[sorominnu]

List of some WIPs with reader links (aka anyone can read/interact with my WIPs and see how they evolve):

O, Death: Part 3 of my Vanitas series. Tim recieves a quest from the god he sold his soul to to bring Jason back to life.

Only One Ending: Currently re-working Ch. 5

Cracks in the Dark: Horror-esque fic following Duke, Dick, and Jason

Untitled 1: Dick babysits Jazz and Jason's toddler

[sorominnu]

Hear me out, but a fic where Dana doesn't get killed in Bludhaven and Tim still has a stepmom

[sorominnu]

A make-up brand I like announced a 'Huldra' palette and now my brain is shifting to my Jazz/Jason Huldra AU (ーー;)

[akemi2003]

Fic prompt #12

Dpxdc

Danny’s obsession was helping people

He thought it was cool, it was a good thing and even his parents, if they knew about Phantom would have been proud of him for having an obsession so nice, unlike other ghosts that used their obsession like an excuse to cause chaos

No one ever told him that obsessions could evolve

First it was helping people, then it became being a hero and from there it becomes HEROES

He wanted to know everything about everyone of them

Why were they doing it? Where they get that ability/power/knowledge? What inspired their costume?

Before he knew it he had abused his power and the fact that nobody believed in ghosts, for obtaining his information

He knew everything, their secret identities, their backgrounds, powers, circle of friends….

He had files at the beginning but he realized fast enough that he don’t needed it, he couldn’t literally forget them

At the beginning he felt kind of bad about abusing his powers and invading the privacy of the heroes, but that feeling faded kinda quickly when he discovered that many citizens of Amity at the beginning of the ghosts attack had tried contacting the Justice League just to be blacklisted because “Ghost don’t exist “

At this point he considered the info, like a paycheck, a totally deserved one

He even ended up using the knowledge to improve his fighting style so at the end of his school years he had that situation under control.

He even became the heir to the throne of the Infinite Realm, so he didn’t even need to find a job

He didn’t account for his obsession to evolve another time. He should have known better…

But who can blame him? Red Robin was just his type!!!

He was even being sacrificed to him! It was destiny!!!!!!

Unfortunately he still had his morals intact so he would have to let him go, but who said that it was a simple affair?

The justice league knows nothing about the realms, him, Amity Park or ghosts..

It would be very simple to trick them into believing that Tim was now bound to him and that it was irreversible

Just until he can get him to love him, and marry him and maybe to create a family

Who was he kidding? There was no way he was ever letting him go. He would just giving the illusion of a choice, after all this was also part of his paycheck

[rummigumi]

Adding more thoughts to my Paladin AU without having to write a fic:

Bruce swore an oath of redemption believing people aren't born inherently evil and anyone can choose to be better. While he doesn't doubt his oath or beliefs, he doubts himself -- doubts whether he's following the oath out of pure belief, or desperation that he, too, isn't inherently evil. That he can also be redeemed.

That's why he admires Dick so much, because while Bruce clings to his oath like a lifeline (selfishly, in his mind) Dick truly embodies a redemption paladin. Sure, he can be mean and vicious in his fights (just like Bruce), but he still believes that people can change for the better. That ultimately, people are good, and he wants to protect that.

Because Dick followed in his footsteps, that's why it was hard when Jason showed signs that he couldn't take the oath of redemption. Regardless of his action or inaction towards Garzonas, there were signs that it was hard for Jason to fully believe in the core beliefs of redeemers. And while Bruce didn't see anything wrong with Jason not taking the oath, to Jason it was pure rejection. The rejection is why he doesn't ask Bruce for help when searching for his birth mom, and why after coming back it was easier for him to take a different oath -- one of vengeance.

Stephanie also isn't one to follow the oath of redemption, or any oath really. So when Bruce rejects her she looks outside of becoming a paladin. Barbara helps Steph get her feet under her, to bring back her confidence in herself and remind her that oaths aren't required to help people, to be a protector. After all, Barbara never needed one.

Cass, like Bruce, clings to her oath as proof that she isn't ultimately evil, that she can become more than a murderer. If she can change, so can anyone else. She has to believe that she can be redeemed, and if serving as a redeemer is proof of her change she's happy to serve, to use her skills to save instead of kill. After all, just because someone can be redeemed doesn't mean they are forgiven, their transgressions aren't erased. But maybe she can make up for them.

[rummigumi]

I need surgeon Jazz to be a little weird about Jason after she starts helping stitch him up. Like, yes she thinks he's hot BUT he also becomes a portfolio of her skills and sometimes she finds herself admiring her work (the scars left behind) instead of him

[sorominnu]

WIP Wednesday. Part of Ch.1 of my Dead Tired mermaid AU.

Gotham Harbor was the dumping ground of all sorts of unsavory materials, which meant Bruce routinely monitored and tested the water. The first time he was told, years ago, Tim had joked that ‘at least they'd have warning about potential kaijus before they destroyed the city,’ but the reference had flown over Bruce's head. He'd felt slightly vindicated a little over two months ago when the tests had shown an unusually high amount of radiation in the harbor — what kind, though, was undetermined. Further testing remained inconclusive, which only led to greater worry; ionizing radiation versus non-ionizing were very different levels of danger.

They had checked their usual suspects and staked out the popular dumping locations but found no sign of someone dumping radioactive material. So they'd gone deeper — literally. Multiple underwater probes were set up to continuously report on radiation levels and send out a signal about any sudden spikes. 

Of course, that meant delegating someone to watch the probes and be available to respond to any alerts. Since Tim already lived primarily out of his ‘murder shack-boat’, (affectionately labeled by his friends), he didn't have an argument to stand on when he was assigned to ‘probe watcher’ duty. 

Over a month later he still didn't have any answers.

The radiation ebbed and flowed like the water it resided in. The spikes didn't follow ocean currents or any specific water flow, but they also didn't seem random. He just couldn't figure out the pattern.  

