#wip: a pocketful of kons

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Lottie; a pocketful of Kons.

Bruce went to make a call and Dick went to call off work, because Tim getting a Pocket of not-Superman is concerning and going to require some all-hands-on-deck Bat-investigation, and Alfred went to get lunch started, because he’s a better man than any of them and a true hero to the people. 

And Tim is currently sitting in the cave with a Pocket who still refuses to take off the cape, and since it's no masks in the manor, he's kind of stuck down here for now. 

He wonders who this guy actually is, because while there are plenty of people out there who can shapeshift or whatever, a Pocket is supposed to reflect who they actually are. It's incredibly, incredibly rare for a Pocket to shapeshift at all, in fact, unless they're from a society or species where it's common from birth. Like–Martian Pockets shapeshift, apparently. 

Do they show up shapeshifted, though? And then stay that way? Because that part–that part seems weird. Like, definitely weird. 

Tim actually didn't even know he liked guys, but he hasn't even had time to deal with that weird internal realization because the specific guy that showed up is Superman. Like, not actually Superman, according to Bruce, and Bruce is usually right about these things, but . . . 

Well, then who is he? 

“You don’t make any sense,” Tim says, eyeing his Pocket. “Why do you look like Superman?” 

“Rob!” his Pocket chirps happily, grinning up at him from his seat at the Pocket-sized tea table with a Pocket-sized plate of Alfred’s Pocket-sized cookies and a Pocket-sized rack of Pocket-sized clothes he is Pocket-sized ignoring. He doesn’t seem to like the tea and absolutely hates the clothes, but he definitely likes the cookies. 

Tim probably should hurry up and name him, if only because he clearly does care about names and Tim doesn't want to upset him again. But also, it’s making him crazy to have a mystery right here and be completely unable to solve it. It’s not as if he can question a Pocket, especially not a brand-new one that only knows his name and his codename, and there’s not exactly any evidence to follow or anything, so . . . 

So he doesn’t know, exactly. 

Maybe he should just focus on what’s in front of him right now. Name his Pocket, get him settled in, talk him into some glasses. Maybe find him some more cookies, if the opportunity arises. 

He just–doesn’t know what to do long-term here, he guesses. Taking home a full-grown adult Pocket isn’t exactly going to thrill his dad, for starters, especially because said adult is a man and Tim didn’t even know he wasn’t straight, much less ever tell him he wasn’t straight. And that’s ignoring how badly getting his Pocket out of the cape is going. And he just . . . he doesn’t know. 

“I don’t even know what to name you,” he groans. “I don’t know who you are. I was supposed to know who my Pocket came from before I had to name them!” 

His Pocket frowns, looking hurt. Tim immediately feels like an asshole. A Pocket turning up before you meet your soulmate is supposed to be a good thing, he knows. That’s what everybody says. It means the bond’s going to be stronger. 

At least Superman he’s actually met a couple times. He knows absolutely nothing about whoever his Pocket actually is. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries, still feeling like an asshole. “I just–I don’t even know what you’re like. I want to think of a good name for you."

His Pocket looks a little mollified, but still smaller and quieter than he was acting before. Tim’s not sure if that’s because he sucks at this or because Bruce and Dick and Alfred are gone and he has fewer people to show off for. Whoever his Pocket is, they’re definitely a show-off. Just–very definitely. 

Opposites attract, Tim guesses. The only time he shows off is when he’s trying to draw fire or provide a distraction.

He really expected to get to know his soulmate for a while before a Pocket ever showed up, assuming he ever got a Pocket at all. Probably a pretty long while, given how bad he is at getting close to people. A Pocket showing up out of nowhere before he’s even met the person they came from, when he has no idea who that person even is . . . 

Well, that’s not something he’s planned for. Or been ready for. Or . . . 

He wonders how close they’re going to be, if his Pocket showed up this early. Even if he walked upstairs right now and found his soulmate delivering a package at the door or something, which seems unlikely, it’s just–early. 

Tim doesn’t know why he’d get a soulmate bond that strong. Like–why would he? 

People don’t like him enough to have a bond like that with him. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, and looks away from the Pocket of someone who doesn’t even know him yet, much less care that he exists. 

“Rob?” his Pocket says, sounding concerned. Tim feels like an idiot and just–tries to concentrate on thinking of names. “S” ones, maybe. “S” is a place to start, no matter who his Pocket actually is. His best operating theory right now is Supergirl, actually, because she does have shapeshifting powers, doesn’t she? And also some identity issues, according to Bruce. And showing up as Superman actually might make sense for a Pocket that’d come from her, given she was partially based off him when she was created, so maybe . . . 

“What about ‘Shift’ or ‘Shape’?” he suggests, looking back to his Pocket, who immediately makes a face at both ideas. “Alright, gonna take that as a no. Um . . . ‘Steel’? ‘Synapse’? I don’t know, ‘Stunt’?” 

His Pocket keeps fucking pulling stunts, so it’s tempting, anyway. Or . . . her personality? If he/she is Supergirl, he means. 

Does Supergirl actually have a gender identity, come to think? Is that a thing for shapeshifting protoplasmic lifeforms? 

Hm. Worth looking into, maybe. 

Tim’s Pocket looks considering about “Stunt”, but Tim’s interrupted from gauging his (or her) full reaction by Dick coming back down the stairs. He’s not in costume anymore, and has Red’s wheelchair cupped in one hand and Star floating over his opposite shoulder. Tim’s Pocket doesn’t seem interested in Dick’s arrival, but he chirps excitedly at the sight of Red and Star. Red clicks back and Star croons, flying over to hug him. He grins delightedly and hugs her back, nuzzling into her ridiculous amount of hair until he practically disappears in it. 

“Any luck on the name?” Dick asks as he sets Red down next to the table and she wheels over to Tim’s Pocket too and punches him lightly in the hip before getting a hug of her own. 

“He’s taking ‘Stunt’ under consideration, I think, though all things considered maybe I should’ve gone with ‘Stud’,” Tim says dryly, watching his Pocket take far too much pleasure in trying to hug Star and Red both at once while they avoid actually touching each other. 

“Oh, buddy,” Dick says with absolute pity as Tim’s Pocket lights up in absolute glee. 

“. . . fuck,” Tim realizes in dread, putting a hand over his face. Dick just pats his shoulder sympathetically. 

“Rob! Tim! Tim-Rob!” his Pocket crows happily, abandoning Star and Red to zip over to him and hug him instead. Or try to, anyway. Mostly he ends up smushed against his face and chattering in thrilled Pocket talk as he tries to pull Tim’s hand down. Tim refuses to let him. He’s not going to acknowledge this problem. He’s going to ignore this problem. This problem does not exist as long as he’s safe behind his hand. 

Unfortunately, Stud has super-strength, so that’s kind of a doomed effort there. 

Tim has no idea how he’s supposed to explain this to Bruce. 

[mamawasatesttube]

6 & 29 for the ask game? i love your work!!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

not "all the time" per se but i've definitely gone back to both fill in the blanks by @mindshelter and blush by @misspickman a few times. what can i say, i love it when tim is besotted and kon gets loved <3

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

okay i DO plan to post this.. eventually... when i finish the other 5 chapters of it... but given that i have no idea when that will be, here's a bit of the "jon's friends keep thinking his big brother is hot and he's in hell about it" wip sfdkjh (under the cut for length!!)

fanfic writer asks!

Any thoughts Yichen had about going to the skate park tomorrow get zapped clean out of his head as an engine purrs, and a sleek, sexy as hell motorcycle peels into the parking lot.

It’s a gorgeous dark red color, with black accents, exposed chrome exhaust pipes, and a front light and handlebars to match. It’s not obnoxiously loud, but its thrum is powerful and satisfying. It sounds expensive, if that’s even possible.

The sexy bike rolls to a stop right in front of the three of them, and the rider rests his foot on the ground for support. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a leather jacket covered in patches and studs—the shoulders are spiked, and a little chain dangles from one of the pockets.

Yichen identifies a few hero logoes among the patches on both the back and front; there’s the Superman family crest, obviously, on one shoulder, and then Wonder Woman’s winged W on a trapezoid. One of the Flash lightning bolts, too, in red and white—Yichen isn’t good at remembering which hero is which, outside of Metropolis. Is that… no, Kid Flash is yellow. Oh well. There’s others he doesn’t recognize at all, like a round yellow-and-black one right over the rider’s heart with a weird… bird-shaped thing, maybe?

Man, he really oughtta brush up on his heroes.

But that’s beside the point, because holy shit. This guy—this is the coolest guy he’s ever seen in his life! That jacket, the boots—chunky, thick-soled, covered in belts and buckles—and the ripped jeans, with barely-visible fishnets peeking out through the tears. This guy has fashion! Ho-lee shit, what is someone like that doing here?

Jon hops down from the brick fence with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, and leans down to pick up his backpack. “Well, I’ll see you guys.”

“Wait,” Priya says. “That’s your ride?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

The cool as hell motorcyclist pulls off his helmet. Yichen’s jaw drops.

It’s like seeing Jon’s dad’s face transplanted onto a guy half his age and so much hotter. He’s got high cheekbones and a square jaw ever-so-slightly dotted with stubble, and piercing blue eyes just like Jon’s dad, and his hair falls in curls that should be crushed and flattened from the helmet but somehow still look amazing.

