that Dick is Bruce's ward, which makes for some internal conflict that's delicious and heartbreaking. (Finished)

4. we’ll be together (eventually, in time) by Laroyena

Everyone has probably read this wonderful classic, but if you haven't, here's a soulmate AU where Bruce and Dick works things out over the course of years, while everyone figures out they're in love before they do. Batman being unable to deny himself and loving Dick, before pushing him away, while Dick leaves but doesn't stray too far is an ongoing theme here, and I'm obsessed. Selina and Tim's appearances are also in character and enjoyable :) (Finished)

5. Dick Grayson Reaction by Dreamquillz

A characters react to Dick's story fic! Okay, fair warning, this isn't actually a Brudick fic, it's tagged gen and will feature other Dick ships down the line. However, with that said, some of my favourite moments between Bruce and Dick in fanfic have come from this fic, and I truly believe no one captures their codependent soulmatism better than Dreamquillz. It is also just a really accurate, thoughtful and well written love letter to Dick Grayson. So definitely give it a go if you love our duo appreciating and getting each other like no one else does! (Unfinished)

6. Happy Acres by Kyele

Bruce and Dick go undercover at a couple's retreat run by Harley Quinn and figure important things out. The dialogue between the two is so fun and flirty (once they figure things out) and you really get the sense that Batman and Nightwing are a well oiled team. The actual plot (and the final battle) is also so well written that I think it actually could have been published as a canon Batman investigative novel if it were adjusted for censors and whatnot. A great great time! (Finished)

If anyone reads any of these let me know what you think :) Happy reading and enjoy!

[fullsunstrawberry]

Teaser

pairings: Brother Best Friend Haechan x Virgin Reader (hints of Jeno x reader and Sungchan x reader)

summary: When you sets out to finally lose your virginity, your mission is simple—until your older brother’s best friend steps in, vowing to be your personal chastity belt. After a fight he makes it his mission to get his revenge... by blocking every hookup attempt you makes. But the more he interferes, the more complicated things get and suddenly, the line between rivalry and something more starts to blur.

content warning: It's okay to be a virgin this was just for the plot (im literally still a virgin), drinking, talks of cheating but no actual cheating, heavy make-outs, grinding, jealousy, haechan cockblocking twice, virgin reader, experienced haechan, reader being a brat, haechan being a brat “tamer”, smut warnings will be added to full fic

word count for teaser: 837

word count: Over 14k

authors note: This is long overdue...im backk! <3

“Why don’t we go and find a better place to talk.” 

You tilted your head back slightly to meet Jeno’s intense gaze, your lips curling into a small smirk. “A better place to talk, huh? And where exactly did you have in mind?” you asked teasingly, though the butterflies in your stomach betrayed how nervous you were.

Jeno smirked, his fingers lightly touching your waist as he leaned in. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. Maybe a bedroom? Away from all this noise.”

The idea of some alone time with him was very tempting. The night had already taken a surprising turn, and you figured there was no harm in seeing where it would lead. “Alright,” you said, your voice softer now as you stepped back, giving him a playful tug on his hand.

“Lead the way.”

As Jeno guided you through the crowded room, you were starting to get nervous. Was this finally happening? And with a hot guy like Jeno too? The music and energy of the party seemed to fade into the background as you both stepped into a room that was unlocked. 

Jeno shut the door and turned back to you. “I've been dying to kiss you all night.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You teased back. 

Without another word, Jeno closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against yours. 

His touch was hot, every brush of his fingers against your skin sent shivers through you, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment with him. 

He backed up so he could sit on the bed with your lips still chasing his. As the kiss deepened, Jeno’s hands began to explore your body. Pulling you onto his lap and running his fingers up your back to push you further into him. 

Your body started to tense up, never getting this far with anyone before but you were so turned on. Jeno seemed to sense it too, his kisses growing more urgent as he trailed them down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and you froze in place. Your heart leaped into your throat as you quickly pulled away from Jeno, your breath hitching. The startled look you exchanged with him was all too telling.

Haechan stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face unreadable. His eyes moved between you and Jeno, and for a moment, the room felt smaller.

Scrambling off Jeno’s lap, you felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks. The embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising position burned in your chest. “Haechan, what—” you stammered, struggling to find the right words.

He didn’t let you finish. With a sharp motion, he raised a hand, his voice low and cutting. “Stop.”

His attention shifted to Jeno, his jaw tight as his eyes narrowed. The weight of his stare seemed to pin Jeno in place. After an intense moment of silence, Haechan spoke again, his voice controlled but icy.

“Leave.”

Jeno blinked, clearly misunderstanding what was happening. His face changed as he realized something—like he thought your boyfriend had caught him. Without saying anything, he stood up, avoided Haechan’s glare, and quickly left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence.

You turned to Haechan, your pulse still racing, only to find him... smiling? No, grinning. The amusement in his eyes was unmistakable as he leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Wow,” he laughed. “Can’t believe how fast he ran off. I said just one word!” His laughter got louder. “Okay, two words but still!” He held his side like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

You stared at him, completely confused. “What the hell is going on?” you asked, your face full of disbelief. Your mind raced to keep up with how weird things had gotten.

