#deepwithintheabyss

[ragnarokhound]

putting in my order

I'll want this on my desk by *checks clock* april 31th

Skxnfjsk I'll add it to the WIP pile 😂 I'm working on a secret project rn, and ww fic continues to sit on the backburner 😔 but you got it captain o7 I do intensely crave this for Tim... Maybe au where Jason is the babysitter who takes the job but doesn't expect the young professional dilf who has no idea what he's doing... Who unexpectedly helps heal the damaged relationship between Tim and the rest of his estranged family... Hmm... Possibilities...

#deepwithintheabyss #asked and answered #jaytim #*sobs as the wip mountain ascends to the heavens

[ladytauria]

27. "I'm pregnant" With DickTim (but perhaps both are very much cis and the person who said it is drunk or got hit on the head or idk)

it took me a sec to figure out what i wanted to do for this prompt; and then when i did, how to execute it, but. i had a lot of fun writing this prompt, lol. i hope you enjoy!

“I cannot believe the love of my life would betray me like this,” Dick says, pressing his hand to his heart, dramatics fueled by the way Tim’s eyes are dancing. “How could you, Timmy?” His voice wavers with suppressed mirth.

Tim bites back laughter. He’s unfairly pretty, wearing one of Dick’s old university tees over lounge pants; face flushed pink with both amusement and the wine they’d been drinking. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No— I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you! But you— I can’t recover from this.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, baby, but—” He blinks rapidly, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “It’s over.”

Tim clutches his hands over his chest. “You can’t leave me.” There’s a flash of something playful and wicked on his face before his eyes go wide and round. He steps forward, clutching at Dick’s arm with one hand, the other falling over his stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Dick chokes. “You’re—”

They stare at each other for a moment, and then—Dick’s not sure which of them cracks first, only that they fall into each other, both of them shaking with laughter as they sink to the floor.

Eventually, their mirth fades; giggles slowly coming to an end. Tim lets go of Dick’s arm so he can pull it around his shoulders, settling against Dick’s side. Dick slips his hand under Tim’s t-shirt, cupping his hip and stroking his skin with his thumb. Tim hums, resting his head on Dick’s shoulder, tipping back to look up at him.

“Love of your life, huh?” he whispers, stroking his fingers over Dick’s forearm.

Dick’s face warms. “I— Well.” Dick is an affectionate person, especially when they’re alone. There’s nothing he loves more than to wrap himself around Tim and remind him—physically, verbally—that he loves him. Call him a sap, a sentimental fool, he doesn’t care. But—hearing the joking phrase echoed back at him… it trips him up, a little.

Tim’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. It’s a soft, sweet smile, one reserved for Dick alone. It never fails to make him feel all gooey inside. “You’re the love of mine, too,” he murmurs, turning so he can smear a kiss on Dick’s neck.

Dick would swear his heart was doing quadruple somersaults in his chest. “Yeah?” His voice is almost embarrassingly breathless.

“Yeah,” he whispers, reaching up to stroke over Dick’s cheek.

Dick leans into it, then turns to kiss Tim’s palm. He lets the kiss linger for a moment. Then, he scoops Tim up, manhandling him into his lap; earning a startled intake of breath and then a surprised, pleased smile as Tim winds his arms around his neck. Dick cups his face, peppering kisses all over it, until Tim is shaking with giggles again.

Then he stops, nose against Tim’s cheek, lips at his jaw. “So… about that pregnancy,” he says, leadingly.

Tim huffs a laugh. “I can’t get pregnant, Dick. You know that.”

Dick sucks a kiss into his jaw, delighting in the sharp intake of breath that gets him. “I dunno, Timmy,” he murmurs. “Won’t know unless we try, will we?”

Tim grips his shoulder with one hand. The other tangles in his hair. “You— You know, you might be right. Might, uh. We might have to try a few times. Just to make sure.”

Dick’s hands slip under Tim’s borrowed t-shirt. “I vote we start now,” he says, trailing his mouth down Tim’s jaw.