“Yo, Jonno!” Conner calls. “C’mon, we’re gonna hold up traffic!”

“I’m coming!” Jon hollers back. “I’m just saying bye, jeez!”

Yichen finally remembers how to close his mouth and does so. He doesn’t feel cold anymore—his face is on fire. “Dude.”

Jon tilts his head quizzically. “Yeah?”

“Dude,” Yichen repeats.

“What, Yichen?” Jon glances at Priya for clarification, but doesn’t seem to find any. What the hell does he need clarified here?

“Dude!” Yichen clutches at his hair. “Duuuude!”

“What!” Jon hefts his backpack onto his shoulders. “Stop ‘dude’ing at me and say it already!”

Yichen jumps down from the brick wall and grabs Jon by the shoulders. How does he not get it? How does he not get it?!

“Dude,” he says, as intense and emphatic as he can hope to get. He shakes Jon slightly, then points at Conner. “That is your brother?”

“Uh… yes?” Jon squints at him. “Is that, uh… a problem?”

Yichen clutches at his hair again. “Dude!” he exclaims in consternation. Grabs at Jon’s shoulders again. “Oh my god. Dude! Dude! You never told me your brother is hot!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yichen almost thinks he sees Conner laugh. Except that’s not possible, because the engine definitely drowned out his words—they’re not that close to the roadside. Priya definitely laughs, though, covering her mouth with one hand.

Jon, meanwhile, wrinkles his nose. “…Ew.”

[ficrecslist]

Fic Rec Sunday #3

This week's collection includes Boku no Hero Academia, Batman, Young Justice, Marvel and Naruto fics. Please make sure to look through each fanfic's respective tags before reading.

Batman

Into the Brighter Night by shoalsea (162k, G)

When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe.

Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin.

Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

something just broke by BeatriceEagle (10k, M) cw: referenced sexual assault

With teams run by a small handful of big names, recruitment based almost entirely on who you know, and unchecked interteam dating, the superhero community is practically designed to encourage interpersonal abuse. When a former sidekick comes forward to say that she was abused by her mentor, the entire community has to reckon with the part they may have played—and with the abuses that may still be going unnoticed.

(A story of systems, told through chats, texts, and transcripts.)

hand in unlovable hand (a chokehold) by britishparty (54k, M)

Tim Drake is eleven years old when he’s grabbed off the streets of Bristol while he’s on his way home. It will be okay, he tells himself: they’ll call his parents, and they’ll pay the ransom, and he’ll get to go home.

There are pictures of Batman and Robin on the camera he was carrying. A lot of pictures.

They don’t call his parents. They call Black Mask.

-

or: the one where Black Mask kidnaps Tim and tries to groom him into a ruthless heir, and Tim tries to figure out how to destroy him from the inside out.

General warnings tagged, anything not covered by those is in end-of-chapter notes to avoid spoilers.

Deadfall by vellaphoria (125k, WIP, M)

Bruce’s death fractured Gotham's vigilantes, even as it brought some of them together. Despite Dick’s progress with Jason and Damian, Tim is still in the wind, somewhere overseas getting involved with who knows what in a desperate attempt to prove Bruce is alive. An attempt that goes horribly, catastrophically wrong, destroying most of the League of Assassins’ global infrastructure and taking Tim with it.

But something feels off. Dick knows Tim’s apparent death can’t be as simple as a botched mission.

When Ra’s al Ghul gets involved, it never is.

yours for the weekend by fanfictiongreenirises (19k, T) cw: referenced sexual assault

"Been meaning to ask," Jason said. "You and Kory… are you guys still… y’know. Going strong?”

Dick almost choked on his mouthful right then and there. No, he wanted to tell him. We broke up months after you died.

But a million memories swept through his head. Jason being utterly starstruck by Kory the first time he had met her, the million and one questions Jason had to ask Kory, taking photos of the two of them as Kory gave Jay a piggyback ride… the way that Jason, at one point, had rather memorably said, man, you guys are so perfect together. If you ever break up, that’ll be it, I’ll just stop believing in true love.

“Yeah, no, we’re going good,” Dick said, lying through his teeth. “Long distance, y’know?”

Charmed, I'm Sure by M00n_Slippers (29k, WIP, T)

Jason thought he was done with magic when he left the All-Caste, but it turns out magic wasn't done with him. Walking into a back-alley dive, the Red Hood expects stale beer and an old fashioned bar brawl to lift his spirits, not a shortcut to The Oblivion Bar.

But a bar is a bar, beer is beer and a fight is a fight, whether it's in the Bowery or in a pocket dimension to the left of reality.

Young Justice

Reflexive Carphology by Briarwitched (24k)

Lex is not a sentimental man. Despite whatever his stupid sister thinks, his motives for kidnapping Superboy are purely practical: if Kon-El isn't growing on the Light's schedule, he will be useless to their long term plans-- and the Light doesn't tolerate things that aren't useful. Just a quick snatch and grab, one hastily improvised mind control device, and a few tests in the lab should be all that's required to get this all sorted out so Lex can go back to reclaiming his UN Secretary General position. The entire operation is far too essential to have anything to do with feelings.

It's simple. Practical. There's no way this could go wrong, in any way, ever.

Shut up, Lena.

Filial Pedantics by Briarwitched (61k, T)

After failing to swallow kryptonite in an attempt to beat his terminal illness to the punchline, Conner is confronted by the least super of his two genetic donors as he wanders the desert states solo. Meanwhile, Lex is suffering from both a relapse of kryptonite cancer and the delusion that he's Conner's father-- a condition that leads him to insist that he take over Conner's end of life care while he attempts to cure him himself.

It's not exactly like Conner had better plans. Now they can both be dying assholes... together.

Yay.

one day this will all be yours by suzukiblu (32k, T)

“You know, I used to think if I had different parents my life would be different,” Artemis says neutrally as she lines up a shot, and Superboy looks away from the punching bag, a little surprised to hear her speak.

Boku no Hero Academia

song on a policeman's radio by ohwickedsoul (6k, M)

TOKYO, JAPAN: The outside of the courthouse is packed with protestors, onlookers, and community safety officers who are attempting to keep the peace before what is shaping out to be the trial of the century. Former pro-hero Ground Zero, real name Bakugo Katsuki, is currently facing charges of 1st degree murder, aggravated assault, assault on officers, and several other charges. Among the hundreds who have turned out to the courthouse to view the public trial are many members of Yuuei Academy’s infamous class 1A, including several former professors. Back in the early years of the decade, the class, taught by retired pro-hero Eraserhead, was subject to many attacks by the so-called League of Villains…

Silhouette by Frostglitch (43k, WIP, G)

Midoriya Izuku remembers a life that is not his own.

Yoichi Shigaraki: The Sociopathic Hero by Gfan97 (3k, G)

"When he was eight, Yoichi started to suspect he wasn’t a good person."

Basically, what if All for One wasn't the only sociopath in the family. What if Yoichi was also a sociopath, but unlike his brother wanted to be good?

imprint by wonhaebunny (4k, T)

Katsuki handles Eri with far more ease than an only child has any business possessing. Shouta observes.

Or: Bakugou Katsuki may not have grown up with any younger siblings, but he did grow up with a Deku. It amounts to about the same.

A Walk Remembered by SimplyKaren (10k, G)

Since Jakku, Izuku's been feeling... off. Nothing he could put his finger on, but things reach a tipping point one day while he's in Heroics class. Things go downhill rapidly from there, and none of the doctors can figure out what's wrong.

Meanwhile, in Tartarus, All for One is feeling antsy as he watches from afar with Search. Izuku's symptoms are hauntingly familiar and not in a good way...

Bakugou Bewitched by Feltcutemightdeletelater (155k)

On a random day when Bakugou was a child, a helpful woman gave him a gift that would change his life forever.

“Little Katsuki,” the woman chided, leaning in close. “Behave.”

Marvel

Pound the Table by An_October_Daye (152k, WIP, M)

[A 90's Era X-Men Self-Insert]

"There is an old adage among lawyers that says: If you have the facts on your side, pound the facts. If you have the law on your side, pound the law. If you have neither the facts nor the law, pound the table." – Martin A. Davis, Jr.

Mutant law is an emergent field, more or less the wild west of the legal profession, and on a good day, you're lucky if the law and facts aren't all dead-set against you. And when your list of recurring clients includes the Wielder of Cerebro and the Master of Magnetism?

Well... suffice to say, there is plenty of pounding the table to be done.

Naruto

Waiting on a Wire by mirrorless (15k, T)

Shisui, both of the young shinobi's wide dark eyes still thankfully residing in their proper places, stares at him in shocked-silent awe, as though Kagami's sudden appearance is the divinely bestowed answer to fervent prayer.

The weight of that gaze is far too heavy for comfort.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead by Xarybde (4k, T)

Dying is easy. Sasuke knows this better than anyone else.