Haechan straightened up, still chuckling, and said with a smug smile, “Relax, I’m just getting back at you.”

“Getting back at me?” you repeated, even more confused. “For what?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you lose your virginity while you’re living under my roof,” he said with a proud smirk, like he’d just won something.

You blinked, shocked. “What?”

“I heard you guys at your little sleepover,” Haechan said, his grin growing wider as he saw your reaction. “So here’s the deal: I’m watching you like a hawk. No chance of losing your virginity this year. Not on my watch.”

You stared, speechless, trying to wrap your head around how bold he was. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” he said casually, shrugging. “But you said I’m just Mark’s friend. Pretty sure he wouldn’t want his little sister making mistakes.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, the weight of his words sinking in. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you finally said, shaking your head in disbelief.

Haechan just grinned, the smugness in his expression making your blood boil. “Nope. Dead serious. Consider me your personal chastity belt.”

comment or ask to be on the taglist <3 Will be posted this weekend!

[foggyfanfic]

There comes a point when you are doing too much research for fanfic, and that point is probably way before you’re looking up the interactions between the Cocos and Nazcas plates in order to decide where you would put a fictional island if you want it off the coast of Colombia.

[goatsghost]

pros and cons of writing fanfiction:

pro: personalized fic right there, exactly fit to your specific tastes and headcanons

con: you have to write it

[magicpiano]

Bruce Wayne had a child that was somehow kidnapped right out of the hospital just hours after being born. He of them ever stopped looking despite how cold the trail had grown.

Years later there is some rouge attack and a civilian child was injured and taken to the hospital. Bruce does a DNA test on the blood found at the scene and concludes that the child is actually his long lost kid.

Dani was planning to sneak out of the hospital the moment the doctors stopped looking at her. Then Bruce Wayne of all people comes in and claims that she is his long lost child. She knows that this is very impossible because she is a clone, but Bruce won't listen to her and she really doesn't want to explain the clone thing to a "normal" stranger.

This does brings up a lot of questions about how Danny ended up living with the Fentons though.

[flieslikeamoron]

For the ask meme, if you're still doing it! I wish you would write a fic where either Eddie or Steve can read the other's mind, or feel their emotions, or are otherwise psychically linked in some way. :)

Hiiiii! At one point I was thinking about writing a soul bond type of thing where the bat bites create a hive mind that Steve and Eddie share. Your ask reminded me of the idea so I wrote a little bit of what that could have been like. Some dicks and stuff behind the cut.

-*-

It’s not that weird.

Sure, it’s a little strange Steve always seems to know when Eddie pulls into the parking lot at Family Video. Even if he’s in the back room, couldn’t possibly have heard the rattle of the van’s rusted muffler. 

And yes, he can tell when Eddie’s hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Can tell without asking if he’s craving a burger or spaghetti. Can tell where Eddie is in a room without looking. Can feel it like a magnet pulling. But he knows when Robin’s hungry just by looking too. Or when she has a crush on someone. He knows when Nancy’s fed up or trying not to laugh. He knows when Dustin’s about to go off on some nerd rant before he starts talking. 

It’s just because they’re friends now. That has to be why he feels so much better when Eddie’s around. Like something he didn’t know was missing clicking into place. That’s friendship, isn’t it? 

It’s not that weird. 

Not compared to all the shit they’ve been through. It’s nice, actually, the way Eddie smiling at him sinks deep into him like sunshine on his skin. The way Eddie’s pacing footsteps or the drumming of his fingers on the counter thumps in a rhythm against Steve’s chest. Even when Eddie’s pissed, it rattles like rain on a tin roof in a way Steve kind of likes. 

It’s just because Steve likes him. It’s not a big deal that he hasn’t felt exactly like this about any of the other people he’s friends with. Any of the people he loves. Different isn’t bad. There’s no reason to mention it. What would he even say? Do you know when I’m thirsty too? Do you feel like a lock turning when you touch me? That does make it sound weird. And what if Eddie says no. What if Eddie has no idea what he’s even talking about. 

No, Steve will just give him a Coke when he knows Eddie wants a Coke. And bask in the smile that gets him. There’s no reason to bring it up. To make it weird.

Until.

It comes out of nowhere, heat building low in his gut when Steve’s in the middle of putting his laundry away. He’s got the phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder, Robin on the other end giving him a play-by-play of her latest not-date with Vicki. He puts the rest of his jeans away, trying to ignore how turned on he is for no apparent reason. But there’s something fucked up about having Robin’s voice in his ear while he’s popping a boner. 

“I gotta go,” he interrupts. “Sorry, I forgot I have to-” He tries to think of something he could be doing that’s not jerking off.

“Am I boring you?”

“No I just-” He stops again. This time because he has the oddest feeling. Almost the feeling of a hand on him. Of fingers pinching into his nipple. It’s never really done much for him, having his nipples played with. But a pulse of heat goes right through his balls. He curls a hand thoughtlessly against his boner, feeling the needy weight of it. “I’ll call you in a sec.” He can hear Robin protesting as he hangs up and tosses the phone aside. 

