#asks and answers

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

mercuy having a gay awaksing

Jaune: *Running* 'SCUSE ME! Sorry! Pardon-*Bumps in to Mercury in the Hall*

Mercury: Hey watch where you're-

Mercury: ...

Jaune: *In nothing but a towel* Sorry about that! Cardin stole my clothes while I was in the shower so I'm kind of in a rush.

Mercury: *Wholly focused on the water running down Jaune's chest*

Jaune: Seriously, sorry about that, Gotta go! *He starts running*

Mercury: WAIT! *He reaches out to Grab Jaune*

*Mercury Grabs Jaune's towel and Tear it off of him*

Jaune: *Is naked in the Crowded Hall*

Everyone: *Turns to look* ...

Mercury: ... Holy Shit ...

Coco: *Walking past unphased* Damn Arc, you're packing. Good on you.

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby shitpost #mercury black #caduceus #rwby caduceus #naruoandborutorpandpreosanl #asks and answers #coco adel #Coco strikes me as the kind of ;esbian to go “Damn Bro good for you” and mean it.

[ohbo-ohno]

opinion on priceghost? or price x reader x ghost?

(btw I love EVERYTHING you write I eat it up every single time. The things your works make me feel. <3)

omg ily!!!!

if you follow ceil and have seen her talk about them before, my feelings on priceghost/reader line up with hers pretty much exactly! i looove the idea of price letting his lt get some of his energy out on his pretty wife, and i love the idea of ghost bringing his pretty girl to price for his approval <3 but i def most prefer that ot3 dynamic with price or ghost already being with the reader and then showing her off/sharing her with the other man

i wrote this priceghost drabble for kinktober and it was mostly me exploration of the kind of dynamic i like most for those two! i really like the idea of price being the only person who has even a modicum of control over ghost, and him knowing exactly how to take care of ghost without pushing him too far or scaring him off. big scary dog character x his handler alwaysssssss does it for me, sorry!!!!

#asks and answers #priceghost

[lookingfts]

I just... cannot. I can't. 🫠 And I know Anthony can't, either.

Yeah, this is like...A LOT for me, so I can only imagine how Anthony would react.

*sexy snippet below*

--

Anthony didn't even know where to start. Her legs, a million miles long in fuck-me heels. Her smooth stomach, muscles flexing as she walked toward him. Her perfect breasts tantalizingly hidden by an elaborate bra. Her hair loose around her shoulders, combined with the gold jewelry in her ears and on her wrists. A goddess demanding worship, and Anthony her willing sacrifice.

But truly, it was the skirt. No, not a skirt. A fucking belt masquerading as a skirt.

Anthony clenched his jaw as Kate stood in all her glory before him, smirking at him. Fully aware of the desire coursing through his veins, surely branded on his face. As it always was for her and always had been.

"Where did you get this?"

She smiled, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I had it custom made. Do you like the skirt?"

Anthony chuckled roughly, his voice already hoarse. "That's not a skirt, honey." He let his hand drift to the expanse of bare thigh, and Kate tried to hide her shiver as his fingertips grazed her skin. Slowly, his hand disappeared under the fabric, cupping her as she moaned. "If you were wearing a skirt, it wouldn't be so easy to get my fingers in you."

#asks and answers #simone ashley #kate bridgerton #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton #kanthony #snippet

[clangenrising]

To be honest I really appreciate snippets into the city cats even if they don't exist because it's interesting seeing overlapping threads. For an example to illustrate my point; Tadpole, a daughter of Ghost, one of the cats involved in the battle of the snake and part of the trio that attacked the oddlings.

Fun fact, she's also the cat that ratted Ghost out to Razor when he went to meet Scorch the night he got beat up

#not art #asks and answers #x critter2022 #tadpole

[maepersonal]

If you feel weak as a female it's a YOU problem. You have issues with your gender, it's not the gender itself.

Get therapy

bro????

first off, not a woman?????

and I NEVER said I felt weak. I said that this society raises people to believe that afabs should be subordinate during sex, which is a tried and tested fact.

sex is an extremely intimate act, I’m sorry for being less inclined to engage in it in a world where I don’t feel safe walking down the street at night???

and thank you for being the person to get me to turn off anon asks - if you’re gonna be a dick to me you should at least be brave enough to show your face

#oh mae oh my #reading comprehension level zero #seriously suck my dick m8 #asks and answers #asks #ask and ye shall receive #aroace #aro #ace #aromantic #asexual #aromanticism #asexuality #women’s issues #agender #lgbtq #queer #queer issues #sex averse #hate mail #aspec

[ao3commentoftheday]

do you know where "no beta we die like x" comes from and how it is used?