[maraudingforflesh]

Batfam with some timkon as a treat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935463/chapters/49772102

Into the Brighter Night (162,894 words); Tim plans his own rescue from being kidnapped and he calls on his young justice friends to carry out his plan. The batfam has to come to terms with the Tim outside of their dynamics and they struggle seeing him happy with other people.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384345/chapters/61553851

Baby, Talk Me Down (Take Me Out) (WIP); Tim goes to live on the Kent farm for the summer to relax and take a break but things are never that simple

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278113/chapters/58516114

Never Meet Your Heroes (46,347 words); Tim, Bart, Cassie, and Kon have to go rogue when Superman decides to capture Kon and treat him like a lab experiment

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125073

anglerfish (6,484 words); Tim was having a rough night and that’s before Red Hood has to save him from some thugs

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469157

between a rock and a hard place (5,449 words); Tim and Jason are trapped in the rubble of a collapsed building and Tim has a head injury

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30526899/chapters/75287202

Friable (7,424 words); siblings stick together even when the parent you’re against is Batman

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429001

I Thought You'd Want To Be The One (3,665 words); Tim goes to Red Hood’s territory on purpose hoping to get shot and instead gets a hug

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28149216

Green-Eyed Monster (8,032 words); Jason finds Tim fear-gassed and shaken up and takes pity on a child who had no more choice in the violence done to him than Jason had

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27575426

air pocket (4,973 words); Tim and Jason are trapped in the rubble of a collapsed building

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30238482

muzzled (5,967 words); Jason rescues Tim from human traffickers but the rescue unfortunately involves purchasing Tim and saying and doing unsavory things to sell the charade

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30572252

Little bird (8,162 words); Tim is meant to be at a parent teacher conference when Jason attacks him in the tower

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30286317

sharing is caring (5,717 words); Tim has been captured by traffickers who offer him to Red Hood as a gift

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071341

Something better than you are today (series); fics depicting the middle-child robins who deserved better finding comfort in one another

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660929

One Wrong Step (3,064 words); Damian and Jason run into some trouble with landmines in the desert

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488282

Socialite (2,895 words); Tim is too good at playing his part for high society parties and it freaks out his family to see him in action

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30318522

pretty robin (8,389 words); Tim is undercover as a sex worker to get information about a smuggling ring. Unfortunately, Red Hood is also there and recognizes him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31654376/chapters/78338444

Trust fall (22,423 words); Tim and Damian run into each other at the Kent farm when neither of them is technically supposed to be there

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299959/chapters/71952486

Buried Things (WIP 1 chapter shy of complete); someone is recreating the events leading to Jason’s death but enacting them on the other robins

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904848

Catch You, Help You Heal (series); Jason takes care of Tim when it seems no one else will

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377743

touch me not (4,212 words); Tim has been hit with a combination of fear toxin and pollen and finds himself at the mercy of Red Hood meanwhile Jason is just trying to help his brother through the worst of the detox

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300952

transaction (7,110 words); Tim and Jason first meet when Jason is working the streets and Tim is a neglected child with enough money and desperation to pay a sex worker for a hug

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32221027

ten cents richer (13,493 words); “If I had a nickel for every time I lost an organ," Tim slurred thoughtfully, "I'd have two nickels. Which isn't much, but it's weird that it's happened twice." -or- Tim has appendicitis and his family finds out he’s missing his spleen

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790951

Endless Time (7,919 words); Jason is trapped in a time loop where he carries out his attack on Tim in the tower then wakes up to the same day beginning again

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30150207

Safe (4,516 words); Jack Drake sells his son to Red Hood

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32374201/chapters/80262160

On the Way Home (128,266 words); au in which the Wayne family are wolf shifters and Tim is their neglected shifter neighbor who desperately wants to be part of their pack

[storyshark2005]

Fic Excerpt - Tim/Kon in “East of Eden”

Little excerpt from my WIP “East of Eden”. Conner Luthor is visiting his newest friend Tim Drake in Gotham. The two take a break from studying-slash-Warcraft and venture outside. Teenage habits ensue. (No warnings, pre-Tim/Kon)

Alfred finally kicks them outside after two hours of Warcraft. And thank God they were both Alliance characters, because Conner had spent a hell of a lot of hours building up Aristos the Lightforged Draenei Paladin to level 120, and he just looked really cool, so all it took to get Aristos in the same Guild as Nyx Stormseeker the Night Elf Demon Hunter was a realm transfer and bam!, they were questing across Azeroth.

“No, no, that one goes in the red tab--” 

“But that’s where the red pole goes. Right?” 

“Well this one--” Tim frowns, staring down at the fiberglass tent pole in one hand. “Wait, there’s three red tabs.” 

“What the fuck,” Conner laughs, starting down at the pile of nylon. “Why would there be an odd number?” 

“No wait, here it is, it’s just not at a corner. It’s like a brow pole or something. See this goes under here, then over that one--” 

“That doesn’t look right.” Conner tilts his head to one side, then the other.

Tim groans, and throws the mess of nylon and poles down on the ground, flopping down into the grass. 

“Dude, I have no idea.” 

Conner follows him down into the grass, lacing his fingers behind his head. The autumn sun felt gloriously hot under the chilly breeze, baking hot patches of denim onto the tops of his knees and thighs.

“So when do we light the bonfire?”

“Probably not till it gets dark. We’ve got another hour.”

“What should we do till then?”

“Well...” Tim grins slow like syrup to the clouds, lifting his hips to dig his fingers into his back pocket.

“What?”

Tim shakes out a plastic baggie.

“Oh, you’re bad--” Conner laughs.

Tim pulls a pre-rolled joint and a lighter out of the baggie. “What can I say? I’m a rebellious child.” He clicks the lighter a few times. “My life be like-- ooh ahh!”

“Does Bruce know you smoke?”

“We both pretend he doesn’t.” The joint jumps between Tim’s lips. “This lighter sucks--”

“Give it here,” Conner gestures for the unlit joint. “Check this out.”

He sits up, making sure Tim is out of the line of fire, and stares at the end of the joint, keeping his gaze soft like Clark had taught him. The air shivers, and the end of the joint glows bright orange.

“Holy shit,” Tim breathes, eyes wide. “That is so cool--”

Conner lays back down, tucking an arm behind his head. He takes a pull, holding the smoke deep until his lungs burn.

“It was--” he hacks out a cough. “It was the first thing Clark taught me.”

Tim takes the passed joint. “What else can you do? Besides save people from falling seventeen stories with your mind.”

“I don’t know,” Conner closes his eyes, feeling the soft numb heat wash down from the crown of his head, his tongue going heavy and dry. “I can run really fast. I can jump really far. But I’m not strong like Clark, and I can’t fly.”

Tim blows smoke up into the yonder blue. “You’re gonna fly, Con.”

“Yeah?” Conner tips his head to the side, staring at the black-red ends of Tim’s curls.

Tim tips his head to Conner, so close that Conner can see the near-translucent layer of freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks. He holds the joint aloft.

“Yeah,” he nods, sounding absolutely certain.

Conner takes the joint, cheeks tingling hot under the sun. He looks up to the clouds, wonders what it might be like to fly over and through them, what the world might look like from a mile above. If it would seem very big, or very small.

Or maybe both at once.

---------------------------------------

*The “ooh-ahhh”! moment inspired by this burquillos masterpiece:

 https://burquillos.tumblr.com/post/631867454580195328/kontober-day-13-this-is-my-favorite-conner-luthor 

[aeligsido]

🌗 💕 🌍 🎤 for the ask <3 <3

THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!

🌗 fluff or angst?

why it is always fluff or angst but never hurt/comfort????? i want my hurt/comfort guys that's all i ask,

(angst)

💕 favorite ship to write?

iorhfui honestly i don't think I have a favorite ship to write?? like, in general i like writing ship and i find them all interesting to write odifh it depends how much i like this particular ship i guess????

🌍fave type of au to write?

uuuuuh... any au? no but really, they all can be interesting as long as i have the ideas to go with it odfih

BUT in general i like modern au/no capes au (depending on the fandom), i also like fantasy au veeery much. I recently discovered my love for some fairy tales au (wait, not so recently actually now that i think about that)... like all of that is so much fun to write. AND!!! the worldbuilding!!! i love the worldbuilding!!

so, yeah. i'm staying with these one!

... except if canon divergence works..... i do like writing about it....

🎤fave line in a fic you wrote?

oh seriously i had to go find a fic and a line odufhu

SINCE IT'S LIKE THAT HERE I'LL PUT MORE THAN ONE

“So,” said Ashley, swallowing hardly on her breath. “You have two moms, and a dad. It's nice.” Not what she expected, but not unheard of.

“Five,” corrected Lian.

“... Five?”

“Yes. Five dads.”

I just really like this one bc it's very funny to me. It's from one of my WIP called "titans' babies vs the world", and in this one you have Lian talking about her parents lmao. Talking about that, here's Bobby talking about their parents as well:

“Yeah. The one who was with dad before, the dad who's Mar'i's dad dad and kind of mom's twin – or, well, they tell everyone they are even if they aren't really, I don't know, it's complicated – and now mom is with mom and they love each other very much. Like dad love mom and mom but in another way, you know?”

If it's extra confusing, it's the point LMAO. I just love these kids so much.

Stephanie flourishes on the road, cheeks reds from the wind and smiling, hands calloused under the work, her bag still light on her hips. This curse is turning into a blessing, even if she doesn’t say it out loud, even if she barely allow herself the thought.

But, for the first time since her mother’s death and what she feels is forever, Stephanie is truly happy.

This one is from another WIP!! A Fairy Tale AU with Steph as the main character :D idk, i just really like the way it flows, maybe it's just me lmao

Dick led the way toward the gardens, keeping Kori’s hand in his. The moon reflected on Kori’s hair in a bright, eerie way. He loved it.