She calls right back, but he lets it ring. Too busy tugging his pants down. He can’t explain anyway. That he just really needs to get off right now. It’s rude as hell. He doesn’t know why he’s- But he’s so turned on. He’ll make it up to her after he gets this out of his system. 

He tugs his underwear down enough to get his dick out, starting to stroke himself with one hand, the other braced on his dresser. He likes to start slow normally, get himself worked up, but he feels strung tight as if he’s already been at it for a while. He spits in his hand, spreads precome down the shaft. Watching his hand move, the head of his dick red and slick in the circle of his fingers. 

There’s something wrong with his vision, something sort of blurry like a double exposure in a photograph. He blinks. It’s like the almost there of another hand, that’s not his hand. Of a dick that’s not his dick. He can almost feel it ghost against his skin when that hand moves, off rhythm with his. It’s making his dick throb, gut snarled tight with heat. It’s making him dizzy. He closes his eyes, and tries to focus on the slide of his hand. Just his hand. Tries to picture Phoebe Cates getting out of the pool. Perfect boobs and a slo-mo smile. But the picture in his head feels impossible to hold on to. Feels like he can’t- 

And then he’s seeing himself a little hazy and far away like looking through clear water. It’s him pulling himself out of the pool in his swim team speedos. Muscles flexing. Water streaming off him. Hand running through his own wet hair, and a cocky grin on his face. 

And okay, he knows he’s a good-looking guy. But he’s not- His ego isn’t this big. This isn’t the him he sees in the mirror. It’s sort of- Everything a little better than he actually is. The him he wishes he was. 

He didn’t- The shape of it feels wrong inside his head, like it doesn’t fit right. But he’s watching himself sitting down now, at the edge of the pool. And there's someone still in the water. There are hands on his thighs. A mouth on his cock. He can’t see much of the other person but long, dark, wet hair. He can almost feel it, the heat of that mouth on his cock. The sizzle of it through his mind going straight to his balls. And every time he strokes himself it’s like he feels it in his dick, and then he feels it again somehow like an echo throbbing through him. An overwhelming feedback loop of want and need and how good it feels. God. Fuck. I’m gonna come. He is gonna come, but he hears it against the inside of his head, and it doesn’t sound like him. It sounds like-

“Eddie?” he says cautiously. Out loud and in his head too.

He feels a quick stab of shock, fear. It feels like the rest of it. Sort of the wrong shape inside his body, inside his head. That picture of him winks away. And then it’s like he’s got a song stuck in his head, but it’s a heavy metal song he’s never heard before. 

“Eddie?” He thinks it harder. Tries to make it a scream, send it out past the inside of his own head. But the music keeps going, the noise of it so loud he can hardly think past it, can’t hear past it to whatever Eddie’s thinking behind it. That is Eddie behind it though, he’s pretty sure. That was Eddie just now. The things Steve was feeling. That was what Eddie was thinking about while he was getting off. He was thinking about Steve. 

Steve should be more weirded out by that, probably. Knowing he’s starring in Eddie Munson’s wet dreams is a bit of a surprise. He didn’t even know Eddie’s gay. He waits to feel shocked or upset, but outside of being kind of confused how any of this is even happening, he doesn’t seem to mind it. It’s a compliment, really. If that’s the way Eddie sees him. He kind of likes it, actually, in a deep down, self-satisfied way that makes him wonder if he does need to work on his ego after all. 

He feels vaguely guilty that he accidentally ruined the guy’s jerk off session. He looks down at his hand on his dick. He’s not sure if he should finish now. It’s like stolen valor or something. Is he even horny or was he just piggy-backing? However he got here, he’s still pretty close. He gives himself a couple careful strokes. Can Eddie feel that? Or was it just a one way connection? He heard it when Steve thought his name though. The heavy metal is still fucking blasting, so maybe he can’t hear or feel Steve past that just like Steve can’t hear him. He doesn’t know if he should risk it though. 

It’s pretty fucking weird.

The kind of weird he can’t ignore. 

He takes a cold shower, the heavy metal stuck in his head starting to give him a headache. Could you turn it down a little? he tries thinking. If it gets through to Eddie, he ignores it. Steve tries to figure out if there’s a way to turn down the volume on his end. Putting his fingers in his ears doesn’t help. He tries counting backward from a hundred and that seems like it does something, sort of. But as soon as he stops counting he can hear the music just as loud. Maybe Eddie will turn it off on his own if Steve gives him a little time to stop freaking out. 

He’s got to be freaking out. Having the dude you’re jerking off about pop up in your head has to be the nightmare scenario of all time. But how is Steve supposed to tell him it’s cool if he won’t stop putting up a wall of sound?

Or maybe Steve could try something a little less direct than whatever this head to head connection is. He tries calling Eddie’s trailer. No answer. He tries the walkie. No answer.