But, a week and a half ago, they had a maybe-breakthrough. The probe farthest from shore began to experience small spikes (not large enough to trigger an alert, but spikes nonetheless) twice a day, always around the same time frames. Once he realized, Tim immediately sailed out to investigate further. 

He hadn't wanted to interfere with whatever was causing the spikes so he made sure to keep his distance as he waited. Only, nothing happened — at least from what he could pick up from his boat. The spikes continued, but he still had no idea why. 

Making an executive decision, Tim had pulled the probe up. Designed for stealth it was only about as big as his hand and the waterproof components made it difficult to work on with only the tools he had on hand. Still, he had been able to add a small camera and double-check that the probe was functioning correctly. Mildly satisfied, he resubmerged the device and gained distance from it to wait for the next radiation spike, which — he cracked his eyes open against the sun to check his watch — was set to happen at any moment. 

Tim rolled to get up before heading into the cockpit where his monitoring system was set up. All of the readings were still within the expected ranges, but he sat down anyway and pulled up the new camera's stream. 

Nothing but sand and rocks. 

And then, movement as the radiation levels spiked and something sped past the camera. It was blurry, but Tim thought he saw scales. 

A large, irradiated fish? 

They had suspected the radiation was affecting some of the sea life, but not enough to cause a fish to set off the probes — especially this far out, where overall levels were lower. The new evidence suggested otherwise, that the radiation was creating more issues than they thought. Bruce would definitely want to inspect further, possibly even try to intercept or catch the animal.

Tim was about to rewind the stream to play frame-by-frame, but stopped as the radiation levels began to slowly increase again until hitting the same level as when the unknown animal brushed past. 

It returned. 

Tim couldn't see it on the camera (it had to be out of its scope), but that was the only explanation. 

It had never double-backed before. 

He watched the camera feed with bated breath, mentally encouraging the animal to move back in front of the lens. Instead, the camera began to move. Tim swore as he realized the animal was messing with the probe, shaking both it and the camera. 

“Stop that,” he scolded, as if it could hear him. Of course, it couldn't, so the interference continued. 

Then, the camera went dark before disconnecting completely. 

Tim huffed in annoyance as he pulled up the last few seconds of the camera feed; he thought he saw something at the end. But when he paused on the last few milliseconds, his annoyance turned to shock. Because there, on the screen, were claws, as if whatever broke his camera had grabbed it first. 

Kaiju was the only thing his nerd brain could conjure up. But the ocean hiding the creature was undisturbed, so baby kaiju? Tim couldn't help but kind of hope that was the case. The thought alone of Damian's face when he found out Tim had a baby kaiju and he didn't left him grinning. 

However, a loud metallic bang from outside quickly wiped the grin off his face as Tim ran out to the deck.

The kaiju, or whatever it was, had thrown the now-broken probe onto his ship.

Tim immediately became more cautious, listening closely as he visually scanned the area. Hearing only the normal sound of water slapping the side of the boat he moved out into the open, but remained on guard as he examined the probe.

The external shell had been ripped through, but the internal parts looked completely untouched — not that it helped much, most were still vulnerable to sea water without the protective shell. Tim's camera was worse, mangled beyond even what he could repair.

He groaned, not bothering to pick up the probe as he prepared to inform the others about what had happened. But when he turned he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, as if something was ducking back down into the water. Without hesitation Tim sprinted over, leaning over the edge of the boat to peer down into the ocean.

Nothing.

"Hey, are you the one who threw this? I promise I'm not mad." Tim couldn't get the idea of a baby kaiju out of his mind — after all, what else could the creature be? It was showing high levels of intelligence, was at least somewhat irradiated, and has scales and claws. If it was a baby then maybe he could prevent it from turning into Gozilla, and if it wasn't a threat there'd be no reason he couldn't keep it around. Damian got to keep Goliath, Tim would make life hell if he was forced to give up his baby kaiju.

Despite losing himself a little in his science fiction fantasies, Tim was still aware enough to notice the prickling sensation that he was being watched. He spun around, just to again see something duck down into the water before he could process what it was. He didn't chase after it though, knowing by the time he got there it'd be gone.

"Are you able to understand me? I just want to talk. I'm investigating radiation levels in the water, and I think you've been affected."

No response.

Tim waited a few more seconds before letting out a small sigh. He was so caught up in his disappointment, he nearly missed the dark shape that appeared in the water beside him. Nearly.

[sorominnu]

Plot of a current Tim/Danny WIP:

Mermaid AU where Danny is a mermaid that gets left behind near Gotham's harbor after getting into an accident with ectoplasm (aka the Incident). Tim's investigating an increase in radiation levels in the harbor and comes across Danny, who tries to help him find the original source.

Most of it though is Danny having to stay the winter while waiting for his pod to migrate through the area again, with Tim having buy an indoor pool/water park since Danny can't actually survive the winter.

[sorominnu]

New writing blog, so need to post some WIPs. The Vanitas series is turning from an outlet for grief into a characrer study.

Jason stared at the old god, hands clenched as he fought down the repulsion curling in his stomach. 

“You wanted to talk?” The voice echoed around Jason. He swallowed down his fear as he replied, “I…what did you do to me?” 

The god's head cocked to the side. “I brought you back to life, as the deal required.” 

Jason had read enough ancient myths and stories around deals with gods to know it was never that simple. They'd exploit every loophole, use half truths to trick the mortals involved — anything to remind everyone who was in charge. To put those seen as beneath them in their place. The anger he was growing used to was quickly replacing the fear in his chest. 

“So you screwed me over, huh? The deal was to bring me back, but you thought it'd be funny to mess me up first? Make sure I came back wrong?”

“You didn't come back wrong.” The god said it so matter-of-fact it threw Jason off. Of course he came back wrong, why else would he feel the way he did? Why else would he feel so wrong? Like a piece had been ripped out and replaced with something that wasn't him?