The term "beta" in this context is short for "beta reader" - a person who reads a fic while it's still in the editing stage and helps the writer get it ready to post. Some betas check grammar. Some check canon compliance. Some are sensitivity readers. There are lots of things that betas can do.

So functionally, saying "no beta" means that the writer didn't get this checked by a second person before they posted it. It's a warning that there might be errors or typos etc. It's mostly used when an author has written something quickly and is posting without doing a lot of (or any) edits first.

As for where it comes from? It all started with a bumper sticker.

This image was an internet meme at one point, and it got meme'd on in the form of "no ___ we ___ like men"

Here on tumblr, one of the versions that got really popular was from now-deleted user @grec1a who created this version:

From there, it migrated to AO3 as the "no beta we die like men" tag, and very often the word men is replaced by the name of a character who dies in canon.

#asks and answers

[zarla-s]

Just thinking. Gaster had been in the void for quite a long while, surely long enough to where he was used to not seeing anything. So when Sans teleported him out, I feel like suddenly having light in his eye would've left him hissing in pain as he shields his eye, and all the dialogue that's in that scene gets put on hold for several long minutes XD

TRULY THE GREATEST PUNISHMENT OF ALL assuming eye sockets work for skeletons like that, haha.

Gaster swearing is like :o but I was thinking about that one older comic where he swore in front of the brothers and they started copying him, much to his dismay. Not a common thing, but sometimes!

[index] [patreon]

#asks and answers #custarduwu #undertale #handplates #sans #papyrus #gaster #asgore #z art #z comic #awkward silence ensues #sssss ahhh... sssss ahhhh... #go to bed zar

[mooreaux]

i ADORE deirdre's design and the way you draw her she's sooooo cute.. esp her hair and freckles!

You made her day 💙

#my art #my oc #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #Deirdre fawn #asks and answers

[oldshrewsburyian]

As much as I adore your (highly) interesting takes on medievalism and how it differs from what we actually know (or hypothesize) about the medieval period, I don't think I've ever asked: are there any books set in either the real middle ages or some fantasy approximation of the period that you WOULD recommend? They don't have to be "perfect" representations, obviously, but it would be nice to learn about any books that side-step the usual potholes. Thank you!

Hi, friend! A of all, thank you; B of all, there are and I would. From the following list it will become apparent that my criteria are idiosyncratic. Really, I think, the most important thing for my own enjoyment -- for any historical fiction, but especially for that set in the place/time I know best -- is that the work and its author are exploring the period as a way of opening up a conversation between past and present, rather than looking down on the past from the vantage point of the contemporary. This sententious prolegomenon concluded:

The Book Smuggler, Omaima Al-Khamis (eleventh-century Islamicate world, about knowledge and wisdom and religious intolerance)

Morality Play, Barry Unsworth (fourteenth-century England, about justice and law and vocation and community)

The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco (doesn't need my introduction, hilarious and deeply poignant meta-meditation on the genre of the detective story, also on theological debates and the love of one's neighbor and the nature of fear)

Sword at Sunset, Rosemary Sutcliff (fifth-century post-Roman Britain, has some clichés, also some magic, but is so richly imagined and full of people I love. Also good dogs.)

Cadfael Chronicles, Ellis Peters (twelfth-century England; I was wondering why I love these so much and I think a lot of it comes back to how much Ellis Peters loved the particular place she lived/set the books in, and watching the changing of the seasons there, so that that close observation of time -- very medieval! -- is also central. Inequality isn't made invisible or grotesque here, either, and it's often one or the other in Fictional Medieval Europe.)

Isaac of Girona mysteries, Caroline Roe (C14 Spain, also whodunits, but I cannot resist including this charming series about a blind Jewish doctor and his beloved wife and his daughters and the orphan he adopts and his chess-playing buddy the bishop and and and....! It's great.)

The History of the Siege of Lisbon, José Saramago (C12/C20 Portugal, called "metafiction about the instability of history and the reality assumed by fiction" by Kirkus Reviews and... yeah!)

She Who Became The Sun, Shelley Parker-Chan (C15 Ming China, with ghosts, definitely fantasy rather than regular historical fiction, and on the cusp of early modernity, also so so interesting)

The Apothecary's Shop, Roberto Tiraboschi (C12 Venice, deeply weird -- affectionate -- and drawing on Calvino and gialli as well as medieval history; some inaccuracies about women and medicine but I still found it compelling and thought-provoking)

#historical fiction #fun with medievalism #book recommendations #asks and answers

[bokettochild]

Why is everyone upset about the LU fandom? Lot of ranting about tropes and characterizations??

I think it's because we're left on a low spot right now in the LU story, so people are using their time to not theorize but rather break down the plot and whatnot. Some people, for lack of new content, are turning to fan-fiction, and I guess they're not finding content that matches their expectations.

