Everyone, I am so happy to see Adriana Varejão in my dash??
She is a brazilian sculptor and artist who is probably one of the best creators of gore in formal art I've ever seen. Here's some more of her work.
She loves exploring portuguese tiling, and her work includes eras that are solely focused on tiles.
She has also went through phases where she explored cracks in ink and in tiling
And of course that evolved into bloody cracks and slashes on tiles, like the walls are living beings
Which then became her iconic meat walls, but I also love her pool paintings, it's a completely different kind of unsettling more akin to liminal spaces
I can't add more images because tumblr sucks but ADRIANA VAREJÃO. Pride of my fucking country I tell you
I slept in and just woke up, so here's what I've been able to figure out while sipping coffee:
Twitter has officially rebranded to X just a day or two after the move was announced.
The official branding is that a tweet is now called "an X", for which there are too many jokes to make.
The official account is still @twitter because someone else owns @X and they didn't reclaim the username first.
The logo is 𝕏 which is the Unicode character Unicode U+1D54F so the logo cannot be copyrighted and it is highly likely that it cannot be protected as a trademark.
Outside the visual logo, the trademark for the use of the name "X" in social media is held by Meta/Facebook, while the trademark for "X" in finance/commerce is owned by Microsoft.
The rebranding has been stopped in Japan as the term "X Japan" is trademarked by the band X JAPAN.
Elon had workers taking down the "Twitter" name from the side of the building. He did not have any permits to do this. The building owner called the cops who stopped the crew midway through so the sign just says "er".
He still plans to call his streaming and media hosting branch of the company as "Xvideo". Nobody tell him.
This man wants you to give him control over all of your financial information.
oh lmao hi kinda funny this ended up in this inbox, if i didn't also constantly check tumblr on my computer i wouldn't've even noticed this for who knows how long lmao
uh im alright. kinda manic but what can you do lol we'll see when i crash
Hey everyone!! This is my JayTim holiday gift for @heybabybird!! Hope you enjoy and that you all have had a marvelous holidays <3
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“Hey, hey, stop the car!”
Tim slams on the breaks; his mind already working overtime, eyes scanning the quiet lamplit street they had been cruising down for any possible danger. Jason is already halfway out the door by the time they come to a complete stop, shoving a beanie on his head as he goes. There’s still adrenaline coursing through his system as Jason runs around the front of the car, banging on the hood twice before motioning for Tim to follow.
It’s three thirty in the morning, street lights cast a warm yellow glow across quiet, snow white streets. Not a single house has a light on, no people wandering the streets. Not yet tired enough to stop for the night they had kept driving long past when most people would be asleep; especially somewhere like this.
“What- where are you going?” Tim hisses as he opens the front door to the chilly December air. It feels too quiet, snow dampening the sound of Jason’s crunching footfalls in the snow.
Jason seems to have no such compulsion to be quiet as he calls, “c’mon, Baby Bird, we never get snow like this in Gotham!”
Tim’s inclined to agree. Gotham’s snow has a habit of turning to slush, if it sticks at all, creating messes of ice and other such unpleasantness for commuters of all types; including those who tend to travel via rooftop. But here the snow falls in huge flakes and blankets the ground in a smooth, even surface. It reminds him of winter breaks spent home from school, just far enough out of the city for some of the snow to stick in thin, powdery layers that Tim would try to build snowmen out of.
It’s certainly a sight. A large field stretches out in front of them that’s probably a soccer or baseball field in warmer weather. The snow is perfect and untouched across it, what dreams of snow days home from school are made of. The world quiet except for the rustle of their clothes, snow falling all around them and-
There’s a burst of cold all over Tim’s face as he’s nailed with a snowball. Jason’s cackles, darting across the field to taunt Tim from forty feet away. Tim narrows his eyes, bends over and scoops up a handful of snow.
He’s easily caught up in the rush of chasing Jason all over the field, patting down snow in his hands to try and hit Jason back. Time falls away like the snow around them, the world cocooned in laughter and the occasional shriek from Jason when Tim mercilessly shoves a handful of snow down the back of his shirt.
It’s easy to forget that less than twelve hours ago Tim had been driving aimlessly around Gotham. A restless sort of energy buzzing under his skin that he couldn’t get rid of while the work of cases and Wayne Enterprises built up like a wall around him. Tim knew on some level he was doing it to himself.
“All work and no play makes Tim a dull boy,” Stephanie had complained, poking him in the cheek while he poured over case files.
She was right, as Stephanie often was about these sorts of things, and Tim had tried, tried, to force himself to take a break. Which was how Jason found him, hands gripped too tight on the steering wheel and eyes firmly focused directly ahead.
“How about a road trip, Baby Bird?”