Tim gasps again, fingers tightening in Dick’s hair. “Motion granted,” he says, and tugs Dick’s head back to capture his mouth in a searing kiss.

[ prompt list ]

Read it on AO3

#this is kinda messy im sorry xD #also it might be on of the silliest things ive ever written xDDD #thank u for the prompt! #deepwithintheabyss #asks and answers #tauriawrites #tauriawritesfanfic #dicktim #dcu

[gerryrigged]

Any good possessive Dark Manipulating DickTim recs?

I'm craving again but currently not finding the ones I liked

Hmmm, not as many as I would like, tbh! But here are some that I was able to find digging through my bookmarks - as always, please heed the warnings in the tags!

Reality, by Miss Anne Thropy (Rahndom) - 5.2k. With the caveat that dark manipulating Dick is stealing Tim away from Damian in this, so it's not pure Dick/Tim.

Summary: Tim thinks he is going crazy, with the imaginary city, imaginary superhero and imaginary lover inside of his head. His brother will comfort him and keep him safe forever.

grounded, by Buna - 2k.

Summary: There are many ways to keep an omega grounded and bound to the pack. And with Tim's heat coming at such a convenient time, keeping Tim close might not be much of a problem.

Red in Tooth and Claw, by vellaphoria - 5.7k WIP. Vampire King Dick being a perfect bastard, which we all love 🥰

Summary: Dick stands in the doorway, silhouetted in sharp edges by the dying light. Sharper still is his smile, fanged and gleaming. There's nowhere left for Tim to run.

Talon's Wings, by Miss Anne Thropy (Rahndom) - 15.8k WIP technically but it ends in a place that wraps things fairly well imo.

Summary: Dick Grayson is abducted after his parents' tragic demise. He is forced into this void with nothing to see, nothing to feel. They want to break him, they want to train him, the want to destroy him. They would have succeeded if his savior, his little angel, wasn't there to protect him from the void.

Obscura, by lacemonster - 20.1k.

>>> Okay this one I really strongly caveat and emphasize that it is dark, and not in a tantalizing or titillating way like a lot of dark fics can be. This is very skillfully written to be deeply disturbing, and I was! in fact! deeply disturbed coming out of it and to be perfectly honest I never want to read it again, lmao! >_>;; but it is really well written for what it is, and it is definitely squarely in the dark, manipulating DickTim genre, so. Here it is.

Please take the rape/non-con, stalking, dead dove, and bad ending warnings seriously in considering whether to read.

Summary: Tim can't shake off the feeling that he's being followed. Too afraid and ashamed to tell anyone, Tim tries to capture the stalker himself. But the closer Tim gets to the truth, the more he doubts his own resolve as a vigilante.

#fic recs #dicktim #deepwithintheabyss #tw darkfic #asks #gerryrigged

[meaninglessblah-writes]

trick or treat!

Something darker for those chilling Halloween nights... Hope you enjoy Slade and Tim caught up in some predicament bondage, of sorts 💙

⚠️ Warnings for mutual non-con, torture, and non-consensual drugging.

The choice seemed easier, when it was just a concept.

Tim watches the pink liquid climb higher, up the length of the cannula, and disappear beneath the gauze stuck to the top of his hand. He sucks in a sharp breath, even though he can't feel anything yet, and tries to calm his racing heart.

"What will it be for you, Terminator?" the voice asks from the speaker box. Slade answers it with a growl, and Tim swallows harshly at the thick scent of rage in his nose. "If you don't choose," the voice sing-songs, "we'll choose for you."

"Trick," Slade bites out, and Tim feels him jolt when the collar around his neck lights up. It makes Slade shove forwards, and Tim topples over with the force, scrambling to keep himself from faceplanting into the soft mattress beneath them. The motion brings with it a wicked spark of pleasure, and Tim feels a wash of guilt at getting off on Slade's pain.

He can feel the heavy wash of Slade's breath on his neck as the alpha struggles to recover. Tim's lost count of how many hits Slade has had now. He's taken a few himself, partly out of curiosity, and partly to slow the compounding effects of the drug being steadily pumped into his system. Tim's hoping, if his calculations are decent, that the aphrodisiac won't fully saturate his bloodwork for another half hour. It doesn't make the clock feel any friendlier.