It's valid, of course, to maybe be irritated by a lack of characterizations in the way that you perceive them, but it seems that people are forgetting the major rule of fandom: if it doesn't make you happy, don't badmouth, just walk away. Instead of accepting that no creator is perfect and not everyone will write the characters and plots the same way, readers and fans are complaining about the lack of consistency. They want what they want and they're not finding it, but they're taking this as a chance to make it everyone else's problem, which is unfair.

We as writers are doing this for free. Artists are doing their work for free. We are not under any obligation to make things to suit what other people want. That we share our creations like a smorgasbord for people to select from, is taken for granted. Furthermore, they are not willing to look past the options they don't like and just pick out what they do. No, they're complaining that the options they don't like exist at all, with no consideration that it might be the only thing someone else likes.

I think the fans are just being picky eaters right now, and quite frankly, they desperately need someone to tell them to just ignore the content they find nasty instead of making others feel bad for enjoying it.

Tropes do not harm anyone. Imperfections are part of the learning process. Don't make fandom like real life. We shouldn't have to study and take notes on finite details just to be allowed to enjoy it.

Dear Writers,

Write your tropes and inconsistencies! Have your characters OOC! Do what makes you happy, and don't take crap from those who don't like it!

Dear Artists,

Have fun experimenting with your designs and headcannons! Make what you want, and don't listen to anyone who tells you it doesn't match JoJo's work. She's her own person, you are your own person, your art should be different! It's ore delightful that way!

#asks and answers #linkeduniverse #linked universe

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Jaune: Hey Nora it is really nice of you and Ren to continue to live here after y’all’s wedding.

Nora: Why wouldn’t we Jaune-Jaune? You are our husband too.

Jaune: W-What?

Nora: You're our husband.

Jaune: ... Like as a friend, or like, tax purposes or ...

Nora: Fearless Leader, I am going to Get Ren, we are going to sign you up for therapy, and then we're going to fuck the everloving shit out of you.

Jaune: WHAT?!?

Nora: Like harder than usual!

Nora: We're gonna fuck the depression out of you!

Jaune: I- I-

Nora: Jauney, Jaune-Jaune, beloved, You deserve to feel good. There's only so much I can do, and only so much Ren can do, so that's why we're going to get you a therapist.

Nora: And then fuck you so hard your Momma's gonna feel it.

Nora: Hell, your mom got you a wedding gift! I mean they were meant to help with fertility and libido so I'm kind of annoyed neither you or Ren have used it- But that's besides the point! You Ren and I have made sweet sweet love before and after the wedding!

Jaune: I thought you were being Kinky and nice!

Nora: ... Are you unhappy with the situation?

Jaune: N-no? No. No I'm not.

Nora: Good. I'm gonna go get the lube

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby shitpost #nora valkyrie #renora #nora's arc #renorarc #nora's boys #martial arcs #asks and answers #azure-decaff

[ohbo-ohno]

Okay but *gulp* soap with his dick slipping out and accidentally pressing into the wrong hole. Doesn’t stop him from continuing tho

listen LISTEN listen - yeah!! soap is 100% the kind of asshole to do this!!

1.7k soap x f!reader "wrong hole" drabble 🫶 (cw: pwp smut, noncon anal sex between partners (also unrealistic anal sex), pussy drunk johnny)

You arch further into Johnny, slick skin sliding along slick skin as your mouth drops open on a moan.

“Jo-Johnny,” you pant, gripping tightly to his broad shoulders. “Feels ssooo- so good.”

“Yeah?” He grunts from above you, mohawk messy and dripping sweat. “Bet it- bet it feels big, huh?”

You whine, pushing your hips closer to him as he slams home inside of you. “So big,” you agree, your mind draining from you slowly as he pulls nearly the entire way out on every thrust, leaving you almost empty before filling you to the brim. “God, you’re so good, Johnny.”

“Fuck, yes,” he pants, arms wrapping around your back and squeezing you tight to him. Your hips are pushed a little further up, a little closer to him. You wrap both your legs around his waist, hold him as tight as he does you. He only manages to keep up his rhythm through pure strength, easily able to overpower your grip.

“So good,” he mimics, eyes squeezed shut. You can’t look away from him - the sweat dripping down the side of his tanned face, the wrinkles and scars decorating his skin, the way he looks like he’s either in agony or euphoria. “Feel so perfect, so tight. Fuck, missed you so much, lass, missed your perfect cunt.”

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head when he hits the perfect spot inside of you, body limp in his arms. You feel almost like a doll, like a toy for him to fuck, but he’s so good at it that you can’t even begin to care.

