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@dramatisperscnae
MUSES || RULES || NAVIGATION || ASKMEMES
Selective Independent Multifandom Multimuse blog Canon and OC muses [hover over the text box on the muse pages for backstories!] 20+ years of writing experience Crossover/AU friendly Mun is an over-30 socially awkward gremlin Please fill out the interest tracker if you follow me!
The way Corwin's face falls as Robert tries to backpedal towards the status quo makes something flick on in the recesses of his brain. Maybe... Maybe it wasn't just a case of Corwin humoring him and being nice? Maybe he even liked that kiss? That inkling is pretty much confirmed as they walk along to the vending machines and Corwin teases about Robert's 'impulsiveness' like he's testing the waters. His posture goes ramrod straight, and his cheeks flush unbearably hot. It's like he's a goddamn teenager again, which is fitting, given how rarely he's dated or slept around since his teens. Like his friendships, all nearly all romantic activity has been pretty much at a standstill- assumed to be DOA like all other aspects of him, until Corwin proved that those aspects of himself are not only not on life-support but ravenous to get out there again. He tries to steady himself and quell the jumpy feeling in his stomach as he picks out an old fashioned coke from the machine and pops the lid. He looks away as he gulps the soda down fast, keenly aware of the man's presence next to him like he's a dousing rod- attuned to the location of water. Once his thirst is sufficiently slaked, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at Corwin again. ❝If you don't mind my impulsiveness, you're gonna love my foolhardiness,❞ he jokes, about five minutes too late.
The sudden shift to Robert's stance has Corwin a shade confused again. It's like the man is shocked he's bringing it up again, which…okay, maybe he is. Robert could have been expecting Corwin to just take the excuse of impulsiveness and pretend nothing happened. Could have wanted that, even, but-…
Hm.
Is Corwin overthinking this?
Quite possibly.
He's assumed Robert has some kind of social life, but there's never been any mention of other friends, or even acquaintances outside of the one neighbor who'd been looking after Beef. That completely bare apartment is hardly a place anyone would have friends over, too. So maybe Robert's feeling his way through his just as much as Corwin is.
That makes it Corwin's job to keep things calm and cool, and absolutely to make it clear that he is not at all bothered by that kiss even if Robert is. Which Robert certainly seems to be, given he chugs probably half of the Coke he'd just bought out of what might be sheer anxiety.
That really shouldn't be as adorable as it seems, should it?
Corwin grabs his own soda and leans easily against the machine, chuckling. "Oh, I have no doubt of that. I've seen a little of it already, hasn't made me run screaming yet." And likely never will.
Jason huffed out a laugh that didn't quite make it all the way to amusement.
"Yeah," he said, looking down at where Dick still had a grip on his hand. "Me too."
The words felt inadequate.
Dick being glad Jason was okay shouldn't have hit as hard as it did. It wasn't like Dick had ever stopped caring, not really. Even at their worst, even when they'd been at each other's throats, Dick had always been stupidly, stubbornly determined to care.
But hearing it now, after everything—after the panic in Dick's voice, after the sight of him broken and bleeding and still trying to reach for Jason—it settled somewhere deep in Jason's chest and refused to move.
His thumb brushed unconsciously across the back of Dick's hand.
"You scared the shit out of me, you know that?"
Dick's eyes drifted down to their joined hands, watching Jason's thumb move over his skin. That one simple gesture was far more comforting than it had any right to be, making a soft yet powerful warmth spread through his chest.
"…Sorry I scared you." That, at least, was genuine, but Dick was not about to apologize for taking that hit. Not when he didn't regret it even for a second.
Not when he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.
He let his own thumb run over the back of Jason's hand in return, already aching at the knowledge that he'd lose this as soon as Bruce turned up. Jason would leave, and they'd go back to life as usual, and Dick was going to miss this quiet closeness they currently had. But there wasn't any other option, was there? He had Bludhaven to worry about now, and Jason was as entrenched in Gotham as Bruce, and that wasn't even getting into the rift that still existed between Jason and the rest of the family.
"…but there wasn't time," Dick continued softly, still watching their clasped hands. "I had to do something, I couldn't…"
He broke off for a moment, risking a glance up at Jason's face as the weight of his own emotion crashed over him again. Dick had always felt things strongly, sure, but this rivaled a tidal wave in its intensity. The sheer depth of what he felt, the sudden knowledge of just what he truly was willing to do for Jason…it was so powerful it was almost frightening.
"…I couldn't lose you," he finished, trying to ignore the fact that his heart monitor was displaying clearly just how fast his heart was beating right now. "I couldn't take that risk."