“No…no I did. I…I wasn't like this before.” 

“Like what?” 

“So…so…,” angry, “emotional.” 

The god was silent for a moment. 

“Souls that have died often feel emotions more intensely than those that haven't.” 

Stronger emotions didn't explain the burning pit that had made itself at home in Jason's stomach. They didn't explain why all he wanted to do was scream and fight and pound his fists against things until his knuckles bled and his bones creaked. They didn't explain why he'd look at Bruce and feel like he was dying all over again. Stronger emotions didn't explain that. 

“But why…why do I feel this way? Why is it that all I can feel is anger and hatred?” He begged the god to explain why he was feeling what he was, because he needed someone to tell him. (He needed the god to tell him what he was feeling was reasonable, that he wasn't going insane.)

And the god just stared at him with its creepy unblinking eyes and dark expressionless face. When it finally spoke, its voice was soft in a way that only occurs when one is explaining death to a child. “You're angry because you are mourning, and in pain. You have lost who you were and the life you had before you died, and it's hurting you.”

That didn't sound right. Jason hadn’t lost anything; his life hadn't changed between living and returning. He'd woken up, and aside from the worried glances and even more awkward hovering from Bruce, it had been easy to forget he had even died. How could he have lost anything when everything was exactly the same as before he died? 

(Before he was killed.) 

But Jason had changed. While living with Bruce he had grown soft, forgot what the world was really like, forgot that just because he wore a cape and believed in justice and doing the right thing and helping others it didn’t mean shit when push came to shove. He had forgotten what he had learned long ago while watching his mother spiral deeper and deeper into her addiction and he had to do anything to survive. Awful things happened, and the world kept on turning and the universe kept expanding and it didn't matter how good you were or if you did everything right, unless you won the karmic lottery you were screwed. 

But dying had removed the naive beliefs that he had allowed to fill his head, had removed the rose-colored glasses Bruce had put over his eyes. Dying had changed him, but he hadn't lost who he was. If anything, it made him more of who he was before Bruce. 

(Before stability and peace and enjoying being alive and allowing himself to be a kid-)

“No,” Jason's voice was choked and harsh, “you're wrong.” 

And the god didn't smite him for daring to imply he knew better than it. It didn't even scold him. It simply asked, “Then what is causing your pain?” 

Deep down, Jason knew. He knew it was the way the others skirted around him, treating him like a loaded gun with the safety off. Their concerned whispers about how he'd changed and he wasn't the Jason they remembered rang in his ears. (He wanted to scream at them that it was still him. He had dug himself out of his own grave and pulled together all the pieces of himself he could find to be how they remembered, but he had changed and why couldn't they just accept that? Why couldn't they just accept him?) 

He knew it was the realization that Bruce never loved Jason as much as he loved him. Jason loved Bruce as a son loves a father, but Bruce didn’t love him as a father loves a son. A father’s love was supposed to be unconditional, to extend to the ends of the Earth. A father’s love was supposed to put their children above all else. But Bruce’s love was conditional, completely dependent on how well Jason followed his rules. And he had proven that Jason would never be more important than his moral high ground, that his death wasn’t even enough to change that. 

He knew his pain came from realizing he was never loved as much as he thought he was. (And maybe the god had been right, because he had lost the comfort in believing that he was loved, that he had a family he could trust. He had lost Bruce.) 

“They…the others,” Jason wet his lips as he tried to figure out how to put his pain into words, “they don’t like who I’ve become.” 

“Is that why you were hoping I was the cause of what's changed within you? So you could return to who you were before, and they would accept you again?” 

“No! I just-,” Jason broke off as he realized he didn't quite know what he wanted from the god. He had wanted answers, to have a clear reason why his life had gone to shit, but talking to the god didn't help at all. If anything it made the jumbled emotions inside of him worse. 

"What is it you want?"

[vtsumi]

maaa there's a werid fucking cat outside and its pondering the puddles this time!!

[rummigumi]

2 AM preview of 'O, Death'. It's getting there, and if I manage to stop constantly changing and rewriting things it'll be published this month.

[rummigumi]

WIP Wednesday as proof that I'm still writing and working on stuff from before my hiatus. This is the third installment of my 'Vanitas' series, an AU where Tim and Jason's training overlaps and Jason dies later than canon. Tim trades his soul to Danny (a death-god figure) to bring Jason back. I have about 3K written (I recently deleted over 1K cause I didn't like it....), expected total word count is around 11K.

After a few weeks Tim could officially say the worst thing about a god owning his soul was the uncertainty that came with it. It was certain he had paid a high price, but aside from that he was in the dark. He didn't know what would be asked of him, how much he'd have to go through. He didn't even know when he was supposed to start serving the god. It lurked in mirrors and in the corner of his eye, but it had yet to speak to him, to ask something of him.

He hated it. 

It didn't help that Jason kept hovering around him, shooting him worried looks and acting as if any second the god was going to spirit Tim away. It made it impossible to get anything done, and the others were starting to get suspicious (or, at least, confused). 

Of course, none of it was aided by the fact that Jason had his own shadow to contend with — ever since his revival, Bruce rarely let him out of his sight. Tim could understand why Bruce had become more overbearing than before Jason's death, but all it was accomplishing was driving tensions through the roof. No longer were the arguing and screaming matches between Dick and Bruce, but instead between Jason and Bruce. 

Tim had long forgone trying to keep track of all the arguments and why they occurred — in the end, it was just the same fight but in a different font. Bruce would do something that pushed Jason's buttons, he'd lash out, Bruce would make it worse, and the anger would boil over until they had to be separated. History repeating itself, in more ways than one. 

(He had asked Jason once, towards the beginning, why they were always fighting — they rarely did before, well, everything. Jason's eyes glowed venom green as he spat out, “He just fucking pisses me off,” before kicking the punching bag he was using in lieu of flesh hard enough to tear it from the stand. And while Tim knew he was safe, he also knew better than to ask him to elaborate.) 