He wonders if Eddie can tell he’s pulling into the trailer park like Steve can always tell when he’s pulling up the street to Steve’s house. Steve can feel it. That magnet tug as he walks up the stairs. That feeling just underneath his breast bone that always seems to orient toward Eddie like a compass pointing north. He wonders if Eddie can feel that too. 

But maybe he can’t, because he looks shocked when he opens the door. Wide-eyed for just a second. The music breaks apart in Steve’s head enough that he can feel fear, just for a second. Less than that. Barely long enough to notice if he hadn’t been paying attention. And then the music starts up again, and whatever Eddie’s feeling is hidden behind it. Behind the easy laugh as he reaches out to thump Steve on the chest with the back of his hand like normal. Says, “You couldn’t call?” like Steve didn’t. Says, “You’re lucky I don’t have a life,” and tugs Steve in through the doorway. Like normal. 

For a moment Steve thinks maybe it was all in his head. Maybe he’s making up weird shit and thinking he and Eddie have some kind of psychic connection and hearing things that aren’t there and seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe none of it is real. And there’s nothing weird here except him.

But there’s music in his head. And he doesn’t know this song.

[bleue-flora]

Dream to Techno: “I don’t even sleep, but I do have a house.”

Dream to Sam: “I can sleep—I can sleep safely! I can sleep safely and soundly inside the walls of obsidian.”

Well Dream, which is it?

[charmwasjess]

Last Line Challenge

I got tagged by the lovely @wonderland-s-angel a couple days ago! Thank you!!! :D

I'll tag @bolithesenate + @purple-ant + @rochenn + @dapurinthos And for y'all, how about some of the long overdue next chapter of the Thunder Answered Back? I'm working on it and the time travel au this week.

“But… sixteen years. If I’m counting back, that…” Dooku trailed off, swallowed, and began again with some effort. “When… Sifo-Dyas accepted his seat on the Council, did he still–”

“Get that name out of your vile mouth, Sith!” Jocasta interrupted, surprised to find she was shouting. Her fingers spasmed against the lightsabers clipped at her waist. Black stars, she wanted to kill him all over again. She had been compartmentalizing that particular revelation from their night of wine and horrors. 

The last time Jocasta had seen Sifo-Dyas, he had been in the Temple hanger, prepping his ship to leave on some routine duty. He’d been smiling that small, secret smile of his that could be so charming or wicked, depending on what was behind it. Odd, she’d thought, at the time. Sifo-Dyas smiled so rarely those days. 

Later, Jocasta headed the investigation into his murder. The last, bleak gift she could give her lost friend, though she was as unable to help him in death as she had been in life. In the end, it was Plo Koon who brought his lightsaber home from that lonely crash site, and Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi who had followed the trail back to the Pykes. She read the incomprehensible words in their after mission report but could not believe them. Skywalker and Kenobi were the finest of Jedi, but surely, they’d simply come to the wrong conclusion. That Sifo-Dyas had been duped or used, yes, caught up unknowingly in some tangled, greater scheme that went back to the Sith, yes. That it had led to his death? Even that she could believe. In some ways, it was a marvel that it hadn’t happened to him sooner. 

But Dooku? Even then, even after everything he had done, she could not believe it. She had known the two together for their entire lives, since their boyhood friendship. It did not seem possible that Dooku could have ever truly meant Sifo-Dyas harm. 

Until last night, when Dooku confirmed it all.

Now, she realized she understood that elusive smile at last. Because Sifo-Dyas hadn’t been off on whatever errand he’d lied to her about that day. He’d been going to see Dooku.

It’s difficult, this business of knowing things, Sifo-Dyas had once told her. He’d been smiling then, too. 

[theomencometh]

okay i've had this scene from an au stuck in my head recently so here's 3k of timkon identity shenanigans where kon has been recently taken in by luthor for nefarious reasons and is forced to attend a gala where tim and bruce show up. robin hasn't revealed his identity to the team yet even though they've been friends for years. canon/timeline has been put in a blender and liquified.

Kon takes a deep breath in through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out of his mouth.  It’s a technique that Robin taught the team when he was trying desperately to get them on a more bat-approved training regime, including meditation and an acrobatics routine that Nightwing allegedly used on the Teen Titans years ago.  Kon is fully aware that he’s got weird stuff going on with his body’s organs and systems compared to humans, but the slow, rhythmic breathing still brings comfort and helps center him, slowing everything down enough so he no longer feels like he’s going to accidentally fry someone with his heat vision.

He tugs at the collar of his dress shirt, gulping and taking a deep breath again.  The shirt and tie feels so much more restrictive than his Superboy uniform, tightening like a noose around his neck, and the inflexibility of the suit coat makes him feel like a stiff, awkward mannequin.

“Stop that,” Luthor says, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder.  Kon immediately stills, straightening and trying to relax at the same time.

“These people are vultures,” Lex says, voice low.  Kon tries to focus his super hearing on him, rather than the woman with the loud laugh across the ballroom or the clink of glasses down the hall where the staff is continuously loading and unloading equipment.  He can hear the steady beat of Lex’s heart, the rhythmic whoosh of air traveling in his lungs, the slight gurgle of his stomach (gross!).  Kon decides he doesn’t like listening to Lex Luthor very much.

