An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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YOU ARE THE REASON

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@evandarya
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I’d Drink It Anyway
Jason always thought he’d recognize the thing that would kill him.
A bullet. A blade. A warehouse door slamming shut.
Not this.
Not five-foot-six of sharp eyes and sharper mind standing under a flickering Gotham streetlight like he owns the night.
Tim doesn’t even try to look dangerous. That’s the first lie.
He looks small. Wired. All nervous energy and controlled breathing. Gloves tugged tight. Cape collar turned up against the wind. Calculating everything.
Including Jason.
Especially Jason.
Jason tells himself he could walk away.
He’s done it before. From worse. From the grave, for Christ’s sake.
But Tim looks at him—
Not up at him.
Through him.
And that’s when it hits.
Poison doesn’t burn when it goes down. It slides in smooth.
Tim steps closer.
Jason’s pulse doesn’t spike. It slows. Dangerous. The kind of stillness right before a trigger pull.
“You’re late,” Tim says, voice calm, analytical, like this is just another patrol briefing and not the fact that Jason has been thinking about his mouth for three straight days.
Jason scoffs. “You missed me.”
Tim’s mouth curves.
Not a smile.
A knowing.
That’s the venom right there.
Because Tim never begs. Never chases. He just waits.
Jason always comes back.
It’s not the body.
Yeah, okay, Tim’s pretty in that unfair, breakable way that makes people underestimate him. Narrow shoulders. Lean muscle. Bruises that bloom dark against pale skin. Jason’s hands fit around his waist too easily.
But that’s not what hooks him.
It’s the mind.
Tim dismantles people without raising his voice. He gets under Jason’s skin like he mapped the anatomy first. Knows exactly where to press. Exactly when to go quiet.
Exactly when to say:
“Jay.”
Soft.
Like he owns the name.
Like he owns him.
Jason has faced down clowns and mercenaries and monsters. He’s taken torture with a smile.
But that—
That soft “Jay” right against his ear?
That’s lethal.
Tim steps into his space like he belongs there.
Jason lets him.
That’s the sick part.
He lets him.
Tim’s fingers brush the front of his jacket. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just resting there, like Jason’s heartbeat is something he has a right to monitor.
“You going to keep staring,” Tim murmurs, “or are you going to decide something?”
God.
There it is again.
Not asking.
Never asking.
Jason exhales slow. “You’re bad news, you know that?”
Tim tilts his head. “And yet.”
And yet.
Jason laughs under his breath because this is how it happens.
Not a dramatic fall.
Not a crash.
A slow seep into the bloodstream.
Tim’s eyes flick down to Jason’s mouth, then back up again. Subtle. Intentional.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
He always does.
Jason used to think poison was weakness.
Something you didn’t see coming.
But Tim isn’t hidden.
Tim stands right in front of him and says, You know this will ruin you.
And Jason steps closer anyway.
Because the truth?
He likes the burn.
Likes the way Tim makes him sharper. Meaner. Hungrier.
Likes the way Tim doesn’t flinch from the ugly parts. Just studies them. Catalogs them. Keeps them.
Jason curls a hand around the back of Tim’s neck.
Tim doesn’t react.
Doesn’t gasp.
Just watches him.
Patient.
Predatory.
God.
Jason kisses him like he’s trying to prove something.
Tim kisses him back like he already won.
It’s not soft.
It’s teeth and breath and tension wound tight as wire.
Tim’s fingers slide into his jacket, grip the fabric, and Jason feels it—that pull downward. That sweet, deliberate drag into something he won’t crawl out of.
Poison.
Not loud.
Not flashy.
Just inevitable.
Jason breaks the kiss first, breath rough.
“This is a bad idea.”
Tim’s eyes are dark now. Dilated. Satisfied.
“Probably.”
No guilt.
No hesitation.
Just certainty.
Jason laughs low, almost feral.
“Yeah,” he mutters, dragging Tim back in. “You’re gonna kill me one day.”
Tim’s mouth brushes his.
“Not if you enjoy it.”
And Jason does.
That’s the problem.
He always thought he’d recognize the thing that would take him down.
Turns out—
It’s five-foot-six, brilliant, relentless, and smiling against his mouth.
And Jason is already too far gone to look for the antidote.