In the end it was nearly two months before the god acted. It took Tim a moment to realize what was happening — he had gone to bed, and at first he thought it was just a dream, but he was too aware and the swirling green above him too familiar. He appeared to be on the exterior of a castle, and twenty or so feet down the ramparts, looking off into the distance, was…someone. 

Instinctively Tim knew it was the old god. Except, it didn't look like the god he knew. It wasn't the shadowy figure he'd glimpse throughout the day, nor was it the jet-black body containing ever-moving shapes from the summoning. Instead it was a teenager, most likely around the same age as Tim. (Which…weird. He didn't understand why an ageless god would want to portray itself as a teen, other than a possible manipulation tactic.) But despite the more human appearance, the god was still too other to pass as one — ethereal white hair, green-tinged skin, a luminescent aura, and bright venom green eyes that matched the sky above them.

(-around them, Tim mentally corrected.)

Whatever attire it was wearing was hidden by a black cape clasped tightly around the neck. 

“Not what you were expecting?” 

Tim jumped at being addressed, the voice echoing around him, but the old god didn't look away from the horizon. 

“You could say that. This is my first time being the ‘summoned’ instead of the ‘summoner’.” The corner of the god's mouth twitched up. Good, an amused god was more likely to be forgiving. 

“It's definitely…an experience.” 

He waited for the god to continue, but when it didn't Tim gingerly stepped closer, trying to get a gauge on how close was too close. Despite being in the god's domain, he had yet to feel the same sense of dread and power as he did at the summoning. 

“I have a task for you.” 

Tim straightened up, ready to hear the reason he had been called upon — hoping, desperately hoping it wasn't anything too bad as the god finally turned to face him. 

“I need you to retrieve something for me.” 

A fetch quest. He could do that. 

“Years ago a human from your plane stole something from me. With you providing a gate, I was able to locate it. Now I need you to get it back.”

The short summary left Tim with many questions. His main ones were — “Wait, what do you mean ‘a gate’? And what, exactly, am I getting back?”   

The god paused, and Tim feared he had somehow overstepped, but as it spoke it became clear the god was simply choosing its words carefully. 

“When you became my…agent, a connection was formed between us. Through that connection I was able to sense and track down the object that was stolen. It is…something precious to me.”

Still uncomfortably vague. 

“Can I get, like, a description of what it is? Or will it be one of those mysterious ‘you'll know it when you see it’ instances?” He couldn't help but use his ‘spooky wizard’ voice to add emphasis to his second question. The god, at least, didn't smite him for it. 

“I will help you identify it once you're close.” 

“...Okay?” Tim really wished the god wouldn't be so stereotypically cryptic. Too bad his wishes rarely came true.

“This wasn't meant to be a long summoning and our time is running short. Do you have any more pressing questions?” 

Too many. But Tim had already accepted he wouldn't get an answer to most of them, at least not during the current meeting. However, there was one that might be answered. One that had plagued him since even before Jason had been revived.  

“What's…do you have a name?” 

The god's face turned confused, its eyes searching. “Wasn't it in that book you used to summon me? The one the magician took.” 

“Well, I guess? We couldn't really translate it…” 

God's judgment. The judgment of God. That had been what Constantine said the name translated to, but the direct translation was unhelpful in figuring out the god's actual name. Tim had been able to find names with similar meaning in existing languages, but the original language had been all but lost. The only chance he had of learning it was from the god itself. 

But as the confusion on the god's face turned to concern, Tim realized that chance might be fruitless. His voice was cautious as he asked, “Do you not know your name?” 

The god looked away, as if ashamed, and Tim couldn't help but note how human it was — a god that felt shame. But the god's tone was nothing but melancholic when it spoke, “No one's called me anything but one of my titles for a long time. I don't remember….” 

The god trailed off, but it was obvious what went unsaid. 

The Forgotten God — the title made more sense. Tim couldn't imagine how long it took for a god to forget who it was, what it was called before. 

(He couldn't imagine how old the being in front of him, conversing with him, in charge of him, would have to be. How lonely it would be to go so long without a name.)

“Do…do you want a name?” 

The god didn't answer right away, silence stretching between them before, “If you wish to give me a name, I won't stop you.” 

Tim took that as acceptance. 

The name he had in mind wasn't a one-to-one translation, but it was the closest he could find. If the god didn’t like it then Tim could just try another. 

“How about Daniel? It technically means ‘God is my judge’, but the roots come from ‘to judge’ and ‘God’.” 

“Daniel.” The god said it slowly, as if tasting each syllable, before nodding. “I will accept it.” 

[rummigumi]

I talked to people about Godzilla tonight and it made me want to share this bit I wrote for my mermaid AU WIP. I don't plan on posting it until it's all written, but it's definitely one of my more favorite WIPs.

[rummigumi]

Short Anger Management (Jazz/Jason) scene I've been rotating in my head. Cross-posted on AO3.

Rating: T, due to suggestive themes and talking about sex

Jason did not want to be spending his evening sitting around a table in the Batcave with most of their ragtag group, but he was. Apparently, Bruce was going to be gone for at least a month for League business so they were all called in for a meeting to coordinate his absence, or something like that. Jason wasn't really paying attention, nor did he care. The only reason he'd shown up was because he'd been promised some intel on a new group planning on making moves in his territory - except it'd been nearly an hour and he was starting to think there was no intel.

The only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind or storming out was no one seemed to care how little he was paying attention. Jazz had texted him nearly fifteen minutes into the meeting asking if he was going to be late and he hadn't put his phone away since.

It was difficult keeping a straight-face, almost all of her messages making him want to smile, but Jason knew if his lips so much as twitched upwards attention would be drawn. The others probably assumed he was texting his men and he didn't want to give them any reason to doubt that. Again, the only thing keeping him seated at the table with the rest of them as Bruce droned on was being able to read Jazz's live-time thoughts about what was happening in the latest episode of one of her guilty pleasure reality TV shows and exchange reaction images. It was a normal, almost domestic, conversation between them - until it wasn't.