So here they were, running around and wrestling like children in the middle of the night. Eventually they both flop into the snow, making a couple shoddy snow angels and soaking their clothes.
“Hold on,” Tim says, regarding the two snow angels critically. He walks delicately over to the heads and gently drags the toe of his shoe through the snow making little bat ears in both of them “Perfect.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jason says but then he’s laughing and wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulder to give him a noogie.
The warmth of the car is welcome after the cold finally begins to seep through Tim’s clothes. Jason turns the heat up as far as it will go as Tim begins to drive away. Already there’s a fresh layer of snow over the field, smoothing out the dips and footprints they had left behind. In a few hours it may not even look like they were there at all.
“Enjoy yourself?”
Tim snorts. “Only if you admit that you lost.”
Jason laughs, the sound warming Tim up more than the heat of the car. “I hit you so many more times than you hit me.”
“It’s about quality, not quantity.”
“No, you’re just a sore loser.”
That might be true, but Jason doesn’t need to know that.
They find a motel just outside of town beside the highway, a tired looking college student of a clerk taking their money in exchange for keys. Jason complains about his wet shirt while they walk to their rooms, Tim asks him if he’s reconsidering who won their little snowball fight but Jason instead doubles down on insisting he’s not bothered.
They miss the motel’s offered breakfast, or, Tim does by sleeping well past noon. Jason sits at the tiny square table by the door when Tim gets up, a newspaper spread in front of him turned to the daily crossword. Tim’s fairly sure he locked the door before he went to bed but common locks don’t really mean much to people like them.
“Morn’n, sleeping beauty. Know a four letter word for a type of kiss?”
“Peck. Ugh, I haven’t showered since we left Gotham.”
“Don’t dawdle, the hot water doesn’t last,” Jason calls as Tim closes the bathroom door behind him.
Despite Jason’s warning Tim takes his time in the shower long after the water becomes tepid and downright cold. The smell of generic soap and shampoo clog his nose and when he opens the door again thirty minutes later, he finds Jason still sitting at the table but now with two cups of to-go coffee and a couple paper bags.
“You got coffee?” Tim asks, picking up the cup not currently in Jason’s hand. It smells of mocha and hazelnut, warmth seeping into Tim’s hands.
“And breakfast sandwiches. C’mon, we’ve got places to be, Baby Bird.”
“What? Did something happen-”
“Okay, bad wording, no,” Jason chuckles, “everything’s fine. But you don’t want to sit in this shitty motel all day do you?”
Tim pouts while Jason shoves him out the door and into the passenger side door of the car. He continues to pout even though Jason shoots him a grin as he turns to look out the back windshield. Guitar blasts out of the speakers that Jason taps his fingers along to, nudging Tim every once in a while to sing along with a chorus.
They continue East, following meandering paths and choosing random exits just because. Jason drives most of the day, he seems to have someplace in mind and Tim is happy to just sit in the warm car and relax. They pass through more small towns decorated to the nines with lights and banners across the main streets.
They stop at a small twenty-four hour diner that looks like it hasn’t been updated since the late seventies. Jason orders a milkshake and promptly blows the straw wrapper in Tim’s face the second Tim looks up from the menu. The waitress lets them know there’s a light festival being held in a local park that they should visit before passing through.
“Wow, this place really takes their tourist traps seriously,” Jason says with a low whistle as they exit the car. The gravel parking lot alone is decked out in lights of every colour and cardboard cutouts depicting several copyrighted characters, to Tim’s amusement.
Little stalls made to look like log cabins are scattered around the entry path selling everything from handmade soaps to Christmas tree ornaments to hot chocolate and various pastries. Jason stops at one stall, saying he’ll catch up, while Tim explores further ahead where he finds a bedraggled Santa Claus actor currently being accosted by several children.
“You want a picture with Santa?” Jason materialises out of thin air, putting years of vigilantism to use just to startle Tim.
“No, do you?” Tim shoots back with a glare, crossing his arms in what he knows is a defensive gesture but hardly caring at the moment. He eyes the paper bag in Jason’s hands. “What’d you get?”
Jason’s face splits into a grin as he reaches into the bag and pulls out a long, knit scarf. It’s hard to see the exact colour with all the multicoloured lights around but Tim can see it seems to be a light blue with an ombre into a darker blue at the ends. Jason leans over slightly, wrapping the soft fabric around Tim’s neck.
Lights reflect off of Jason’s face in an array of pink, green and blue; his eyes and smile turning soft as he looks down at Tim. It’s almost absurd, Tim thinks, the dreamlike quality of the surrounding lights, the way Jason is looking at him and how he just bought Tim a gift like it was nothing. He tries not to take Jason’s friendship for granted, considering the rocky ground they both started on. Tim knew he had a crush on Jason, had had one for a long time that he had never planned on acting on.
