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When I was a kid i had this idea of "saving" like you would do in a game. So whenever I felt particularly content i would take a note of my surroundings and âsaveâ that momentđ
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The main difference between me and my cat is that when she sleeps all day and does nothing productive, she doesnât feel crushing guilt and overwhelming societal pressure.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Itâs that time again (and the last Wednesday before the new year) where the amazing WIP Wednesday Game community push me to do the thing and actually write. Thank you @rainy-weather-supremacy , @auburnlaughter , and @eriquin for the Broken Glass chapter 2 request. đ
Chapter 1 can be found here
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Tim is curled impossibly small in the corner of the bed, just a puff of dark hair under a mound of blankets. From the gentle rise and fall of the blankets, Roy is ninety-nine percent sure the former Robin is asleep. He hasnât moved since Jay carefully tucked him in 45 minutes ago, hasnât uttered so much as a peep, doing the whole unnaturally-still Bat-thing Batman trained each of his Robinâs.Â
Out of the cape and into the Hood, Jay still had a habit of scaring the daylights out of him, and theyâd been together over three years.Â
Roy opened another panicked text from Dick, trying to reassure one of his best friends that they had things handled. Word traveled fast when one of the birds was down for the count and Timâit had been a rough couple of years. For everyone.Â
So, Dick, ever the mother hen, was frantic.Â
And Jason?Â
Jason stalked the hallway outside the bedroom, quietly hissing to Barbara on the other end of the comm, checked and rechecking security footage, his security system, searching for something, anything, to explain why their wayward bird was wandering around in the middle of the night barefoot and bleeding.Â
âWhat do you mean you donât know? Check again.â Jay growled, trying to keep his voice low. The veins stood out on his neck. He wasnât just pissedâhe was scared and they both knew it.Â
Fill requests by @adhdavinci @whimsicalmeerkat @itswrenly @twyrewolf @zyrafowe-sny @auburnlaughter @quietlysleeping @somefishycat for my future Whumpcember day 15 â Broken Glass for JayRoyTim.
Requests were made in the amazing Wednesday Wip Game Community. Thank you so much for pushing me to write! I hope you check us out and play!
This is written in tandem with @ditzyredrobin.
CW: Blood and injury
-
Tim blinked dumbly, looking up from the blood pooling in the palm of his hand. After a long pause, Tim is able to gather enough brain juice to make sense of his surroundings in the dim glow of sodium lights. âI think Iâm near the video rental,â the pain is a distant thing, blood oozing between his fingers. âThe one we went to last week near Raoâs.â
Jay is coming.
Jay is coming for him.
Thereâs soft voices over the line again as Roy seemingly relays the info before heâs back, giving Tim his undivided attention. âJay is on his way. Can you tell me how much youâre bleeding?â
âA little,â Tim supplies numbly. âI cut my hand.â
âA little by vigilante standards or civilian standards?â
Tim pauses to think, âCivilian.â
âThatâs good, Iâm glad.â Roy sounds pleased and it sends a little thrill down his spine. âLucky for you, youâre not very far from the apartment. Are you hurt anywhere else?â
Timâs eyes burn, and he nods. âMy feet hurt, I stepped on glass.â
âWe can fix that.â Roy promises, muffling another yawn.
âIâm sorry.â It was late (early?) for a vigilante.
âDonât be. You know weâre happy to help you anytime you need, even if itâs late.â Tim nods again even though Roy canât see it, hugging his knees to his chest. The damp pavement was soaking in through his night pants sending goosebumps down his arms and legs.
He tries to will himself to say something along the lines of, Iâm okay, no seriously Iâm fine, or like seriously okay, but headlights illuminate the alleyway before he can say anything.
A beat up Honda pulls up in front of the alleyway, headlights illuminating it with more light than should be allowed. Tim squints against the light as Jay steps out of the beat up SUV. He rounds the hood, outlined by the headlights.
âJay,â Tim breathes.
Roy says something but he canât make it out, his voice a distant din, because Jay is here.