The both of you devolve into moans, occasionally trying to speak and choking on your words. You might feel embarrassed of what a mess Johnny’s made of you, if he weren’t in the same condition.

He pulls out completely on several thrusts in a row, both of you gasping at the sensation - you, because it’s a shock to go from nothing to everything completely and him, because every thrust inside of you when he’s pulled all the way out feels like the first. You dig your nails into his muscles, pushing your chest against his for all the physical contact you can manage.

It happens too quickly for you to even really notice. One second Johnny is rearranging your guts, giving you the best dick of your life, and the next you feel like you’re being torn in two.

You nearly scream, eyes flying open and nails dragging down his back, peeling skin off. Johnny’s loud groan drowns you out almost entirely, and he doesn’t seem to notice what he’s done.

You notice. Your unstretched ass feels like it’s on fire, and after your first sound of shock you can’t get enough breath in to try and say it hurts. 

Johnny can’t thrust the whole way in, like he had in your pussy. Your body gives him too much resistance, which is what finally makes him realize.

You’re nearly blinded by the tears filling your eyes when he finally blinks open, staring down at you.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and you can feel his heart racing against your chest. “Did I-? Am I in your-?”

“Pull out,” you gasp, tapping at his back desperately. “Oh my god, Johnny, pull out, I can’t- fuck, you’re too big.”

That’s the wrong thing to say - instead of pulling out, he groans, dropping his forehead to yours and letting his eyes fall shut again. You let out a long, high whine when his hips push forward, slowly spearing you further and further on his cock.

You’re made mute by the pain, left only with your nails as defense as you try and tear his back to shreds. You should know better, though - Johnny’s a masochist, and pain you inflict only drives him more insane.

“God, you’re fuckin’ stranglin’ me,” he pants, pulling out just enough to force himself a few inches deeper. “Thought your cunt was tight, but it’s nothin’ compared to this.”

“Johnny- please.”

“So fucking warm.” He looks nearly delirious above you, pupils blown so wide you can barely see his iris even as close as you are. “Tight.”

“Johnny,” you whine, even as the slide becomes a little bit easier from all the slick dripping from your cunt. “Hurts, please, you gotta… gotta stop.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between soothing and a snarl, a low sound that makes you instinctually arch further towards him and then yelp when that gives him more leverage.

“You’re fine,” he comforts - well, the words should be a comfort but his tone is almost dismissive. “You’re wet, I can feel it.”

“Not enough,” you cry, half choking on a sob when you feel him finally bottom out inside of you. “Ok, ok, please pull- pull out, Johnny.”

“But you feel so good,” he purrs, butting his nose against your temple. “Fuckin’ hot little ass, huh lass? You’re squeezin’ me so good, you sure you want me to pull out?”

“Yes!”

You feel the sharp smile pressed against your temple and hiccup a sob, shifting your legs so that instead of wrapping around him you’re trying to push him away. But he’s too strong for you to make him move, and he only shoves himself even further inside of you by leaning his weight forward.

“I think you’re lying,” he almost sings, grinding his hips deep inside of you. He shifts briefly, holding himself above you on one arm and sneaking the other between your bodies and down to your pussy.

You cry out when his fingers work quickly at your clit, tight fast circle that have you shaking and moaning. It’s almost enough to drown out the pain of having your back hole stretched so ruthlessly - almost.

“Here,” he says, dipping his hand down a little further to almost scoop the slick dripping from you, smearing it around your plugged hole like he’s trying to make up for the lack of lube in the first place. He pulls out about halfway, thrusting back in and moaning when you cry out. “Th-there, how’s that feel?”

“Still hurts,” you manage to get out through your sobs, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Johnny’s panting like a dog above you as he starts to fuck you again, his pace sharper and uncaring about your sensitivity. You can’t help but clench down, your inner muscles squeezing tight in an attempt to push him out that only drags him further in. 

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it - as he moans repeatedly into your ear - while he fucks you. The pain eases after a bit, your own wetness making the path at least slightly easier, but the sharp sting never fully dissipates. Your tears don’t dry up, and you’re nowhere close to the orgasm that had been building before.

Johnny’s your complete opposite - he’s lost in his own pleasure, and your desperate scratches down his back only make things better for him. If you’d thought he was euphoric before, he looks like he’s found Nirvana now. You’re not sure if he’s so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he can’t hear your pain, or if your pain is what’s driving him more and more insane with pleasure.

For your own sake, you pray it’s the first.

He doesn’t last long - thank God - and only a few minutes later his thrusts get choppier and choppier, jerking in and out of you without any rhythm at all.

“Gonna make me come, bonnie, fuck.”