It was enough if Jason would nod at him from across the cave. It was enough when Jason first started laughing at Tim’s jokes, when they started sharing patrol meals together while working cases. It was enough. It was.
Until Jason climbed into Tim’s car and suggested they go on a road trip.
Until Tim saw Jason smiling at him in the reflection of a napkin dispenser at a coffee shop.
Until Jason bumped his shoulder, singing along to “All I Want For Christmas” as they walked through illuminated trees.
Until Jason secured a scarf around his neck, quietly saying, “it reminded me of your eyes.”
Tim isn’t sure what he did to deserve Jason’s undivided attention like this Or when a small crush on the idea of a person long gone turned into something tangible and real, a feeling that spreads outwards every time he sees Jason smile.
There isn’t a lot of time to dwell on that thought, though, because apparently Jason does want a picture with Santa; which Jason immediately makes his phone background to Tim’s amused dismay.
“Thank you,” Tim says when they’re back on the road, leaving the twinkling park lights behind them. Ahead the sky is dark, moonlight obscured by thick clouds. It feels as if they’re driving straight into the unknown, physically and mentally.
“No problemo, Baby Bird,” Jason says breezily, as if Tim is only thanking him for the scarf.
Tim glances sideways and catches the small smile on Jason’s lips and thinks that Jason understands. They’re both quiet for the rest of the night, radio turned down to a low murmur that eventually lulls Tim to sleep.
“Not that I don’t love being in space but there’s definitely something about seeing the stars from Earth that can’t be beat,” Jason says. The engine cools beneath where they sit on the hood, heads tilted up at the first clear sky they’ve seen since leaving Gotham. With no city lights to interfere the stars are bright and clear.
Tim hums in agreement, chewing slowly on the takeout burger they had grabbed previous.
It’s almost the end of their journey. Tim estimates they could be back in Gotham the next night if they really pushed it but he’s really in no hurry. There’s work to do, bad guys to catch, Tim knows but just for another night he wants to pretend he has nowhere to be. No one to be.
Just Jason and Tim, driving aimlessly around. It should be surprising how easy it is, to just exist with Jason like two normal people. They don’t fight over strategy or talk about cases. Jason likes to sing along to the radio, do crosswords during breakfast and steal Tim’s fries from his plate. They bump into each other on walks, chase each other with snowballs and get their picture taken with Santa.
“Hey, Jay?” Tim asks around a swallow. He worries the end of his scarf between his fingers. “Why’d you come with me anyway?”
Jason tilts his head towards Tim, blinking once slowly while he regards Tim silently. Tim startles lightly when he feels Jason’s hand on his, fingers working between his own to stop him from worrying the end of his scarf.
“I think you can figure it out.” Jason’s voice is low and quiet, moon and starlight reflected in his eyes.
Tim pulls Jason closer, reaching up to wrap his other arm around Jason’s neck. Tim is really trying to be smooth but they end up bumping noses and Jason begins to laugh helplessly, instead pressing his forehead against Tim’s. It’s an infectious kind of laughter that bubbles up until they’re both collapsed against the other, the cold forgotten in the warmth of their company.
Jason cups Tim’s face in his hands and Tim wonders what he sees. Maybe it’s similar to what Tim sees in Jason- something that reminds Tim of overcoming the odds, warm coffees on unforgiving patrols and a week of long meandering car rides that don’t have any real purpose but to spend time with each other.
Tim could be anywhere and feel exactly the same as long as Jason is beside him.
“You ready to head back home?” Jason murmurs quietly against Tim’s lips after they’ve finally gotten a hold of themselves.
“Yeah,” Tim replies. He squeezes Jason’s hand with his, a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss onto Jason’s lips. “I think I am.”
Holidays in Gotham were always a shit show, New Year’s Eve especially. Large amounts of people out and about? Check. Copious amounts of idiots with fireworks? Double check. An ill advised party in the Diamond District that kept Bruce busy both as Batman and Brucie Wayne? Triple check.
Why couldn’t criminals ever choose to turn over a new leaf for New Year’s? Or was whatever New Year’s Eve bust they were convinced would absolutely work supposed to be their last hurrah?
Whatever it is, Jason is beat to shit by five AM New Year’s Day. Honestly, it’s not that different from any other high activity night but the fact it’s supposed to be a holiday just adds insult to injury.
Jason is planning on just swinging back to his coziest safe house and sleeping the rest of the day off when he catches sight of a lump on an adjacent roof. He raises an eyebrow, briefly weighing his options… well, there was always a little time in the day to pester his favourite bird.
“Hey, Red, happy new year,” Jason says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster just to see the pinched look Tim gives him in response.