His hair is mussed with sleep with dark shadows under his eyes and a furrowed brow. One look at Tim and heâs shrugging off his leather jacket, wrapping it around his shoulders. It smells like Marlboro Reds and aftershave and itâs the first time Tim feels like he can breathe.
It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.
At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return.Â
It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzyâs face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.
Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug.Â
âIsrael-goddamn-Hands!â he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging âSamuel-fucking-Bellamyâ, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he canât keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.
(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)
By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still thereâs an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mateâs aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.
When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.
Knowing that somethingâs different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal heâs been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. âIsrael, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safeâ
And Izzy⌠hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam â...Weâre staying in port for a week. Ask me again thenâ
That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.
Some of the more from @corefourweek are throwing one last even next year and prompt submissions are OPEN! @timkonweekend will run from October 31st through November 2nd.
If youâre interested check both events out! Submissions are open for @corefourweek until December 19th!
The fill I forgot to post last week for @post-and-out. Thank you for pushing my to write!
Requests were made in the amazing Wednesday Wip Game Community. Thank you so much for pushing me to write! I hope you check us out and play!
Written in tandem with @ditzyredrobin
BW24 - 269/Kit (CW: for needles, minor blood and injury)
-
Jasonâs threads the needle through flesh with the ease of a man whoâs done this a million times over, fingers nimble and quick yet with an air of caution. Their little bird was already starting to crash, hitting the wrong side of adrenaline, listing to one side. His eyes glazed over and the dark bags under his eyes more prominent.
On Jasonâs other side, Roy is perched on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like he was five. The tackle box of a first aid kit was spilled out between them, a fresh suture kit neatly laid out and ready.
âCan you stop?â Jason growls, not looking up from his continuous row of sutures. The cut was clean and not very long but the piece of shrapnel had cut deepâdeep enough butterfly stitches werenât enough. âI donât know if you can tell but Iâm in the middle of something right now.â
âI can,â Roy grins but continues swinging his legs.
Jason has to suppress a groan, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the steady thump thump thump of Royâs socked feet again the kitchen cabinets made his jaw ache.
Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out, he reminds himself.
âI can finish up by myself,â Tim mumbles, words almost incoherent. He looked dead on his feet even before he was sat down. âIâm sure thereâs a lot of stuff to doâI canât âI can finish the stitches and you canââ
âYeah, no, sorry to burst your bubble, sweets, but that ainât happening.â Jason snaps. âYou couldnât even get out of your suit on your own. So stitches? Thatâs outta the question.â
Tim glared up at him, looking more like a child upset they werenât getting a second round of dessert, than a fearsome Red Robin.
âAhhh, you know you look like one of those little kid memes when youâre mad.â Roy grinned.
If looks could kill, the one Tim turned on him wouldâve had Roy vaporized on the spot.
âRoy,â Jason warned. âIf you donât knock it the fuck off, Iâm not going to stop Tim when he decides enough is enough, you feel me?â
Roy snickered, âCâmon, Jay, you know you wouldnât let Little Red hurt me.â
Jason paused, shooting Roy a look. âWhat makes you so sure about that? This whole thing is your fault so as far as Iâm aware, itâs fair game.â
âAw, donât be like that. You know you love me.â Roy pouts, crossing his arms. âAnd it was an accident and you know it.â
âBabe, I said I was sorry, plus itâs not my fault I thought you said go, not no. My comm was busted, remember?â
âThere were options, Roy, you almost got him killed.â A green haze was starting to creep along beyond the field of his vision, liquid and oozing like the pit. âAnd you-â Jason snapped, turning his ire on their little bird. âWhy hadnât you cleared out? If I remember correctly, you called the all clear before Roy got trigger happy.â
Timâs expression twisted, and he looked down at his newly sprinted wrist and ankle. âIâm sorry. I thought I had more time.â
âYeah, no, sorry isnât gonna cut I this time. That was a stupid call even for you.â Tim opened his mouth to speak but Jason cut him off. âYouâre lucky a broken wrist, a sprain ankle, and some stitches is all you got away with. For that, youâre benched.â
âNo,â Tim snapped quickly. âYou canât do this youâre not myââ
âYou want me to call Dickie.â Jason countered. ââCause I will and you know how he gets when one of his little birds is hurt.â
âYou wouldnât.â
Jason smirked, âWouldnât I?â
Tim grumbled under his breath but didnât say anything else, earning a laugh from Roy.
