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Just TimKon Things pt. 3
My best friend at 3 am: Yo, I know what Tim Drake would call his significant other.
Me: What?
Her: "Conner".
Me: ...*giggling*
This inspired:
Jason: Tim, what do you call your s/o?
Tim: I don't know, Jason. I've never thought about it.
Jason: Okay, but theoretically, what would you call them?
Damian: I think he'd just call him "Kon"? I mean it's what he does now.
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fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), Superfamily (Tony and Steve adopt Peter Parker as their son)

summary: Reading bad time stories to your child should be soothing and calming, but not when the tickle monster comes with a visit. 

length: 963 words

a/n: this fic is a part of my 8th Stony Anniversary and is based on this prompt! hope you enjoy the fic, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated and needed!

—————

Story Time

There it was. One of the most beautiful things Steve had ever seen. He had lost hope for seeing it ever again. 

Not caring about people walking by and staring funnily at him, Steve pressed himself into the cool glass of the display window. What were the chances of seeing it ever again. 

Keep reading

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Okay, so @iamwhelmed​ and I were talking about this the other day, and I literally can’t stop thinking about it: Imagine the utter CHAOS that is Christmas morning at Wayne Manor once the Batkids are grown and have their own kids.

So many people. Just. So. Many.

And of course, it’s not just Bruce, Alfred, and their (grand)kids and (great)grandkids, but since Kon and Jon are at the manor every year because of Tim and Damian, Clark and Lois are there every year as well. And of course they bring Ma because, like Alfred, she is immortal.

Ma and Alfred have passive aggressive bake offs that result in enough baked goods to feed a small army, which, well, the Wayne’s and company kind of ARE a small army, so it all works out.

Clark, Dick, and Steph are always wearing ugly Christmas sweaters. One year, Dick takes Bruce’s credit card, and he and Mar’i take a quick trip to Walmart to get everyone else an ugly Christmas sweater as well. Of course, Bruce and Jason and probably a few others are absolutely adamant that they wouldn’t be caught dead in something like the “Get Lit!” Christmas tree sweater that Dick bought, but that’s why Dick recruited Mar’i. One look from her big green puppy dog eyes, and a “Please, Uncle Jason?” or “Pretty please, Grandpa?” and they’re pulling the sweaters over their heads, no questions asked. And then meanwhile, there’s Jon who is just far too excited about the ugly sweaters. (”Look, D, it says ‘Meow-y Christmas!’ and it has a picture of a cat!” he says as Damian face palms, muttering, “Jonathan, you are a grown man.”)

And, of course, they gotta get some family pictures in those ugly Christmas sweaters.

Christmas photos are actually a Whole Process. You gotta get the ones in the ugly sweaters, then the ones in the formal wear. You gotta get the pictures with everyone, then just the Wayne’s, then just the Kent’s, then each couple and their kids, then Bruce and his kids, Clark and his kids, Bruce and his grandkids– the list goes on and on.

As @iamwhelmed pointed out, Tim would probably be in charge of family pictures, but once he and Kon start having kids, managing a toddling quarter-Kryptonian while simultaneously trying to get his whole, chaotic extended family to stay still enough long enough for the ordeal that is Wayne-Style Family Photos is too much, so Bruce ends up hiring a photographer.

But a bunch of Bruce’s kids married aliens. Which means most of his grandkids are at least part alien. (I have to imagine that TimKon and DamiJon would have gotten surrogates and used Kon and Jon’s DNA respectively because, ya know, gotta save their dying species.)

And these little baby Kryptonians and Tameraneans probably don’t have complete control over their powers yet, so half-way through the photo shoot, Mar’i Grayson accidentally shoots a starbolt at the floor, and Tim and Kon’s son sneezes and a whole gust of freeze breath comes out, and Damian and Jon’s daughter just starts floating towards the ceiling, and Jon has to fly up to go grab her.

So Bruce, in all of his Tired Dad/Grandpa glory just slips the wide-eyed photographer and extra $100 and with a sigh asks, “Could I get you to sign an NDA?”

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“You good to go?”

Jon double-checked his backpack and the gift bag holding all twenty-five Valentine’s cards. He gave a thumbs-up.

“Good,” said the man. “And don’t forget to zip your jacket; it’s cold out. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Dad!”