"Let's make this more interesting," the speaker box suggests. Tim's fists clench in the sheets, head dipping as he summons his resolve. "What's your choice, Robin?"

Tim does the maths, and comes up with the same choice. "Treat."

Nothing comes up the transparent piping. Tim stares at his cannula for the longest moment, until, behind him, Slade's snarls.

"Your turn, Terminator."

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Slade vows, and the snap of his teeth at the back of Tim's neck makes him shudder all over. Slade reigns in his temper enough to growl, "Trick."

Tim's not sure why it takes him so long to work it out. Maybe his calculations were wrong. Maybe the drug is affecting him more than he realised.

It doesn't make much difference when Tim's neck lights up in a ring of fire.

He screams, the cuffs keeping him pinned on his hands and knees pulling taunt against his skin. It hurts, and Slade is bellowing something at the speaker box. Tim wants to fold into the mattress and cry.

The burning stops, but Tim's throat feels scoured raw, inside and out.

"That choice wasn't for him!" Slade is shouting, at no one and nothing. His hands are fists in their cuffs, nails hitching into the sheets like claws. Tim can see them where they bracket his own, the metal rods between their wrists keeping them both aligned. Joined, Tim thinks, in more ways than one. "You sick bastards!"

The speaker box ignores him. "You're up again, Robin. What will it be this time? Trick or treat?"

Tim feels weak. He feels nauseous. He doesn't want another dose. He doesn't want to be electrocuted more.

"Treat," he answers, resigned.

"Let's double it up this time!" the speaker box announces gleefully, and Tim whines at the sight of the pink liquid climbing up the piping. Tim wonders if Slade feels as nauseous at the sight as he does.

Slade is panting again, knees shifting in discomfort where they're braced over Tim's. Every roll of his hips grinds his cock deeper into Tim, his knot tugging on Tim's walls.

"It's double jeopardy, Terminator. What's your choice? Trick? Or Treat?"

Every second Slade hesitates feels like another nail in Tim's coffin. He's not even sure which he wants Slade to choose. He desperately wishes they could talk about this, strategize, come up with a plan. But Slade has said barely a word to him since they woke up in this compromising position, and Tim doesn't think he's likely to get chatty soon.

"Terminator—"

"Treat," Slade bites out, and Tim can't hold back his groan.

It's mirrored by Slade, as Tim watches the aphrodisiac dose him up again. He feels hot all over, his skin too tight. Every shift of his hips sends sparks ricocheting through his stomach. Every clench of his thighs makes him see stars. The itch of drying slick on his skin is slowly driving Tim insane.

"I can't take much more of this," Tim mumbles, just loud enough for Slade to hear. A warning and a plea.

"Robin looks like he's enjoying himself a bit much — what a naughty little bird," the speaker box chastises. Tim shudders all over, and the moan that breaks free of Slade's lips doesn't sound pained at all. "Let's help him out with a controlled shock."

Tim braces for the pain. It doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't make it easier to deal with either, and after a few seconds of live-wire agony, Tim is back to screaming again.

"Please," he whimpers, when the aftershocks fade. His cheeks are wet, and Tim buries them in the sheets. "Please."

"I think we went a bit hard on him, Terminator," the speaker box is saying.

"Kid," Slade murmurs above him, voice cruelly soft. Tim doesn't lift his head.

"I'll give you a chance to help him out. Robin says he likes his treats. If you make him come, I'll let him off for this next one."

"Go to hell," Slade snarls, but Tim stirs enough to push himself upright.

"Do it," he rasps, tilting his hips back into Slade's. Even that small adjustment makes him moan, pleasure thrumming through his drugged veins. "Just do it."