It wasn’t too warm outside despite the summer night; a light breeze was creeping around and chilling the air in a pleasant way. The stars were shining.

Dick still had a ring in his pocket.

listen i'm a romantic at heart... i just really like this part. AND YES it's also for another one of my WIP. Well technically not WIP since it's finished but on its way to be betaed lmao

The last time Tim had seen him was years ago, when Jason was still Robin and Tim a stalker following the Batman and his allies. In his death, he somehow managed to grow up to be tall and bulky, towering close to Bruce’s height - and weight. All in all, Jason was terrifying, extremely competent, and there was no way for Tim to beat him in a fight.

After all, Tim knew that fighting wasn’t his strong suit, despite - or in spite - of all the training he had been put through. But, well, everyone said he had one thing for himself, and it was his brain. Or making wonderful plans on the spot, just like Kon told him two hours ago during their tag game. (That they won, for the record.)

Now was the perfect time to discover if Tim Drake could outsmart Jason Todd.

i just love it because it screams that Tim is about to do something very stupid lmao. AND!! this one is actually from a published fic, aka Checkmate :fingerguns:

“Because you’re Robin.” [...] “And Robin was me. My family colors. My name. I created it to honor my family - and by putting on this costume, you became a part of my family. You became mine, Jase. Not Bruce’s. Not anyone else’s. And you still are, will always be. Robins are a family, and Bruce has no say in that.”

Jason - Jason’s heart was breaking and healing at the same time, full of tiny shards of glass and soft bandages.

[...]

Jason never realized the consequences of being Robin, but this - being part of Dick’s family - was probably the best of all. It was worth it - worth everything else.

listen i'm extremely emotional about Jason and Dick and especially this fic. Anyway, it's from A Nest of Love and Robins, this one is posted too!

Wally missed it, sometimes. Missed the thrill of being Kid Flash, of being a Titan, of fighting and having movie nights with his best friends. When he looked at Bart, at Conner, at Cassie, at Cissie, at Tim – Wally wondered whose legacy they're carrying on. Of course, people automatically thought it was the Justice League's ; but Wally watched them and remembered and thought, 'Maybe they got it from us, maybe they're our legacy'. And that was a weird thought – because the Titans had never been about having a legacy or being one, but always been about being a group of friends and becoming a family in between two punches and a slice of pizza.

this one make me emotional too. I honestly don't have anything better to say, i just... really love the whole things. It comes from Watch Your Past!

Okay now last one but i'm really in love with this whole fic and yes i know i'm the one who wrote it and????

But- It was nice, too, in it's own way. They grew up together, faced death and life together. They knew each other so much they couldn't really hide anything, and sometimes it felt like they were an extension of his own soul.

He had thought, once upon a time, that maybe he was a tiny bit in love with his best friends. He loved them more than anything, after all; that didn't really change, he just added more people to this category. Their children. His siblings.

It hadn't been true, though – not entirely. Because if his interest in them wasn't romantic, it didn't mean he couldn't be in love with them. There are a lot of ways to be in love with people. Maybe it was just another one.

It didn't really matter, in the end, as long as they could stay together – in this life and the next.

[...]

They laughed, loud and clear – like all those years ago in Titans Tower or in the middle of a fight or standing proud against their enemies, mentors, whoever would try to go against them. They laughed, freely and with not a care for the world around them, like they still owned it after all these years. They laughed like they were young and innocent, ancient and tired, alive and free.

They laughed, loud and clear, in the same heartbeat and soul.

[...]

(Maybe they were all a little tiny bit in love, in the end.)

idk it's kind of poetic and full of feelz for me, so, yeah. It's from the fic home is where the heart settle, about the Fab Five!

AND THAT'S IT. Thanks again for the ask, ask list here!

[miss-choco-chips]

Good influence, bad influence.

Tim is one of those, and he gets the other one. Guess which is which. Ft a murder kitten, two oblivious birds, a divorce-preventing baby and a murderous mother.

(Thanks to @the-quiet-carrotcake who helped me think this through on chat and gave me ideas (THANKS BABE), and tagging @animemangasoul because they understand my need to ALWAYS include Kon when writting about Tim.

This sat on my wips for so long now, so I’m not even proofreading it. Just take it away, please)

-----.-----

-Are you sure I can’t just stab her?

-Really sure.

-How much?

-Like, 100% sure.

-You told me once it’s impossible to ever/

-...be 100% sure of something, I know. Which is how you know I mean it now.

Damian puffed his cheeks. Tim was sure that, in his mind’s eye, he looked dignifiedly annoyed. In reality, it was adorable. But since Damian currently held his right hand hostage, and was probably holding onto his dagger inside his pocket with the other one, he didn’t want to risk pointing it out. He just tugged him away, swimming through the masses, as Damian had called them upon entering the ballroom.

-But why not? 

It was as close to a whine a sound as the kid could make, which upped his adorable factor another notch. 

-You’d get blood on your suit, for one. And then, my mom would kill you.

A little shudder at the mention of Janet Drake, though the kid composed himself quickly- I wouldn’t let a single drop fall on me, cousin. I’m not an amateur.

Since Damian would have used another, more offensive word not so long ago, Tim ignored the pointed look he got when he said ‘amateur’. Also, the use of modern slang was something he was painstakingly drilling into him, so he was quiet proud when it bore fruits.

-Also, you’d draw attention to ourselves. And that woman didn’t even do anything worthy of such a reaction.

-She dared touch me! Treated me like, like… like a kid!

Pointing out that he, in fact, was one wouldn’t go well, so Tim’s mind offered an alternative route. 

-You don’t know? -he blurted out, feigning surprise. Damian looked up at him, eyes squinting suspiciously, and there, very well hidden (but not enough he didn’t notice) a little hesitancy.

-Know what?

Tim let go of the little, calloused hand, and placed both of his on the slimmer shoulders, bending down a bit to be face to face with his charge for the night. The blond wig and round glasses weren’t enough to hide Damian’s almost aristocratic features, but they sure managed to misdirect someone about his bloodline. No one would be able to tell he was Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul’s son, which was kinda the idea.

It had been a chore, to put the disguise in the proud boy, but Tim had been the one to achieve it when he dressed it as a training exercise: they had to make it through the party without its host, Mr Wayne, recognizing him.

Easy peasy, or so he had told mother when he assured her she could go make business with aunt Nicole and leave them be. He hadn’t calculated… well, other people.

-About Mrs Stingdom’s homeland.

Damian was too dignified to look over his shoulder at the lady in question, but Tim could see he wanted to.

-She’s a gothamite -he pointed out, because as Tim had suggested, he did his homework about who was attending to the party. A bit, at least. The story of so many boring socialites was too much to bear.

-She married a gothamite -he explained, doing his best to look stern about Damian’s apparent misinformation-. She’s actually from another land, which is why she pinched your checks. In her culture, it’s a sign of utmost respect towards people under ten years old who are still considered to be superiors, despite their age.

It sounded far fetched, even to his own ears, but he was playing into Damian’s social incompetency and his arrogance at believing himself above all others, which is why the kid nodded slowly after a few seconds, eating the whole lie in one bite.

His bespectacled eyes bore into his, brows furrowed. His hands went to Tim’s, still on his shoulders, a little unsure.

-Should I expect more of this… cultural difference? So I won’t be underprepared, should anyone else wish to pay me their respects in a new manner?

Sensing a chance to prevent a future stabbing, Tim was quick to nod. Mom was going to be so proud!

----.----

A little later that night, a new issue arose. Since Tim was pretty busy handling the seven year old, he had to forgo his usual Wayne-party routine, which was basically to find one of the sons and hide with them for the rest of the night.

Of course, neurotic bastards like them wouldn’t take a change in routine go like that. Because Bruce has instilled paranoia and curiosity on them like Alfred did with manners, and sadly, the last one’s teachings rarely showed up.

-Timmy! Here you are. I was worried, since you never approached us. Aww, who’s this kid? You made a friend?

He groaned internally. Dick, and behind him he could spot Jason, eyebrow arched at the novelty of Tim not looking for them immediately. He wanted to, thrived in the chance to spend even a few minutes with his idols, but duty calls, and his mind didn’t like the possibles outcomes would Damian and the Waynes meet.

-Hey, Dick… Jay. Good evening -he smiled politely, hand clutching tighter Damian’s. Don’t notice, don’t notice, please don’t notice.

To his immense relief, none of them seemed to find anything noteworthy in Damian’s face, which… was also kinda disappointing, despite him wishing for it. Like, yeah, the wig and glasses were good misdirect, but really? He would have noticed the similarities with Bruce despite them, and those two were supposedly detectives…

-Stop being so formal, kid -grumbled Jason, big hand making a mess of Tim’s styled hair. He would have complained, but… Jason’s voice and hand, okay? He was a weak teenager. Don’t judge him- Know ya since y’were  half that heigh, and lighter than my jacket.

Tim’s hormones ignored the comment on him being small, and  focused on the mental image of the mentioned jacket, most likely leather and well worn. 

…This was so not the time for  fantasizing. 

A tiny, calloused hand slapped Jason’s away, which promptly changed the mood.

-Don’t touch my cousin, you/

But Tim had prepared for this outcome, so his own hand rose just as quickly to cover Damian’s mouth.