Jon zipped his jacket and hopped out of the car. The chill nipped his ears like birds at a feeder. Like the many yesterdays before, he joined the sea of children trickling into the stout brick building. He smiled at a pair of kindergarteners half his size sprinting by, hand-in-hand, their wet boots making little pitter-patters on the pavement. 

And like always, Jon located his locker—Kent, Locker Number 2015—and inputted his combination. Valentine’s cards wouldn’t be exchanged until later, so he hung the bag by its strings next to his coat.

Plopping his things onto his desk, the first thing Jon noticed was a spiky-haired boy talking to the teacher. The second thing he noticed was that the boy looked like the people Jon’s parents worked with—a black turtleneck sweater with beige pants and a coffee cup in one hand. Jon knew everyone else in his homeroom, so this boy must be new.

The teacher pointed in Jon’s direction. It took him a second to realize that they were looking at the empty desk across from him. Jon flashed his brightest smile and waved.

“Hiya!” he chirped. “What’s your name?”

“Damian,” the boy answered flatly, opening the desk and unloading the brand-new supplies from his backpack.

Jon rested his chin in his hands, legs swinging underneath the desk. “Nice to meet you, Damian! I’m Jon. So, where are you from?” 

Damian scoffed as he stacked his notebooks. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just ‘cause,” said Jon. 

“Gotham.”

“Ooh, I’ve heard of Gotham!” Jon replied. “My dad went there once to interview some people from the Wayne Foundation. What’s it like?”

“Horrible.”

“What was your old school like?”

“Must you ask so many questions?” Damian snapped. “Just be quiet and let me fulfill this godawful obligation in peace.”

That was enough to silence Jon… for about thirty seconds. Then he asked, “What does ‘obligation’ mean?”

Damian raised his hand. “Miss, I request a seating change.”

The teacher looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Damian, but that’s the only spot we have left.”

.

.

Read the rest on Ao3

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Continuum - Chapter 5 Preview

image

Behind? Catch up HERE 😊

Amazing moodboard created by @crownofstardustandbone @therollingstonys thank you so much! 💖

********

“Pictures of what?” Ned asked as he suddenly appeared behind Peter’s left shoulder. Peter jumped, almost knocking into Gwen as he grabbed her hand, tugging her around.


“Jesus, Ned!” Peter exclaimed. “Dude, you can’t sneak up on me like that!”


Ned’s eyebrows knitted together. “Um… I didn’t, but okay. But what’re you taking pictures of?”


“Peter’s gonna get a telescope this coming weekend,” said Gwen.


“Really?” Ned said. “Dude, that’s so cool! Are you gonna let us come over and see it once you get it set up?”


“Ah, it’s gonna be up at the Compound,” said Peter. “Sorry.”


“Oh,” Ned said. “Well, I guess that makes more sense, since upstate’s probably better for stargazing. It just kinda sucks that you’ve gotta go up there every single weekend.”


“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Peter said. “It’s actually kinda nice to get out of the city every now and then. It’s a lot quieter up there.”


“Yeah, I guess. But since when did you like it quiet?” Ned asked. “You know what, nevermind. Wait till you hear what my mom heard yesterday at her book club.”


“You mean her gossip club, right?” Gwen asked as they made their way towards their homeroom classroom. “‘Cause I swear all your mom seems to do there is talk about people.”


“Well… yeah, that is part of it,” Ned admitted. “You know my mom just likes to know what’s going on, so…” He gave his head a quick shake. “Anyway, she told me that one of her friends was walking in the city on Saturday afternoon and saw Dr Stephen Strange go into a comic book store.”


“Who?” asked Gwen, shooting Peter a questioning look. “Am I supposed to know who that is or something?”


“He’s that rich doctor that drove his car off a mountain a few months ago,” said Peter. “The neurosurgeon?” He didn’t add that Dad had disliked Dr Strange ever since he and Papa had tried to get him to consult on Peter during his weeks-long coma after the battle in the Miami bunker, and that the surgeon had flat-out refused because he’d said that he didn’t work on children.


And no amount of begging, pleading, or bribing could get him to change his mind.


Oh well, it’d probably been for the best anyway. From what Peter had heard about Dr Strange, he was a massive jerk, and Dad did not have a good track record dealing with medical professionals who were jerks. Dad was amazingly generous with most of the doctors and nurses who had treated Peter back when he was little, and sick most of the time, but Peter had witnessed him dressing down plenty of arrogant or jerky ones too. Since Dad had enough intelligence and knowledge to pretty much get his own medical degree in any number of fields, he tended to figure out who he could trust and who he could not very quickly.