He probably should've suspected something from the long pause between messages and the text, 'Can't wait for you to get here,' but Jason wasn't expecting an accompanying image to load a few seconds later to reveal Jazz posed on the bed and clad in nothing but a black teddy. Despite having seen her naked on many occasions, Jason still felt the tips of his ears flush and he quickly locked his phone.

But apparently not quick enough.

"Holy shit, are you sexting?"

Jason held back from smacking Tim as every head whipped to look at them.

"Why the fuck were you reading over my shoulder?" Jason gritted out from clenched teeth.

"That's not a no," Duke very unhelpfully pointed out and Jason didn't know if he wanted to start yelling or make a run for it.

"Please, as if someone out there finds Todd desirable," Damian scoffed.

"Social media says otherwise, though I think they'd all prefer his helmet stay on. And you were the one holding your phone out like this," Tim held his arm out in an exaggerated pose, "with the screen bright enough to blind someone. It'd be harder to not spy on your messages."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Bruce pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. If he wasn't currently in the shenanigans spotlight he'd roll his eyes, because what else did Bruce expect to happen? They once derailed a meeting two minutes in arguing about the correct way to pronounce caramel, the old man should be happy they made it as long as they did.

"Oh really? Then what were the texts before it, hm?" Jason couldn't help but shoot back an argument to Tim's excuse.

"I don't know or care, but that was definitely a picture of a woman in lingerie."

Tim didn't flinch at the angry finger shoved in his face as Jason growled out, "You, wipe that image from your brain now." He spun to point at the rest of the table, "And the rest of you, not another word. I'm not out there doing weird foreplay or fucking on the rooftops like some of you degenerates, so shut it." Bruce's face pulled a bit tighter at the call out and Dick mimed zipping his mouth close, though Jason knew it was just to appease him. He was still keeping his distance from the others, and this whole conversation was solidifying why he stayed away. But, he'd bet in less than a week Dick would find a reason to create a 'bonding moment' and try to bring it back up, especially if he was going to be in town. As if Jason would tell him anything.

"It's just a bit weird to think you're getting some action. I totally had money on you being a virgin," Steph said it nonchalantly, as if they weren't still discussing Jason's sex life. He didn't know if the heat spreading across his cheeks was from anger or embarrassment.

Probably both.

"What does that mean?"

"You just give 'Saving Myself for Marriage' vibes is all," Steph shrugged.

"Or at least, 'Not Until the Third Date'," Duke chimed in again, and Jason was quickly moving him down in the rankings for vigilantes he didn't mind. He wasn't wrong, it had taken two or three months of dating before he and Jazz were intimate. But it implied the others thought he was just hooking up with people, as if there was no way someone would actually stay with him long enough to reach a third date.

Jason almost said something, but bit his tongue. If he even hinted that he was in a serious relationship, he'd be stuck all night with their questions and having to deal with them inserting themselves into his life trying to learn more about Jazz.

There was a reason he kept his distance.

"Well I'm out there being a sexually active adult, so guess again." Jason knew how childish he sounded, but it was better than spilling his secrets.

"Can we please move on from discussing Todd's sex life?" Damian's face was scrunched up in disgust. Jason gestured towards him in agreement, "Yes, thank you!"

But Bruce's mouth was still pulled down in concern, "You should stay after the meeting, it's been a while since we screened you for STDs."

Jason slammed his hands down on the table as he stood, "And we've reach my capacity for 'Bats' Bullshit'. So glad I subjected myself to this pointless meeting." He ignored the protests as he began to leave, but one voice stood out from the others.

"Just remember, wrap it before you tap it," Tim called out, and Jason thought he showed great restraint by merely flipping him off instead of going back to punch him. He felt his phone vibrate as he started his bike, but ignored it in favor of speeding off - he'd make it up to Jazz when he got to her place.

Though, as he quietly entered her apartment and kicked off his shoes, Jason realized he was still agitated. Letting out a small, irritated huff, he made his way to her bedroom.

"There you are! Is everything okay?" When he entered Jazz was sitting on top of the covers, but she immediately picked up on his mood and put her phone aside while pulling her legs under her.

"Fucking Nebby Nose Tim couldn't help but air out my personal shit to everyone," Jason told her as he checked the windows. Satisfied that even if someone had followed him, they'd have a tough time breaking in and the curtains were drawn tight, he turned to flop face-first onto the bed. Jazz let out a sympathetic hum as he shimmied up to rest his head on her thighs. His arms wrapped around her as he nuzzled into her stomach, letting out a pleased groan as she began to run her fingers through his hair.

Oh, how he wished he could hide his face against her forever.

"So, what was it he told the others?"

Jason tensed, eyes popping open as he realized it wasn't actually his business, but hers. Jazz's hand stilled.

"Jason?"

"It was, uh...you know that picture you sent me?"

"Please don't tell me..."

"He saw it over my shoulder and loudly let the others know I was 'sexting'."

Jazz was still under him for a moment before letting out a long exhale; Jason didn't say anything as his head moved with her breath.

"He was the only one to see it?"

He nodded.

"Alright then. What did the others say?"

"They just said a bunch of shit about how weird it was that someone would be into me, or they couldn't believe someone would want to date me. And you're sure you're good?"

Jazz went back to stroking his hair, but he still lifted his head to look at her as he asked the last bit.

"It wasn't the raunchiest picture he could've seen, and I'm assuming he didn't see much so I won't dwell on it. But that sounds like what Danny says to me."

Jason snorted as he let his head fall back to her lap, "Please, we've been dating for how long and he still doesn't think I'm good enough for you."

"And he also finds it incredibly weird that anyone would actually be into me, or want to date me. I feel the same about him - I want the best for him, but I also don't understand why anyone would want to date him. It's a sibling thing."