And maybe he sounded like a broken record - he'd said all that once already - but it was the truth. Maybe Jason could have survived that blast, but what if he couldn't? So long as Jason was alive, Dick could deal with whatever injuries he had. He'd heal.
Jason stared at the floor for a second longer than necessary before forcing himself to look up. "Yeah, well," he muttered, "if I let you start throwing money around, you'll never stop."
The words came out rougher than intended, but there was no real heat behind them.
The truth was, the offer meant more than Jason wanted to admit.
Not because of the money, but because Dick hadn't hesitated.
No lectures. No attempts to take over. No questioning whether Jason could handle it.
Just support.
Just 'I'm here for you. I promise.'
Dangerous words, those. Especially coming from Dick.
Jason had spent years building walls around himself. Brick by brick. Grudge by grudge. He'd convinced himself he didn't need anyone. Certainly not the family he'd spent so much time being angry at.
And yet Dick always seemed to find a way through the cracks.
Always had.
His gaze drifted upward before he could stop it.
Dick was standing close, concern still lingering in those stupid blue eyes. "Fine," Jason relented. "You can donate." His voice softened.
"But only if your name goes on one of the walls. They deserve to know who helped set it up."
He chuckled softly at Jason's complaint. It didn't sound genuine, not with the half-hearted muttering; more like something said just on general principle. It also wasn't actually true. Unlike Bruce, Dick had never had the inclination to toss money around like it was glitter. Even now he preferred living well below his actual means, just for a start.
And he knew Jason had to know that.
But Jason also had his pride, and Dick was far too aware of that not to at least try to respect it. He was just happy Jason was letting him help to begin with.
He hadn't expected actual acknowledgement of it.
Blue eyes widened at the condition Jason set, Dick staring in quiet shock. His name? He hadn't done any of this for any kind of credit; hell, he generally preferred to avoid any kind of notoriety. His name didn't need to be on a wall or a plaque here, especially since he had a sneaking suspicion Jason's sure as hell wasn't going to be.
You don't have to do that. Dick could feel the words pushing to be said, but he held them back. Jason seldom did anything he didn't want to do, as far as Dick could tell; if Jason made an offer like that about something this clearly personal then there was a reason for it.
"…I'm honored," he said instead, just before the words bubbled up anyway. "You know you don't have to. I don't need the recognition, I just…wanted to help. This is your project, not mine."
I love that Nightwing has files on how to take down all of his friends and they're okay with it, because it's a reasonable point to be made and because he trusts his team to tell them about it. I love that this is one of those crystal clear examples of Dick taking the things Batman does and doing them better, that he's not Batman Lite, but instead that he's Better Than Batman, that's the whole purpose of Nightwing's character, that's everything that Bruce wanted for him, to be the kind of Bat that Bruce sees himself as too damaged to be.
protgnst / blazer for blaze : “this section is off limits.”
Off-limits? Blaze eyes her warily, distrust showing in his eyes. He knows who she is, of course - there probably isn't anyone in this city who doesn't - but that also means he knows who she works for and that?
That's the problem.
Corporate superheroes leave a bad taste in his mouth these days. Okay, so he's willing to admit there's a chance the SDN might not be as bad as the Foundation back in Texas, but it's still a corporation. That alone is reason not to trust them, as far as Blaze is concerned.
Which means he also doesn't trust her.
But at least right now she thinks he's a civilian, so that's something. He shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie and tries to see past her. "Looks open to me. And my motel's back there. I'd kinda like to get back to my room, if it's all the same to you."
“i didn’t see that one coming.” / for blaze!
"Skill issue." Blaze doesn't look up as he speaks, currently busy restraining the Foundation mooks who'd made a play for him. It figures they wouldn't just let him go; he's pretty much the only one who could raise the alarm about what the Chairman is doing back there, so shutting him up is probably a major priority for them.
He's also not happy that his transformation had a witness this time, but there's not much he can do about that now; it had been a choice between becoming Paladin there in the street or getting overpowered by Foundation goons. Brushing his cloak out of the way he turns only to freeze in quiet shock.
That's the Flash.
The actual Flash.
Standing there staring at him.
Holy shit.
"Uh. I mean." Shit, how the hell can he save this? Can he save this?
"…fuck…"
RICHARD IS ASLEEP WHEN HE BREAKS IN. it's quiet enough most people wouldn't realize it; trained to be as stealthy as he is deadly, grant has no trouble mimicking his father in skill. the only difference is that by now, the reason why he slips into dick grayson's home is not to harm him, but rather for another reason entirely.
he's asleep, he figures. light-footed as he is, he finds himself by his bedside soon enough, gaze upon the sleeping man. he won't be asleep long, if his breath and heartrate are any sign, but as his eyes linger on the bandages of some previous mission gone awry, he leans in to press a kiss to his forehead.