At the word ‘cousin’, both heroes looked very interested. Tim was under no delusions, well aware Bruce and each of his adopted children had made their own background checks on him and his entire family, so they would know Damian’s claim to familiarity to be a lie, but they also couldn't really call them out on it without making it obvious they investigated him.

His head was already hurting for all the social maneuvering he had to do to keep out of trouble, and now, adding two concerned birds and one murderous kitten, it was even worse.

This was going to be a very, very long night. But both mom and Nicole had asked him, so he wouldn’t try to get out of being a (as) good (as possible) role model.

---------------.----------

Tim winced, muscles locking in a poor attempt at not showing it. From the look Conner gave him, at the other side of the room where he was being chewed out by Lex, he failed miserably at hiding his pain; which, in turn, enraged his mom even more.

-What. Did. You. DO?!

The hand not currently held by his mother went to his ear, protecting it from the almost demonic screech. He could see Auntie Nicole doing the same, sitting with Damian on the couch, sharing tea and cookies as they watched the whole show. The nine year old showed a surprising amount of sympathy towards Tim’s injuries, for someone who had been harshly trained since birth and had recently begun a career as vigilante (not that Tim was supposed to know about it, though). Or was it pity because of mom’s rage?

-You told me no tights and spandex! Never said anything about a mask and a hoodie, and Conner and the guys really needed my help with strategizing -he defended himself, because even if he shouldn't know about the waynes being heroes, he had been Conner’s friend since he found and subsequently freed him from Lex’s secret lab, which in turn warranted mom’s rule against heroing that he had just broke-. And don’t yell at me, I can hear you perfectly fine.

-I’M NOT YELLING! -she lied, tightening the bandage, scowl growing in power-, AND MASKS WERE IMPLIED AS A NO! Also, what are those if not thighs?

-Skinny jeans!

-They are indecent, that’s what they are!

On the other side of the room, Kon seemed to be having a less exhausting time than Tim. Lucky bastard, Luthor had less experience in parenthood, hadn’t yet reached the Scolding Mastery level.

-Hey! Auntie Nicole dresses like that -he points to the woman, who raises an eyebrow- and you don’t tell her anything! Look at her cleavage, you can almost see her bellybutton! 

-Leave me out of this -asked the woman, taking the teapot to refill Damian’s cup; he, in turn, handed her the cookies platter.

Ignoring her best friend, Janet snapped again- NICOLE ISN’T MY STUPID FOURTEEN YEAR OLD SON, WHO IS NEVER SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!

-What light of day? This is Gotham, we don’t have sunlight anyway. And I’m not stupid, my IQ is higher than everyone’s in this room.

-IT SURELY LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE FROM WHERE I’M STANDING, HERE, RE-BANDAGING YOUR ARM!

Tim sighed, locking eyes with Conner in solidarity; or he wanted to, but the smug bastard’s scolding was over and he and Luthor had joined the Al Ghuls in their tea party.

-Come on, mom. This’ but a scratch.

-YOU GOT SEVEN STITCHES!!!! I can’t believe this.

She barely got her son out of vigilantism by monitoring his Wayne-Interaction and threats of boarding school and then he went and befriended a group of teen heroes and threw all her hard work straight to the trash. No, he skipped that part, he went directly to the dumpster and burried her good intentions under a pile of shit.

But really, she couldn’t very well make him entirely responsible of this, not when he got carried away by Conner’s ‘do the right thing’ speech. And Conner had came into their lives because of…

In blind rage, she finished her patch job on her son’s arm and turned in a flash to face Lex, whose face went quickly from amused to scared.

-WHY DID YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE A KID WITH SUPERMAN?

Sensing she was done with him, Tim went to sit by Kon, who moved a bit on his individual couch so they could share it, though it was a very tight fit.

-Clone -he corrected helpfully, TTK bringing Tim his coffee cup closer.

-Did I stutter? And I wasn’t talking to you, was I?

Nicole seemed like she was having the time of her life right now- So hey, listen, between you and LITERAL SUPERMAN, who was the one on the receiving end when you pictured yourself having a kid with him? Like, who was getting it? Because, pal, odds aren’t in your favor, you know.

-Don’t be stupid, dear -huffed Janet, looking at her friend’s green eyes and calming don infinitesimally- If he was actually getting it, he wouldn't have resorted to having his kid to get his attention.

-IT’S A CLONE, AND I ABSOLUTELY DIDN’T MAKE HIM TO GET THAT ALIEN’S ATTENTION! He’s my enemy, not my lover, what is wrong with you people.

-Am I a divorce-preventing baby? -asked Kon to Tim, raising an eyebrow. The other kid just shrugged.

-Looks like it. Not like Uncle Lex had any other way to keep Superman from leaving him…

-I’m right here.

-I know, Uncle Lex. I love you, but you need to rethink your choices. If the man wants to go, let him go. Kon doesn’t need any brothers. I can’t deal with more of him, one is more than enough.

[asukaskerian]

monthly word count: march

TOTAL: 25 336 holy shit daemon AU

though i had WIPs to get back to and i didn't do that much. ugh grimmjow stop being hot.

POSTED -Bleach: Masaki meets her future son, same 'verse as Dinner and a Show (2 610 words, not yet on AO3 cuz depending on what else i manage for the 'verse idk if i'll want a series or a collection) -Bleach: Daemon AU: All Cats Are Black in the Dark - Ichigo and Grimmjow-centric daemon AU (Ichigo's daemon is not a friggin' panther thank you very much) (5 852 words) -Bleach: Daemon AU: Leucanthemum vulgare (grimmjow regains his daemon) (3 624 words) -Bleach: Daemon AU: A Modest Proposal (the "I Can't Believe It's Not Cannibalism" edition) (finally some grimmichi yee) (6 944 words)

WORK IN PROGRESS -Homestuck: midnight on the demon patrol (462 words LAAAAAAAAAAME) -Girl Genius: the gil psychic wolves fic (215 words but at least this scene is now OVER) -Bleach: cuddle fic (690 words. i got so stuck on this one. why. it's cuddles. why is there plot.) -Bleach: ghost haunting soulmate fic (298 words) -Bleach: psychic wolves chapter 5 (1 008 words) -Bleach: silly "whoops szayel made the arrancar lust for visored" crack thing that i may never touch again, who knows (909 words) -Bleach: Daemon AU: Kon and Kai (1 975 words) -Bleach: Daemon AU: random start to another grimmjow and his arrancars pov ficlet idk meh (156 words)

teasers:

-MOTDP- (clover is a heir of Light and his demon effect is being ridiculously lucky) -- Karkat kills a second demon with the power he gained from the first, then a third, a Class Two -- Clover is flickering in and out, trying to get to Dave, but Rose (without looking he knows it's Rose) tags him every time. Then this other, shaky Felt minion trembles at a bad time and gets raked by Karkat's attack -- a whole half-tube gouged out of his side, and he screams, and both Dave and Karkat flinch. Clover materializes right in front of Dave, two inches away, putting Dave between him and Rose -- putting himself at Karkat's back and Karkat is flinching around but the gun is coming up and. Tug! Aradia yells, shoving him at something bright-hot, pulsing. Raw power. He takes it. They freeze the hammer of the gun and two crucial cubes of flesh and bone in Clover's heels -- in his actual feet, because he could have flashed out of his clothes if they had frozen those. He windmills his arms, eyes wide -- accidentally-luckily whaps Dave in the face and Dave falls on his ass, who even fucking cares at this point when all of Karkat's accumulated power is flowing into him. God. Yes. He's awake again. "Paging the Thief of Light on Aisle Gravel in my ass!" he calls out, way too pleased with himself, and then Karkat has to yank him to the side by the shoulder to let a sentient ball of twine demon roll by. (It gets munched by Jade's teleporting dog. Okay. Cool.) Rose jumps out through the window, races to them -- Clover prepares to do something and Dave just. Dave thinks about everything that could go wrong, from the awkward tripping to the ridiculous tripping onto her own rapier and dying, and he thinks. No. He seizes Clover's heart, for just a second. --- -Gil psychic wolves- Agatha drew back, something a little hurt flashing on her face before her brows came down in a faint frown. She didn't say anything as Tarvek came back cautiously, as the lesson started again. When they were done there was no fun conversation to hold him back, to stay longer. No (bear over a kill) Jenka? Bangladesh complained grumpily, but stood to leave anyway. His father's first letter crumpled in his pocket, pausing him. He didn't know what they knew, and Tarvek had been targeted by that little golden bitch-wolf. But this wasn't a lot of information, and it was also much more likely that she's only approached him because she also needed a normal partner and for some convoluted, brain-twisted reason had found him acceptable. Which, if she'd been born from a secret Valois pack, was to be expected, as the poor thing had likely been primed for twisty redheads from before birth. Initial theory is they trespass on existing bond. Longer reply to follow. If she hadn't approached Tarvek again to bond to him then she may well have been discouraged for good by Jenka and her little pack's possessive behavior. It was moot now. He didn't pull the letter out; he said goodbye to everyone, and left. --- -GrimmIchiHime cuddle fic- "What's the last thing that happened before you found us?" the big guy asked as everyone else was still exchanging looks. Grimmjow blinked. That was it? "Was with my friend." "What's their name?" he returned gently. Grimmjow opened his mouth. Closed it. Well, fuck. "... Forgot." "That's not very normal, now is it?" Priss pointed out. Grimmjow scowled, feeling defensive. "I don't remember your name either. Why would I bother? You're the prissy Quincy who runs around with Kurosaki and the princess." He gave a dry shrug, still obscurely bothered. Priss was looking a little offended, but like... Not funnily so. Jaw tight, eyes dark. Grimmjow loosened his shoulders, tried to relax his voice. He wanted to piss him off, not piss him off. "Give me a good fight and I'll remember it." "What's her name?" the Quincy returned, nodding his shoulder harshly at the girl at Grimmjow's back. "... Okay, give me a good fight or bring my fucking arm back and I'll remember your name. Now get off my balls." He knew her name, damn it. It was... Hime. Something-hime. --- -Soulmates AU: the one where the ghost of your soulmate haunts you- Then shit happens. Grimmjow and his fracción are stuck in the throne room, lining the walls, looking decorative. Grimmjow can do jack shit until he's dismissed. He could open his fucking mouth and ask for it and then lose his tongue to Tousen's bitchiness ("You have been getting into enough unsanctioned trouble against Kurosaki Ichigo as it is, Sexta") and the woman only barely just fixed his arm. The shit that happens is Ulquiorra says "he is much stronger than expected" and "permission to go" and Aizen -- still getting ready to leave for Karakura -- says "Yes, do". "Boss," D-Roy hisses. Grimmjow can do nothing but hiss back, wordless. He's really, really good at feeling reiryoku. Wide range, precision -- he's the best tracker in the Espada, by far. He knows when Ulquiorra intercepts Ichigo. He knows it by feel. Ichigo's reiryoku drops until he can't feel it anymore. But his ghost isn't here. Not yet. Not yet. He breathes out through his nose, tries to keep steady. His fracción have all gone tense. They all know it's not the end of the world if Ichigo dies but if he dies while Grimmjow's stuck in here they're all gonna die twice. A second later Ichigo himself flickers before him, eyes wide and blank, a neat little hole through his sternum, and disappears again. Just an image, not even yet his full presence, just a whisper of-- "Boss," D-Roy repeats with an edge of wide-eyed horror, and -- Aizen isn't looking, but Gin is. They stare at each other, wordless, for a small eternity. "Your puppy is being disruptive," Gin says, smiling with his eyes open just a slit. And he glances pointedly at D-Roy. Which is not -- what he was expecting. Grimmjow tilts his head. "Ah?" "Please take him outside and teach him some manners, will you." -- what -- no. Grimmjow doesn't bother sitting on his ass thinking it through; he has D-Roy by the ear and pulling him through the door in the next second. Gin saw -- and he's giving him an out. All he needs to know, right now. It's gonna be blackmail material later but only if he survives, so whatever. --- -Grimmichi psychic wolves- "Renji," the guy said, tapping his own chest, and pointed back at his wolf. "Zabimaru." "Yeah, yeah, hajimemashite. Grimmjow, Pantera." Grimmjow opened another bottle, considered it thoughtfully, and then upended it over his own head to sluice off all the mud and blood and dried jizz. Fuck but it was cold. He asks if you have clothes, with alarm and nerves. Grimmjow flicked the redhead a long smirk. "Nah. You never know when another handsome stud will pop back up." No stuttering, no embarrassment or horror; Renji pinched his lips weird and then looked pointedly at Pantera, who was still giving his wolf the stink-eye with a fang half-bared. Pff. "Yeah, okay, she's probably done," he admitted. Ichigo's shirt was nearby; he picked it up with his toes and lifted it to his hand with a foot, so he wouldn't have to bend over (his lower back ached like a bitch, and also it was way too vulnerable around some stranger.) Then he scrubbed at all the crusted-on shit on his belly and thighs. Renji meanwhile was crouching down near Ichigo's head, and Grimmjow honestly had to stop himself from warning him off his sleeping bag and his hookup. "I... chi..." He grabbed the edges of the sleeping bag and yanked them up all at once, yelling the last syllable. "Go!" Grimmjow's hookup went rolling into the cliff, ejected right out. --- -arrancar harem crack- "... Does this actually renders hollows capable of perpetuating life," Aizen-sama asked slowly, softly, bringing everyone else to a stop. Szayel opened his mouth. Paused. Uh. Some of the possible biological changes might reactivate -- oh, and he had bypassed the gender binary requirements because depending on species the effect would be so very different -- "... Of course not, Aizen-sama. That would be ridiculous." --- -Daemon AU: Kon and Kai- "Come to think of it, life was so much better inside your body," Kon cries, anguished, his plush body draped across a wide capybara back. Behind him Ichigo and Rikuto are sprawled on their bed, rolling their eyes in tandem like it's a synchronized olympic event. "If I went peeping or stalking you were the one who'd get in trouble... I had nothing to worry about..." "That isn't even funny," Rikuto grumbles. "If you think it's convincing us to let you go outside, you're dreaming. You're a plush lion, Kon." Kon and Kai glare sullenly; then Kai snorts, wriggles Kon off their back, and then they're human-shaped. Ichigo-shaped, really. Hey, it's the form they know best. Kon crows his triumph, felt paws raised; Kai leans down to pick him up and they both grin fatuously. On the bed Ichigo has frozen in pure horror. "Oh my god. No." "Stop us!" they sing-song in unison. Rikuto is crouching on the bed like she wants to pounce and doesn't know who at. Her golden eyes are wide, too. "You're naked, you pervert!" "No," Kon corrects smugly from his perch on his daemon's arm. "No, you're naked, Ichigo, you pervert. Exhibitionist!" "You sicko freak," Kai continues, doing a little hips-wiggling dance as they move slowly toward the window. "You dick-waving pig!" Rikuto's eyes pingpong from Kai to Kon; she crouches, tail whipping. Kai flicks his hair to black by habit, then goes back to familiar, natural orange, and makes Ichigo's dumb face make an even dumber grin. Kon cackles. Why did they never do this before? It's brilliant.

[rubyjcat]

Shuta Sueyoshi / 「秒針 Re:time」”Byoushin Re:time”  - English Translation

末吉秀太 – 秒針 Re:time Romaji: Byoushin Re:time Eng Name: Second Hand Re:time

Release date: 2017/10/27 Album: Jack In the Box Language: Japanese

Official Music Video 🕟 iTunes

Source: Info, Kanji & Romaji Japanese Lyrics

Japanese Romaji (modified)

yaburi totta NOTTO no haji tsuzutta negai kawaranaide kawaranaide kono mama de isasete demo tokei no hari wa dandan to toki wo kizami bokura no omoi made kaete shimatta nee

kimi ga tsuita chiisana uso hontou no imi to yasashisa ni kizukenai boku wa yowa sugite chiguhagu ZURE-teku futari no kokoro CHIKUTAKU tokei wa kawarazu susumi

kimi no KAKERA atsumeta GOMI-bako kakae ugokenai aa

sayonara mada saigo ni kureta namida to egao ga mabuta kogashiteru semete byoushin Re:time kimi ga afureta heya ni kagi wo kakete

waraiatte kaita rakugaki ni nomikonda kotoba akikan ni tsumekonda boku no tameiki haa

kirai girai kirai da konna jibun ga KIRA KIRA egao wa mahou no you ni

kimi wo noseta hibi wa POKETTO ni toki wa ugokidasu aa

kono mama tada kokoro wo tsumuide eranda mirai wa mada kasumu you de tokete nijinde iku sora ni kakureta hoshi ni negai wo kakete

sayonara mada saigo ni kureta namida to egao ga mabuta kogashiteru semete byoushin Re:time kimi ga afureta heya ni

kono mama tada kokoro wo tsumuide eranda mirai wa mada kasumu you de tokete nijinde iku sora ni kakureta hoshi ni negai wo kakete

English Translation

Tore out the ends of the notebook     the wish I spelled out "Do not change, do not change Let it stay this way" But the clock hands gradually tick with time Until our feelings completely changed, right?

You told a small lie     I could not recognize the truth’s meaning and gentleness     I am too weak Mismatched     two hearts are being out of sync Tick Tock     the clock does not progress

The dustbin that accumulated your fragments By holding onto you I can’t move     ahh

Goodbyes were still given in the end Your tears and smiles are burning my eyelids At least the second hand     Re:time You overflowed the room I locked away

Laughed and drew graffiti Swallowed my words Squeezed out from the empty cans My sigh (hah)

I hate, I hate, I hate myself like this Sparkling, sparkling, your smiling face is like magic

I placed you into my pocket day after day Time will start to move     ahh

Just like this, my heart spins The future I chose has yet to appear blurry It is dissolving, and continues flowing I make a wish upon a star hidden in the sky

Goodbyes were still given in the end Your tears and smiles are burning my eyelids At least the second hand     Re:time You overflowed the room

Just like this, my heart spins The future I chose has yet to appear blurry It is dissolving, and continues flowing I make a wish upon a star hidden in the sky

Image Ver.

Translation Notes:

Feel free to use it (credit would be appreciated). This is a fanmade, manually translated version. ^.^ Found a mistake? Let me know??