#meaninglessblah answers #231029 #deepwithintheabyss

[felinemotif]

hmmm Kurikiribocho and Samehada beloved

hungering for the most basic things in that world

Blood and Chakra

half the reason i love kiri so much is bc of their swords and lore

everything abt them is just so interesting and dynamic and i wish it was delved into more

#i have a wip for a suigetsu/kiba e2l political marriage fic set in kiri #so far the first chapter and the summary is done but that’s it #one day i’ll post it but until then i will just marinate in my love for kiri and its swordsman (and women looking at you ameyuri) #deepwithintheabyss #replies

[marirah]

you were literally the cause for my Talon brainrot that lasted like a solid month

talon brain rot is so freaking real

#deepwithintheabyss #marirah speaks

[mommytimmy]

YOU

You get it, small things are bite sized and belong in mouth

yeah ikr! you see something as smol as that jason bb and you just have the urge to put him in ur mouth ♥

#ask #deepwithintheabyss

[lazaruspiss]

i like your new decision of torturing baby dickie at the circus xD

putting him thru The Horrors <3 (i have a lot of mini fics planned for that series that'll be in a similar vein :3)

#asks #deepwithintheabyss

[notholaenas]

I'm curious, what canvas size do you use? / with what brush size do you usually work for line art

hey! i use 2500x3500 px canvas (300dpi) with 7.00-30.00px brush size (it depends on what i'm drawing or how i feel at the moment hehe)

#ask box #deepwithintheabyss

[ragnarokhound]

tricke or treate?

Hoo hoo hoo 3 paragraph vamp&wolf jaytim for you:

Jason pants against the hard concrete, grinding his forehead into the cold stone as the last of his bones settle, aching with the change. He can't feel the sun on his skin down here, but he knows the moon has slunk away at last. Another month of freedom won. He lies there, shuddering in the aftershocks, until an implacable hand pulls him up.

Black hair, red eyes, pale skin; he doesn't have windows in his basement cell for two reasons, and Tim is one of them. Jason collapses into him, submits to the soothing drag of his fingers against his feverish and bloody skin. He smells like he always does, like iron and ice and the earth in winter— and like Jason.

"I wish you wouldn't trap yourself down here," Tim says quietly. "I hate what it does to you."

#i'm enjoying this so much lol #thanks for the ask abyss <3 #tim wishes jason wouldn't hide himself away like a monster but jason knows he has to because he's afraid of what he'll do #its an old argument between them #uwu #jaytim #my writing #ask game #deepwithintheabyss #asked and answered #i'll make a tag for this verse since there's more than one post now #🐺🦇

[ladytauria]

"Maybe not pretty, but you're alive." Jay to Tim

thank u abyss!! a little bit of hurt/comfort for you <3

>> AO3 <<

“Well,” Jason says, leaning back to survey his handiwork. “Maybe not pretty, but you’re alive.” 

Tim’s face is half swollen; his eye bloodshot and half-closed, the beginnings of a black eye forming. His lip is split. There’s a butterfly bandage on his brow, and tape on his broken nose. His knuckles are taped too, resting loosely on his lap.

His mouth quirks, uninjured eye wincing briefly at the motion. “Are you calling me ugly, Jason? While I’m injured?”

Jason can’t help his laugh, despite the tightness in his chest. “Aw, don’t worry, princess.” He leans forward, brushing his lips over the cut on Tim’s brow. “You’re still the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tim shivers. “Smooth talker,” he says, a soft, sleepy smile on his mouth. “Take me to bed, Jay?”

“Okay,” Jason murmurs. Holding Tim in his arms sounds pretty good right now. He wants to curl up against him; let the slow, steady thump of his heart lull him to sleep. He scoops Tim up off the medical table, holding him bridal style in his arms. Tim loops his arm loosely around Jason’s neck, letting him take the weight of him. The trust in his body, the way he leans into him, so relaxed, it—

It makes his eyes burn.

He squeezes Tim a little tighter—as tight as he dares, bruised as he is. He carries him from their personal Cave and into their home proper, all the way to their bedroom.

Tim hardly needs help getting ready for bed, but he puts up with Jason helping him anyway. Jason knows the process would go faster if he let Tim do it himself but… he can’t bring himself to stop.

They make it to bed, eventually. Jason cradles Tim to his chest like the precious thing he is. The tears that burned his eyes earlier now searing down his cheeks. 