"should've called for aid, dumbass." he's sure this up close he can feel his breath fanning over his face, colder than the average man's. "calling for a little help's better than broken bones."
Dick Grayson is a deceptively light sleeper; even out cold after a week of hard missions, all it takes is one unexpected touch to pull him back to consciousness. The break-in itself might have gone unnoticed but for that. And for that contact to be a kiss…well. That has him up and running on all cylinders almost immediately.
The only thing that keeps him from lashing out is the voice that immediately follows.
It's Grant's.
In less than a heartbeat Dick's relaxed back into his bed, looking up at Grant with tired, though pleased, surprise. Mild lectures and illicit entry aside, he's actually happy to see Grant again. "…Thought you were out of the country," he says, ignoring Grant's complaint pretty much entirely. "Welcome home."
yoursdndispatcher asked:
Ah, fuck it (corwin- feel free to delete, or treat as a crack exercise).
@dramatisperscnae answered:
[Kiss The Boys Against A Wall || accepting]
He likes bantering with Robert. Has since he met the man, really; or at least since Robert was in any shape to banter with, which is close enough. He's also pretty sure Robert shares that feeling, given Robert's never struck him as the type to willingly put up with someone he actively dislikes. It's only a natural progression, Corwin supposes, to go from verbal sparring to the physical sort. Not that this started out as a sparring match; it had simply been another conversation, with the usual quiet jokes and teasing and Corwin skirting the edge of being obviously cagey about himself, until something he'd said apparently struck a nerve. Robert's almost surprisingly fast, and stronger than Corwin had thought; he's got Corwin pinned against a wall within seconds. Corwin's mind is already racing, wondering just what it is he needs to walk back as he watches Robert's face - watches his eyes - carefully and waits for the next move. He can see it the second the decision is made. It's not the decision he's expecting. The kiss takes a second or two to fully sink in, but once it does Corwin's hands come to rest on Robert's hips, his lips moving gently against Robert's own. Men aren't generally his preference, no, but there's been something about Robert that's drawn him in from the start…and the man is actually a pretty damn good kisser, which is a nice bonus. When the kiss breaks he quirks a smile at the man still pinning him to the wall. "…Safe to say you're trying to tell me something?"
It's been a long time since Robert's felt safe and comfortable around anyone. A long, long time. So long in fact that he's worried that the parts of himself that CAN get close to people- that can let them in and induct them in his various worlds… He'd worried those had wasted away, much like the muscle that melted off him in his coma, like it was eating itself.
Not only does he find that he CAN let people in again, it's almost like all those years of absence never were. If anything, he's greedy for missed time of not only months, but years. Years of friendships… Years of joking and repartee. Years competition and testing one's self against others (without life and limb and the fate of others at stake).
God, is this how it feels to rediscover a sense of play?
He'd be lying to himself if this new influx of life and hunger didn't at have at least a little to do with a hopeless attraction. After all, if this is all he'll ever get, he'll make the most of it. He's happy enough with friendship. Contentment might be the better word for it, he thinks as they spar and trade blows, dodging in elegant matched, and yet mismatched harmony.
And if he does feel a twinge of loneliness and yearning, all he needs to do is crack a turn of phrase, some well-timed quip or insight that makes the man smile. He basks in the man's beauty for a few seconds… maybe a millisecond longer than is prudent, and he's good.
Yeah… It's fine. He throws himself a little harder into the next maneuver by blocking a right uppercut, turning it aside and shifting Corwin's center of gravity until he stumbles a bit backwards. Luckily there's a wall right there, which stops his backward advance in just a couple steps before it can become a stumble, and Robert presses his advantage, moving in close to hem the other man's body against the wall.
He's a bit breathless by the move. They both are, having gotten a little too engrossed in competition to monitor themselves accurately. Up close, he sees Corwin's flushed, radiant face and looks as ever- just a BIT too long into green eyes rimmed by dark lashes. He surges forward, impulsive and hot. It's a quick kiss, but searing, not least because its so thoroughly STUPID. Way to go Robertson. Your first real friend in 15 years, and you have to fucking go and do that…
To his surprise, Corwin doesn't look displeased at all. That same vibrant, challenging competitive smile is on the man's face, and Robert can't help but smile back, even if there's puzzlement in his eyes.
Safe to say you're trying to tell me something? Corwin asks cheekily.