Jason thought a moment before replying, "I don't think it was like that."

Jazz let out another small hum. "Then fuck them." Jason pressed a grin against her at hearing her swear. Sometimes he was tempted to introduce her to the others, if only to watch them struggle to figure her out, but he knew it was something that couldn't be undone and he didn't want them to ruin the peace he had found.

"You know, for the point two seconds I could enjoy it, I really liked the picture."

He could hear Jazz's smile as she replied, "You can still enjoy it in person."

Jason pressed a kiss to the bare skin of her thigh, "I think I will."

[rummigumi]

Guess who forgot it was October today. Anyways, here's the official start of Kinktober postings.

Day 1: Masturbation -- Danny/Tim

This Body of Mine

Tim was becoming used to the feeling of Danny being inside him. The first time had been odd — the lack of control over his limbs, someone else's emotions and thoughts flittering through his own like flashes on a screen. The best way he could describe it was as if he was in a dream as someone else. While he knew why Danny would do something, the thoughts weren't his and Tim had no control over what his body did.

Letting Danny possess him originally started out as a small thing. Tim had caught the ghost staring wistfully at some pastries and wanted to figure out a way to help. If it meant Danny could taste what he craved, Tim was okay with his body being used to do so.

"So, you'd be okay with me hitching a ride to a sex club?" Had been Danny's cheeky reply when Tim expressed as much.

Tim just rolled his eyes with a dry, "Very funny."

Soon, he was letting Danny in more and more. For Tim they were only little things — eating, drinking, sleeping. But for Danny, they were all things that made him human; and Tim could feel that. His joy and excitement at such mundane, often times annoying, routines was why Tim kept offering up his body. And as they spent more time as one, the stronger their mental connection grew. Tim began to be able to feel Danny's emotions on a more precise scale, often to the point where it felt as though he was understanding his very thoughts. (And he assumed Danny could understand his as well.)

All of Danny's happiness, giddy anticipation, fears — Tim felt it.

When Danny tried to suppress the connection — Tim could tell.

It might have been worrying, but Tim knew Danny, and though there were some things he knew the ghost was hiding Tim could feel they weren't malicious.

One night, after Danny spent so much time in the snow even Tim could tell his fingers were growing stiff, was when what originally started as a small way for him to help Danny became something more.

Danny brought Tim's hands up to breathe warmth into them, then paused, leaving the cold tips of Tim's fingers to linger against his lips. That was when Tim felt it — a sense of want that he couldn't understand. Before he could even try to decipher the feeling, it was gone. Danny shut him out.

But Tim wasn't one to leave things alone, so, he prodded. He took back enough control of his body to ask, "What was that?"

It took Danny a few moments to respond once Tim fell back.

"I just...," again Tim got hit with a wave of want, but with a heavy sense of guilt too, "I was wondering if I could take a bath. It's so cold out, and the water would be warm," even more guilt pressed down onto Tim, "but it would be weird, I know. So I wasn't going to ask."

"It's okay, you can," was out of Tim's mouth before he could even think about it — about it's implications. Tim had attended an all-boys boarding school, he had bathed around others while there, and with that line of thinking he reasoned letting Danny take a bath wasn't an odd thing to do.

It wasn't until the bath was filling with hot water while Danny fumbled with the button on Tim's pants that he realized why, exactly, the ghost had hesitated so much to ask this of him. But Tim wasn't going to go back on his word.

After all, it wasn't as if he was necessarily opposed to what was occurring.

The air was heavy when Danny finally stepped into the water. The heat brought a sense of comfort to them both, and it wasn't long until the tension, brought about by both souls, left Tim's body.

Tim's conscious hovered at the edge, slipping into a dozing state as he relaxed. Meanwhile he felt Danny begin to bathe, scrubbing soap into Tim's skin.

Tim couldn't say what triggered it — who triggered it. But soon, his drifting was interrupted by Danny pulling him back with an uncomfortable, "Um."

He was getting hard. Or, maybe, they were getting hard (when Danny was possessing him, Tim could rarely figure out who his body was reacting to). There was another flash of want and guilt mixed together from Danny and — and Tim understood.

"Do you...," Tim quickly wet his lips, "do you remember when you joked about going to the sex club?"

"Yes?"

He could feel Danny's confusion.

"It made me think about how disappointed I would be if I could never get off again. I think the sexual frustration would get to me." Tim paused, but when Danny gave no reaction he continued, barreling through with the hope that his words wouldn't be taken badly. "Do you miss it? Sexual pleasure? If you do, you can...," he trailed off, knowing that his intentions were clear.

Danny was embarrassed, cautious, but also intrigued.

"I...if you're sure...."

Tim responded by pulling back, once again giving Danny more control. He still felt it, though, the way Danny touched him. How he brushed his fingertips along Tim's thigh before taking hold of him. How his fist tightened to stroke him, warmth coiling in his groin as he fully hardened.

It was the same hand as always, yet it felt so different. The slight pressure differences, how Danny twisted and pulled — Tim could easily imagine it was Danny, alive and in his own body, that was jacking him off. Not just Danny puppeting Tim's hand.

Danny floundered at little when Tim groaned, but continued when he realized it wasn't out of pain or displeasure. He braced his feet along the bath tub's wall as he brought his other hand down to trace his knuckles along Tim's sac, leaving them both to shiver.

"Danny," left Tim's mouth as a gasp. Danny began to pump his hand faster, taking the time to twist around the tip of Tim's dick with each stroke. Meanwhile, his other hand trailed down behind his sac.

Tim bit his lip to, holding back a whine. It was too much — Danny touching him was too much. Tim bucked his hips, attempting to fuck Danny's his their fist, but he failed to get leverage. His hips twisted awkwardly, and Tim froze as he felt something graze against his hole, unexpected pleasure sparking up his spine.

With it, came the tumbling of whatever mental barrier was between him and Danny.