There’s black smudged on the bottom half of his face, the cowl torn up to his forehead on the left side. Tim sighs, reaching up and pulling the cowl back. “Yeah, happy new year, sure.”
“Aww, didn’t get a midnight kiss from Blondie?” Jason teases, plopping himself down beside Tim.
“No, I was too busy chasing after Firefly,” Tim says with a snort. “I think I had a firecracker stuck to my cape when midnight happened.”
“Yeah, I was in the middle of a shootout.”
Jason removes his helmet to stare out at the skyline. Because Gothamites are crazy there’s still fireworks going off all over the city in colourful bursts.
“You know,” Tim says, “midnight is practically like midafternoon for us.”
Jason turns his head and finds Tim’s own blue gaze looking back up at him. “Yeah, and?”
Tim shrugs, waving a hand through the air lazily. “Better late than never?”
Jason feels his face heat up but Tim’s still looking at him, admittedly also a little red faced, so Jason plasters his best smirk on his face and leans a little closer just to fluster Tim further. “Oh, Timmy, I always knew you were into bad boys.”
Tim rolls his eyes, grabbing Jason by his jacket collar and dragging him down into a kiss.
“Happy new year, Jay,” Tim whispers against his lips.
If I had a dollar for everyone who has asked me if Noodle is a lab, i would only have like 3 dollars but it would still be more dollars than I would have expected
People are... startlingly bad at identifying dog breeds sometimes. Like I get asked if Herschel, the most prototypical-looking corgi ever to corg, is a Corgi about twice a week. Usually in a hyped-up "Is ThAt A cOrGi??" kind of way where the person is like, 90% sure that's a corgi, and is very excited about petting him regardless.
Less often, people will ask me if Charlie, 50lb Black-and-cream mystery meat* , is a Doberman. This is really funny because both of the last times somene asked this, he was standing immediately next to An Actual Purebred Doberman, who is twice his size and a completely different shape and texture.
What's Funny is when people know Charlie isn't a Doberman, but try to guess what he is, because I've never gotten the same guess twice and some of the guesses are NUTS. No Ma'am. I am extremely sure he's not part husky.
*Probable Pointer/sighthound hybrid based on behavior, shape, and the place they found him, but there's a significant chance he has pit bull in there too. I'm not genetically testing him on purpose because I live in an area that has pit bull bans on the ballot every tyear and I don't want that on his record if they pass.
I literally work as the manager of a dog daycare and grooming centre and this is a real thing that happened to me JUST last week.
A woman called wanting to get her dog a haircut, I say, "okay, what breed is your dog?" so that i can input the correct amount of time in our calendar.
She says, "I don't know."
Okay, that's. I mean that's okay, so I try a different tactic and ask, "what breed do you think is closest to your dog?"
"I really don't know, we got him from the shelter, I don't know."
"What kind of coat does he have? Is it like a poodle or is it more long and straight?"
"Oh...kay... I'll just put down medium then and the groomer will help decide what to do."
And so I book the appointment and continue with my day. I was off the day of her appointment but the groomer, excitedly, told me what happened earlier today.
So the lady brings her dog in and her dog is (drumroll).... a 20 pound fox terrier. The groomer tells the lady this, who immediately starts looking up terriers on her phone. Groomer explains the kind of grooming wirey coats need (stripping) and the woman's face falls as she asks, "so it's not going to get better? His coat isn't going to get softer?"
This poor woman. Thought that the coarse, wirey coat could be fixed with a bath. Luckily after explaining to her about the grooming needs of this breed (they're pretty low maintenance in general) she seemed pretty happy but man. Man.
I laughed so hard for five minutes straight after the groomer told me that.
Cool air rushes to meet Jason as he pushes the door to the Wayne Enterprises rooftop patio open. Behind him the sound of a heavy bassline continues to pound through the walls, melody faintly audible underneath. Technically speaking, it's a Wayne Enterprises party, although the only WE employees in attendance are Bruce and Tim. More accurately it's a "holy shit I can't believe we're all still alive," party.
So the top floor with its fancy open plan floor space and over abundance of space was currently infested by a large number of superheroes and in typically Gotham fashion: a few more morally grey anti heroes (Jason included).
Needless to say, it was chaos. A joyful, heady kind of chaos but chaos nonetheless. Which was why there was a lone figure over by the glass railing, head tilted towards stars they couldn't see beyond the smog and light pollution.
"Enjoying the view?" Jason asks, coming to stand beside Tim and knock their shoulders together. Below them the bright neon tinted lights reflect off of glass and metal, people continuing on without even knowing how precariously close they came to being wiped off the map.
Tim turns his head, hair falling into his face, grin just this side of lopsided and says, "I am now."