“Remember what I told you,” Lex is still saying.  “Be on your best behavior.  Today is about getting your name and your face out there.  Be polite, but not a pushover.  Never let them see weakness.”

Kon forcibly bites back the retort that his only weakness is kryptonite and makes himself nod instead.

Luthor leads him over to a group of people with his hand still clamped on Connor’s shoulder like a shackle.  From there, it’s an exhausting parade of schmoozing with millionaires and billionaires, shaking hands firmly (but not too firmly!), laughing at unfunny jokes, and pretending that he loves dear old Dad instead of wanting to punt him through the nearest wall.

Kon is charming.  He knows this.  It’s something that he’s known since he freshly came out of a test tube, and it’s something that he’s perfected with smiles and body language and a well-placed word or phrase.  Kon can get most people eating out of his hand with barely any effort, but it’s usually normal people a little closer to his age, not rich, egotistical, out-of-touch old people who want to pinch his cheeks but absolutely cannot be allowed to due to his invulnerable skin.  Kon forgets everyone’s name almost as soon as he hears it, clutching his flute of sparkling cider like a lifeline (but not hard enough to shatter).

Kon doesn’t know how long he gets paraded around as Luthor’s newest pet, but it feels like forever.  Everyone talks around where he’s been for the past 17 years of his life (nonexistent and then in a lab and then gallivanting around with superheroes and then, finally, as of two month ago a little farm in Kansas until Lex Luthor uprooted everything with a few well-placed threats), and Kon lets Lex tell the cover story about how he didn’t find out about Connor until recently, but he’s happy to be reunited with his son now.

Son.  Connor isn’t anyone’s son.  He was maybe getting to be a family member to the Kents finally, but Luthor threw a wrench into all of that.

Connor had a room at the farm.  He had a chore list to do and homemade meals to eat, and Clark has finally stopped flinching when he sees him.  Clark grinned at him the other day, not his public smile or a small, polite thing, but an actual, honest to goodness grin.  Connor bets he can kiss that goodbye now, just like he can kiss goodbye ever knowing Robin’s real identity, because there’s no way that Batman will let him tell Kon now that Kon is semi-legally under the guardianship of a supervillain, and just like there’s no way that Kon can have anything remotely resembling a normal teenage experience as the ward of a billionaire and forced showpony, and just like–

“I’ll be damned,” Lex breathes next to him, interrupting Kon’s spiral.  Kon follows his gaze to the entrance of the ballroom, ears picking up the loud, boisterous laugh of Bruce Wayne clapping someone on the back a little too forcefully.  Kon has never seen Bruce Wayne in person, but he’s difficult to miss in the papers, especially with how often he finds himself in trouble.  Robin has told him of a few instances when he or one of the other Gotham vigilantes has had to rescue him, and Kon knows that Lois interviewed him once and Clark has informally run into him at a gala such as this.

Clark says he tried really hard to be the journalist from the Planet here tonight once Lex demanded that Connor be there, but it was too late notice.  Neither Clark nor Lois are among the reporters clustered in the corner.  Kon is alone.

“He didn’t RSVP,” Lex says, miffed.  Kon immediately likes Bruce Wayne significantly more because of it.  “Oh, and he brought a friend.”

Kon peers around the crowd that has quickly amassed around Gotham’s favorite billionaire and finally spots the person Bruce Wayne has a hand on the shoulder of.  It’s a teenage boy, dressed in a dark suit with dark hair parted in the middle to keep it out of his eyes.  He’s slight, but not skinny, and he’s not overly tall, probably closer to Robin or Bart’s height than Connor’s.  He doesn’t show any signs of discomfort at the press of adults around him, offering polite handshakes and letting the women kiss his cheeks the way some of them have tried with Kon.  Bruce doesn’t stray far, taking the boy with him when they finally finish with the crowd near the door and head to the bar.  The boy doesn’t seem to mind the attention.  Kon, however, does not appreciate the tone of voice that Lex used when he said friend.  He’s ready to do some superheroing if he needs to.

“Let’s go,” Lex says, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder again to steer him through the crowd.  “Let me handle Bruce Wayne.  The kid is Timothy Drake.  He recently became the head of his parent’s company when his father died.  This is the first time he’s been seen at an event since the death.  Bruce is almost certainly going to adopt him.  Timothy stayed with him when Jack Drake was in a coma, plus he has the dark hair and light eyes and Brucie favors in his kids.  He’s your focus for the rest of the night.  Forget about everyone else.”

“Lex!  I didn’t know you’d be here, you old dog!” Bruce calls before Connor has time to process all of that, slinging an arm around Luthor’s shoulders and seemingly crushing all of the air out of him in less than a second.

“It’s my party,” Lex wheezes.

“Good thing I’m here to liven it up, eh?” Bruce asks, elbowing Luthor in the ribs.

Kon really hopes that Bruce Wayne’s obsession with dark haired, light eyed boys is an innocent coincidence, because he doesn’t want to apprehend him for being a pedophile when he’s pissing Lex off so easily.