Robert looks down with a scoffing laugh. ❝Okay that was…. That was impulsive of me,❞ he says, before tearing himself away reluctantly. ❝I think that's my way of saying maybe we should cut the sparring short.❞ His bottom lip tingles at the remnant impression of Corwin's mouth there a second ago. His hips too, feel that lingering warmth in the shape of Corwin's hands.
❝I think we both earned a soda, actually. The real stuff. Not the aspartame and xylitol shit.❞
Oh.
Corwin's smile fades slowly as Robert pulls away, a twinge of disappointment tightening in his chest. Has he misread the situation? It's entirely possible, but…if he has, then why had Robert kissed him in the first place? Why would there have been that impulse if there was no sense of attraction?
Or maybe it's simply that Robert isn't ready to open up about it yet. The last time Corwin spent any major time in this Shadow Earth, the world in general had hardly been all that welcoming to those who enjoyed the company of the same sex. Things have changed since then, he's noticed, but that doesn't automatically mean everyone's okay with it.
This is still something that should be addressed, though. At the very least he needs to make sure Robert knows that he's okay with it.
More than okay, actually; he wouldn't mind a second chance at that kiss, which is probably as surprising to Corwin as it might be to Robert.
"Soda it is," he agrees, finally pushing off the wall. "And for the record, I don't mind that impulsiveness at all."
drop this sunflower🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy ! lets spread a little sunshine☀️ <33333
no you <3
🍁 what movie genre does Corwin like the best? what does he feel he has the most affinity for?
[send the thing with a question for/about the boys || accepting]
He's not all that picky about genre, so long as there's a good story to be told. The last movie he saw in theaters was probably M*A*S*H, Two Mules for Sister Sara, or Kelly's Heroes; he doesn't remember for sure, and he's got a lot of catching up to do on pop culture post-1970 XD If given the choice, he'll usually steer more towards action-adventure in general or - fittingly enough for a part-time bard - musicals. He especially loves any film that involves swordfighting and fencing; he'll be fascinated by the lightsaber battles in Star Wars, and he'll adore the fencing scene in Princess Bride.
Send 🍁 + any question you've been curious to know about my muse
Could be absolutely anything. Don’t be shy!
He really needs to go. There's an undeniable reluctance there. He doesn't even know this man, but he seems both like he's always been there, and he could vanish any second. Tomorrow, or when he turns his head, when he blinks. A little self-awareness would go a long way here. Then he'd know he's staring a bit, like Corwin's already dissipating before him like smoke. ❝Uh... Yep... That's the hope,❞ Robert jokes wanly. ❝He might have a new favorite person, but I'll try and play catch up,❞ now up on his feet, he dusts his clothes off as best he can with one busted arm and sighs long and hard. It HAS been a day. A time... It's been a fuckass year. But he's here... Alive. He made it... with help. And now he can turn his mind to normal things like sleep. It really is gonna feel nice to fall asleep with a full belly. He can't remember the last time he's had that luxury outside of a hospital. ❝This is gonna sound weird, but how do I get in touch with you?❞ An email, a Twitch account, a home address.... ... Like rōnin have home addresses. ❝I guess you know where I live, so you can come and go whenever. Up to you,❞ he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. Ah... He'd forgotten his myriad of thank yous, and time had run out... There was just one more thing. Just in case. ❝Sorry about flipping you off that one time.❞ He shuffles his feet, waves and walks back to his car.
There's been a shift to the atmosphere, Corwin notes, now that Robert's about to head home. Those brown eyes are lingering on him as if Robert's expecting him to vanish into the metaphorical mist, and he's honestly not quite sure what to make of that.
It's a little flattering, honestly.
Maybe it's simply that Corwin's not the only one who's enjoyed these little chats. They neither of them know that much about each other, no, but the fact that it takes conscious reminders for Corwin to remember that says quite a bit about the kind of connection they've somehow made. He likes this man, more than perhaps he ought to like someone he's barely met, and he's certainly become more invested in Robert's well-being than should be allowed for a stranger.
Perhaps that apparent connection goes both ways.
He pauses at the question, only just realizing that there is no way for Robert to get in touch with him; any mailing address he'd had in this Shadow is long-since defunct, he has no telephone or computer…and even if he did, he has no idea if they'd even work back in Avalon. The only reliable way to communicate with him no matter where he is is his Trump card, and he's not exactly sure now is the time to reveal those in any case.
But then comes the invitation, which takes some of the pressure of answering off his shoulders, and an apology that gets waved away as Corwin watches Robert head for the car. He stays right where he is, in fact, until that car is out of sight, mulling over a few things.
His job here is done, if he'd even had one to begin with. Robert's on the mend, has something of a direction to go in, and can almost certainly handle things from here. There's no need for Corwin to interfere or check in anymore. And yet…and yet.