He knows that, despite how beaten up Tim looks, it wasn’t even a close call. Tim might have taken some knocks, but he outclassed his opponents by leagues. If he hadn’t been worried about protecting civilians, he probably wouldn’t have gotten a scratch. 

That doesn’t make seeing him hurt any easier.

It also does nothing to ease the fear that rises in his throat on nights like these. The worry that, one day, Tim will get in over his head, and help will come too late.

Jason, of all people, knows exactly how easily that could happen.

It—

He can’t stand to think about it. Jason doesn’t want to lose Tim. Not now that he’s finally found him.

He feels Tim shift. Lips press against his throat; a warm, open-mouthed kiss that lingers, after, warm breath dampening his skin. “I’m okay,” Tim whispers. His hand glides over the path of Jason’s spine.

Jason shudders.

Tim’s the one injured, and here Jason is, needing to be comforted. He grabs a fistful of Tim’s shirt, needing something to squeeze and not daring to hold him any tighter.

“Everything is okay.”

#jaytim #dcu #deepwithintheabyss #asks and answers #tauriawritesfanfic #every time i looked at this prompt i got The 30th - Billie Eilish stuck in my head xD #idk WHY #its not even the same line #but #anyway! #the ending fought me but lately they always do <3

[cheetahleopard]

yellow pink mreow (for the ask game u reblogged)

<3 <3 <3 !!!! Ahhhhh (o///o) My dms are always open!!!!

#leo rambles #leo listens #deepwithintheabyss

[meaninglessblah-writes]

This took way to long to figure out

☕ Tim ☕ Tim :D

😈 “You can take it.”

ah whatever I've been brainrotting over Collars for ages now let's put them in here too

🎪 Collars

Thank you for helping me work towards my Nanowrimo goal! 💙

Tim tries to hang his head, and groans when he butts up against the hard, rubber edge of the collar locked around his throat.

"This isn't necessary," he says, for what feels like the umpteenth time. The electrode pads glued to his temples itch with the sweat and blood drying there. The connected cables hum every time he turns his head.

Tim rolls his wrists in their rubber-lined cuffs, and tries not to think about why steel restraints might need rubber insulation. His breath hitches a little nonetheless, when he turns his head towards the figure whose hands are moving over the control panel, flicking levers with calm fluency.

"This isn't necessary," Tim repeats, imploring. He rocks forward on his knees, ignoring the pressure that puts on his outstretched arms. "You don't have to do this."

It's not the figure ignoring Tim that speaks. Its the mercenary sat in a chair across the room, watching the proceedings with blistering amusement. "I forgot how much you talk under pressure."

Now that his role in taking Tim down is fulfilled — and Tim can still feel the ache of three fractured ribs from where the mercenary bodily slammed him over a metal railing before tossing him down a stairwell — Slade seems perfectly content to spend his time needling his counterpart. Tim hasn't been able to ignore how cloyingly intimate their exchanges have been.

The figure turns to scowl at Slade through the loose strands of his dark fringe. "I don't talk under pressure."

Slade lounges, one ankle hooked over his knee and wrist hooked over the edge of the table he's sat next to. "Yes, you do. It's comforting, actually. Good to know you're consistent at every point in your timeline."

"Feel free to shut up at any time," the figure tosses coldly over his shoulder, turning one last dial on the panel. Behind Tim, the hulking machine whirs to life, and fear twists his gut.

He pulls on his restraints again, frantically rechecking for any weakness he could have forgotten to exploit as he implores, "I don't have anything you could need."

He should know by now that he's too thorough to leave himself any hope of escape. When the figure approaches, crouching down to his height with a soft smirk, Tim knows his fate is sealed.

"We both know that's a lie," his older self purrs. Tim can't help but pick at their differences, stark in how similar they are.

Same ice blue eyes, narrower on his counterpart, hardened with a a decade of chagrin. Longer hair, that speaks to countless nights spent fretting, thin fingers tugging on the strands as he poured over problem after problem.