âAnd you,â Jason turns to Roy. As far as he was concerned Roy wasnât getting away with shit either. âYouâre out too until Timmy is better.â
âWhat? Why me?â Roy said, aghast.
âDid the crime, face the time. You caused Tim to get hurt, you get to put him back together.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Fill requests for @wizisbored @twyrewolf @aparticularbandit @somefishycat @zyrafowe-sny @eriquin @bald-rights @asha10100101010 @enigma-the-mysterious for Whumpcember Day 15 - broken glass.
Requests were made in the amazing Wednesday Wip Game Community. Thank you so much for pushing me to write! I hope you check us out and play!
Written in tandem with @ditzyredrobin.
CW: minor blood and injury
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âIâm sorry,â Tim whispers, hot tears finally slipping down his cheeks. âI didnât mean to.â
âOh, doll, come âere,â Jason sighs, gathering their Baby Bird in his arms like the delicate thing he is. âYou donât gotta be sorry about anything, me ân Roy are always gonna come when you cry. You hear me?â
âBut-â
âBut nothing. Donât gotta to worry âbout nothing but beinâ here with me now, yeah?â Jason says, in that silky, loving drawl of his. ââsides, if anything, I should say sorry to you. I wouldnât expect Roy to let you go âtil at least the bottoms of your feet have healed up.â
A week or so of cuddles on the couch might be nice, he thinks absently, burrowing into Jasonâs neck. Heâs warm and solid and protects him from the lazy Gotham drizzle.
âThat Roy still on the phone?â Jason rumbles, cradling him to his chest with one arm, using his free hand to open the passenger side door.
âOh,â Tim blinks, pulling the phone away, Roy with Lian, grinning, covered in ice cream after an ice cream fight Jason was less than thrilled about. âYes.â
Jason settles him in the car, the heated seat already on high and toasty under his ass, âCan I talk to him?â
âOkay,â Tim agrees distantly, holding it out. He doesnât think thereâs anything else he can say.
Jason, ignoring the blood smears on the screen, takes it, holding it between his shoulder and ear as he buckles him in. He pushes Tim back against the headrest, his hand gentle yet firm.
Tim just rolls with it.
The heater is on full blast but it doesnât fully chase away the chill.
He becomes aware of the seatbelt clicking into place and Jason taking above him but the words donât register. He doesnât mind, though, letting his eyes shut.
When he opens his eyes again, Roy is opening his door, eyes wide and so so green, looking a little frantic.
âPretty,â Tim mumbles, letting himself be manhandled out of the car.
Jason snorts behind him which Roy pointedly ignores, but a little tension eases from his shoulders. âLetâs get you upstairs, âkay? I have dry clothes and a hot bath waiting for you once we get you patched up. Sound good?â
Dry clothes sounded nice, a bath with his vigilante boyfriends sounded even better.
Roy just smiled and bundled him in close to his chest. When Tim blinked again, he was sat on Royâs lap while Jason tsked over his over his feet. The tackle box of a first-aid kit was spilled out over the bathroom counter.
âI donât like this one but, Sweets, somethinâ just ainât addinâ up. Why was he out there barefoot in the first place?â
Roy hums considering and smoothes the hair off of Timâs forehead, his touch more gentle than his motherâs. âWeâll just have to wait and ask him,â he says gently. âWhat do you think, Timmy?â
Tim nods dumbly and winces when Jason pulls out another shard of glass. Jason looks up with an almost apologetic look and Roy presses a kiss to his hair.
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