Tim could feel the ghost's ecstasy as their hips rocked up into their fist and back down to rub against their fingers. The way it sparked along their spine and coiled tight in their stomach, until, finally, it burst. Their legs went ramrod straight as their hips bucked, the water sloshing dangerously towards the rim as they came with a loud, open moan.

After, their body went lax, like a puppet cut from it's strings. Tim didn't know where he began and Danny ended, their minds seemed so entwined that they were one. And while he probably should have felt uncomfortable, he just felt...content. Sated.

'Can I stay?' flitted through Tim's thoughts. He didn't have to think before saying yes.

[rummigumi]

Baby, You're a Star

Kinktober Day 12: Sex Work

Rating: E

Danny/Tim Pornstar AU

Description: Watching Danny is one of Tim's preferred ways of getting to sleep.

It isn't uncommon for Tim to have nights where he can't sleep, where his mind just seems unable to turn off. He drinks calming teas, stays away from blue light, plays white noise, plays brown noise; but what he finds works best is the old reliable method of getting off.

When it's another one of those nights, he breaks the 'no blue light' rule and pulls out his phone to visit the only porn site he pays for to browse videos of the only actor he watches — Danny Nightryder.

Tim had been sixteen when he first watched one of Danny's videos (his second, Tim later finds out). 'College Student Fucks Her Classmate Instead of Studying' was typical straight porn, with mediocre acting everyone skipped through and camera work that focused only on the actress. And yet, it left Tim as satisfied as a horny teenager could ever get and even more certain he wasn't straight.

He can't say what part it was that made him want to see more of Danny. The way he ate out the actress, eyes rolling shut as his tongue filled her pussy and working her so well that when he finally pulled away, gasping a little for air, his mouth and chin were shiny with spit and slick. Or the side shot, which showed off lean muscles as he fucked hard into the body below him. Or at the end, when he let out a quiet moan as he finished against the actress's cunt before she giggled and rubbed his cum deeper against her folds. Whatever it was had Tim going back to that video time and time again.

And then he realized Danny starred in other videos, and Tim started a rotation between videos he hadn't seen and those he liked.

'Straight Guy Experiments with Gay Best Friend' was Danny's first gay porno. Tim nearly broke his mouse when he saw it, his free hand shoved down his pants and around his cock before the video finished loading. Now, years later, Tim would rank it mid amongst Danny's works, but at the time he couldn't get enough. It was the first time Danny was a focus point, the camera zooming in when his mouth fell open with a blissful moan while his co-star, a stereotypical flamboyant twink, gave him sloppy head. He remained the focus, even as his partner crawled into his lap and sunk down on his cock with an, 'Oh, fuck!'.

The co-star is the reason Tim ranks the video so low, dirty talking and moaning so loud Danny's noises can't be heard, aside from one instance.

"Better than any pussy you've fucked before, huh?"

The way Danny groaned, "Yes!", as if the guy's ass really was the best thing his dick had ever experienced, still haunts Tim's wet dreams, along with how Danny looked when he finally came.

His previous videos only focused on the actresses, zooming in when Danny finished and preventing Tim from seeing his face. But in a gay porno where he played the straight guy 'being turned gay', Danny was the star. So when he came the camera captured all of it — his nose scrunching up, his heavy lidded eyes, and the relaxed satisfaction after as he helped spread his co-star so his cum could drip down his own dick. Sometimes, Tim will go back to that video just to fast forward to the end, rewatching the scene over and over again until he's spent.

It took him a while to watch Danny's first threesome video, which Tim regretted as soon as he did. He had gotten stuck on previous videos because he wanted Danny, not an actress, but he hadn't realized 'It Takes 3 to Play' gave him what he craved — more scenes where Danny was the focus.

Well, one scene. (But it has Tim's toes curling in pleasure every time he watches it.)

In it, Danny's on top of the actress while they 69, his cock down her throat and his tongue licking her pussy — until the other actor spreads Danny's ass and easily presses in two fingers. Danny moans as he sucks the actress's clit in his mouth, hips moving as the actor begins to finger him harder, the actress gagging slightly with each thrust, and Tim came so hard his legs shook the first time he saw it.

A later scene shows Danny on all fours, mouthing and licking the actor's balls while the actress bounces on his cock. Tim would wet his own fingers before running them along his sac and imagining they were Danny's tongue getting him off. But it was only Danny's second latest video that finally showed Tim what it might be like to get blown by his favorite pornstar.

Tim only has a vague understanding of how porn is made — he would assume an actor with a sizeable following like Danny has an agent that helps him find and book gigs. How Danny chose what videos he starred in, Tim has no idea.

'Cumslut Danny Nightryder Knows How to Suck Cock' was the first video where Tim questioned if Danny even gets to choose what he stars in, or just how much he got paid for a video where he smiled at the camera and talked about how much he loves sucking and swallowing before getting on his knees and blowing six men in a row.

It was a glory hole setting, which Tim could appreciate more than if it was Danny just going down a line. But he still didn't touch himself the first time he saw it, even though his dick was hard and leaking through his boxers. He watched Danny completely strip before kneeling in front of the first hole and eagerly get to work licking and sucking at the cock pushed through. When the man on the other side of the wall knocked Danny was quick to wrap his lips around the head, moaning and touching himself as the man finished. After, he opened his mouth to stick out his tongue covered in cum to the camera before moving on to the next hole — to the next cock.

Tim watched as Danny repeated the process five more times: working whatever cock was in front of him until there was a knock and swallowing the man's cum as if he couldn't get enough of it. He only paused to turn to the camera to show off the cum in his mouth — proof of what a cumslut he is — and, after the fourth cock, chug half a bottle of water before getting right back to work.

After the last man finished and Danny made a show of swallowing, the camera zoomed out to show him sitting back on his heels, one hand on the floor to steady himself as he jacked off. Tim's dick ached to be touched when Danny came, eyes half-lidded and heavy with pleasure and hints of white at the corners of his mouth. The video ended with Danny licking his own cum off his fingers with a smile, and as soon as the replay button appeared Tim was pulling his underwear down and tugging himself to completion.