You can only stare wide-eyed at the ceiling as Johnny buries his face in the crook of your neck and comes deep inside of your ass, the hot spurt of his come a distant sensation with the stretch of his cock still at the front of your mind.

“Alright, alright, pull… pull out now, Johnny, please,” you beg again, too shell-shocked to even flinch at the embarrassing crack in your voice.

He obeys wordlessly, pulling his limp cock out slowly enough to make you whine when he finally leaves you empty.

“Hush, hush,” he quiets you, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone and brushing over your spread hole with his fingers. You jolt and whine, turning to press your face into his sweat-soaked mohawk. “You’re alright, didn’t even tear.”

“You-you sure?” You sniffle.

He chuckles a little, the sound vibrating through your chests. “Yeah, you’re alright, lass. Didn’t think I would really hurt you, did’ya?”

You can only whine.

His fingers dip inside your back hole just long enough to drag out some of his come, moving up to shove it inside of your pussy.

“There ya go,” he soothes, repeating the process again and again. “Still got a nice load in your guts, you're alright." His fingers lift to your clit, rubbing in perfect circles to make you arch and gasp, squirming for more pleasure despite the growing ache in your other hole.

He brings you to a slow orgasm, one that has the last of your tears dripping down your cheeks and clinging to his shoulders like a life raft. Your breaths are uneven, heartbeat quick in your chest, and you feel fuzzy around the edges.

Unlike usual, Johnny stops at one orgasm. You almost expect him to keep going like he always does, never satisfied with less than three for you and two for him, but he pulls his hand away after your first pained whines start again.

He doesn’t get off of you, letting his weight push you deeper and deeper into the couch cushions. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close to you and breathing in his musk. It takes a while to get your breathing even again, though Johnny’s levels out in moments.

You only let your eyes close once his snores start up, loud in your ear. The rumbling of his chest is a comfort, and you float into sleep with Johnny’s sweaty body pressed firmly against every part of yours, and the ache in your ass only growing more noticeable with every breath.

#asks and answers #hey woah #soap x reader #soap x you #we're trying something new with tags y'all #bo writes #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap smut #john soap mactavish smut #johnny soap mactavish smut #john mactavish smut #johnny mactavish smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanifc #141 smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #me? tagging something like i actually want it to be seen by people? never thought the day would come #btw i actually hate writing and im never doing it again. this is my retirement

[pixierainbows]

Pixie, I am autistic, and considered low support needs/high functioning.

I want you to know I consider you a vital part of my autistic community. You’re as important as a heartbeat. You’ve shown me an autistic journey very different from my own and reminded me to always include high support needs/low functioning autistics when I speak out.

I’m so, so, so sorry for the way the wider community has treated you. Please know they do not speak for me, and I will always consider you part of my autistic family. You’re just as important as any of us.

thank you very much ! :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

pixie is very rare get message so kind and welcoming

Pixie really appreciate this message make Pixie all happy wiggles

#asks and answers #actually disabled #actually nonverbal #actually autistic #low functioning #high support needs #full time AAC user #able body

[clangenrising]

Are there any cats in the city, exalted or otherwise, who don't buy into the beliefs of Razor's gang? Or who don't even know of them?

Oh there are definitely cats who don't buy into the beliefs. That's just a statistical inevitability in a population as large as a city. Most of those cats are going to be Chaff or kittypets whose owners moved to the city recently, but there are very likely a few cats who would be considered exalted who don't believe in it either because they never did or because they've had a faith crisis since. That's something I'm planning to explore this year.

As far as cats who don't know about the beliefs? Probably not that many. Any cat who doesn't know about it will quickly be told, especially if they're Chaff. For example, I'm from Utah and a particularly Mormon area of Utah at that. I don't know if I've ever interacted with someone who lived here and didn't know what Mormons were. Some of them who don't believe don't know every intricacy of Mormonism but they all know the gist. It's a lot like that.

#not art #asks and answers #anon asks #City Cats

[ladytauria]

"tell me a secret" with jaytim if youre still taking prompts, been enjoying all of the snippets!

um.

so.

this one ran away with me. a little bit.

it's. it feels very messy. but i like the direction i ended up going with it. i think--- i think i might revisit this premise again. but for now, nonny, i hope you like it!

(also, i'm glad you enjoyed my snippets~)

There are few things worse than truth pollen, in Tim’s opinion. Give him fear gas or sex pollen any day of the week. Losing control of his tongue, confessions spilling from his mouth, helpless to do anything to stop it… It makes him shudder just to think about.

However—

He would gladly have taken a blast of truth pollen right to the face, if it meant Jason wouldn’t have.