If 100 people show interest in this post I will start a dedicated Dead Tired discord server.
Y'all are something else. I'll get started on making a server when I get off work tomorrow.
Does anyone want to donate art for the server icon?
The server is new and empty, but it is ready for people.
https://discord.gg/HwUtRt4z
Anyone who is interested in joining the server can message me for an invite.
My piece for invisobang this year!
Got the chance to do art for Danny Can’t Communicate
It's Invisobang timmme! This is the first time I joined in and it was pretty fun to do! Learned a lot about it! Anyways, I drew art for the amazing fic Danny Can't Communicate by Evandarya on Ao3! Here's a link to it! :)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It was lovely workin with them!
Danny Can't Communicate
by @evandarya
After Wes moved in with his father partway through the school year, he had only one goal: Keep his head down and stay away from trouble. It was an easy enough goal, until he met Danny Fenton. Danny Fenton is beautiful. He's gorgeous when he stands and admirable when he sits. Three steps outside and someone will confess their love to him. But he has very poor communication skills. And a secret.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Tip: you can microwave stale croissant for 15-20 seconds and it will become soft and warm and nice. Cut it open, put butter in it. Peace and love
Tip: you can refrigerate stale croissant for 3-6 hours and it will become mushy and cold and unpleasant. It won't cut well, so just put a big clump of cold, hard butter on it. Strife and hatred.
Tip: you can do nothing to a stale croissant for any arbitrary length of time and it will remain as is. Do not cut it, or add butter. Stasis and stagnation.
Tip: actually, if you do nothing to a stale croissant, it will grow a fluffy bread mold with many potential colors (white, green, etc), which, if left long enough, will consume the entire croissant for you. I would not advise cutting it. Adding butter may get you a second type of mold. Decay and rot.
Tip: if you forget about a stale croissant, you can do laps around the kitchen wondering why you came in there until you yell, "CROISSANT!" like a scientist having a science breakthrough. You can remember that you wanted to heat it and cut it and add butter after you've gnawed down and wrestled the entirety of it into your stomach. Brain fog and memory issues.
Hi wawaaaas! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*.✧
FELIZ 18 ADELANTADOOOOO- I don't think I'll be able to post something in the 18, sooo- I'm honoring my HC with Chilean Jason and a tiny bit of Argentinian Tim
And also, If someone don't undestand the whole context of this- In Chile september is vastly waited for, since is the month we celebrate our national day, is even more waited than Christmas here KLAJSD It's technically a day, but we usually use the whole month and legally, the whole week around the 18.
Sorry if I'm not posting a lot like before wawas! I'm a little busy with some future projects~ (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
Batcest anti-shippers make no sense to me.
"but they are brothers!"
Yes, that's the point.
Dead Tired? AGAIN?- Y'all are gonna suffer even more with them, I can't hel it guys, I'mma sucker for this two Q Q
But btw! This is a comic totally based on a scene of Please put your shoe in my mouth and take mine out!! It's directed to the exact chapter, but pls omg, go read the fic of my friend, Rune did an amazing job with it and I hope to see more of her talent!!! It's so fucking funny, I LOVE IIIIT.
If someone here dares to report me bcs of those massive tits of Dan?- I would take it as a compliment, those tits are for censoring, grr LKAJSDJAS Btw, this is the visual concept of how the fenton/phantoms look in the fic "Every bat has a cat" by @windyengel and @takemetomyfragiledreams!! Pls, idk when they're gonna post it, but i super super recommend y'all to read it!!! Im sorry if im being really a ghost rn, im having some issues involving my personal-familiar life rn, thank y'all for the support wawas <3
I cannot stress enough that censorship is the road to hell paved with good intentions and as always, it starts with unsavoury topics or heretical literature and art under the guise of goodwill and operating under the strong assumption that all us peasants are too fucking dumb to discern 🌹healthy art🌹 from 🥀unhealthy art🥀 and only those above you can preserve our ignorant, chaste understanding of the world :/
Eklaize let me paint her amazing comic and it cured my art block ✨ 🍑 (click for larger to see more details!)
(Check out her other capri art here, and my capri art tag is here)
My friend @ming85 asked me if she could color my little abandonded comic and look at all the cool backgrounds and clothing details she added! <3 So cool to see it (the glorious butt) in color! Check out her capri tag as well, her own illos are incredible!