Well, there's no harm in setting up an e-mail account, is there? Even if he'll only be able to check it while he's in the area…and he could potentially speak with Merlin about that, see if there's any way magic could be combined with the technology to allow its function across Shadows. And he can set up a P.O. box as well, if necessary, to at least give Robert a return address for letters, but that would also require him to show up semi-regularly to check it.
Would that be such a bad thing?
Maybe not.
Decision made, Corwin heads off into the city whistling softly to himself. It seems this Shadow Earth will always be a second home for him.
He rather likes that idea.
Ah, fuck it (corwin- feel free to delete, or treat as a crack exercise).
[Kiss The Boys Against A Wall || accepting]
He likes bantering with Robert. Has since he met the man, really; or at least since Robert was in any shape to banter with, which is close enough. He's also pretty sure Robert shares that feeling, given Robert's never struck him as the type to willingly put up with someone he actively dislikes.
It's only a natural progression, Corwin supposes, to go from verbal sparring to the physical sort.
Not that this started out as a sparring match; it had simply been another conversation, with the usual quiet jokes and teasing and Corwin skirting the edge of being obviously cagey about himself, until something he'd said apparently struck a nerve.
Robert's almost surprisingly fast, and stronger than Corwin had thought; he's got Corwin pinned against a wall within seconds. Corwin's mind is already racing, wondering just what it is he needs to walk back as he watches Robert's face - watches his eyes - carefully and waits for the next move.
He can see it the second the decision is made.
It's not the decision he's expecting.
The kiss takes a second or two to fully sink in, but once it does Corwin's hands come to rest on Robert's hips, his lips moving gently against Robert's own. Men aren't generally his preference, no, but there's been something about Robert that's drawn him in from the start…and the man is actually a pretty damn good kisser, which is a nice bonus.
When the kiss breaks he quirks a smile at the man still pinning him to the wall. "…Safe to say you're trying to tell me something?"
“ah, fuck it” ( @lazaruspitreborn never lose a chance to have them kiss <3)
[Kiss The Boys Against A Wall || accepting]
It's almost become routine after a gala night, or a PR function, or any event where Dick has to dress up and smile pretty for the cameras. Jason's always there somewhere, he knows; mingling with the crowd or circling on the outskirts depending on whether he's meant to be active in the field that night, but always somewhere nearby.
Especially as the event draws to a close.
Tonight is no different. Dick's the last one to leave - partly to ensure some privacy for what he expects hopes is coming, and partly because all he has to do is take the elevator up; a bonus to holding an event in Wayne Tower itself - and the ride up to the penthouse has him fidgeting and staring at the floor numbers, willing them to move faster.
He's not three steps out of the elevator when he feels Jason's hands on him, strong and gentle and eager as he's pushed against the wall. The kiss gets returned more than happily, Dick pressing against his lover and letting his hands slide up into Jason's hair. He can't imagine a better welcome home than this.
When the kiss finally breaks he looks up at Jason adoringly, in absolutely no hurry to move. "…I needed that."
Ah, fuck it 👀 - Kyle 💀
[Kiss The Boys Against A Wall || accepting]
It had started off like any other day they're both on duty: one of them makes a smart remark, the other one snarks right back. Kyle doesn't really think much about it these days, not since the overt animosity seems to have died down a little. Wally's not comparing him to Hal Jordan every five minutes, he's not finding his own ways to snipe right back…it's just good-natured banter, almost like he'd had with the Titans.
At least, that's how Kyle's seen it. Okay, so it's a little different today since they're both technically undercover - though how Wally 'The Flash' West can ever be undercover is a question Kyle will probably have to save for Batman - but whatever. A man who can move faster than sight can avoid being seen if he needs to, and Kyle…
Well. Kyle's just some guy.
It's not going too badly, either, up until he feels Wally tense beside him. Kyle's looking the other way, keeping a casual eye on the rest of their surroundings and letting Wally focus on the bunch they're supposed to be surveilling, but he suddenly finds himself shoved up against the nearest wall without explanation.
Shocked brown eyes look up into green, Kyle's mouth opening to ask what the hell's going on, but he barely gets out the first syllable of Wally's name before he's being kissed into next Tuesday. And that's not the most surprising part here.
The most surprising part is how much he likes it.
Since when is he into guys?
Hell, since when is Wally into guys???
It feels like forever before Wally pulls back, though Kyle's not complaining. He's just staring up at the speedster, mildly stunned and trying to get his brain back online. "…Hi."
Oh yeah. Real smooth, Rayner.