Jason can't help his affectionate chuckle even as he rolls his eyes. Tim's smile grows wider before he goes back to looking up at the sky. Despite his mostly relaxed posture Jason can see the way his eyes scan the sky.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Hey," Jason says gently, prying Tim's hand free of the railing, "dance with me."
Tim huffs but goes willingly, probably not even fully aware of how he was working himself up. You can take the bat away from the paranoia but you can't take the paranoia out of the bat. Jason would be lying if he claimed he didn't understand Tim's uneasiness. That it isn't over, they haven't won, until they've also lost something or someone.
But Jason's also learned over the years that you have to savour the good times while they last. Maybe tomorrow the threat will return, or another will take its place but tonight.
Tonight is for celebrating.
So Jason leads Tim into the middle of the patio, placing one hand in the small of Tim's back to press him close. They sway back and forth for a while like a couple of teenagers at highschool prom before the beat coming from inside changes and Jason grins as he sets the pace for an improvised quickstep.
Jason had always enjoyed the dance lessons he’d gotten as a kid. Not for more than the basics, just enough to impress the various little old ladies who attended the various galas. It was just one more thing Jason figured he’d lost to death and the pit for years until Tim ended up asking him to partner on a case that happened to involve undercover at a ballroom dance competition. They didn’t end up winning the competition (despite their best efforts) but they did solve the case so it wasn’t all lost. And Jason and Tim found a new hobby.
They’re a little off beat for the song, and Jason throws in more than a few spins and twirls just because he knows they make Tim laugh. By the time the song tapers off, they’ve gathered an audience watching from the glass windows.
Tim looks up at Jason, eyes shining like that’s where Gotham’s stars went and smiling like he might never stop. Jason imagines he looks the same to Tim. He can’t quite help himself, he never can really and Bruce rails on him for his lack of self control constantly, so he leans down to capture Tim’s smile in a kiss.
Stephanie’s holler can be heard through the glass, accompanied by the rest of their friends and family also joining in to cheer and clap. With their hands still linked, they break apart and bow for their appreciative audience who’s cheers only get louder.
It doesn’t matter what happens tomorrow. What enemies lie in wait, whether they will see another sunrise or live another year. They have right here, right now, and that’s enough. As long as Tim’s here beside him.
“Wanna go again?”
Tim looks back at Jason with a bright expression, smile fond and says, “of course.”
AHA thank you!! Have some secret relationship shenanigans because i always think that’s hilarious. Check out my other jaytim writing under my #astrix writes tag!
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Keeping secrets from a family of detectives was actually easier than you might think. You see the problem with detectives was that they didn’t look at A) the big picture or B) look for things they weren’t actively looking for. Which meant that if you didn’t want them to know, for instance, you were dating someone it just meant acting like nothing at all had changed and no one would be the wiser.And technically speaking, nothing had changed.
Tim still worked his cases like normal, he patrolled as normal and he and Jason bickered like cats and dogs. As Normal. If the bickering had taken on a slightly softer edge and topics usually ended in heated shouting matches as opposed to full on blows it was easy to chalk that up to “trying to get along for the good of The Mission.
”Tim was no stranger to keeping his cards close to his chest. Secrets exchanged in the briefest smiles during a meeting, a wink when nobody was looking, the barest brush of hands as they passed in the cave. Keeping a secret was natural, but no less thrilling than it was the first time.
Tim would lay against Jason on their couch, laughing breathlessly over just barely avoiding being caught making out during a rainstorm, tucked away under the eaves of a forgotten building, until the Bat himself had wandered by.The longer they managed to keep their relationship secret, the more likely they were to get caught out. But there was only one thing more exhilarating than flat out keeping a secret and that was seeing how far they could push it before someone finally had it click.
Tim’s on a stakeout with Dick when Jason appears through the adjacent window that they’re watching out of, pushes a full thermos of coffee into Tim’s hands, jumps back out the window and grapples away. The look on Dick’s face even with the domino is priceless.
“What the hell was that?”
Tim hums, taking a sip from the thermos which only causes Dick’s face to spasm more.
“It’s not poisoned.”
“I wouldn’t put him above laxatives,” Dick replies incredulously and he maybe has a point about that. Jason had pulled that exact trick on Dick about six months prior. Nevermind that Tim had helped.
“It’s fine,” Tim says, waving his hand dismissively and keeping his focus on the apartment they’re supposed to be watching.
“Fine?? I thought you hated him!” Dick has completely abandoned the pretense of watching their target in favour of pinning Tim with his most suspicious glare. Which is fine, Tim’s fairly sure their suspect isn’t showing up any time soon.
“We… get along.” It’s the vaguest thing Tim can think of to say.