As it turned out, Dr Strange wouldn’t have been able to do anything for Peter anyway, and not getting him involved ended up saving his dads from having to explain Peter’s genetic mutation and enhancements to yet another person outside their family.


Now that Ned had brought him up, though, Peter had to admit he was pretty curious as to what the former surgeon had been up to in the last several months.


“Oh, yeah, I remember my dad saying something about that,” Gwen said with a nod. “Okay… so…?”


“Well, I guess after his accident, he kinda went nuts trying to find a cure for the nerve damage in his hands. Ended up selling just about everything he owned to try some really weird treatments,” said Ned. “And then one day he just up and disappeared. My mom’s friend thought he was dead until she saw him again.”


The full chapter will post on Monday, September 28th 😊

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“Daddy, where are you?” Tony sat down his tools he was using to tinker away with a new invention of his. He really didn’t know what it was yet, but Tony knew he would figure it out.

“I’m down here sweety.” Next thing he knew he heard little footsteps run down the steps towards him. Tony looked up and saw his little girl standing in the doorway in one of her princess dresses looking bored. Brooklyn had both hands on her hips looking unsatisfied.

“Where’s pops and James? I wanted them to play king and queens with me” She ran and jumped into his lap making him huff in pain. Brooklyn’s knees hitting places he really didn’t want to be hit.

“Well, James is over at Uncle Thor and Uncle Bruce’s house. Pops over at the compound talking with Uncle Sam. So, if you want to play King and Queens I will.” Shook her head no violently hitting him in the face with her hair.

“No, you aren’t good at playing pretend.” Tony gave her an offended look. How could she say he wasn’t good at pretending? He just likes to make the pretend a little more realistic. Sue him. “Well do you want to do something else. We can have a daddy-daughter day.” Brooklyn jumped down and started dancing around.

“Let’s have a dance party daddy. Mr. JARVIS, please play Brown Eye Girl.” She grabbed hold of both of her dad’s hands pulling him to his feet.

“Why did you choose this song, munchkin?” She gave him a big toothless grin.

“Because daddy, it’s our song.” It was their song. Tony had been singing this song to Brooklyn before she was born. He didn’t know if she would be born with brown eyes, but he had a hunch. Luckily, she was born with brown eyes. Tony would sing it every night before she went to sleep. Tony spun her around and she giggled.

“My brown eyed girl.” Tony pointed at her still singing along. “You, my brown eyed girl.” He picked her up in his arms shaking her around and having fun. He didn’t want his baby girl to grow up because he would miss these moments too much.

“Sha la la la la.” They sang together.

Brooklyn stood in her bedroom looking at the photograph of her and her dad together. A wave of sadness washed over her. She was soon going away to college; soon leaving behind her family. It wasn’t like she wasn’t ready to grow up, but she did miss the little moments.

“Hey, Brooklyn, you ready. Do you need help with your hair or makeup?” She spun around to see her dad standing in the doorway. She rushed to him making him wrap his arms around her. Tony was taken back by the sudden hug and the tears that were soaking his jacket. It was a rough day for all of them. Brooklyn was graduating. Steve and Tony’s last bird was leaving the nest.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You are going to smudge your eyeliner.” She laughed as the sobs were broken up. She pulled back and he wiped the tears that were running down her face.

“I was looking at old photos and got sad.” Tony looked over and knew exactly what that photo was from.

“Jarvis, play Brown Eye girl.” Tony stuck out a hand and gave her puppy dog eyes. “One last dance, for your old man.” She gave him a smile and took his hand.

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I’m planning out all of my whumptober fics, so if you’re interested in knowing what I will be posting, click to read more for relationships, prompt, and word count! If it’s marked with [C] that means I’ve completed it. [P] means that it is in progress. If they’re blank, I haven’t started writing them yet. Feel free to ask me anything if you’re interested in knowing more! Talking about projects always gets me excited and motivated. If you see an empty day and want to make a request, I’m more than happy to listen to your ideas. Even if it already has a prompt and relationship chosen, give me an idea you’d like to see! For some, I just picked something I knew I’d like to write but don’t have a specific idea yet. 

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