“Hello, Timothy,” Luthor greets, holding out his hand.  Bruce pouts at being ignored while Timothy shakes politely.  “May I just say, it’s refreshing to see you out and about.  I’m sure running your parent’s company is stressful all by yourself.”

Timothy tilts his head, reminding Connor vaguely of a bird.

“I’m happy to do it,” he says, polite but firm.  “It’s what my parents would have wanted, and they left things well organized for me.”

“And I suppose Bruce here has been giving you advice?”

“Now Lex,” Bruce says, wagging his finger at him, “you know that’d be a conflict of interest.  Besides, Tim could run circles around me.  I should be asking him for advice!”

Connor feels his eyes start to glaze over as Luthor and Bruce volley back and forth, seemingly forgetting that he’s even there.  Having Lex’s attention off of him and on someone else is a much needed break, so he’s not about to complain, but it’s also really fucking rude.  Connor hasn’t even been introduced to these two.

Timothy catches his eye, sweeping his gaze over to Luthor and Bruce and rolling his eyes.  Connor smirks.  Timothy raises an eyebrow and Connor mirrors him, just a slight quirk.

Timothy looks pretty nice, up close.  His eyes are the promised light blue, but his dark eyelashes are long and thick, framing them beautifully.  He’s pale, almost reflective in the glittering chandelier light, and he carries himself with a self-assuredness that Connor envies in this environment.  The suit fits him really nicely, hugging his shoulders and accenting his trim waist and long legs.  When he raises his flute to take a sip of the drink inside, Kon finds himself tracking the liquid as it disappears past his pale pink lips, his throat flexing as he swallows.

He’s not bad to look at.  He could easily turn out to be dull as a brick or a total douchebag, but so far first impressions are good.

“And who is this young man?” Bruce asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.  Luthor puts a hand on his back to push him forward a step, and Kon doesn’t have to move, but Lex is going to be mad if he doesn’t and the situation is delicate.

“This is my son, Connor,” Luthor introduces.  Kon offers his hand with his most charming smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking first Bruce’s hand (better grip than he expected) and then Timothy’s (rougher than he thought it’d be, skin warm).

“Son, eh?  He must take after his mother!” Bruce laughs.  Lex’s face pinches, but Connor doesn’t have a chance to relish in it before Bruce is sweeping Luthor away with another arm around his shoulder, talking loudly about secret children and parenting hacks.  Luthor tries to protest, but it’s quickly drowned out by Bruce, and he doesn’t have a chance to so much as glance back at Connor before they’re swallowed by the crowd.

Kon blinks.

“Bruce will keep him busy for a while, sorry,” Timothy says, not sounding very sorry.  He takes another sip from his glass, then leans in.  Cologne tickles Connor’s nose.

“Hold your drink by the stem, not the glass,” he says quietly.  “It’s supposed to keep your drink from getting warm, an old etiquette thing.  It’s small, but it’ll help you blend in a little more.”

Kon looks around the room, taking in the people with flutes like him and where they’re holding it.  The majority are holding the stem, and the ones that aren’t are people that Luthor hasn’t bothered to introduce him to yet.  Kon adjusts his grip accordingly, off-balance and embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he says.  Timothy tilts his head.

“You want to get some air?  There’s a balcony over there.  Your father will be able to find you easily once Bruce releases him.”

“Yes,” Kon agrees immediately.  He’s used to not fitting in, but having the eyes of so many judgy rich people on him when he’s pretending to be Lex Luthor’s human son has been exhausting.  No one has been too rude so far, but the weight of Lex’s hand on his shoulder is heavy, and this complicated set of social rules that he still doesn’t understand puts him on edge.

Normally he’d say fuck the rules and do what he wants, but the situation is too delicate for that.  Clarke and Robin both told him that he needs to be careful and think twice about every move he makes, and for once neither of them sounded condescending about it.  He could tell that they don’t like the situation, either, worry and sympathy clear in their faces.

“Come on,” Timothy says, heading towards a set of double doors.  He doesn’t glance back, trusting Connor to follow him, and Connor does, stepping in his footsteps as he expertly weaves through the crowd, deflecting anyone trying to stop to speak to them with smooth excuses and a well-placed smile.  In no time at all he’s pushing open the large french doors, releasing them from the ballroom and into the cool night air.

Kon tilts his head up, blinking at the night sky above him.  It’s cloudy, obscuring what few stars manage to make their way through the light pollution to reach Metropolis.  Connor wishes he could fly up there, feel the dampness of early rain on his face, burst into the dark and escape everything.  For now, he keeps his feet on the ground, instead joining Timothy by the railing.

“So, how often do you come to these things, Timothy?” Connor asks, leaning back on his elbows.  The other boy perches with a hip pressed against the railing, arms crossed over his chest.

“Tim, please,” he says.  “Timothy makes me feel like I’m in trouble or you’re trying to swindle me out of a business deal.”

“Okay.  How often do you come to these things, Tim?” Connor corrects, testing the feel of it in his mouth.  Tim relaxes at the sound.