“You were yelling at him just last week!”
“About the gunshot wound he was hiding from me,” Tim replies mildly. Admittedly, he’s still a little pissed off about it. Jason should know better by now than to hide injuries from him.
“He was shot?! Wait, no- don’t change the subject.” Dick points an accusing finger at Tim. “You!”
“Me?”
Dick stares at Tim like he should be giving up all his Earthly secrets right about now. Which, it’s cute Dick thinks he could get any information Tim doesn’t want him to know from him. Tim lies to Batman. Suck it, Nightwing.
“Use your words,” Tim encourages like the world’s most patient kindergarten teacher.
“You and Jay… hang out?” Dick says finally, deflating like a balloon.
“Mmm, you could say that.”
Behind his domino Tim is sure Dick’s eyes must be bugging out of his head.
Tim refuses to provide more details lapsing into pointed silence after that. Dick’s a detective. Let him figure it out himself. Him and every other member of the family that’s been looking at Tim and Jason like they’ve been replaced with aliens.
If it’s any consolation for Dick, Tim’s pretty sure he’ll figure it out before Bruce.
I started writing this a few days ago but I don't know if I'll actually finish it lmao but here have a bunch of tim pining and stephanie laughing at him
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Love stories are a dime a dozen. Hundreds of books filled with beautiful poetry describing the shape of their love, songs that flow like water whether it's the gentle bubbling brooks of new love or the storming sea of heartbreak. There's a thousand ways, a million guidebooks to help along the way.
It's not that Tim can't appreciate a good romance movie or belt out a good break up song with Stephanie or Cassie, it's just that it was never really his thing. Romantic gestures are often lost on him, paraphrasing from Stephanie herself, and he just… hasn't always seen the point.
It's like every single cliché came and ganged up on Tim in the back of an alley, leaving him concussed and without his wallet. If the Tim from six months ago heard about this yadda, yadda, yadda. Everyone knows the drill. The fact still remains that Tim sees Jason helping a single mother and her twin toddlers with their groceries, smiling at the kids and making them laugh, and Tim feels like his heart just got punched.
It keeps happening.
In what may be a display of stalking behaviour Tim hasn't done since he was twelve, Tim keeps watching Jason… do things, Normal Things! And every time it's like the lights just got a little brighter; Tim swears at one point the clouds part literally just to spotlight Jason as he flips through a book in the park. It's a disgusting slap in the face by the universe practically screaming, "look! The object of your affection is right there!"
It's horrible, really, having feelings. Bruce might have the emotive range of a root vegetable but sometimes Tim thinks he's on to something.
The real problem here is that he's not just attracted to Jason. Tim is familiar with that feeling, he's only human after all, fuck you Kon and Bart and all the computer brain jokes; attraction is easy. It's familiar and messy in a way that is totally uncomplicated, like ticking items off a list.
Love is everything all at once. It's easy to be in love with Jason and the way he laughs, easy to love the way he dances and sings in his kitchen the odd time Tim has stayed over after patrol. It's easy to love Jason when he kneels down in front of a scared six year old girl and tells her everything is going to be all right because he's gonna keep her safe.
It's hard to be in love with Jason when he's reckless, when he runs into gun fights without so much as a thought of his own safety. It's hard to love him when he's bleeding out in front of Tim's eyes, when Tim is screaming himself hoarse that Jason hasn’t even said goodbye. It's hard when they're fighting, it's hard when Jason fights with Bruce, it's hard and it hurts when everything in Tim wants to fix it, fix it, but the world doesn't quite work that way no matter how much he's tried.
It's hard but it's easy. It's easy but it's frustrating but it's wonderful but it's…
It's Jason.
And nobody else has ever made Tim feel a wider range of emotions than him.
This has gotten off topic.
The point is, Jason is into all that sappy, romantic stuff. He doesn't look it, except in the way he totally does once you get to know him, and considering the lives he and Jason live Tim feels like he owes Jason this one bit of normalcy compared to the majority of their interactions.
"Hasn't he tried to kill you, like, multiple times?" Bart asks when Tim tries to confide these things with his best friends. He's looking for support, dammit.
"Yeah," Tim says, dragging out the word in a way that probably isn't comforting to any of them. "But I also beat him up with a crowbar once, so, there's that."
There’s a loud moment of silence after which Kon throws his arms in the air, loudly declaring, "Bats!" and stomps right out of the room. It’s such a succinct reaction that Tim can’t help laughing because, yeah, bats. The problem is that Tim’s still one of them and this is honestly one of the tamer things that has happened in their lives.
Regardless, Tim isn’t interested in scarring his friends with what is normal in Gotham so he goes a little closer to home.
Stephanie, naturally, laughs directly in Tim's face.