🕐 How fluent are you with Japanese?: Not fluent, though I started attempting to learn Japanese more seriously late this year, such as reading Kanji and radical searching. Resources used were a Kanji handbook, jisho.org, many websites explaining translation, grammar, conjugation, etc., and English translations of other Japanese lyrics. Inspirations include vgperson and of course, AAA :) Ok not absolutely qualified, well I did call it a fanmade translation

🕑 Difficulties?: I made LOTS of edits before finalizing this. Fun fact: I first started this translation on Nov 24, 2017. The parts I had trouble with include:

「tsuzutta negai」 as I initially thought it was “I wished to spell out” but realised tsuzutta “describes” the action of the noun negai (it’s called a relative clause verb or something). It may not always be the case though. A similar case appears with 「atsumeta gomibako」 and 「eranda mirai」. I included “I” in the respective phrases depending on the context.

「kogashiteru」 because I confused it for two different meanings (”yearn for, be in love” / “burn”) that share the same Kanji. It seems like “yearn for” would fit this kind of song better, but the conjugation I found for this was “te-form + iru”, and only kogashite + iru “to burn” fits this conjugation (as ”yearn for” would be kogarete + iru). It could be interpreted as “the images of you burning when I close my eyes (eyelids)”. It does seem to fit in with the previous phrase, showing how that painful memory of saying goodbye is recalled in the present. If it was “yearn for”, then I would translate it as “My/Your/The tears and smiles yearn (for) eyelids” which doesn’t make much sense.

「sayonara mada saigo ni kureta」. I got confused whether mada was positive (still) or negative (not yet) and also wondered if it affected the noun saigo or the verb kureta (or both). This one should be positive because the verb isn’t in negative form. Then there’s always the aspect of lack of pronouns. I would interpret it as “we”, but I ended up with not using pronouns here as it is ambiguous. Instead I pluralized “goodbye” which doesn’t necessaily have to mean “we”.

日本語はまだ話さないよ！

🕒 Why did you do this?: Because I wanted to ^.^ I love AAA and Shuuty is my favourite member of the band. After falling in love hearing this song, I simply wanted to know what he was singing about. ^^ I used to not care very much to learn the meaning of J-lyrics.

🕓 What do you think about Byoushin Re:time?: His voice melts me <3 It’s a beautiful yet simple song with a calm and heartwarming melody and emotive lyrics. Has a bit of a ‘winter feel’ to it (must be the strings). It turned out to be a sad yet hopeful song about coping with a (drama-free) breakup. I like its use of time stopping when dealing with the breakup and starting again when moving on.

秀太くん、美しい歌をくれてありがとうございます。

I am aware that there must be other people to compose, write lyrics and whatnot, but I don’t know who else helped make the song. Thanks avex for publishing?

Lyrics-wise, I like the wordplay parts. xD chiguhagu and CHIKUTAKU, kirai girai and KIRA KIRA, nomikonda and tsumekonda... and perhaps other less obvious ones.

Here’s my retelling of the story:

Two people are in a relationship (henceforth labelled X & Y). Our person, X, wanted their relationship with Y to stay as it is, but with time it was destined to be doomed. It started with a lie from Y meant to be harmless, but X couldn’t see past the “joke” (perhaps our person has low self-esteem). X and Y slowly became distant. Breakup ensues. X threw away the things reminding them of Y. But it’s hard to move on. Recalling the moment when they said goodbye is painful... when X closes their eyes, they can still see Y’s tears and smiles from that day. But all of it is now only of the past - the clock plays these memories over and over again [Re:time]. X locked away the place filled with memories of Y. That place happens to be the clock, so that’s why time has stopped. X is now sad and hates themself in their current state, which contrasts with X recalling how beautiful Y’s smile was. Since they can’t forget about Y just yet, they kept a memento of Y with them (maybe dug up from the trash), day after day... Time will start to move again as the memories become unlocked. X now keeps the memories of Y in their heart for the better instead of bringing about all the negatives. They can still see a future; the world goes on. All the memories are flowing out of the clock. They make a wish... Perhaps time will tell again if X and Y’s relationship really was not meant to be, or if they might actually reunite one day.

🕔 Are you gonna do anything else?: Yes. I translated this with intentions of doing an English cover (English translyrics = WIP). I’m gonna do it because I love the song and I don’t care if no one else has heard of the song !! (ง ≧o≦)ง For other translations, I only plan to translate and cover one more AAA song. Not sure yet about future singles (as there will always be other fans to translate). Regardless, I am not accepting requests.

読みました、ありがとうございます。

[omajishans]

WIP Report

I’ve been doing an exam since yesterday, so I just forgot about this for a hot sec.

I had to re-write the entire scene I had for ch1 for the kon fic when i realized Bruce felt too ooc-ish. it was a pain but i like the new version.

aside from that, i’ve made a few notes about what i wanna remember about the characters (like Dick’s tendency to just fling himself off of buildings)

Old version of ch1 under the cut if you’re curious (warning: very rough)

Metropolis was bright in a lot of ways. 

From the tall skyscrapers with polished metal to the clean streets and the trusting people, it seemed to embody everything nice in the world. 

It wasn’t. 

Bruce never liked Metropolis. The clean air always felt fake to him, as if hiding all the shadows and undesirable parts of itself from everyone and then claimed they didn’t exist. 

He set foot in that city solely when needed. Like at that moment, having followed a lead to Metropolis. 

Over the course of the week, several children had gone missing from the streets of Gotham. There one moment and nowhere to be seen the next. 

After numerous days, it became clear it hadn’t been the usual suspects but instead outsiders trying to claw their way into Gotham. Possibly seeing the city as easy pickings for their, he suspects, is a nation-wide child trafficking ring. 

(TBD) Case 

Which is how Batman found himself doing surveillance in broad daylight, keeping an eye on Hayes, when explosions started to rock the foundations of the city. In the distance, several fires lighted up the sky and turning the scene orange. 

He reached up to his ear and turned on his comm

“Oracle” he said. 

“This is about the explosions in Metropolis that’s causing earthquakes, right?” she said, robotic tilt making her sound a lot more detached than she really was. 

He grunted an affirmative.

“Hmm… The cause seems to be an unknown kid and Cyborg Superman fighting near the suburbs, both of them causing a lot of collateral” she said, a sliver of worry entered her voice.

Batman stared at the fires, how the tremors lessened in intensity but not in frequency, the damage that, from his vantage point, seemed to get worse with every minute. 

Having read the watchtower’s files on the Cyborg and Superman’s brief accounts on him, it was only a matter of time before the situation got out of hand. Especially if there was an unknown factor in the equation. 

Underneath him, Hayes didn’t move from her spot. Absorbed as she seemed to be in her work despite the slight tremors. 

“The kid?” he said, mentally calculating his next move. Superman was in Smallvile as far as he knew, the chances of him knowing of the situation before it escalated were 50/50 and the only other superheroes that operated in Metropolis were Black Lightning and Powergirl. Both of which, he didn’t know where they were. 

“There’s nothing on him. Face recognition can’t place him either. No school records. No birth certificate. Nothing. He didn’t exist up until 40 minutes ago when a camera caught sight of him saving a girl from getting run over in Park Ridge by... stopping the car in its tracks and causing a pile up behind it… bad judgement call there superkid”, the clacking of her keyboard echoing through the comm, “he’s tried to stop several crimes since then, making the situation worse than before every single time. He’s wearing a jumpsuit with Superman’s crest on it, so there’s a possibility he’s kryptonian too which would explain the lack of data.” 

“Can you keep an eye on Hayes?” he said, solidifying his decision and heading north towards the suburbs and the fight. 

That kid is untrained and dangerously powerful, add that Cyborg Superman and you have a recipe for disaster. His thoughts drift to the lead-lined pocket in his utility belt. 

Hope it doesn’t come to that.

[suzukiblu]

. . . anyway I met a new soulmate AU concept and I'm gonna make it the Core Four's problem, natch.

It's kind of weird and awkward when Tim's Pocket shows up, because a) Tim's Pocket is Superman, and b) Superman is dead.

So that's . . . several kinds of weird and awkward, yeah.

"B," he says first thing into the cave, trying to sound professional and reasonable and not like he's kind of freaking out a little. Or . . . more than a little, maybe. "Can we, uh . . . talk?"

"Go ahead," Bruce says, not looking away from the Batcomputer. Tim really wishes he would. It would make some things easier to explain. Like his Pocket. Specifically his Pocket would be much, much easier to explain.

"My Pocket showed up last night," Tim says. Bruce nods in acknowledgement, still not looking away from the computer. His own Pocket is sitting on his shoulder, and at least she's looking at Tim. She also looks a little gobsmacked, which is saying something for her. Cat came from Selina, after all, and is very rarely gobsmacked.

"We'll get them a mask, then," Bruce says.

"Glasses might be better," Tim says resignedly. Bruce . . . pauses. Cat tugs his ear. He turns his head, and Tim tries not to die of embarrassment as his Pocket continues to hover over his head, peering curiously at Bruce.

He's Superman, still. The costume is a little different for some reason–there's black in it and different divisions of color and weird unnecessary-seeming belts and straps and gloves–but it's still undeniably Superman, big red cape and all.

Bruce looks blankly at Tim's Pocket. Tim's Pocket grins confidently back at him.

"What the fuck, Tim," Bruce says.

Tim does not in any way whatsoever blame him for it.

.

.

.

Cassie's Pocket is Superman and she has no idea how to feel about that. Superman's dead, for one thing. And also like in his thirties, at least? If not forties. And also dead.