Jason’s locked himself in an isolation cell, now, while Tim synthesizes an antidote. The general pollen vaccine had done little to help the effects of this strain. Confessions had tumbled from Jason’s lips all the way home, all through the blood draw. Tim tries hard not to think about them, to forget them completely, but they linger in the back of his mind. Whether he wants them to be or not, he knows they’ve been imprinted in the back of his mind, where they’ll be sorted and cataloged, brought out later if ever he needs them.

He never forgets. It’s something of a curse.

As soon as the antidote finishes, Tim sends it to Jason through a panel in the isolation cell. It should take an hour for it to kick in—Tim will be upstairs, whenever Jason is ready.

~

Two hours pass before Jason joins him. Tim sits at the kitchen island, hands around a mug. Steam still wafts up from it; his face warm and damp where it caresses his skin.

“That better not be coffee,” Jason says. He sounds even grumpier than usual—not that Tim can blame him.

He chooses not to comment on his mood, for the moment.

“It’s not,” he says. “It’s tea.” He pauses. “Herbal tea.”

Jason grunts. 

“There’s some for you on the counter.” He gestures.

Jason rounds the counter, finally coming into view. Tim’s shoulders loosen a little at the sight of him; curls and skin damp from a shower, cotton tee sticking to him. Sweatpants ride low on his hips. His socks have little gray cats on them.

“Did your cameras alert you I was coming up?”

Tim ignores the confrontational sneer in his tone. “No.”

For a moment, Jason’s body tenses like he’s going to challenge him on it—turn it into a fight, until one of them storms out or ends up sleeping in the guest room. Then he finds his tea, in a thermal traveling cup. The tension drains from him, then; weariness in the bow of his shoulders. He takes the cup and joins Tim at the island, settling onto the stool next to his.

Their shoulders brush. Tim knows it’s as close to an apology as he’ll get right now. He brushes against him again when he raises his mug to his mouth; a silent forgiveness.

Jason drinks his tea. He hums softly; a quiet, pleased noise.

They drink in silence. Tim wouldn’t describe it as comfortable, but the air isn’t as thick with tension as it could have been. He knew they would have to address it before they went to sleep; knew, for a while at least, that things would be… delicate. He’s not looking forward to walking on tiptoes—but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than Jason leaving.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tim murmurs, finally. “I’m not— I won’t ask. We can pretend like you never said anything.”

Jason is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. Tim isn’t sure he would have heard it, if he hadn’t been listening for it.

He brushes against him again, as he gets up to put his mug in the sink. He smooths his hand over Jason’s back; from one shoulder to the other as he walks by—both touches a silent reassurance.

He puts his mug in the sink and stops by Jason again. This time, he kisses his temple. “I’m going to bed,” he murmurs. “Join me when you’re ready.”

Jason leans into his touch—turning, when Tim pulls away, to catch around the waist and pull him close. He kisses the corner of Tim’s eye. “I love you,” he murmurs.

Tim squeezes his forearm. “I love you too,” he breathes.

They stay like that for a moment—a long moment. And then, finally, Jason lets him go, smearing another kiss against his skin when he does. Tim lingers a moment more, and then he heads off to their bedroom.

It’s maybe ten, fifteen minutes before Jason joins him, curling up in Tim’s arms; letting Tim plaster himself against his back, sighing sweetly when Tim’s chin rests atop his curls. He tangles their fingers together over their stomach.

Tim falls asleep knowing everything is going to be okay.

~

Tim doesn’t just forget about it. He can’t—though he tries. The things Jason said turn over and over in his mind, every time there’s a lull at work, on patrol, in the quiet moments he spends with Jason. He keeps his word. He doesn’t ask about them. He doesn’t even go digging through Batman’s files, or the city’s files—although the temptation sits heavy on his shoulders.

Instead—he ends up thinking, again and again, about secrets.

About Jason’s. About his own. About all the things that sit, buried deep under his tongue, where he would never dare to speak them aloud. But the more he thinks about the more he sees them as cracks—fissures, things not sitting quietly in himself but things keeping them apart.

He finds himself wanting to dig them up. To look at them in the light, offer them to Jason; see if he finds even those parts of him worth loving.

He wants to do the same to Jason. To look at the ugliest parts of him again—this time without the wrongness of pollen coating them—and cradle them in his hands, tuck them in the spaces between his ribs. Soothe the hurts they left behind.

Tim knows Jason won’t let him.

But.

Tim has never needed reciprocation.

~

He starts offering them, impromptu, in their quiet moments.

“Sometimes I feel more like myself in a dress and heels than I do in a suit,” he confesses, while Jason is reading; Tim’s head in his lap while he plays on his switch. “I’ve thought about looking into it—but honestly. Exploring... that on top of everything else just sounds exhausting.” 