(He quickly got over the guilt of easily getting off to a video many would find degrading.)

Tonight, Tim's finger hovers over the glory hole video before he moves on to Danny's most recent video — 'Lucky Fan Gets Fucked by Danny Nightryder'.

Normally, Tim doesn't put much stock in porn video titles or their supposed 'setting'. He knows the producers put something to get as many views as they can and to fulfill a fantasy — none of the 'sexy teachers' or 'step-siblings' or 'cumsluts' touted in every other video are really what they claim. But, Tim's inclined to believe the co-star in the video he's currently loading up is a lucky fan.

The video setup is amateurish compared to the usual productions Danny's in, with only one camera on a tripod facing a bed and no additional lighting. And while it might be part of a typical 'amateur video' set, Danny's partner having her face blurred the entire time and a thick bush isn't.

So Tim watches with something similar to envy in his chest as Danny focuses on his partner while he eats her out, jaw working until her legs tighten around his ears and she shakes with her orgasm. When she relaxes, he lays a kiss against her stomach before moving up to latch onto one of her nipples, a flash of white teeth showing against her skin before she's pulling him up into an actual kiss. The blur hides it, but Tim can make out enough to know it's deep and slow; the type of kiss normally reserved for lovers.

He doesn't look away though, just rubs himself through his underwear as he focuses on the sounds, thinks about how kissing Danny like that would feel.

Tim pauses the video briefly to kick off his bottoms and squirt some lube onto his fingers. Then he resumes, hand traveling down to rub two fingers in a circular motion against his rim — the same way Danny rubs the tip of his cock against the woman's clit.

Tim's moan covers up hers.

And then there's the slightest cut in the video where Danny puts on a condom, the rubber almost unnoticeable to someone not looking closely. (Tim's always looking closely). Danny laces fingers with the woman when she reaches for him and brushes them against his lips before pressing in. When he bottoms out he murmurs something to her, too quiet for the mic to pick up but has her cooing in response.

Tim hasn't decided if he wants to know what Danny said, so he just presses a finger in and focuses on how Danny fucks his partner, the sounds he makes, how he responds to her. At some point his eyes slide close and he adds another finger, imagining he's the one causing Danny to moan and pant, that he's the one Danny is calling baby and sweetheart as he rolls their hips together.

Tim doesn't bother opening his eyes as he, and the video, reach climax. He's watched the video before, he knows the slightly wet sounds he hears joining the prior sounds of a good fucking is Danny pressing kisses against the woman's breasts and neck as she comes again. She pulls him tight against her, first in pleasure, then to just hold him as he comes with a soft, low grunt. Danny's face is blurred once again when they kiss, his body rocking gently into hers as his orgasm ends.

Tim finishes with the sound of Danny coming in his ears, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

He only takes a moment to catch his breath before pulling his fingers out and wiping them on his sheets. He doesn't bother with clean up, his limbs suddenly too heavy to do more than roll to the other side of the bed and leave his phone abandoned facedown in-between him and his previous spot. Finally, much later then when he originally laid down, Tim's eyes close and he achieves the quiet bliss of sleep.

Maybe one day Tim will have enough courage (or lack enough shame) to try to figure out how he can be one of Danny's 'lucky fans'. He knows it would be just a job on Danny's part — act for a few hours like he actually wants to fuck Tim and get paid enough to cover that month's bills. But, he would rather turn off his brain and think Danny's pleasure and enjoyment was real then have to deal with the song and dance of finding and sleeping with someone else. (And Danny would be guaranteed to be enjoyable. Tim is certain he can satisfy himself with a toy better than anyone he'd find on a hook-up app; Danny's a professional though, he'd know how to make Tim feel good.)

But until Tim gets sick of watching Danny through a screen, he's content to keep buying into whatever fantasy Danny sells him.

[rummigumi]

Short writing practice blurb. Technically part of a longer piece idk if I'll ever publish.

Rating: M

Pairing: Tim/Danny

It had to have been a strange sense of nostalgia, Tim thought. A moment just to relive what once was in time of loneliness. There was no other reason why he was pressed up against the wooden frame between the entryway and kitchen of Danny's house with Danny's hand down his pants.

The pace was harsh and frantic, the dryness making it more rough than pleasurable. But Tim didn't care; it was still the best thing he'd felt in years. His hands desperately grasped at Danny — his thighs, his ass, his back, whatever Tim could reach. But instead of flesh all he felt was cloth clutched tight in his fists.

Danny pressed closer, leaning in to rest his head against Tim's while the indecent sound of what they were doing got wetter, louder. Tim closed his eyes, thinking (hoping) Danny was going to kiss him.

He didn't.

His breath was hot against Tim's mouth, but neither bridged the gap between them.

It didn't last, their relapse into something long gone. Tim muffled the noise of him finishing tight against Danny's shoulder, and was still a bit dazed when Danny jerked away. Tim couldn't even be disappointed — he had known how it would end.

Danny pressed his clean hand against his mouth, as if he was shocked at what he just did, before covering his eyes. To hide Tim, debauched by his own hand, from his sight.

"This was — I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

The wedding band Danny still wore, years later, glowed bright in the lamplight, reminding Tim where he stood. Danny had moved on, found someone else to love, created the life he had wanted. The house around them was filled with that love — photographs, trinkets, a sleeping child. Meanwhile, Tim was just a remnant of a past Danny wanted to forget.

Danny finally met Tim's eyes, looking older than ever, "I didn't mean to...you should go. I'm sorry."

Tim was silent as Danny retreated (still hard, as if that would absolve him of shame). He had surrendered to his fate long ago, incapable of moving on from someone who couldn't look back.

On his way out, Tim used the key Danny gave him to lock the front door.