Jazz: Hey, little brother. I thought you'd still be out with Tim?
Danny: Heeeeey, Jazzypants! Yeah, we're *explosion in background* we're still out and about.
Jazz: Danny...
Danny: Say, you wouldn't - *groaning of metal collapsing* *Tim: DP go right! You're other right!* - happen to know where my purple pouch is, wouldya?
Jazz: *bites back a sigh* Which purple pouch?"
Danny: The one - *more explosions.* *Ha ha! Take that you calamari rejects!* -that I won off of Bacchus that one time?
Jazz: Danny, is this like Sydney?
*silence quickly interrupted by triumphant cackles from Tim*
Danny: Yeah... it's like Sydney."
Jazz: 3rd bedroom, 4th drawer on the right side of the desk behind the collapsible star in a jar and Constantines right toe bone.
Danny: Perfect! You're the best - *a scream like an irate giraffe echoes* best sister ever! I'll let you know when we're back! See you next Sunday for dinner!
Danny: Okay! I can portal it! Bout to throw a rock at these squid games!
Tim: *Groans* Not your best.
Summary: Tim never goes to sleep. This leaves his bed unoccupied most of the time. To the point that a very tired ghost looking for somewhere to sleep decides if Tim's not going to use it, he might as well.
-----------------------------
Danny was exhausted and he needed to sleep. Days of ghost hunting had him beyond tired and admittedly, a little lost.
He looked below him as he flew and saw the biggest, fanciest mansion he'd ever seen, even worse than Vlad's. Welp, he wouldn't be stopping there; if there was anything he hated more than rich people, he'd yet to find it.
Except. He was so. Tired. And rich people had soooo many extra beds. So many beds they were not using and would never even look at. Easy to haunt.
He decided screw it, a fancy luxury bed wasn't going to kill him. He went invisible and flew in through the ceiling, flying slowly through all the rooms. There was a surprising number of people sleeping here, all obviously related because they all looked practically the same.
But one of the beds was empty, and he was too tired to look further, so he crashed into it and started to snore immediately.
The next day he flew out early to get back to work. This ghost he was hunting was annoyingly elusive. He knew it was somewhere in Gotham, but due to how stupidly haunted this city was, it was proving a lot harder to catch.
Another fruitless day later, and he was exhausted again. And knew where there was a very comfy, very unoccupied bed.
By the third night, he started thinking of it as his bed. He was the only person using it, after all.
Tim slammed his palm on the keyboard in triumph.
"Finally!" he cried. "I knew I would get it!"
It had taken him 78 hours but he had done it, defeated the virus that had wormed its way into his and Oracle's systems, causing a .4 second delay in camera responsiveness.
And then sent it back to its originator, where it was eating away at their systems now bwahahaha.
He was so exhausted when he went up to bed he didn't bother to eat, or drink water, or even change out of his Robin uniform. He used the bathroom and collapsed into the bed.
He was too exhausted to even notice that it was already occupied, until he was already laying in it. His eyes flew open wide, but then he saw…nothing.
There was no one there.
Had there been someone there? Or was he hallucinating due to lack of sleep again?
Too tired to care, he fell asleep.
If it had only happened once, tim wouldn't have thought much of it. One sleep-deprivation induced hallucination was excusable. He forgot about it, to be honest. And can you blame him? After a 78 hour deep dive to root out and reverse a worm virus he was woken up to take care of an Arkham breakout...
Anyway, it was another four days before Tim could sleep in his own bed again, and when he collapsed face down into the sheets he was too tired to properly register the black hair that shouldn't be there before sleep took him. When he woke up 12 hours later there was no one there.
No, what really sealed the deal that there was something wrong was when Alfred made a passing comment about his "improved sleep habits". That's when he set up the cameras.
If 100 people show interest in this post I will start a dedicated Dead Tired discord server.
Y'all are something else. I'll get started on making a server when I get off work tomorrow.
Does anyone want to donate art for the server icon?
The server is new and empty, but it is ready for people.
https://discord.gg/HwUtRt4z
If 100 people show interest in this post I will start a dedicated Dead Tired discord server.
Y'all are something else. I'll get started on making a server when I get off work tomorrow.
Does anyone want to donate art for the server icon?