Jason pauses, fingers in Tim’s hair, and says, “If you ever want to, I’ll support you. I’ll love you, no matter what you decide.” 

Tim turns and kisses his stomach.

~

A few days later, they’re cooking together. Tim stirs noodles, while Jason chops vegetables. “The first time I dressed up as a woman, I looked so much like my mother I almost couldn’t leave the manor. I don't think I would have, if not for the mission.”

The knife pauses; the sound of chopping stops. “That must have been a lot,” Jason says, tentatively. 

Tim doesn’t have to look over to know Jason is giving him a weird look. He can feel it on the back of his head.

“It was,” he agrees. “Are you sure I salted this enough?”

~

His next confession is delivered when Tim is donning one of his aliases for an undercover job. Jason is sweet enough to do up his zipper for him.

“I created my first alias when I was seven. I mean, I guess it was more playing pretend, but... I dunno. It felt more serious than that, even then. I kept making more as I got older, trying them on... whenever I felt like it. Now it’s something I do as a hobby, to keep my skills sharp, but there was a time when I wanted to be anyone other than Tim Drake.”

Jason meets his eyes in the mirror; gaze unfathomable. “What changed?”

Tim’s lips quirk. “It’s hard to fall in love as anyone but yourself.”

The flush on Jason’s face is vivid red. Tim is helpless to do anything but turn and kiss him.

~

After a fight, Tim calls Jason. It goes straight to voicemail—not unexpected. It still makes his heart clench. He ignores it, instead offering, 

“Jason… I’m sorry, for what I said, earlier. It— It wasn’t true. I meant it when I said I can live with you killing. I don’t—I don’t… The truth is, I don’t disagree with your methods. I’m tempted to join you, sometimes. A lot of times. I’m tempted to go even further, too. I… Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me from going bad is Dick’s disappointment. Bruce’s, too, but. I don’t care what he thinks as much anymore.

“Some days the temptation is stronger than others, though. And that— It scares me. I cling tighter to the rules in response. I… It’s not an excuse for me to hurt you, though. I’m sorry. I love you. Come home whenever you’re ready.” He’s crying when he finishes, hanging up the phone. Thinks about staying in the basement; distracting himself with cold cases instead of going to bed.

He decides he’s disappointed Jason enough.

Jason comes home that night. Slips into their bed, gathering Tim in his arms. 

“You could never go bad,” he whispers. “You’re too fucking good, Tim.”

Tim shakes his head, burying his face in Jason’s neck. “If I convinced myself it was right, or for a good cause…” He holds him tighter.

Jason is quiet. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Tim doesn’t even hesitate.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t let you.”

Tim knows Jason has broken his own moral code more than once.

He also knows that Jason is far more careful with the people he loves than he is himself.

It’s a trait they share.

So he nods. “Okay.” 

“And you’ll do the same for me,” he says, softly—almost tentatively.

Tim holds him tighter. “Yes.”

He’s quiet for so long Tim thinks he falls asleep. Then, he offers, quietly, “Sometimes I think I’ll go too far, and— You’ll leave. Or that you’ll wake up one day, and realize I’m not going to change, that… That you can’t handle the killing after all. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you.” He doesn’t say, I thought I was losing you tonight, but Tim hears it anyway.

He kisses Jason’s neck. “You won’t,” he says, confidently. “But— If you ever do, or if it looks like you’re going to— I promise I’ll tell you. Warn you. I won’t just disappear without giving you a chance.”

Jason shudders in his arms. He tucks his face in Tim’s hair—Tim cups the back of his neck in response. “Feels like all you’ve given me a hundred second chances,” he whispers.

Tim nuzzles him. “I’ll give you a hundred more. You’re worth it.”

~

Jason starts making his own confessions, after that.

He lights a candle on the coffee table, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood. Then he stops. Turns his lighter over in his hand—flicks it on, then off again.

“I didn’t stop smoking because of how I died, or the Pit, or Talia, or for my health, or—any of the bullshit reasons I told everyone else. Sheila— Cigarettes remind me of her. The way she just sat there and watched.”

Tim stands, stepping into his space. He winds his arms around Jason’s waist. “You deserved better,” he says, quietly.

“We both did.”

‘We’ means Tim and Jason. It also means Sheila and Jason. Tim doesn’t know if he agrees with the latter—but. Whatever else she was, she was Jason’s mother, and that means something to Jason. So, he says nothing. Just presses a kiss to Jason’s shoulder.

~

After a rough patrol, another argument between Jason and Bruce—one that took both Nightwing and Red Robin to break up—Jason sits in the medbay of Tim’s nest, letting him stitch up his arm.