Tim thinks his counterpart might be thinner, but he's not sure. He doesn't want to think about how far he must have fallen to stoop to this level. But he aches with the need to know.

The older Tim reaches up, gloved fingers reapplying the electrodes at his temples, pressing them to the soft curve of his skull, behind where his hair is just beginning to grow long.

"He might bite through his tongue," his counterpart calls back to Slade, almost conversational.

Slade hums. "It's only eighty milliamperes. You could take it."

The other Tim's smile is smug when he glances over his shoulder at the mercenary. "I've weathered worse. He's still fresh."

His hands fall away from Tim's scalp to adjust the cables where they link up to the electrodes.

"How did I end up a supervillain?" Tim asks, to keep him talking.

The other Tim scoffs. His eyes are wicked and amused when he lifts a brow. "It's a shorter jump than you realise. Or maybe you do realise," he adds knowingly, when Tim's jaw tightens.

Fingers cross from the electrodes to take Tim's jaw between thumb and forefinger. Tim tries to wrench himself free, but the collar and his counterpart's persistence stifles him. The other Tim's expression is a muddle of mirth and certainty, and Tim hates how it pierces straight through him.

"Maybe you don't want to admit how close it is," the older Tim whispers, and he's so close that his lips brush Tim's on his inhale. The fascination in those ice blue eyes is scalding, and mesmerising. Tim doesn't know if he's trying to lean into or away from his own touch.

"I don't remember hearing much in the way of protest from you," Slade interjects, the rumble of his voice fond. It's distracting, Tim's attention draw back to dissecting exactly what sort of relationship they have.

"Where do you come in?" Tim challenges, but he's cut off by his older counterpart's sharp bark of laughter.

"I forgot how naïve I was," he hums. The press of his lips is sudden, and forceful. Tim protests, pulling back when a tongue pushes past his surprise. The collar bites, and so does his counterpart. When he pulls away, Tim's blood stains his lower lip. He looks hungry for more.

"It was a cute look on you," Slade confirms. "Those big blue eyes, pleading for me to help you find the big ol' Bat. You grew out of that fast."

Tim's head jerks around so hard he breaks the other Tim's grip on him. "What?"

His older self pushes upright, stepping away from Tim and the machine that has been powering up to a nauseatingly pitched hum. "You'll find out soon enough."

"How soon?" Tim demands, as he approaches the panel. The cuffs cut at his wrists, his desperation showing as he tries to keep his cryptic self talking. "What does he mean by that?"

His counterpart presses a heavy button in, adjusting the dial slightly. Tim's heart feels like it's beating a mile a minute, as his other self crosses comfortably to Slade's side.

The arm he drapes over the mercenary's shoulder has Tim’s mind spinning; but it’s nothing compared to when Slade wraps around his older self's hip, pulling him in close. Tim feels like his jaw might be touching the floor. He doesn't want to admit to himself all that he sees.

His counterpart smiles, like he knows Tim knows. His voice is kinder, when he calls, "If you survive this in-tact, we might even show you why you will choose him. Every time."

The last thing Tim sees, before the electricity spikes through his grey matter and his vision goes white, is Tim's lips lowering to kiss Slade's. And Slade's face upturning to meet him.

3,914 / 50,000

Help me reach my goal!

#meaninglessblah answers #meaninglessblah conquers nanowrimo #deepwithintheabyss

[felinemotif]

@deepwithintheabyss i did not know evil boops were a thing until you

#i knew abt regular boops and super boops #🐈‍⬛ #deepwithintheabyss

[mid-nightowl]

Boop

boop! <3

#i barely have the context for this but yes #boop<3 #deepwithintheabyss #thanks for the boop<3<3

[marirah]

I was just reading one of your fics and saw the link to tumblr and thought "eh why not" so I clicked on it only to be jumpscared by the fact that you reblogged a post via me??? and follow me??? like hello????

I've read so many of your fics how have I not noticed this???? (shame on me for not commenting)

Literally so many of the DickTim fics I adore asjadksd

ahhhhh thank you!!!! hello! lol

#deepwithintheabyss #marirah speaks