"Uh, Mom?" she says when she comes down for breakfast. "Something . . . happened?"

Her mom looks up with a frown. Cassie's Pocket chirps a friendly greeting.

Mom stares.

"He's too old for you," she says immediately.

"Mom!" Cassie protests, and her Pocket cackles and swoops a circle around her head. "You–stop that, you jerk! And Mom, don't embarrass me in front of my Pocket, oh my god!"

"He should be embarrassed," Mom says darkly, glaring at Cassie's Pocket. He looks mildly offended. Cassie is very offended. To be fair, she also did not expect her Pocket to turn out to be a full-grown man with incredible alien superpowers and it's kind of freaky and a little off-putting, but that's her business, not her mom's.

Also, like, well . . . he's really cute, honestly. In a very weird way that she doesn't quite know how to reconcile with an adult man, but still. He's her Pocket, so there's no way he's a creep or a predator, and he's also Superman so there's definitely no way he's a creep or a predator, but the situation is really freaking bizarre all the same.

She's never even met Superman, so him being her Pocket really doesn't make sense. Especially because he is, again, dead. That'd be a really strong soulmate bond. Like, scary strong, Cassie thinks.

Though in retrospect, expecting Superman of all people to die was maybe kind of stupid of the world at large.

.

.

.

Bart is pretty surprised when his Pocket happens. It's Superman, he thinks? Which is weird. Superman's, like, super dead. Superman's from like . . . the twenty-first century, and Bart is definitely not.

And like . . . he's also just old. Like really, really old.

Lame.

"I'm gonna call you Soup," he decides immediately, poking his Pocket's curly hair. His Pocket looks just as immediately unimpressed and folds his arms. "What, you don't like it? Seriously? Okay, what about Soupy? Soupers? Soupette? Sou–ow ow ow stop!"

Okay, he's gonna have to workshop the name a bit, he guesses.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie; poly Pockets, cut for length.

His Pocket just curls up tighter in his hands and stifles another sob. Bart groans in frustration and takes him back to the bedroom, finds his pillow–which is in the closet, now, for some reason?–and then sticks him back on the bed and under his pillow again. The pillow seems like an improvement on the washcloth, at least. 

. . . his Pocket still doesn’t seem willing to give up the washcloth, though. 

Weirdo.

“You’re really picky, huh,” he observes, poking at his pillow. His Pocket just makes an unhappy sound and burrows in deeper under it, washcloth and all. Bart isn’t even sure that washcloth is clean. Like, who knows? He hasn’t done laundry in like a thousand years, or at least a couple days, so it could be super gross or whatever! 

He doesn’t know why his Pocket’s so upset, but he doesn’t like it. It feels . . . weird, or whatever. Bart didn’t ask for a slow Pocket, but he guesses his Pocket didn’t ask for a speedster either. Or maybe he did? Pockets are confusing. 

It’s weird. 

Bart really didn’t want a soulmate, honestly. Like, the chances of getting one that could keep up or wouldn’t think he was weird were never all that good, considering, so . . . so . . . 

So he thinks he’s mad, a little, that his Pocket can’t keep up. Because for a little bit there, he’d thought maybe his Pocket could. That he’d be fast enough and maybe, like . . . get it, a little. 

Nobody else gets it, really. Wally’s such a jerk most of the time, and everyone else is so slow, and . . . 

Max gets it sometimes, he thinks. Maybe. But Max also gets frustrated with him when he’s just doing stuff that seems normal and makes sense to him, and that’s frustrating, and . . . 

If Bart had to get a soulmate, why couldn’t it have been one with superspeed? Somebody like–Jenni, maybe. He misses Jenni. Misses somebody else being fast enough. 

Misses somebody who can just . . . keep up. 

He would’ve . . . that would’ve been okay, maybe. Like. For a soulmate, anyway. 

Maybe, anyway. 

If Bart had gotten to pick a soulmate, he just . . . he would’ve picked somebody who could keep up. That’s all. 

“Why are your powers weird?” he asks, poking his pillow. “Are you, like, still messed up from being dead or something? Do you need more sun? I could get you more sun.” 

That’s probably only gonna be helpful if the actual Superman gets it, but . . . well, maybe it’d help a little, at least. Or like, whatever. 

He doesn’t really know, he guesses. So maybe it’d be worth a try. 

Bart zips to the window and pulls up his blinds as high as they’ll go, and pushes the curtains as wide as they’ll go, and then squints questioningly at the light that’s coming in. It’s kinda sunny out, at least, but it’s not as sunny as it could be, so . . . hmmmmm. 

“Maybe we should go someplace tropical,” he muses. “You’ll get faster if you get more sun, right? Probably? Like, it might fix your powers or whatever.” 

His Pocket sniffs, and also stays under the pillow and washcloth. Bart considers the merits of putting in a skylight. He could learn how to do that, probably. Like, if he wanted to. 

He wishes Jenni were here. Jenni can keep up. Jenni’s fast too. 

Heck, he’d settle for Wally right now, if he didn’t know the guy would just be annoying about it. 

He hopes Max is done with his calls soon. This is getting really frustrating. 

Really frustrating. 

“You at least like the sun, right?” Bart asks, fiddling with the blinds a little more. His Pocket sniffs again. Bart frowns in frustration at the blinds and just snatches the duct tape from the kitchen to tape them up off the window altogether. “Like, you at least do that? Even if you don’t like Superman stuff?” 

“Bart,” his Pocket mumbles unhappily, and Bart blows his hair out of his eyes with a sigh, then tapes back the curtains too for good measure. Maybe he can set up some mirrors or something, focus the sunlight towards the bed a little better? 

Yeah, that’s a good idea, he decides, and bolts off to grab every mirror in the house. He’s not allowed to go anywhere, but there’s the hallway mirror and Helen’s vanity mirror and a whole attic full of stuff, and prying off the bathroom mirrors helps too, so–

It takes a couple seconds to set up all the mirrors, but he does manage to get as much light reflecting towards the bed as possible. So that's a start, he figures.

“Better?” he asks. “Until we can actually go somewhere tropical, I mean. Or the desert, maybe. Maybe the desert would be better. But tropical has, like, more fruit and water and maybe some beach chairs.” 

“Bart?” his Pocket says, then chitters something uncertain-sounding in Pocket-talk. He finally peeks out from under the pillow again, looking red-eyed, and then goes still and stares at the mirrors, and then the window. 

“More sun,” Bart explains, gesturing at them. “Right?” 

His Pocket keeps staring at the mirrors and window for a moment, then sits up, lets the washcloth and pillow fall off him, and zips over to Bart again. 

“Ack!” Bart sputters as the other hits him in the face and–oh, wait, he’s like . . . clinging to him, kinda? Not hitting him hitting, just–this might be a hug? Is this a hug? On his face? 

Weird. 

. . . really weird. 

. . . . . . how long is his Pocket gonna do this, exactly? 

“Maybe I should name you after somebody,” Bart reflects distractedly, sort of awkwardly . . . patting his Pocket’s back, he guesses. Well, at least he seems less upset now. He thinks? Maybe? “Or after whatever random island or desert fixes your powers. Like, once we get them fixed. I dunno. Does it really matter that much to you?”

“Imp,” his Pocket mumbles tightly, then lets go of his face and faceplants into his hair instead, and now . . . well, now Bart just has a Pocket in his hair, he guesses. 

Okay then. 

Less upset is probably better, at least. Even though Bart just directed all the sun towards the bed and his Pocket immediately moved off the bed. 

Well, whatever, Bart thinks, and sighs again. 

[suzukiblu]

Absolutely started posting the Core Four poly Pockets soulmate AU on AO3, soooo here's chapter one for everyone's viewing pleasure, lol. ❤️

tiny pocket-sized superboyfriends for all!!

[suzukiblu]

Chapter three of the Core Four poly Pocket soulmates AU is live!

Time for everyone to name their pocket-sized superboyfriends, and possibly have a minor emotional crisis or two in the process.

[suzukiblu]

ooh a pocket full of kons 🙏

He reaches up and grabs him again, and this time his Pocket doesn’t wriggle out of it. 

“Bart!” his Pocket says happily, reaching up to hug his face and squish their cheeks together. “Bart Bart Bart!” 

“Huh,” Bart says again, frowning for a moment before giving him a gentle little pat on the back. 

Okay then.

[suzukiblu]

I'd very much like to see more of the pocket versions of Young Just Us please!

“Oh,” he realizes, blinking in surprise. “You wanna be ‘Match’?” 

“Bart!” his Pocket crows delightedly, and then crushes his face even more effectively. 

. . . ow, yeah. 

But they did finally make some progress, Bart guesses, so he can’t really complain or anything. 

“Okay,” he says, and his Pocket beams at him. “Match it is, then.” 

Well, it’s not as good as Soupitha or Throckmorton, maybe, but it’ll work. And it is his Pocket’s opinion that matters there anyway, he figures. 

Well–Match’s opinion, he guesses he means.

It’s kinda weird, Bart thinks as he looks at the little guy’s still-beaming face in front of his own, but somehow naming Match really made this all feel . . . 

Kind of more real, maybe. 

And Bart’s not really used to “real” after growing up in VR, but . . . well. He’s pretty sure that’s how this feels, that’s all. 

Or he thinks so, anyway.