SO

dani and i are doing a jaytim ficathon this weekend and we want as many prompts as possible. anything goes, but ESPECIALLY au and tropes.

please leave a prompt for us here~

bucketdraws:


“Gentleman by day.” He bowed theatrically before spinning, and dropping low again, into a placid crouch, eyes moving around the room with an almost leisurely quality. “Opportunist by night.” The man stood slowly from his crouch, catching the zipper that ran up his chest on one clawed finger and dragging it down a few inches,“Pervert by choice.” Kon crushed the urge to lick his lips. [x]

A thing for Fishy's ongoing fic, and also very timely birthday 8)
Hope you like it! 

bucketdraws:

“Gentleman by day.” He bowed theatrically before spinning, and dropping low again, into a placid crouch, eyes moving around the room with an almost leisurely quality. “Opportunist by night.” The man stood slowly from his crouch, catching the zipper that ran up his chest on one clawed finger and dragging it down a few inches,

“Pervert by choice.” Kon crushed the urge to lick his lips. [x]

A thing for Fishy's ongoing fic, and also very timely birthday 8)

Hope you like it! 

Anonymous asked: "jaytim, lazarus!tim"

so this is so gross and sappy. a great chance to write dark!tim and my whole brain was like, what about if we did small, squishy feelings instead.

Tim Drake had been killed one year and eight months ago, to the day.

Officially, Tim Drake had been killed by a mugger. Unofficially, Red Robin had taken two bullets in the bottom of the jaw for interrupting a mugger who had lucky aim and a handgun in his waistband.

Only Red Robin was reckless enough to patrol only without a hint of sleep in more than 60 hours.

Jason was aware it had been exactly one year and eight months because he had taken it personally. He was the reckless Robin that got killed in action. Although, it would be just like his replacement to follow suit, now, wouldn’t it.

At least, that’s how Jason convinced himself he felt about it.

It conflicted with the absolutely brutal torture and killing of a nameless and insignificant mugger in Gotham that had drawn to a prompt close just in time for a man in sunglasses and a cheap suit to attend a private funeral at Wayne Manor.

Tim Drake had died one year and eight months ago, so the last thing Jason had expected to see in his safe house was Tim Drake, who looked alarmingly comfortable, in both the sense that he was supposed to be deceased and the fact that it was Tim Drake, who relaxed about as frequently as Jason sang opera. (Very, very infrequently, always alone, and with almost exclusively bad results.)

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