"Please, Steph, I need help," Tim pleads, whines really, as she clutches her stomach, "I don't wanna mess this up."
"Oh, you passed 'messed up' approximately fifty miles ago," Stephanie wheezes in response. Tim socks her in the shoulder.
"Come on, he's better now!"
Abruptly Stephanie stops laughing. She levels him with a serious look and says, "and what about you?"
Ah.
Well if there's one person you can't hide your emotional inadequacies from, it would be your ex.
"I really like him, Steph, that's why I'm here. I'm trying."
Stephanie studies him for a moment more before pulling Tim into a tight hug.
"I just wanted to make sure," she says into his hair. "Anyway, great, you finally want to make a move! I've had enough of you waxing poetic about Jason."
Tim pulls away, making a face at Stephanie. "I do not wax poetic."
"You're right, you are definitely no poet. You will need to wax though, I know a guy if you want-"
Tim punches her again in the shoulder, face feeling like the surface of the sun. Stephanie dissolves into a fit of cackling laughter.
They spend the evening like that, Stephanie laughing at all of Tim’s pain and Tim trying to come up with a plan.
"I don't understand why you're so hung up on this whole 'normal' thing," she says while doing actual air quotes with her fingers and poking him in the ribs with her foot. "We all dress up in skin tight kevlar at night and kick ass."
"That's exactly it though! I just want this to be… ugh. Like I'm serious. It's not just post patrol adrenaline, or whatever."
Stephanie crows with delight, narrowly missing kicking Tim in the head as she sing songs, "oooh, you've really got it bad! I cannot wait to talk to Babs and Cass about this."
"What? Don't tell Babs!"
"Bold of you to assume she doesn't already know," Stephanie chirps cheerfully.
It's then, of course, that Tim's cell phone dings with a message from the one and only. A single, ominous :) and nothing else.
Tim suddenly understands Kon, feeling the desire to throw his arms in the air while loudly declaring, "Bats!" and stomp out of this obviously bugged room (and right into another, if he's being honest.)
Prompt request for @eatthepoison who asked for more pining Jason. This is kind of... pre pining though ^^; I intended to write more but it was absolutely getting away from me so I might have to turn this into a whole ass fic in the future. I hope you still enjoy!
-
It starts like this - actually that's a lie. It starts a long time before this, a twisting path of convergences that lead to the inevitable end but. If you ask Jason he will tell you it starts here, instead, unwilling to look too closely at the times Before for a myriad of reasons Jason doesn't want to go into. So. It starts here: a sunny early spring day sitting in a window booth of a little cafe.
There's a stubborn chill that clings to the air, the bite of winter refusing to relinquish to the warming rays of spring. The cafe is only moderately busy, though Jason will remember this day as if the cafe was empty and the sunlight a little stronger than it actually was. He has his laptop set in front of him, rectangular frame glasses perched on his nose looking every bit the worn college student he wants any onlooker to believe he is.
On his screen he watches as a man goes about his business at an office. Jason's got a screen protector to keep any prying eyes from looking too hard but just in case he's also set the video to look like it's playing from YouTube. It's a very boring process, Jason's starting to think this guy really isn't worth his time and he might have been set up. While corporate espionage might be a crime it really wasn't in Jason's purview unlike the tip that had vaguely mentioned this guy was involved in human trafficking.
He's just weighing the options of abandoning it completely or dumping it on someone who might actually care when someone slides into the booth opposite him. Jason closes his laptop despite the fact they wouldn't be able to see the screen and glares right into the ice blue eyes of Tim Drake.
Jason hardly sees any of the bats out of uniform so it takes a moment for his mind to really catch up. Tim's entire top half of his face is usually covered, okay? Give Jason a break. He's dressed neatly, business casual, looking extremely put together but not necessarily out of place considering the cafes proximity to several business buildings.
A waitress bustles over quickly, taking Tim's order and completely oblivious to the tense set of Jason's shoulders. Or, more likely, she just doesn't care. As long as Tim is a paying customer and they're not spilling blood all over the floor (which was a possibility, in all honesty) she didn't give a giant Gotham rat's ass what was about to happen.
Tim smiles at the waitress, all perfectly calculated teeth, which, that Jason recognizes as the same kind of smile Red Robin has on when he's being particularly smug towards Bat Girl or Black Bat. The waitress remains indifferent.
"What are you doing here?"
It's best to get straight to the point with Tim. Or else he'll be running circles around you for hours. He still might.
"I was in the neighbourhood," Tim replies with a shrug. He's not looking at Jason, instead inspecting the napkin dispenser with great attention.
"Like hell you were, replacement."
Tim meets his eyes then, a cool gaze that speaks of a storm on the horizon, and says, "I can't hang out with a friend?"