Tim is almost done, when Jason says, “I’ve given up on Bruce killing the Joker for me. I wish he’d let me do it. More than that—I just. I want him to tell me, to my face, that he missed me. That he loved me. That the loss of me was something painful. That—That he still loves me. I don’t. I don’t want to hear it from someone else. But I know— I know he won’t. The man who would have died with me, and sometimes I think that’s the worst of it all.”

Tim snips the thread, laying the needle down. He kisses the skin just above the wound, and lingers there. “I’m sorry.”

Jason is quiet. Then he turns, pressing his nose into Tim’s hair. He doubts it smells great—he hasn’t had time to hit the showers yet—but Jason doesn’t seem to care. “Me too,” he whispers.

~

Tim gets a box of cologne samples in the mail. He’s going through them, just for fun—handing the ones he likes best to Jason. As he passes over the third, Jason says,

“I don’t remember what Mom’s voice sounded like anymore—but. I found the perfume she loved. It was one of the most expensive things we owned. She only got it out for special occasions, or—or when she was sad, and needed something to help remind her of the good times. I— When I smell it, I can almost hear her again. Singing in the kitchen, or… Reading with me on the couch.”

Tim puts the cologne samples down. He tucks himself against Jason’s side and holds him tight. The vulnerability in Jason’s voice, in his expression… It scares Tim almost as much as it awes him. He just— He wants to protect him, to hold the softest parts of Jason close, where nothing and no one can hurt him again.

It’s an impossible wish, but. That won’t stop him from trying.

“Tell me about her?” he asks softly, laying his cheek over Jason’s heart. The steady beat is calming.

Hesitatingly—haltingly—

Jason does.

~

It keeps going. Back and forth.

“Sometimes I think no one actually wants me around—that people are happier when I’m not there.” 

“I think I left a piece of myself in the grave. It hurts less that it’s missing these days, but. It still hurts.”

“I never felt like I was alive until I became Robin. That’s part of why losing it hurt so much.”

“Sometimes Bruce and Dick will mention things—and I don’t remember them. They sound like happy memories, but, when I go poking around, all I can find are blank spaces. It’s fucking terrifying.”

“In the early days—sometimes Bruce would forget, and call me by your name. I… It feels awful to admit, but. Those nights were my favorite.”

“I hate looking in the mirror. For—for a million fucking reasons, but one of ‘em is how much I look like my dad. Like Willis. He wasn’t a bad man, except when he drank. He just… he drank a lot. I don’t want to be him.”

Secrets traded, back and forth. A lot of them big, some of them small. Always in the quietest moments, in the carefullest tones. Each one met with acceptance, with love.

Tim feels freer than he ever has. Not even swinging between buildings leaves his step so light.

He thinks Jason feels the same; thinks he smiles more, now. Tim has caught him humming in the kitchen more than once—finds himself humming the same tune.

Tim has never needed reciprocation to love someone.

Jason has given it to him anyway.

~

Ivy’s not done with truth pollen—determined to perfect this strain. This time, Tim is on the other side of the city when Jason catches a face full. He doesn’t miss a beat; working with Spoiler to wrangle her back to Arkham. As soon as it’s handled, he beelines back to the Nest.

Tim meets him there.

Jason doesn’t lock himself in an isolation cell, this time. He works with Tim to distill the antidote. Tim isn’t foolish enough to believe that all of the secrets Jason has buried in the recesses of his mind have come to light. He knows his haven’t. He knows, too, that for both of them, there are some which never will. That's okay. Jason has shared enough that the pollen’s compulsion has little to cling to; little to nourish its roots.

So this time—he doesn’t talk as much, this time; only the occasional confession spilling from his lips.

Most of them make Tim blush.

It’s a torturous hour—albeit for entirely different reasons than last time—and it ends not with a shared cup of tea but Tim pinned to the wall in the Nest shower, Jason on his knees, worshiping him until stars burst behind his eyes.

Tim turns the tables on him as soon as he remembers which way is up—and then they stumble upstairs, to bed, curling into one another like two mis-matched halves.

Jason tangles their fingers together. “Tell me a secret,” he whispers, to the darkness of the room.

Tim does.

#jaytim #timjay #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #asks and answers #lovely anons #this is almost 3k <3

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hey, fic reader not writer here. I was wondering if writers are conscious of having a core audience of readers?

Like when I go to give kudos to a fic of 1 specific author I see the same 10 names have also given kudos and I have a nice little smile to myself knowing the we have this in common. I just think it's really sweet.

Every writer I've ever talked to about it can easily name their regular commenters and kudosers. If I see the same name pop up in my kudos emails more than a handful of times, I get a swell of pride that someone liked my work enough to read more of it - and when they leave kudos on several works in the same day?? It puts a smile on my face so big that my cheeks hurt 😁

#asks and answers