“Decently often, but I usually stick to Gotham,” he says.  “I’ll have to start coming to more now that I’m in charge of Drake Industries, but I grew up going to galas.  Is this your first one since Luthor found you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Connor asks.  Tim smirks, but shakes his head.

“I think I’d remember if I’d seen you at one of these before.”

Connor flashes him a charming smile.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”  Tim’s cheeks turn pink, his blush noticeable against his pale skin even with the limited light out here.  Kon takes a sip of his sparkling cider, satisfaction making it taste sweeter on his tongue.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re probably the only people under thirty in the whole building besides some of the catering staff,” Tim says. 

“You missed the toddler earlier,” Connor hums.  “She was throwing a tantrum.  I very much sympathized.”

“Did I really?” Tim asks dryly.  “What a pity.  Oh no.  How unfortunate that Bruce likes being fashionably late to everything.”

Connor snorts.

“Bruce Wayne, huh?” he says.  “How’d you two meet?”

Tim shifts so he’s leaning back against the railing like Kon.  Kon takes a moment to drink in his profile, tracing the sharp jut of his nose, the hair shielding his eyes from him at this angle.

“He’s my neighbor,” Tim says.  “I’ve kind of always known him, but our families weren’t really close until a few years ago.  When my dad was in a coma, Bruce took me in.  My uncle was supposed to get custody of me now, but…”

Tim trails off, searching for words.  Eventually, he shrugs.

“He’s fostering me right now.  We’ll see where it goes from there.”

“Do you want to stay with him?” Kon asks.  Tim considers his words carefully.  Connor’s mouth is always running away with him, but Tim seems to have the opposite approach.  Everything is measured and careful, cold and tactical.  It reminds Kon of Robin in the middle of missions, keeping his reactions even and methodical to counteract the impulsiveness of the rest of the team.  Kon wonders if Tim is the type of person to let himself be stupid and emotional around friends like Robin is, or if he always keeps everything bottled up.

“Yeah, I do,” Tim breathes eventually.  “But it’s complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

Another pause.  Kon does Robin’s breathing exercise, staying patient.  Some people need time to talk, and Kon can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

“I guess I don’t want him to adopt me because he feels obligated,” Tim says.  “He has a family.  There’s–It’s a long story, too long to explain now.  Sorry, this is a weird first impression, huh? But enough about me!  What about you?  Where were you before Luthor found you?”

“Uh,” Connor says, still recovering from the whiplash of topics and searching for Luthor’s cover story.  “Kansas.”

“Kansas?” Tim prompts.

“Yeah, Kansas. I was in the foster system for a while, then I got adopted by this nice old couple who live on a farm in Smallville, which is just as small as it sounds.  I didn’t know anything about my birth parents until Lex showed up.”

“Wow,” Tim says.  “This has to be a big adjustment, then.”

Connor scratches the back of his neck.

“Yeah, kinda.”

Kon’s whole life feels like a big adjustment, from adjusting to existing and Clark’s negative feelings towards him, to adjusting to working for Camdus and living in Hawaii, to adjusting to Young Justice and Teen Titans, to finally trying to adjust to Smallville, only to be ripped away from that and forced into Metropolis high society.

“Do you miss them?” Tim asks.  “The old couple who adopted you?”

Kon swallows against the unexpected pang that rolls through him.  He can almost taste Martha’s pancakes on his tongue and hear the crinkle of the newspaper as Jonathan hands him the cartoons.

“I wasn’t with them very long.  Only a few months.”

Tim tilts his head.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Connor shrugs.  He doesn’t know what the right answer is here.  Martha and Jonathan are the closest thing he’s ever had to parents, but part of him never expected to stay with them.  When Luthor ripped him away from them, there was a part of Kon that wasn’t surprised at all, even if a bigger part was in agony.

Martha kissed his forehead when he left the farm and gave him a sad smile.

“You can always come back here, okay?  This is your home, no matter what Lex Luthor has to say about it.”

“If they formally adopted you, Lex Luthor’s claim as your biological father isn’t enough to force cut contact,” Tim says, pushing off the railing and taking a few steps closer.  “Trust me.  I researched this stuff when my dad came out of his coma.”

Kon frowns.

“He didn’t like Bruce?”

Tim wavers.

“It’s complicated,” he offers.  Kon snorts.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Tim’s mouth quirks up, giving Connor the shadow of a smile again.

“It’s not really a first meeting story.”

“Guess we need a second meeting, then,” Connor says.

“Yeah?” Tim asks.  “My weird family dynamic really captivated you, huh?”

“It was your eyes first, actually,” Connor says.  Tim opens his mouth, then closes it again, eyes wide.  Kon holds his breath.  He says flirty things all the time, both to his friends and to people he rescues who seem like they need a pick-me-up, but it’s been a while since he sincerely flirted with someone he plans to see again.  He almost never does it with someone who only knows him as Connor rather than Superboy, much less a boy.