The way Tim says it, so casual, just a bare hint of challenge.
At least that's how Jason remembers it. Tim will remember it slightly differently, more of a genuine attempt at offering an olive branch. But that hardly matters now.
It takes so long for Jason to wrap his head around Tim's words that the waitress returns with Tim's drink.
"Since when are we friends?" Jason's brain finally settles on.
Tim shrugs, sipping his coffee like this was the most normal thing in the world.
"Since now."
There's a lot of things Jason could say to that ranging from the classic, "fuck off," to the slightly more concerned, "have you hit your head lately?" Somehow Jason can't think of any of them, instead gaping like a fish as Tim turns his attention to watching people walk by on the street.
You see, when Tim decides something there's very little to be done to convince him otherwise. Why in God's name he's decided he wants to be friends with Jason, however, is currently beyond him but… it could be worse. If Tim wants to sit in a tiny cafe, working on his phone or people watching them Jason can't exactly stop him.
"Okay," Jason says quietly, incredulously. For now he's still got suspicions, is a little on edge, but he's been on edge for so long he almost wants to relax into it just to have a break.
There's a small upturn to Tim's lips, a nod and a smile and he goes right back to cordially ignoring Jason for the most part. They don't talk, won't talk for a long time, but this is the start. The beginning of the downhill battle Jason will have against himself.
This, that smile, the no nonsense way Tim just inserted himself into Jason's routine is the beginning of the end.
Hello! If you’re still taking prompts how about jaytim + them having to sleep in close proximity to each other 👀
I was initially gonna make a "and there was only one bed sleeping bag!" type thing but the idea of dreams and nightmares sorta jumped out at me. I hope you enjoy!
Ask box is open for prompts still :)
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Tim's dreams were often formless things, if he could remember them at all. They ran in no particular sequence of events, there were no storylines like some people claimed, no wishes or hearts desires. Just an ever shifting kaleidoscope of feelings. Ghosts of memories that would barely reach the surface before sinking deep below his consciousness again.
He doesn't dream very often. Driving his brain to the point of exhaustion where there simply isn't enough excess energy to dream. Or maybe that's why his dreams seem so hazy, lying a dying fire in a winter storm.
Tim doesn't know what, exactly, sets it off. A dream that starts as immaterial and benign as all the rest slowly shifts and twists until his heart is pounding in his chest, mind gripped in a panic he doesn't understand. It's easy when he's awake to pick apart the irrational fears that come with the job Tim does. He can dive through a cloud of fear toxin and barely lose his step.
Only as long as he's awake.
Caught in the death grip of a nightmare, Tim thrashes. There's no threat, not really, just the crushing feeling of anxiety. So thick it fills his lungs like water, drowning in the middle of a desert. There is nothing. No saving him. The only way out is through and Tim doesn't know if he'll survive -
Like any good Batman protégé, Tim wakes up swinging. It's a messy swing, seeing as Tim's heart is still racing and his mind's just a little cloudy, that Jason ducks neatly under.
"It's just me, Timbo." Jason's voice is rough with sleep. Tim must have woken him up.
Tim takes in a deep, shuddering breath as he takes in the small cabin room. Right. Mission.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he croaks.
"It's alright. Everyone has nightmares. You wanna talk about it?"
Tim shakes his head saying, "no, nothing to talk about," and then amending at Jason's incredulous expression, "don't remember what it was."
In the silence that follows, Tim tries to regulate his breathing back into something acceptable. In for four seconds out for seven, repeat. Jason watches quietly, long after Tim would have expected him to go back to his side of the room.
"Alright, shove over," Jason says finally once Tim has his heartrate under control. He pushes at Tim insistently to make room while Tim squawks.
"Hey! What, you don't have to!"
Jason doesn't answer that, instead poking Tim in a particularly ticklish rib that causes Tim to jump sideways. Once there's, barely, enough room for him Jason makes himself at home under the thin covers and wraps an arm around Tim's waist.
"When I used to have nightmares, B would let me sleep in his bed after," Jason admits quietly into the back of Tim's head. "Besides these sheets suck, I was freezing over there."
Despite himself Tim chuckles. Jason was right, it was cold on this alien planet who's summer was more akin to a northern winter on Earth.
"You're the worst, you know that?"
"You know it, babybird!" Jason replies gleefully, hot breath against Tim's skull. He squeezes Tim, just once, and settles again; falling asleep far quicker than Tim.
Tim counts the seconds, counts Jason's breaths. Sinks into the warm, solid feeling of Jason at his back. It's not a dream but Tim thinks if he were the type to have that sort of dream it could be.
Tim carefully moves his arm, taking Jason's hand in his and twining their fingers together.
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