If this goes badly and Tim tells the entire Metropolis elite that Lex’s son is a homosexual, maybe the scandal will be enough for Luthor to send him back to Smallville.  If it goes well…

“You have… very nice eyes, too,” Tim says eventually.  Connor beams, then beams even more at the sharp inhale Tim draws in response.  Tim shifts.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asks.  “There’s a decent ice cream place open late a few blocks away.  We can be there and back before anyone misses us.”

Connor glances towards Luthor in the ballroom.  He’s still talking to Bruce Wayne, and they’ve amassed a small crowd around them.

“Bruce will keep Lex busy for a while.  He likes to talk.  Besides, you can always tell him that you were networking,” Tim offers.

Luthor said that Tim should be his focus for the rest of the night.  He never said that they had to stay at the gala.

“Lead the way,” he says, gesturing grandly towards the French doors.  Tim blinks once, then again, then smiles.  His eyes light up with it, and Kon suddenly understands why Tim had to inhale before.

“Come on,” Tim says, leading the way.  Kon follows just as closely as he did before, trailing him until they spill out into the Metropolis night and he can stand next to him, almost close enough for their arms to brush.

Maybe living with Lex Luthor won’t be so bad if comes with seeing Tim Drake, too.

[irenespring]

Me: This fic needs plot.

My brain: Okay, I understand. The fic needs more wallowing.

Me: No. We need to cut back on the wallowing to get to the plot so this doesn't like three more weeks to write.

My brain. Got it, got it. The fic needs Wilson to have free time so he just walks around and contemplates. Nice long chunk of Wilson's depression and trauma.

Me: No. Not at all. It needs less time reflecting on the past.

My brain: Understood. I have the solution. The fic needs...flashbacks.

Me: Okay fuck it. Fine.

[shima-draws]

Question for no particular reason if someone, not me, hypothetically wrote a fix it fic where Izuku goes back in time to save a young Tenko, would you, the audience, prefer that to take place BEFORE Tenko kills his entire family with Decay or AFTER

[hows-itgoagain]

i think about mashle an absurd amount and yes i know i already have other shit i need to work on but i’m gonna throw this idea out there, and if someone does something with it, awesome, and if not, then i probably will eventually. also this references manga shit so like if you haven’t read it this will be confusing. no actual spoilers though

timeskip to when ryoh’s kid, wahlberg’s granson, and that random ass kid silva found are in highschool, all at easton.

are they all the same age? i have no fucking clue. i could only find that ryoh jr is 6, so the other 2 are also bc it’s convenient

and, you might be thinking, literally what is the point of this? which is a fair question, and to that i raise you, first of all a trio of a dv’s kid, the headmaster’s grandson (if wahlberg even lives to 128), and some rando that was protected by a former student would be quite funny, and second of all timeskip jobs and lives of everyone has so much potential. though the focus of this would still be on the kids, but obviously like they’d interact with certain characters at certain times.

[thepandalion]

yknow

one of my favorite tropes is casual use of OCs in fanfic

like. the guy goes to a convention and makes some friends and they're all OCs. or the guy goes to a new school and all his friends there are OCs. or. any number of things like that

and it sucks that usually the connotation of "OC in fic" is actually about self inserts of the author (which... is fine? typically has bad connotations of being cringe or whatever but I'm currently technically co-authoring a reader insert fic so yknow. cringe is dead) and that the only OC in those types of fics is the self insert. gimme more fics where there's like a dozen OCs seamlessly integrated into the canon characters' lives

[splickedylit]

I saw an ask mention "Saviors" and it sounded neat, but I've hunted through your Ao3s and can't find it. Where can I read this, if I can still read it? I love your stuff btw.

That's because it was never actually posted! Saviors of the World was a humanstuck superheroes fic that I started dreaming up more than a decade ago when I was worse at naming things. I did a lot of writing+art for it, and did a lot of talking about on here, especially the interpersonal dynamics and character work! But I never really managed to pull it together into a full fic. Then I went through a stretch where Homestuck fell off my Dopamine List, and when I came back to it I was like "Hm. This is not a house, or even a construction site, it is a collection of 2x4s nailed inexpertly together with a lot of lovingly-crafted furniture prematurely placed in it" lololol.

If I were to make something of it now, it would need a re-plot and a full rewrite of everything I wrote way back then, and a lot of the stuff in the old tag would be partially or completely jossed. I don't see a high chance of me coming back to it at this point--but for a decade or so there I would have said the same thing about the scraps of melodrama that used to be called "In Cold Blood", which are now 200,000 completed words of Karkat Vantas vs The Evil Gods! So honestly, who knows. :D

Anyway, you're welcome to go through the tag "Saviors of the World" if you'd like to get the vibe, but be warned it's absolutely chock full of uhhh underdeveloped art and immature prose, haha. I do my best to give some respect to the stepping stones that got me where I am, all art is good art because you're making art which improves your art but oof. I have come a LONG way, haha.

[love-kurdt]

update on DBM8: it’s kind of become a queen/iron maiden marathon. not by choice. blame my oc.

[cheswirls]

the dynamic potential for maomao and senku is off the charts actually.... turning them around in my brain